Chapter 2
Suspicions and Stalkers
Frank landed hard on his stomach, and he lay still a few moments as he tried to catch his breath. He thought he'd heard another snap on his way down, but that seemed to have been a result of something other than himself breaking, thankfully.
"Frank! Are you okay?" Joe asked, skidding to a stop beside him.
He rolled over slowly, wincing as he did so, and stood up with Joe's help. "One thing's certain," he said, eying the binding still on his ski boot. About ten feet above them, his detached ski stuck straight up out of the snow. "I need new skis."
After finally arriving at the top of the hill upon getting a new pair of skis from Lorna Johnson ("You're lucky," she remarked. "Three years ago a girl broke her nose landing on her ski pole."), Frank was ready to call it quits, mostly because his body was starting to complain about his tumble down the hill. But they still had six miles to go before they could truly quit for the night.
He pushed up his coat sleeve to look at his watch. 2:15. Not bad, considering. But the sun set at 4:30 this time of year, and they had about 20 minutes or so of daylight after sunset. He figured it took him and Joe roughly 20 minutes to ski a mile and a half, so they'd get to Miller's Point about 3:00, if they were lucky. He didn't know how long it would take to snowshoe back, but it would most likely be about two times slower than skiing. So that would mean it'd be 6:00 at the earliest by the time they finally got back to Moorland.
"You're sure you're okay, Frank?" Joe asked, noticing he was moving a bit gingerly.
"Nothing worse than a few bruises," Frank replied as one of the assistants checked them in and gave them the go ahead. Nothing worse than on any of our cases, he amended silently.
About that same time, Nancy and George were in the middle of the pack. Ahead they could hear whoops and laughter as the leaders started to go down what seemed to be a rather steep hill.
"You want to watch this hill," Jemima Lawrents said somewhat breathlessly as she came up behind them. "There's a bridge at the bottom that crosses a creek bed at a ninety-degree angle from the trail."
"Thanks for the warning," George said. She and Nancy followed Jemima to the top of the hill and stopped; Jemima immediately started down and executed the turn quite easily.
"Well, she would be familiar with this route," Nancy said when George commented on Jemima's warning. "She lives here."
"Yeah, but she said she didn't know the way to the resort, either," George pointed out; "And she seems to be familiar with Lorna Johnson. She was also late getting there. I mean, we arrived right after Frank and Joe, and we had to leave our equipment unattended for a few minutes. So logically, she's the number one suspect at the moment for sabotaging Frank's ski bindings."
"I'll admit she does seem a bit on the peculiar side," Nancy started, choosing her words carefully. "But Frank's skis were old. And the slope was icy."
"Still…" George trailed off, shook her head. "I'm being paranoid. It's been ages since you've had a case." Nancy glared at her. "Okay, since we had a case. Well, I'm not going to waste any more time on this. See you at the bottom." George started down, and like so many before her, missed the turn at the bottom. Nancy did the same thing.
The woods were rather quiet as Frank and Joe brought up the rear. The contestants ahead of them soon disappeared as Frank moved rather slowly, and most of those who'd been behind them had already passed. He knew Joe was only lagging because of him.
"Go on ahead, Joe," he ordered. His nose and throat were stinging from the cold air.
"Not on your life, bro," Joe replied, keeping pace. "You probably hurt something when you fell that's not announcing itself yet. Bedsides, remember Survival Rule Number One?"
"Always stay together out in the woods," Frank recited dully. "Joe, I'm fine. Now will you get a move on?"
"Uh-uh. I'm staying right here."
"Fine."
The last of the racers passed them.
Frank definitely couldn't breathe now. "Let's stop a moment," he suggested.
Joe watched with concerned eyes as Frank dug out a small water bottle and took a long drink. "You want some?"
Joe shook his head. "I'm fine. And there's always snow. What time is it?"
"2:45."
"I wonder how far we've gone."
"Only one way to find out, bro." Joe started off; Frank screwed the lid back on his water bottle, jammed it in his coat pocket, and followed.
