Uncovering Sadie's Secrets by Libby Sternberg Page A

you,” she said in a perky, business-like voice. “I’m Constance Moran from the Alumni Association of St. John’s Academy. I live in 803 and I’m trying to visit all new St. John’s students in my neighborhood and I understand that Sadie Sinclair lives here.” She even pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and appeared to be consulting it as she said Sadie’s name. She also mispronounced it—a nice touch—saying “Sah-dee” instead of “Say-dee.”
    Someone said something to Connie that I couldn’t make out. Then Connie, perky smile still on her face, backed away. “I’m sorry. I’ll be sure to try again. Let me leave a card. . .”
    She rummaged through her purse for a few seconds. “Well, I can’t seem to put my hands on one right now, but I can leave one when I come back. I’m so glad you’re at St. John’s. It’s a terrific school, isn’t it?” It didn’t take long for the door to shut on her.

Chapter Eight
    “W ELL ?” I asked Connie, coming out of my hiding place and joining her as we walked down the hall together.
    “Well, if that’s Sadie Sinclair in there, she’s not harmed as far as I could see. Just a little teary-eyed. She was in the distance. A man was standing by the window looking out. And a redhead spoke to me. Had a cigarette voice and too much make-up.”
    “Yeah, that was her,” I said.
    “That was who, her mother?”
    “I guess. So you don’t think anything was out of the ordinary? That’s a relief.” My mind immediately turned to thoughts of my date. If we hurried, I’d get there right on the dot of six.
    Just as we rounded the corner to the elevator bank, we heard a door open. Looking back, we saw it was Sadie’s door. Connie grabbed me and pulled me forward. “Come on. If they see you with me, they’ll know I was faking.”
    We ran silently on the plush carpet and Connie hit the elevator button. We couldn’t turn back. The staircase was behind us, in full view of Sadie’s door. We could hear footsteps in the hall as we waited, an excruciatingly long three seconds until the doors whooshed open.
    But it was too late. They also had heard the doors open and were racing to catch the same elevator. Just as they rounded the corner, Connie pulled my face into her shoulder and whispered emphatically, “Start sobbing.”
    I responded like a robot and pretended to cry while she whipped out her cell phone with her other hand and faked a conversation. “Uh-huh. . . yeah. We’re on our way now. . . are you sure? Okay. . . okay. . .”
    I could tell the others had boarded the elevator, but I couldn’t see them because my face was buried in my sister’s shoulder.
    “Her dog just died,” she said to them as the elevator started moving. “Was with her all her life.” Geez, she even put a catch in her throat. “My sister is taking it pretty bad.”
    After an interminable ride, during which Connie comforted me in halting tones, we finally reached the lobby and walked out behind them. I lifted my head an inch and saw all three of them together. Sadie was walking ahead of the other two as if she knew where she was going. They didn’t get in the car but headed down the street instead. Connie held me back and just stared at them.
    “There is definitely something weird here,” she said looking at them walking together.
    “I think you ruined my hair-do,” I said, touching my crushed strands.
    “Come on!” She grabbed my hand and followed the three down the dark streets.
    “Con, my date!” I hissed at her.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll get you there. We’re one minute away from the mall, for God’s sake.”
    With that reassurance, I happily joined in the chase. Connie was staying close to buildings and ducking into store overhangs every few seconds. No one else was out and about so the chances of being caught by Sadie and her crew were high. We had to proceed cautiously and at a fair distance. At the corner of York and Dunston Lane, they stopped.
    Connie