Grave Shadows (3 page)

Chapter 7

Sometimes it’s weird what you think you see
when you’re scared. I didn’t want to notice anything in that upstairs window. Could it have been the wind moving the shutters? Was someone there? What were they doing in that spooky old house?

“You guys investigate,” Jeff said. “I’ll stay here.”

Ashley and Hayley and I climbed down and walked up the old driveway, which looked like it had been made for a horse and buggy. We skirted the front and stopped at an old outbuilding that looked like it was home to a bunch of snakes.

Shutters hung at weird angles from the house. A balcony with a crumbling railing ran around the top floor. All the windows were broken. You’d have to throw a rock for at least a year to hit any glass.

“You guys scared of dying?” Hayley whispered.

We looked at her like she was playing with the dead skunk.

“No, I mean like Jeff. He doesn’t seem scared at all.”

“Can we talk about this later?” I said. “Besides, he’s not going to die.”

Hayley nodded and moved to the front of the little building. The half-moon cut into the door told me this had been an outhouse—an outdoor bathroom. I’d read about them but had never actually seen one. I peeked inside at a long bench with a hole cut in it.

“Let’s go in the house,” Hayley said.

“Thought you were afraid to die,” I said. I didn’t want to hurt Hayley’s feelings, but she was getting on my nerves.

“We should see who’s in there,” she said.

I stepped onto the back porch. Weeds grew through the floor. The boards creaked and we stopped, listening.

“What if drug dealers are inside?” Ashley whispered. “Somebody said there used to be a bunch of hippies living here.”

“What’s a hippie?” Hayley said.

“Quiet,” I said.

The screen door at the back squeaked and nearly fell off. The back door wasn’t locked, so I went inside. My heart beat like a drum during the 1812 Overture, but I didn’t want the girls to know it.

I had no idea why I was doing this, but I was going to do it anyway. The old kitchen was buried under dust on the table and every chair. Through holes in the floor you could see into the cellar, which I didn’t really want to do.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Ashley said.

I moved to the living room. There was an old piano with the bench toppled over. Spiderwebs reached from one end of the entry to the other. I pointed to a black widow and told the girls, “You don’t want to get bitten by one of those.”

Dust danced in the shafts of sunlight streaming through the front window. Huge cracks in the ceiling ran the length of the living room, and it looked like the light fixture was ready to fall.

“Somebody’s up there,” Hayley whispered.

Chapter 8

I felt like running.
Hayley put her arm around me, and we followed Bryce, as if drawn by some unseen force.

Jeff had said this house had belonged to an old prospector named John Bascom and that gold was hidden somewhere on the grounds. Whoever found it would be rich beyond their wildest dreams. From all the holes in the walls and floor it looked like somebody had searched every inch of the place.

Bryce stepped onto the creaky stairs and stopped when something thumped above us. Was someone trying to get away?

“Hello?” Bryce said.

No answer.

He motioned to a missing stair and stepped over it. Hayley and I were side by side now, not willing to let go of each other. Bryce reached the top first, two stairs at a time.

Suddenly a step gave way, the wood cracking beneath Hayley and me. I grabbed the railing and her arm as her leg punched through. She screamed.

Bryce edged back down and helped me pull Hayley up. Her leg was scratched, but there was no blood.

We finally reached a long hallway, and Bryce pointed at a door. Before we reached it, the door flew open.

“Hi, guys!” Jeff said, laughing.

“How did you—?”

“Secret entrance,” he said. “My dad and I have been through this house lots of times.”

Jeff showed us a narrow staircase that went straight down to a door to the outside.

Hayley stopped. “Look.”

In the corner sat a paper bag with a King Soopers’ grocery store logo on it. She picked it up.

“What’s special about an empty bag?” Jeff said.

Hayley shrugged.

“There’s no dust on it,” I said. “Somebody’s just been here.”

Chapter 9

As we got on our bikes,
Jeff turned back to the cemetery. “I asked my dad if they’d let me be buried up here.”

I rolled my eyes. “Stop talking that way.”

“I’d love to be planted up here.” He pointed to Pikes Peak. “Picture yourself with your wife and kids, coming back here. You could show them this house, talk about this summer. Maybe your mom would even write a story about us.”

“I want to be buried near the interstate where people can build a big monument for me,” I said. “They can honk and throw flowers out their windows as they pass.”

Jeff stuck his tongue out and blew air through his teeth. It was his unique way of laughing that I never got tired of. Once in history class while he was giving a report he said something funny and started to laugh, then couldn’t stop. He just kept blowing air and sticking his tongue out, and the whole class had a hard time not laughing the rest of the hour.

Going down the hill was a lot easier than coming up, but the way Jeff panted, then didn’t even pedal, made me wonder about our trip.

When we got past the skunk who had passed to his eternal reward, Jeff stopped to rest.

“I have an idea,” I said.

“Shoot.”

“There are a bunch of riders, right?”

“More than a hundred.”

“And we’re riding over some main roads, right?”

“Some back roads, but mostly the main ones.”

“What if we took our ATVs and rode behind them—you know, to bring up the rear and help out people who need it.”

Jeff’s jaw dropped so low I thought he was going to dig gravel on the side of the road. “I’m not riding an ATV behind everybody. No way.”

I held up both hands. “It was just an idea.”

He stared at me with such intensity that I had to look away. “Look, Bryce, this is what I’ve dreamed about ever since the doctor said I was sick. I’ve had the chance to go to Disneyland or Disney World or a hundred other places sick kids go. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to shake the president’s hand or eat dinner with some famous athlete who pities me.”

“I get the point—”

“I don’t want to go to the Grand Canyon or surf in Hawaii, not that I could surf anyway. . . .” He took his Rockies cap off, and the sun glinted off his bald head. “This is what I want to do. I’ve dreamed of it for months. I can see the finish line. But if there’s any part of you that doesn’t want to—”

“I do want to go,” I said. “I’m just worried you’ll get sicker or that we won’t make it. I’m with you until the end, even if you have to drag me the last few miles.”

Jeff smiled. “Yeah, I just might have to drag your sorry carcass across that finish line.”

“You’re going to be riding in front when we do cross,” I said.

He laughed with his tongue stuck out.

It was the best sound I’d heard all day.

Chapter 10

Hayley and I cycled ahead
while Bryce and Jeff stopped. The sun cast deep shadows on the road, and it felt good to have the wind in our faces as we coasted. The wheels
click-click-click
ed as we wound our pedals backward, bouncing along the uneven road.

I wanted to talk to Hayley more about God, and though no time seemed right, I could tell something was bothering her.

“What do you think will happen to Jeff?” she said, looking over her shoulder.

“One day at a time. That’s what Bryce says. The doctors don’t really know.”

“I feel sorry for him. Can’t imagine what it’s like for his parents. Kind of reminds me what my aunt’s going through.”

“Your aunt?”

“My cousin disappeared a couple of weeks ago. He called in to work, told them he’d be there in a half hour, then never made it.”

I had read something about it in the paper but hadn’t paid much attention. Now that I knew it was Hayley’s cousin, I was a lot more interested.

“He has a little dog that goes everywhere with him,” Hayley continued. “He left the dog locked up. My aunt found the poor thing and let her out. The dog’s been whimpering and crying ever since.”

“Strange.” A million questions shot through my mind. I asked where he was last seen, if he was in any kind of trouble, and if he’d ever disappeared before. Finally I said, “What kind of car does he drive?”

“Yellow Jeep. He loves it as much as the dog. Always washing and polishing it.”

“Police say anything?”

“They don’t have a clue.”