Don't Tell Anyone by Peg Kehret Page B

caught Megan’s eye; it was one of the photos.
    It’s him, Megan thought. It’s the driver of the tan car! Only it isn’t a boy, it’s a girl. The girl’s hair was cut short; Megan could see why she had thought the driver was a boy.
    She read the paragraph that accompanied the photo. Lacey Wilcox, she learned, was the fourth of five children and would be the first in her family to graduate from high school. She was valedictorian, with a 3.98 grade-point average, and planned to attend the community college next fall.
    This can’t be the driver, Megan thought. A girl smartenough to have the best average in her whole class would never leave the scene of an accident. She certainly would never leave me a note threatening to kill the cats.
    And yet—a girl like that had a whole lot to lose if anyone discovered she had caused a wreck. Maybe she was scared that she would get an expensive traffic fine or that her driver’s license would be canceled. Would she be scared enough to drive away from the accident and, later, to write a menacing note?
    Maybe Lacey Wilcox had a brother or a cousin who looked like her. Maybe that’s who was driving the tan car when the accident happened.
    Maybe.
    Megan studied the photo again and knew in her bones that it was not a brother or a cousin. She had seen the driver for such a brief time, and yet there was a definite likeness. If the police artist had sketched this photo, Megan would have said, yes, that’s exactly right. That’s the hit-and-run driver.
    Megan knew she should call Officer Rupp and tell him that the newspaper photo looked like the driver of the tan car.
    But what if she turned Lacey Wilcox in, and then Lacey did what she had said she would do? Anybody who was desperate enough to write a threatening note and wrap it up in a box labeled CAT FOOD was capable of most anything, including killing the feral cats.
    Megan couldn’t take a chance on that.
    She fingered the note in her pocket. She didn’t have to remove it to remember what it said. “If you want the cats to live, don’t tell anyone.”
    I
do
want them to live, Megan thought, all of them: Pumpkin and Twitchy Tail and Claws and Slush and Mommacat and the new little kittens. They would all be safe in a few days, as soon as Mr. Colby made the arrangements.
    After the cats are out of the field, Megan thought, I’ll tell the police that I know who was driving the tan car.
    She got a pair of scissors and clipped the picture and the article about Lacey Wilcox out of the newspaper. As soon as the cats were safely in their new homes, she would show the photo to Officer Rupp.
    She would show him the note then, too. But not now.
    Kylie skipped into the kitchen. “Mom says maybe,” she said.
    Mrs. Perk followed Kylie. “I hear your mother cat had her kittens,” she said, “without any help from you.”
    â€œI couldn’t tell how many there were,” Megan said. “She had them in a drainpipe. I hope it doesn’t rain soon; they’ll get soaked if it does.”
    â€œThat mother cat will move them to a dry place if it rains,” Mrs. Perk said.
    â€œHow soon can we bring the kittens home?” Kylie asked.
    â€œKittens need to stay with their mother for six weeks,” Mrs. Perk said. “Then we’ll see.”
    â€œThey’re free,” Megan pointed out. Mom always liked a bargain.
    â€œFree cats need to get their shots,” Mrs. Perk replied. “They’ll have to be wormed, and we’ll need to buy food and a litter box.”
    â€œI’ll help pay,” Megan said. “I can use my birthday money.”
    â€œI have sixteen cents,” Kylie said.
    â€œWe don’t even know if these kittens will be healthy enough to adopt,” Mrs. Perk said. “Did you call Feline Friends?”
    â€œNo,” Megan said. “I met a man who wants to save the cats, too, and he is going to call