Secrets Can Kill (2 page)

“You almost forgot this,” Hannah said, handing Nancy an orange canvas duffel bag that held notebooks, pens, and makeup—everything Nancy had packed for her “first day” at school.

“Thanks, Hannah.” Nancy stifled a yawn and
smiled as she took the bag. “I almost forgot my most important prop for this job.”

“You don't look very alert this morning, I must say,” Hannah commented. “In fact, you look downright sleepy.”

“I'm fine, Hannah, really. See you later!” Nancy waved cheerfully as she drove from her house, but Hannah had been right. Nancy was definitely less than bright-eyed and bushy–tailed.

No wonder, Nancy thought. Getting to sleep the night before had been next to impossible. She was always a little edgy before she started a new case, but the past night had been worse than usual. She'd lain awake, running the mysterious videotape through her mind over and over again.

The creepiest part was that horrible voice. The sound of it had echoed in Nancy's head all night and into the morning. It had obviously been electronically distorted, but realizing that didn't make it any less scary. And knowing that someone had been following her all day was definitely frightening. Nancy couldn't help thinking about the video equipment that had been taken from Bedford High. Could there be any link between the two? Nancy wondered.

Who was responsible? And why? Why would some high school kid who was into rifling lockers and stealing a few files go to such trouble to
scare her off? And how did whoever it was know about Nancy's assignment? That was the question which had kept the young detective awake the longest.

Nancy had tried not to think about those pieces to the Bedford High puzzle. She knew she wouldn't figure them out until she actually got to the school campus and did some on-the-spot research. Still, she hadn't been able to keep her mind off the troubling questions. And there she was on the first day of a case, nervous and droopy-eyed!

As she drove the fifteen miles from River Heights to the town of Bedford, Nancy tuned the car radio to her favorite rock station, hoping the music would clear her head. She slowed, passing the local Ford dealer. The new Mustang GT Convertible she'd been drooling over was still inside.
Be cool, Nancy,
she said to herself with a half-smile, trying to keep her heart from pounding. Then, pressing her foot to the accelerator, she zoomed toward town.

Bedford was beautiful, small, but with large homes surrounded by lush lawns, and, no doubt, swimming pools tucked away in the back somewhere. On the outskirts of town, along the road to the high school, Nancy passed several houses that could only be described as mansions.

Bedford was obviously a place where a lot of
rich people lived, Nancy thought as she pulled up to a stoplight near the high school. At just that moment a sleek, expensive black Porsche 911 eased up beside her in the next lane.

Nancy glanced over, admiring the car, and its owner gently revved the engine. The powerful motor gave a soft, throaty rumble, then another. Nancy smiled at the obvious come-on and lifted her gaze to the driver.

The guy in the Porsche was one of the most gorgeous boys Nancy had ever seen. He looked about seventeen. He'd probably been a tow-head when he was little, but now his blond hair was highlighted with streaks of honey-brown. And his eyes—were they brown or black?—were full of light and laughter as he gave Nancy a playful grin and revved the engine once more.

Suddenly Nancy was wide awake. She grinned back and fluttered the gas pedal on the Mustang.
Two can play this game,
she thought.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nancy saw the turn arrow change to green. Still looking at the boy, she smoothly shifted gears. Then she peeled out ahead of the Porsche, swinging wide into his lane so that he had to follow her all the way down Bedford Road. She was definitely back in high school!

Nancy lost sight of the Porsche somewhere in Bedford High's student parking lot, and as she joined the crowd of kids swarming up the
school's front steps, she stopped thinking about it. Of course, its driver wasn't quite so easy to forget.

Bedford High wasn't big, with a total enrollment of about six hundred students. But it seemed to Nancy as if every one of those students was milling around in the building's big front hall. They looked like a typical bunch of kids. While they waited for the final bell, they laughed together, calling to each other, talking about dates and upcoming tests.

For a moment Nancy felt exactly like what she was pretending to be—a transfer student coming into a new school in the middle of fall semester. There she was, facing a bunch of strangers who already knew each other and were checking her out, trying to figure out who the new girl was. She felt exposed and self-conscious, and like all new kids, she wished she had a friend nearby.
That's the way you're supposed to feel,
Nancy told herself. At least it was a good cover.

Nancy was standing alone, trying to remember the directions to the principal's office that she had been given, when a snatch of conversation caught her attention.

“You know I can't give you a ride,” a boy's voice said. Nancy could detect the frantic pleading in it. “I just
can't
. If I miss practice, I'll be kicked off the team!”

Then came a second boy's voice, calm and
slow and coldly self-assured. “Miss practice . . . or else,” it ordered.

Nancy craned her neck, trying to locate the source of that unpleasant little exchange. There was no way, however, to match the voices to any of the faces in the mass of chattering students around her.

I guess there's at least one super-creep in every high school,
Nancy thought to herself. But as she headed for the principal's office, she kept hearing the harsh sound of that calm, cold voice. There was an intimidating power in it. And obviously, whomever it belonged to had someone scared!

Nancy turned down one of Bedford High's drab green hallways. No matter how much high schools changed, she decided, the paint jobs never seemed to. Nancy found the principal's office and told the secretary that she had an appointment with Mr. Parton. The principal didn't keep Nancy waiting five seconds.

Stepping into the office, Nancy took one look at Mr. Parton and decided to try to solve this case in record time. Not only did she want that weekend with Ned, but Mr. Parton looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. For the sake of his health, she'd better work fast!

