Killer Connections Read online

  Then, finally, something happened. Namely, Frank poked me in the arm.

  “There he is!” he hissed.

  I realized I’d been dropping off again. But I came awake instantly. Peering out of the bushes, I saw Lee’s tall, skinny figure hurrying past us. His hands were in his pockets and his head was down.

  “Come on,” I mouthed.

  We crawled out and followed him. He didn’t head for Destiny’s house as I’d expected. Instead he went straight into the woods, following a familiar path. He pulled out a flashlight as soon as he left the glow of the campus lanterns, clicking it on to light his way.

  Once again I found myself missing Killer. He was surefooted and silent moving through the dark forest.

  Me and Frank, not so much. Especially since we didn’t have lights. Who knew we’d end up in a late-night hike through the woods?

  We barely managed to keep up with Lee without giving ourselves away. The only thing that kept us on track was Lee’s flashlight. I kept my eyes on its bobbing beam and did my best not to trip over the roots and stones that kept jumping into our path.

  Finally the beam stopped. Lee had reached that hunting cabin in the woods. Was that where Killer was stashed? Was Lee meeting Destiny here for one last romantic encounter? Or was he getting ready to set another trap on his way out of town?

  Lee disappeared into the cabin. Frank and I crept forward. Then we heard the sound of voices.

  “Shh,” Frank hissed, dropping down behind some brush. “He’s not alone.”

  I strained my ears. The second voice was kind of high-pitched. Destiny? I wasn’t quite sure.

  “We’ve got the element of surprise,” I breathed into Frank’s ear. “Let’s just take them down.”

  Frank hesitated, then nodded. “Wait till they come out into the clearing,” he murmured in my ear. “I’ll take whoever’s on the right, you go left.”

  “Got it.”

  We didn’t have long to wait. Lee and the other figure emerged after just a minute or two. Both of them had flashlights, which they were shining straight ahead of them. Directly into our eyes. That made it impossible to see who was behind the lights.

  But it didn’t matter. Whoever it was, it was time to end this. The figures moved toward the path to campus.

  “Three, two … ,” Frank whispered.

  One.

  We both leaped forward. I heard a cry of surprise from Frank’s target. It was Lee.

  Meanwhile I tackled the other person. “Gotcha!” I cried, taking him or her down. It wasn’t hard; whoever it was was small. Really small.

  The figure struggled, but I was able to pin him or her down easily. I grabbed the flashlight out of the person’s hand.

  “Let’s see who we have here,” I said, turning the light on my victim’s face. When I saw what face was staring back at me, I did a double take. “Huh?” I blurted out.

  Secrets Revealed

  Who are you?” I heard Joe ask in amazement. Glancing over, I saw that he had a kid pinned down. “Take it easy on him, okay?” Lee said from beneath me. “He’s only twelve.”

  I loosened my grip. “Maybe you’d better tell us what this is about.”

  So he did. It turned out the second figure was Tommy Lewicki’s little brother. He’d run away from his—and Lee’s—old Boston neighborhood after getting in trouble with the cops for shoplifting.

  “I didn’t want to steal that stuff,” the kid spoke up at that point, sounding on the verge of tears. “They made me.”

  “It’s okay, Mikey,” Lee told him. Then he turned to face Joe and me. “Neighborhood bullies,” he said with a grimace. “The same gang that’s been making trouble since I was Mikey’s age.” He shrugged. “Had some problems with them myself back then. But I owned up to it, and look at me now.”

  He went on to explain that he’d finally convinced both Tommy and his brother that Mikey should go back to Boston and do the same thing. Own up to his petty crime. Try to make things right—just like Lee. Based on the way the kid was looking at him, it was clear that Lee was his hero.

  “So that’s who the bus ticket is for,” I mused.

  Lee shot me a look. “You knew about that?” he said. “How?”

  Joe and I traded a glance. “It’s a long story,” Joe said. “So you had Mikey stashed away out here all week?”

  “Well, here and my dorm room, and sometimes Tommy’s. We’ve just been trying to keep him out of sight.”

  That explained all the junk food wrappers under Lee’s bed.

