Free Don't Tell Anyone by Peg Kehret Page B

that fell out of its nest, or begging me to pick up a lost dog that was running alongside a busy street.”
    â€œWould your daughter like to have one of the kittens when they’re ready for adoption?” Megan asked.
    The cell phone in his pocket rang. He took out the phone, pushed a button, and said, “This is Dale. Oh. Can you verify that I’m supposed to clear the land today for that apartment building on the corner of 148th, by the freeway? There’s a kid here who claims the project’s been put on hold until some wild cats get moved out of the field.” He covered the phone and said to Megan, “She can’t reach Mr. Colby. She’s going to ask someone else.”
    Megan’s nervousness returned. What if Mr. Colby had not told anyone else about the cats? What if the woman in the office came back and told the driver to proceed with bulldozing the field? What would Megan do then?
    A minute later the driver spoke into the receiver again. “Okay,” he said. “Thanks for checking.”
    He closed the cell phone and put it back in his pocket.
    Megan held her breath.
    â€œNobody in the office knows anything about the cats,” he said. “Most of the staff left early today because of the balloon festival. Colby Construction sponsors one of the balloons, and this year they’re also selling doughnuts and hot cider, to raise money for the new library.”
    Megan pressed her lips together, trying to keep back the tears. “Will you wait until you reach Mr. Colby?” she asked. “Please?”
    â€œI’ll tell you what,” the driver said. “I was late getting here today and now it’s after four o’clock. Since I can’t finish the job this afternoon anyway, I won’t start it until tomorrow morning.”
    â€œThank you,” Megan said. “Will you keep trying to call Mr. Colby?”
    â€œThe only number I have is the office; they close at five. But they said he checks his messages. Maybe he’ll call me tonight.”
    â€œWhat if he doesn’t?” Megan asked.
    â€œThen I won’t have any choice but to go ahead and clear the land tomorrow. I don’t usually work on Saturday, butthis is a rush order that was supposed to be finished today. I said I’d do the job, and I’m obligated to do it. As it is, I’m a day behind their schedule.”
    â€œWhat time will you be here in the morning?” she asked.
    â€œI usually start at seven-thirty.”
    â€œI’m going to the balloon festival,” Megan said. “I’ll look for Mr. Colby at the booth selling doughnuts and cider.”
    But what if she didn’t find him? Thousands of people attended the festival every year, and just because his company was sponsoring a food booth didn’t mean he would be working there.
    â€œGood luck,” the driver said.
    â€œThanks.” She turned and walked toward her bike.
    I’ll need plenty of luck, Megan thought. If Mr. Colby’s own office can’t get hold of him, what chance do I have?
    All she could do was try. She would look for him at the balloon festival, and if she didn’t find him there, she would call the number he had given her.
    She remembered that Mr. Colby had crossed off the number on the business card and written in a different number. Maybe he had given her his home number—or maybe Mom had it, because of the book club. She hoped so. She would try to call him, and keep trying, until she got an answer.
    If she had not spoken to Brice Colby by seven tomorrow morning, she would call the TV hot-line number, and the newspapers, and all her friends. She would ask people topicket, with signs. If she had to, she would stand in front of the bulldozer and prevent the driver from moving it forward.
    Megan reached her bike and mounted it. As she rode away from the field, she glanced back at the big yellow bulldozer.
    On second thought, she wasn’t sure