“It's driving me insane!” Mr. Parton declared, dramatically pounding his fists against his temples. “And are the police any help?
Noooo. Beef up security, they say. Ha! Try getting the salary for another guard out of the school board. A patrol car drives around the school every night. We can't be bothered with a little file-filching. It's your problem, they say.”

Mr. Parton paused for breath and then chuckled to himself, shaking his bald head and smiling at Nancy with worried brown eyes. “Thank heavens I know your father. If he hadn't suggested that I hire you, I don't know what I'd have done.”

Probably collapsed, Nancy told herself, but she kept her thoughts silent. She smiled. “I'm glad you did call me, Mr. Parton. I'm ready to get started, but first I just want to make sure I've got the facts straight. You mentioned files being taken. What files?”

“Actually, we're not sure.” Mr. Parton shook his head again. “But my file cabinet and the senior guidance counselor's—both of which are kept locked, by the way—have been tampered with several times. We don't know if anything's missing because everything's always put back in the wrong place.

“Then there are the lockers,” Mr. Parton went on, rubbing one hand over his shiny head. “We know that at least four lockers have been broken into. Our maintenance man reported them.” He leaned forward, hands clasped. “But no students complained.”

“It could have something to do with drugs,”
Nancy suggested. “That would explain why the kids kept their mouths shut.”

“True. And I won't say that Bedford High is drug-free. But I do know for sure that there aren't any drugs in my file cabinet. And what about the school video equipment?”

Right,
Nancy thought, remembering the “movie” she'd received.

“Whoever's taking the stuff is very selective,” the principal said. “We lose a lens here, a battery pack there, then a couple of blank tapes. Some of it's even turned up mysteriously a few days after disappearing.”

“And you're sure whoever's pulling all these stunts is one person?” Nancy asked.

“I'm not sure of anything,” Mr. Parton said, frustration mounting in his voice. “But I'm almost certain that a student, or more than one student, is behind it all.”

“Why couldn't it be a teacher?”

“Well, the police, much as I'm disappointed in them, did do me one favor. They questioned the faculty, checked them out, and came up with zilch, except for the bio teacher, who turned out to be a scofflaw. Two hundred dollars in unpaid parking tickets.”

Nancy laughed. “Well, having me pose as a student was a good idea.” She stood up and reached for her canvas bag. “I'd like to get started, but first I need to know if I have your permission to check things out my own way. I
mean, I may have to break a few rules to get to the bottom of this.”

“Whatever it takes. I'll clear it with the police,” Mr. Parton said emphatically. “And don't go yet.” He motioned for Nancy to sit again. “I may not be thinking too clearly these days, but I do know that you'll need a contact while you're here, somebody you can talk to freely. Someone who can introduce you to a lot of kids. The principal isn't going to help any student fit in. Even I know that.”

“Your thinking's not all that fuzzy, Mr. Parton.” Nancy laughed again. “So. Who's my contact?”

“One of our seniors. A good student, completely trustworthy. And very popular, president of the class, which is why I chose him. He can get you in touch with all the various ‘crowds.' ”

“You mean he knows about me already?” Nancy asked, once again thinking about the videotape.

“No, I thought I'd introduce you two and let him in on the plan at the same time.” Mr. Parton checked his watch. “He should be here any minute.”

At that moment there was a knock at the door. Mr. Parton opened it, and Nancy looked up and found herself face to face with the beautiful driver of the black Porsche!

“Nancy Drew,” the principal said, “meet Daryl Gray.”

His eyes weren't brown or black, Nancy noticed immediately. They were the dark, dusky color of ripe blueberries, and they were rimmed with lashes that had to be at least half an inch long. Nancy had never seen eyes like that in her life.

Some contact!
she thought.

Daryl Gray listened politely and with interest as Mr. Parton explained the entire situation. If he was surprised at Nancy's role, he didn't show it.

Instead, Daryl's incredible eyes kept straying to Nancy each time Mr. Parton mentioned her name. And when the principal said something about Daryl showing Nancy the ropes, Daryl's mouth curved into a slow, teasing grin. Nancy couldn't help returning it.

The attraction between them crackled like electricity. Nancy wondered how Mr. Parton could possibly miss the sparks, but he seemed oblivious to everything but his problem. He went on and on. As Nancy tuned out the principal's voice, she tuned into the beautiful face before her.

Finally the harried principal said something that brought Nancy back to reality. “Nancy, the school is counting on you. I've done what I can. Now it's up to you. At this moment Daryl is the
only one, aside from me, who knows who you are and what you're doing here. The rest is in your hands.”

And Nancy, remembering that hideous voice on the tape, finally tore her eyes away from Daryl.
You're wrong, Mr. Parton,
she thought.
Somebody else knows who I am. And that's the person I have to find!

T
HE WARNING BELL
rang just as Nancy and Daryl left Mr. Parton's office. Together they fell into step with the crowd of kids hurrying to their homeroom classes. Out of the corner of her eye Nancy caught Daryl looking at her, a strange little smile on his lips. “What's funny?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Daryl laughed softly and shook his head. “It's just that I've never met a detective, especially a beautiful redhead who drives a Mustang.”

Nancy laughed too. “Well, I've never met a senior who drives a Porsche.”

“It's my favorite toy.” They rounded a corner
and Daryl casually put his hand on Nancy's shoulder to guide her out of the way of a group of kids coming in the opposite direction. “I'll have to give you a ride sometime, show you what it can do.”

At the touch of Daryl's hand, Nancy felt a delicious tingling sensation, and suddenly she found herself wondering what it would be like to have Daryl's arms around her. Daryl Gray was a powerfully attractive guy.