  Anyway, I told Tommy I’d get Mikey to the bus,” Lee went on. “Figured I had a better chance of pulling it off. Tommy’s great, but he can be kind of jumpy.” He smiled as Mikey giggled. “Plus, I figured if we did get caught, I had a better shot at talking my way through it. Dr. Darity likes me.”

  I was surprised that Lee was so aware of being the headmaster’s pet. But maybe I shouldn’t have been. The guy was pretty sharp. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here.

  “Okay,” I said. “But why’d you steal that key out of Darity’s office?”

  Once again, Lee looked startled. “How’d you—?” he began. Then he shook his head. “It was the master key that opens a bunch of campus buildings. Including the kitchen in the caf.”

  “To get food for Mikey.” Joe nodded.

  I could tell he was convinced that Lee was telling the truth. So was I. The things he was telling us explained pretty much all his mysterious behavior lately. And of course there was Exhibit A sitting right in front of us. Mikey.

  That reminded me. “You’d better hit the road if you want to make that bus,” I said, checking my watch. “It leaves in, like, forty minutes.”

  Lee jumped to his feet, looking alarmed. “Oh, man. Is it really that late? We’ll never make it in time!”

  “What do you mean? Sugarview’s only a twenty-minute drive,” said Joe.

  “Yeah—in a car.” Lee shook his head, looking defeated. “All we’ve got are bikes.”

  “Do you have a license?” I asked. When Lee nodded, I fished out my key ring and detached the key to our rental car. “Here you go—take our wheels.”

  “Are you serious?” Lee looked relieved. “Thanks, guys. Come on, squirt, let’s get moving.” As Mikey hurried out of the clearing, Lee paused and looked back. “Hey—thanks for being cool about this. And I hope maybe sometime you’ll tell me who you guys really are, okay?”

  Joe and I just smiled and waved. Lee waved back and hurried off.

  Then Joe turned to face me. “Now what?”

  “I don’t know.” I sighed and sank back down onto the log. “It looks like we’ve eliminated all our likely suspects.”

  “Except Nigel. Someone else eliminated him for us.”

  I stood up. “Let’s head back to campus. We can talk about it on the way.”

  “What’s this?”

  I stopped in mid-yawn. We’d just reached Joe’s cottage. He was staring at something pinned to the door. A note.

  “What’s it say?” I asked, instantly on alert.

  Joe ripped the note off the door and read it aloud. “‘Come to Firth Hall immediately if you ever want to see Killer alive again.’” He gasped. “Oh, man! How long do you think this has been here?”

  I didn’t have an answer for that. It was after midnight by now. And Joe hadn’t been here since leaving for dinner hours earlier.

  “So do we go?” I asked. “It could be a trap.”

  “Oh, it’s so totally a trap!” Joe exclaimed. “But we’ve got to go. What choice do we have?”

  “I guess you’re right. We’ve got no suspects. No new clues. And whoever wrote this has Killer.” I shrugged. “Plus, there are two of us, and we’re trained in this. We’ll just have to be careful and hope for the best.”

  Firth Hall was pretty spooky even during broad daylight. In the middle of the night? Majorly creepy.

  We pushed through the front door, which wasn’t locked. The main foyer was dark and echoey. Creaks and oth
er old-building-type sounds came from all directions, muffled by the thick walls and sheer size of the place. There were crazy shadows everywhere; the only light came from moonlight pouring in through the milky glass of the ancient windows.

  There were some light switches on the wall near the door. I threw a couple of them on. Nothing happened. Surprise, surprise. Luckily, we’d grabbed our flashlights from the cottage. I switched mine on. Its strong but thin beam barely seemed to pierce the dusty air around us.

  “Now what?” Joe whispered, turning on his flashlight as well.

  I didn’t have to answer. Just then we both heard the faint sound of a bark.

  “Killer!” Joe hissed. “Wait. Or is it?”

  “What other dog is likely to be barking in here?” I shot him a look.

  He rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. Come on, let’s find him.”

  I spun in a circle, feeling disoriented. The darkness and the constant settling noises of the old building could play tricks with you. “Maybe this way?”

