Blake slammed on the brakes, honked the horn, and yanked the steering wheel to the left.
“Watch out!” Rocky yelled.
Pete leaped from Rocky’s lap to the floor as a car smashed into the right front side of Blake’s car.
Metal scraped against metal; glass tinkled to the pavement. The car shuddered to a stop.
“Are you boys okay?” Blake asked.
“I’m okay,” Benjie said.
“So am I,” Rocky said.
“I’m not!” Pete yelled. “This car is dangerous! I want to go home!”
“That car ran the stop sign,” Blake said. “It never even slowed down.” He unbuckled his seat belt. “Hang on to the cat while I get out,” he said.
Rocky leaned down, but by then Pete was already under the front seat. That’s where he stayed while Blake spoke to the other driver. That’s where he stayed while a police officer arrived and got details of the accident, and that’s where he stayed after Blake drove back to the Kendrills’ house.
Blake, Rocky, and Benjie tried to entice him to come out.
“We’re home, Petey,” Benjie said. “We’ll take you in the house. We’ll give you kitty num-num.”
“I don’t trust you,” Pete said. “I want Alex.”
* * *
The phone on the table beside Alex’s bed rang.
“Hello?” Mrs. Kendrill said.
After a brief conversation, she hung up. “That was Blake Morris. He had an accident. Somebody drove out of Maple Street onto Valley View Drive without stopping. Nobody’s hurt, but he thought we should know that he and Rocky are at our house with Benjie. Pete woke up before they got to the clinic and caused such a ruckus that they took him home. Now he’s under the seat of Blake’s car; they can’t get him out.”
“We need to get home,” Mr. Kendrill said.
“I want to go with you,” Alex said. “Except for a sore throat and the burns on my arms, I feel fine.”
Mr. and Mrs. Kendrill consulted the doctor.
After dressing his burns, the doctor agreed that Alex could leave the hospital.
It was nearly midnight when Alex and his parents turned onto Valley View Drive.
“There’s where the accident was,” Mr. Kendrill said.
Alex saw broken glass in the street.
“The other driver must have run the stop sign,” Mrs. Kendrill said.
“There is no stop sign,” Alex said. “It’s gone.”
Mr. Kendrill stopped the car. He backed up, turning the car so the headlights shone toward where the stop sign should have been. “You’re right.” The wooden pole lay on the ground; the red stop sign was missing.
“The vandals came back,” Mrs. Kendrill said.
“Street signs were bad enough,” Mr. Kendrill said, “but when they cut down stop signs, it’s dangerous.”
Alex said, “Is the stop sign on the other side of the street still there?”
Mr. Kendrill moved the car so they could look. “It’s gone, too,” he said.
Alex thought about Duke. He had seen Duke and his brother on this street earlier that night. Did they steal the stop signs?
If it was Duke, Alex thought, I should have told Mom and Dad my suspicions when the street signs were cut down instead of waiting until now. An accident could have injured someone, might even have killed Rocky or Benjie. Dad was right; cutting down stop signs was not only wrong, it was dangerous.
“I might know who did it,” Alex said.
“Who?” Mrs. Kendrill asked.
Alex told his parents about Duke, and the things he had said. By the time he finished, they were pulling into their own driveway. Even though he had set off to look for Pete that same night, Alex felt as if he had returned from a long journey.
Mr. Morris’s car, its front fender and the passenger door crumpled, stood next to the curb.
Benjie ran to greet Alex and his parents. “I was in an accident,” he announced.
“Hi, Alex,” Rocky said. “Are you okay?”
“My arms look like pink bubble wrap,” Alex said, “but I would not be here at all if you hadn’t heard me.”
“I heard you because I went after your cat,” Rocky said.
“Is Pete still in your car?”
“The accident scared him,” Mr. Morris said. “We tried to get him out but he won’t budge.”
“I’ll coax him out,” Alex said, “but I won’t be able to carry him. My arms really hurt where they got burned, and Pete’s heavy.”
“I’ll come with you,” Rocky said.
“I’ll help,” Benjie said.
“You stay here,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “Pete is more likely to come to just Alex and Rocky.”
Rocky opened the car door.
“Come on, Pete,” Alex said. “You’re safe now. Come out of there.”
Pete’s head emerged from under the seat. “Alex!” he said. “I thought you burned up in the fire.” He slithered toward Alex.
Rocky reached for him.
