Secrets Can Kill (14 page)

Authors: Carolyn Keene

BOOK: Secrets Can Kill

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Nancy gave her a thumbs-up signal for victory, and at the same moment she heard a police siren, faint at first, but growing louder by the second. It was all over. They'd done it, and Nancy laughed, barely feeling the pain in her swollen jaw.

Chapter

Eighteen

W
HEN
N
ANCY WALKED
into Mr. Parton's office the next afternoon, the principal stood up and gave her a smile that seemed to light up the entire room. The confused, worried look had left his eyes, and there was a definite spring in his step as he came around the desk to shake her hand.

“Your father told me you were first-rate,” he said, beaming at her. “I'm glad I listened to him.”

“Thank you,” Nancy said with a laugh. “I'm glad you did, too.” She sank into a chair and took the mug of steaming tea Mr. Parton offered her.

“How do you feel?” the principal asked. “I understand you made âdirect contact' with Mitch Dillon's fist.”

Nancy touched her jaw. There was a purple bruise on it that her makeup didn't quite cover, but she decided it went with the territory. “It only hurts when I laugh,” she joked. “Anyway, it was worth it to see the police handcuffing Mitch Dillon.” By the time the police had arrived at the park, all the fight had gone out of Mitch. He'd listened in stony silence as his rights were read to him, but Nancy could see the panic in his eyes. He was finished, and he knew it.

“Murder and espionage.” Mr. Parton whistled softly. “Right here in Bedford. If Jake Webb hadn't been so greedy, it might still be going on.” He shook his head in amazement. “Well, Dillon won't be busy for a long time, that's for sure.”

“What about his foreign contact?” Nancy asked.

“I don't suppose we'll ever get the whole story,” Mr. Parton said, “but I heard on the news this morning that two âdiplomats' checked out of their Bedford mansion last night. Mother Russia probably wanted them home fast.”

“I guess that takes care of the spy ring, for a while anyway,” Nancy said. “What's going to happen to Daryl Gray?”

Mr. Parton's good spirits took a dive for a
moment, “I don't know yet.” He sighed. “He's in deep trouble, no doubt about that. I still can't believe he did what he did.”

Nancy agreed, but she felt strongly that Daryl deserved a break. “I know you feel terrible about him,” she said, “but I think if it hadn't been for Daryl, Mitch Dillon would have escaped yesterday. Daryl did the right thing in the end. He also got shot for it.”

Mr. Parton nodded. “You're right. And I'm sure the government will agree with you. He'll have to pay for what he did, but maybe the price won't be so high.” He sipped some tea and relaxed again. “By the way, the police are holding Jake's videotape for evidence, but they've promised to keep as quiet as they can about Walt and Hal and Connie.”

“That's great!” In spite of what they'd done, Nancy couldn't help feeling that those three kids had been victims as much as anyone else. “Have you talked to them?”

“To all three,” Mr. Parton told her. “Hal's taking the SATs again, Walt decided to bench himself for a while, and Connie's agreed to get some help for her shoplifting problem. So there's a happy ending after all. And,” he went on, “I didn't mention your part in the case, even though I wanted to.”

“Good. Who knows?” Nancy said. “I might have to come here undercover again someday.”

Mr. Parton winced and then shook hands with her. “Don't take this the wrong way,” he said, “but I hope not!”

â¢Â â¢Â â¢

As Nancy took a last walk through the halls of Bedford High, there was a spring in her step, too. She had solved the case, but it was more than that. She caught sight of Hal and Walt and Connie and noticed that all three of them seemed to have lightened up overnight. In fact, the whole atmosphere of the school had lightened up. Maybe since the biggest secret had been revealed, the smaller secretsâinjury and cheating and shopliftingâcould be forgotten.

A lot of kids were carrying copies of
Today's Times,
and Nancy noticed that Brenda Carlton had finally gotten her name on a front-page story, beneath the headline
BEDFORD POLICE CRACK ESPIONAGE RING
. Nancy smiled to herself as she picked a copy of the discarded paper off the hall floor. Brenda must have been very happy to keep her part of the bargain and leave Nancy's name out of the story.

As Nancy quickly scanned the article, she saw with relief that Daryl's part in helping catch Dillon got just as much play as his role of courier for spies. Brenda, naturally, didn't mention her own near-disastrous actions at all.

Daryl was still in the hospital, the story said, but was expected to recover quickly. Nancy
had a feeling that he could always bounce back, and she was sure that in a few years he'd get over the nightmare he'd been involved in.

So things were turning out okay, she thought as she pushed open the door and walked outside. She had just one loose end to tie up, and then she could put the Bedford High case behind her and move on to the next one, whatever it might be.

The “loose end” was Ned Nickerson, and he was waiting for her in his car.
This is as good a time as any to tell him about Daryl,
Nancy thought. She pulled her jacket collar up against the chilly October wind and went down the steps to meet him.

“Hi!” Ned pushed open the door for her and took her hand as she slid in. “Did everything go okay?”

“Fine,” Nancy said, and told him what Mr. Parton had told her.

“Great. Then it's all over, huh?”

“Almost.” Nancy linked her fingers with his and took a deep breath. She wished she'd had a chance to discuss her problem with Bess, but there hadn't been time. Besides, Bess was so involved with Alan Wales that she was hardly paying attention to anything that was going on around her. She and Alan ate, slept, and breathed guitars and musicians. Nancy was on her own. After another deep breath she said,
“Ned, there's something I have to talk to you about.”

“I bet I can guess,” Ned said softly. “It's Daryl Gray, isn't it?”

“You mean you knew?”

“Not really,” Ned told her. “But I saw the way he looked at you a couple of times. And the way you looked at him.”

Nancy should have guessed. Ned knew her better than anyone else. “It wasn't much, really. I mean we didn't fall in love or anything like that. I guess we were just attracted to each other. I wasn't looking for it to happen, it just did.”

“You don't have to explain,” Ned said. He stared ahead of him, at the entrance to Bedford High.

“But I want to!” Nancy squeezed his hand and tried to get him to look at her. “I feel terrible telling you, but it's better than keeping it from you. Because I love you,” she said. “No other guy could be as perfect for me as you are.”

“Then it's over?” Ned asked.

“It hardly got started,” Nancy said.

“So there's nothing to talk about, is there?” Ned finally looked at her, but Nancy couldn't read the expression in his eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking.

“I guess not,” she said. “But I wanted to tell you anyway.”

“I understand. I'm glad you did.” Ned pulled her close and kissed her gently. “Let's get out of here, okay?”

“Okay!” Nancy kissed him back and settled herself in the seat. She was glad she'd told him, too, but had she done the right thing? Ned said he understood, but did he, really? Would she have understood if he'd told her about some girl at the university?

Nancy shook her head, trying to get rid of such disturbing thoughts. It was over. She'd done what she thought was right, and she'd just have to wait to see what happened.

As the car pulled away from the school, Nancy turned and took one last look. It was a handsome, modern building, and it appeared peaceful in the afternoon sun. It was hard to believe the things that had gone on behind its red brick walls.

Nancy turned and caught Ned's eye. He was smiling at her and she felt a sudden urge to run her fingers through his hair. She also felt relieved that she'd told him the truth about Daryl. She didn't want any secrets between her and Ned. She'd found enough secrets at Bedford High.

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.