  I pointed down the hall. At that moment there was another bark. Still faint and faraway.

  “Definitely that way,” said Joe, charging off in that direction.

  So much for being careful …

  We followed the sound down that hallway and up a set of stairs. The barks came at irregular intervals, sometimes sounding louder, sometimes softer.

  “Someone must be leading him around,” Joe whispered as we paused on the third-floor landing to listen. “Just luring us here and there.”

  “Okay, but why?” The longer this went on, the less I was liking it. “What do they want from us?”

  Joe didn’t have an answer for that. So he did what he always does when he’s not sure about something. Plunged onward, full speed ahead. When the next bark came, he raced off after it.

  “This way!” he called over his shoulder.

  We made our way up and down and around Firth Hall’s dark, echoing corridors. Eventually the barks led us through the main floor and down another set of steps into the basement.

  If we’d thought the rest of Firth Hall was the creepiest place on campus, now we knew better. The basement was a warren of cobwebby rooms and narrow, twisting hallways interspersed with echoing, cavernous spaces. There was no light at all down there except what leaked in through the slitlike windows located at ceiling level here and there. As in the rest of the building, the overheads were dead. Good thing we had those flashlights.

  Finally the barking started to get louder. “I think we’re catching up,” Joe panted as we clambered over a loose stack of cinder blocks in a narrow hallway.

  I just nodded. As best I could tell, we had to be near the back of the building by now. It was clear this section of the basement didn’t get much use. Dusty cobwebs hit us in the face at almost every step, and the door handles were rusty and squealed when we turned them.

  WOOF!

  Joe spun around, shining his flashlight down a side hall I hadn’t even noticed. “I think that came from down there!” he cried. “Come on!”

  “Be—,” I began. But he’d already disappeared into the darkness ahead, his light barely a pinprick in the gloom. “Careful,” I finished with a sigh, hurrying after him.

  I caught up to him in a small room at the far end of the hallway. He was casting his light around in there.

  “Killer?” he called, taking a step farther in. He glanced back when he heard me enter. “You call him. He likes you better.”

  “Killer?” I whistled softly. “Here, boy.”

  There was no answer. Joe was still shining his light around. “Hey,” he said as the beam picked up something small and dark in the corner. “What’s that?”

  I shone my own light that way. “Looks like an old-fashioned tape deck,” I said. “But what—”

  My voice trailed off in a gasp as there was another loud bark—coming right from that tape recorder!

  “It’s a trap!” Joe cried. “We have to—”

  SLAM!

  Before we could turn around, the thick metal door behind us crashed shut. I flung myself at it, but it was no use.

  “It’s locked!” I cried. I pounded on it. “Hey! Whoever you are, let us out of here!”

  Joe didn’t say anything. When I glanced back, he had a strange expression on his face.

  “Do you smell something?” he asked.

  I stopped and sniffed the air. A distinctive odor met my nostrils. Metallic and vaguely fruity. It tickled the back of my throat, making me cough.

  “Is that …”

  “Chlorine gas,” Joe finished grimly. He pointed to a metal grate covering an air vent in the floor. A deadly pale green cloud was pouring up out of it, rapidly filling the room.

  I tugged the neck of my shirt up to cover my nose and mouth. “We’ve got to find a way out. Fast!”

  Fur Sure

  I’d always taken breathing for granted. Not anymore. Every breath I took, I felt more of the toxic gas trickling into my lungs. Nearby, I heard Frank wheezing as he struggled against the thickening cloud.

  We’d already tried to get at the canister of gas. But it was locked safely beneath that metal grate. Without tools, there was no way to pry it open.

  There was no way to get the door open either. We’d tried crashing our way through and ended up with nothing but bruised shoulders. The door was solid.

  “The window,” I choked out, pointing upward. “It’s our only chance.”

  Frank peered up, his eyes watering. “Too … high …,” he gasped.

  I wanted to argue. But I knew he was right. The window was up near the ceiling. Way too high to reach, even if we stood on each other’s shoulders.

