Towering - By Alex Flinn Page 0,61

into a black forty-gallon trash bag. I did that with every drawer in his desk. Yet, I felt like I was looking for something, a note maybe, a sign, some sort of last words of wisdom for me. Of course, there was nothing.

That was how Danielle’s room was too, now that I knew she was dead. It seemed unfinished, its contents pointless, worthless. I looked around for the photo, the one that made me sure she’d never come back.

It had been in the yearbook. The shot had been taken on a winter day. Danielle wore a coat—the same coat, I now realized, I’d taken from the closet to bring to Rachel. She held her arm up, threatening someone, the cameraman, with a snowball. Her hood was up, covering her dark hair, which made it easier to recognize her face.

It was Rachel’s face.

Danielle had been Rachel’s mother, not the old man’s long-lost daughter. I remembered Rachel saying her mother had been killed, and how Josh’s friends had joked about Mrs. Greenwood killing Danielle.

Maybe it wasn’t a bad joke. Obviously, Danielle had gotten pregnant, had a baby. Maybe Mrs. Greenwood had found out about it, had killed her. Or maybe just sent her away?

Or maybe she really didn’t know anything about it.

But who had taken Rachel? Who was protecting her now? Was it Mrs. Greenwood? Or someone else?

Whatever. It was better for now to leave Rachel where she was, far out of the way in a tower in the woods, where no one could find her. No one could hurt her. I had to make sure she didn’t leave.

Carefully, carefully, I pulled the page from the yearbook. The paper was thick, sewn in, and it came out with barely a shudder. I folded the paper so the photo wasn’t creased and hid it inside my shirt. I walked to the bedroom door, opened it. The hallway was empty. Downstairs, Spock said, “Fascinating.” My watch said five thirty. I shut the door, walked to the desk, and opened each drawer, searching for something, some evidence of what happened to her, a note, a clue. As with Tyler, there was nothing.

With one final check of the hall, I shut the door and tiptoed to my own room. I hid the photo in Danielle’s diary. That, I stowed in my backpack. I’d bring it to Rachel tomorrow.

I used Mrs. Greenwood’s land line to call Astrid.

“Thanks for calling back.” Her voice was sarcastic.

“Sorry, sorry. I was in a dead zone.”

She muttered something I assumed was unflattering, then said, “So are we ever getting together?”

“Of course.” I hated lying. “Look, I’m sorry someone bugged you. Did they leave a number?”

“You think I’m an answering service?”

“No, no. I just wanted to give them this number so they wouldn’t bother you again.”

“But why did they call me in the first place? Did you give them my number?”

Her voice was shrill. I had to keep mine calm, so Mrs. Greenwood wouldn’t hear me. I waited until she was finished.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I must have told someone we were seeing each other, and they looked it up.”

“Well we’re not seeing each other, are we?”

“No,” I admitted. “Look, I’m really sorry. It’s just . . . I met someone else.”

“You are such a jerk.”

The line went dead. Terrific.

I went downstairs to have chicken with Mrs. Greenwood, but my thoughts were about Danielle and Rachel. Mrs. Greenwood said something I didn’t hear.

“What?” I asked.

She said, “I remembered the name of that ski place. Beaver Brook Outfitters. We used to buy all Danielle’s equipment there, from her first pair of skis when she was a little girl.”

“So you skied too? When you were younger?”

“Oh, yes. We loved skiing. And Danielle took to it from the first day of ski school. I used to worry because she was a bit reckless.” She laughed. “Well, not a bit. Quite reckless. While the other children were carefully snowplowing down the slope, Danielle was flying, flying. I always worried she would crash, that she would leave me.”

She got a faraway look on her face.

What had happened to Danielle?

35

Wyatt

I left even earlier the next morning, to avoid being followed. No one there, at least that I saw. Still, I took a winding route, just in case.

When I reached the tower, it was dawn. I could barely make out Rachel’s hair, hanging down already. Just seeing it there made me feel sort of giddy. She was waiting for me. I climbed the rope with ease, and when I