“Good boy,” Alex said. “Rocky’s going to carry you inside for me.”
Pete allowed Rocky to scoop him up, then carry him into the house.
“Put him on the clothes dryer so we can get a good look at him,” Mrs. Kendrill said. “The light is bright there.”
Alex examined the blackened fur on Pete’s neck. “His fur got singed but not his skin,” he said. He carefully felt all over Pete’s body to be sure there were no other injuries. “He has a lump on the back of his head, but I don’t think we need to take him to the vet.”
“Quit saying that word,” Pete said. “It makes me nervous.”
Mrs. Kendrill put Pete on the floor. Alex dumped out the contents of Pete’s water bowl, then refilled it with fresh water. The cool water soothed Pete’s throat. In fact, it soothed his throat so much that he was able to eat half a bowl of crunchies.
The phone rang. After a brief conversation, Mr. Kendrill said, “That was Sergeant Spencer from the police department. They found the missing stop signs in the backyard of two Hilltop boys who have been in trouble before: Lenny and Duke Brainard.”
“I told the police about Duke’s threats,” Rocky said. “I thought he might have started the fires.”
“We should have told an adult sooner,” Alex said. “We might have prevented the accident.”
Mr. Kendrill continued, “The boys claim they went to their uncle’s house in Tacoma after school today and got home just before the police arrived.”
“That isn’t true,” Alex said. “I saw them drive away from Maple Street when I was out looking for Pete.”
“The police will be interested in that,” Mr. Kendrill said. “The car in their driveway was reported stolen earlier today, so the boys were taken to the Juvenile Detention Center.”
Relief took the tiredness from Alex. Duke would not be in school on Monday, and without Duke, Henry would be no problem.
“The police also booked Mr. Woolsey on two counts of arson,” Mr. Kendrill said, “and they expect to open an investigation into insurance fraud. They found an empty gasoline can in his trunk, and his fingerprints matched those on a can the investigators found earlier today.”
“I found the first can,” Pete said. “Get your facts straight.”
Rocky’s mind locked onto just one fact: Mr. Woolsey, not someone from the mob, was the arsonist. The fire that had destroyed their new home had nothing at all to do with Mother’s testimony. His eyes met Blake’s; Blake smiled at him.
“The police want you to give a statement tomorrow, Alex,” Mr. Kendrill said.
“No wonder Mr. Woolsey acted so nervous earlier tonight,” Mr. Morris said. “I met him at eight-fifteen and rented a house on Pine Road. We’ll still be neighbors.”
“That’s great,” Alex said.
“You are welcome to stay here tonight,” Mrs. Kendrill said.
“Can we, Blake?” Rocky asked. “Please?”
“We accept,” Mr. Morris said. “The accident knocked
out one of my headlights, and I don’t like to drive back to the motel that way.”
Alex grinned at Rocky. “Since you saved my life,” he said, “you can have the bed, and I’ll use my sleeping bag on the floor.”
“I didn’t save your life,” Rocky said, “Pete did.”
“That’s right,” Pete said, “and it wasn’t easy.” In fact, it had been terrifying. Pete decided he would not beg to go outside tomorrow. Even mighty jungle beasts need time to recover from an adventure such as this one.
Half an hour later, Rocky lay in Alex’s bed, thinking how glad he was that he and Alex were neighbors. It was good to have a friend again. Even though he still couldn’t tell Alex about his past, he now looked forward to the future.
His mother would be home soon, her testimony over. In spite of the danger, Rocky felt proud of what she had done. The witness program had arranged for Blake’s former employees to purchase A-One Auto, and Blake would receive payment soon. Meanwhile, he was looking for a different kind of work.
Rocky still missed Nathan, and Rocky the dog, but his loneliness dissolved as he looked forward to spending the weekend with Alex.
Rocky heard a soft rumbling from the floor. At first he thought Alex was snoring, then he realized it was Pete, purring.
Alex whispered, “Are you still awake?”
“Yes,” Rocky replied.
“I was thinking how Pete led you to the fire, and how he stayed there until you heard me yell for help. Most cats would have run away, but Pete didn’t. He risked his life to save me.”
“Pete’s a brave hero,” Rocky said.
“Pete deserves kitty num-num for breakfast tomorrow,” Pete said.
“I’ll give him kitty num-num for breakfast,” Alex said.
Pete purred louder. For once, Alex had understood.
Peg Kehret, The Stranger Next Door
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