They passed the first pack of snowshoers about 3:30. "Hey, how much further?" Joe asked the first one.
"Hundred yards," the man said. "They kept us so you two could catch up some."
"Thanks," Joe called. Sure enough, the second check-in point soon came into view. "Let's rest a bit," he suggested, eyeing Frank as his brother leaned briefly on his ski poles, breathing heavily.
Frank shook his head. "Can't." He moved off toward the check point. "If I stop now, I won't be able to finish tonight."
"Okay, if you're sure about it."
"Will you stop being so protective!"
"Me? Protective? Usually it's the other way around. I'm supposed to be the stubborn one, remember?"
"And you refuse to admit you're hurt. As always."
"Look, Joe, I'm saying I'm not hurt because it's the truth, okay? You try rolling down that hill when your skis are still attached!"
During the course of this altercation, they'd reached the check-in point, had been given snowshoes, and had replaced their skis, Frank having double-checked the straps on his.
"C'mon," Joe said finally when they'd checked the straps. "Let's try to get back to the lodge sometime before dark, huh?"
"You okay, Frank?" Nancy asked, coming up to them a bit awkwardly in snowshoes while they were waiting for their starting signal.
"Yeah, just a little banged up. You and George still with the pack?"
"Uh-huh," George said, snowshoeing over to them as well. "Hey, watch out for Jemima Lawrents, okay?"
"Why?" Joe asked. "I admit, she's a bit on the weird side, but what's she got to do with this race?"
George eyed him with a serious expression. "We think she may have sabotaged the bindings on Frank's skis. And she didn't know the directions; yet she got to the ski resort in about ten minutes."
Jemima passed them, disappearing into the tree line. Frank had the impression she'd been listening.
"I'm not saying she is the saboteur, but—"
"Everything points to her, at least right now," Joe said.
"Exactly," George replied.
Frank was getting a feeling he usually got when they were on a case that was potentially dangerous. "Look, why don't we stick together from now on?" he suggested. "I mean, we're going to be going together anyway for the snowshoe section; Lorna Johnson said it was only fair because of my skis. "Also, if Jemima has no qualms about sabotaging the skis, what's to say she's not going to do the same to the canoes? She even hinted it to me and Joe earlier."
"But she only said something like 'watch out for branches'," Joe pointed out.
"And Joe, just for the credit, I'm fine now." Frank paused. "I take that back. Remember the bridge? I am not looking forward to seeing what it does to us with snowshoes. The skis were bad enough."
It was nearly dark when Frank, George, Joe, and Nancy reached the dreaded bridge. A shallow creek rippled beneath it, iced over with a thin layer of the stuff. Surprisingly, the bridge wasn't the problem; that was reserved for the steep banks on either side of the creek. But eventually they made it to the other side of the creek bed with only their prides affected.
As the foursome continued on toward Moorland, their headlamps lighting up the trail, other competitors passed them. "Frank, what time is it?" Joe asked at one point.
For not the first time Frank was glad his current watch glowed in the dark. "It's 5:15," he said.
"45 more minutes, then," Joe commented. "We figured on getting back by six at the earliest, remember?"
"And I'm just about bushed; are you?" an all too familiar voice said behind them.
"Hello, Jem," Frank said dully. Hold on—she started the snowshoe portion well before we did. What's she doing back here?
"Hey, you want to be careful in this area, last year my brother and I saw a cougar about this time of night." She kept pace with them a bit. "See you back at the lodge."
"I don't know why, but I don't like that girl," George muttered beside them. "Just something about her."
"Hey, where's Nancy?" Joe asked suddenly.
The others started. "She was right with us at the bridge," Frank said. "Do you think Jemima has anything to do with it?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," George replied. "I mean, Jem started before we did and only just passed us. Once again, she's the most likely suspect."
"Let's try getting Nancy on the walkie talkies Lorna Johnson gave us," Frank suggested; "and if that doesn't work, we let Lorna know."
