Dead Letter by Betsy Byars Read Free Book Online Page A

mustard. The chilly afternoon breeze had now become a cold wind. A flock of crows flew overhead, cawing.
    Herculeah glanced down at her coat—electric blue, the woman at Hidden Treasures had said. It would be easily spotted. She took off the coat, folded it so that the lining was outside, the brilliant blue concealed. She rolled it into a bundle and stuck it under her arm. In one quick motion she jumped to the ground and ran, zigzagging for the shelter of the trees.
    She paused there for a moment, considering her chances. She could make her way through the trees, but sooner or later she would have to come out on Elm Street. She remembered where the car had been and felt that if she could come out of the trees behind it, she could make a dash to Main Street before the driver could get the car turned around.
    Jogging through the trees, her hair blowing behind her, she could hear the traffic on Main Street. She slowed as she came to Elm. She peered around the trees. There was no car in sight.
    â€œIt’s gone,” she said.
    She was ashamed of the fact that she suddenly felt weak with relief.
    She didn’t want to linger. She picked a spot where the mound of dirt was lowest, climbed over, hopped the trench, and stepped onto the roadway. She brushed off her jeans, unfolded her coat, and put it on. She was loping toward Main Street when she heard it.
    A car engine.
    She glanced back. The car had been hidden in the trees. Now it roared out, tires squealing, coming straight at her.
    Herculeah was in the worst possible place. Perhaps the driver had been waiting for that. Beside her, the mound of dirt was too high to jump over, the trench too narrow to fit in. There was no room to get out of the car’s way. She glanced back again.
    The car was twenty yards away.
    It was gaining speed.
    Herculeah had always heard that when you thought you were going to die, your whole life passed before your eyes. What passed before Herculeah’s eyes was a fast-approaching bumper—it was less than ten yards away now—and the thought that she was not going to die by a black car.
    She threw herself up the bank. Her feet slipped on the loose earth. She went down on her knees. She glanced at the car.
    It was five yards away now.
    Using all her strength, Herculeah pushed herself up the mound of earth and threw herself over the top. The car sped past, swerving on the very spot where she had stood only seconds ago. She could smell the sickening scent of exhaust.
    She took deep breaths. She was relieved, but at the same time—
    She lifted her head. She heard the car back up, the squeal of brakes. The car stopped. There was a whir as the window rolled down.
    Herculeah waited. Her heart began to pound in her throat.
    She knew the driver of the car was just on the other side of the ditch, listening, waiting for her to reappear. If she did, he would come at her again. And this time, she might not be quick enough to get away.
    She ran beside the mound of earth, toward the sound of the traffic, eyes fixed on her goal, breath held. She stayed in a crouch, keeping her head well below the top of the mounds of red earth.
    And then she heard the noise, the persistent whir of the engine. The car was moving too.
    It moved at her pace, always just a stone’s throw away. It was as if the driver could see through the pile of dirt and knew exactly where she was.
    Herculeah kept moving. Her throat was dry. The blood pounded in her ears.
    She came to what had once been a driveway. Now it was just an open space.
    When she crossed that space, Herculeah knew she would be vulnerable. If the driver did know where she was, he would anticipate her movements. He could swerve into the driveway, and—“and I’d be history,” she said.
    She took a deep breath, another, and then with a burst of speed that surprised even herself, Herculeah ran across the open space and into the shelter of the elm trees.
    Panting with exertion and fear, but