  I sank to the floor, wheezing. It just wasn’t worth fighting it anymore. Maybe it was better just to give up … to go to sleep …

  CRASH!

  My eyes flew open at the sound of shattering glass. A furry shape flew down through the muggy air.

  “K-Killer?” I gasped out in amazement.

  This had to be a dream. But no—a second later I felt a moist, cool nose nudging me. Killer barked loudly. Right in my ear.

  “Ow,” I mumbled as he trotted away.

  But my mind was already clearing a little. So was the gas. It was escaping through the broken window overhead.

  “Killer?” a woman’s voice called, sounding confused. There was a cough. “Hey, who’s down there?”

  I heard Frank mumble something to Killer. A second later the dog returned to me. He nudged me again.

  Slurp.

  A wet tongue slapped against my face. I couldn’t help smiling.

  “Thanks, boy,” I said, giving the dog a pat. Aw, what the heck. I gave him a hug, okay? And for once, he seemed to tolerate it. Maybe even like it. At least a little.

  I clambered to my feet and looked up. Hunt Hunter was peering in through the window. “What’s going on down there?” she called.

  “You!” I accused. “You were the one who took Killer! Why’d you try to kill us?”

  “Kill you?” She sounded more confused than ever.

  “Dude, it wasn’t her.” Frank had recovered quickly once the gas had dissipated. He was examining the tape recorder. “Check it out.”

  I gasped when I saw the notation etched neatly on the back panel. Property of Myrna Wilson.

  “Mrs. Wilson?” I exclaimed. “But it can’t be her. For one thing, she wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave that here with her name on it.”

  “She didn’t think there’d be anyone left alive in this room to see it.” Frank looked grim. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We need to catch her before she realizes she didn’t kill us.”

  A few minutes later we were out. We’d explained the gist to Hunt, who had disappeared just long enough to find some rope to pull us out. The cold night air tasted clean and fresh.

  Hunt was still kind of confused. But she tagged along—with Killer—as we raced over to Mrs. Wilson’s little cottage behind the Cottage.

 
When she answered the door, she had a long bathrobe pulled tightly around her. “Do you know what time it is?” she snapped as she swung the door open.

  Okay. If that was how she wanted to play it …

  “Sorry,” Frank said, not sounding sorry at all. “But we thought you’d want this back right away.” He pulled the tape recorder out from behind his back.

  Her face crumpled. She tried to hold it together, but it was obvious. She knew the jig was up.

  “All right, you caught me.” She tipped her head back proudly. “It was all me. I’ll go quietly.”

  She grabbed her purse and marched toward the door. Frank and I traded a look. Whatever reaction we’d been expecting, this wasn’t it.

  “Um, okay,” I said, hurrying after her.

  At least I tried to. Killer had pushed his way in, and I had to stop to keep from tripping over his leash.

  “Out of the way, fuzzy,” I said, dodging around him.

  At least I tried to. Killer moved forward, blocking my way. Not on purpose or anything. His nose was pressed to the floor, sniffing urgently.

  “Come on, boy,” I said, feeling my usual aggravation with the beast return. “This is no time to be nosing around for Scooby snacks.”

  “He’s not looking for food.” Hunt was watching the dog alertly. “There’s someone else here.”

  “No there’s not,” Mrs. Wilson snapped. “Come along, I already told you it’s me you want. It was all me!”

  There was an edge of hysteria in her voice. Interesting. “Go find ’em, Killer,” I said, keeping an eye on Mrs. Wilson.

  “No!” she shrieked, diving at the dog. “Get out of here!”

  Killer ignored her. He’d finally found his trail. Leaping ahead, he pulled Hunt farther into the house. Frank and I followed.

  We burst into a room at the back. There we found a cowering figure.

  “Dr. Montgomery?” Frank exclaimed.

  “It’s not my fault,” he snapped, looking more like a cornered animal than the dapper elderly gentleman we knew. “I wasn’t doing it for me. I was doing it for Firth! All for Firth!”

  “Firth First!” Mrs. Wilson cried from behind us.

  “Yes.” Dr. Montgomery closed his eyes. “Firth First, Firth Always, Firth Forever.”