J.M.J.
Author's note: Thanks for reading and reviewing! The next chapter will be up tomorrow. It's a good thing I was able to get this chapter up. I had a few panicked moments in which I thought I had lost it, but it turned out that I had only accidentally saved it to a different folder than the other chapters. Whew! God bless!
June 30 – Friday
"Frank! Look at this!" Joe eagerly shoved the notebook under his brother's nose and pointed at a line of cramped, difficult writing.
It was too close to Frank's face for him to see, so he had to push it away a bit. "What is it?"
"It's exactly what I've been hoping we'd find," Joe declared.
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Eli had another boat that he didn't scuttle?"
"Not quite as good as that," Joe admitted. "But he did find a salt deposit and he says exactly where it's at. No more bland fish and potatoes!"
Frank chuckled. "That is good news."
Chet was passing by right then, and he caught only Frank's comment. "What is?" he asked eagerly. "Did you guys find a way out of here?"
"No," Joe admitted. "That would be fantastic, wonderful, amazing news. This is just very good news. There's salt on the island and Eli explains how to find it. Let's see. It must be the thirtieth today? June 30 is henceforth National Salt Day. At least, once we find the salt."
Chet fistpumped the air. "That's not good news; that's great news! I don't think I can eat another unsalted vegetable."
"I never thought I'd see you guys so excited about salt." Frank continued to chuckle.
"Do you realize how long it's been since we've had decent food?" Chet asked, aggrieved.
"I don't even want to think about that," Joe replied grimly. "Let's go get that salt. We can work in the garden in the afternoon."
"You guys go ahead. It doesn't take all six of us to get some salt," Frank pointed out. "I'll keep working at this." He tapped the journal he was holding.
The salt and an excursion into parts of the island he hadn't yet seen was more appealing to Joe than continuing to read Eli's journal, although this discovery was much more encouraging than earlier entries had been. He and Chet asked the other three castaways if they wanted to come. Only Biff took them up on the offer. Phil was still attempting to fashion hinges for the door and he offered to do the fishing for the day, and Tony had finally gotten caught up on his journal entries, but now he was doing something with the string that Biff had found which he wouldn't show anybody.
The three who had determined to go on the adventure filled canteens for themselves. They also had found several old coffee cans, and they each took one to fill up with salt. Then, after eating some fruit for breakfast, they set out.
The salt deposit was, according to Eli's notes, on the south side of the island. When they had explored a few days earlier, they had been tired by the time they reached that part of the island, so they hadn't looked around as thoroughly as they might have.
"If we could just figure out how to grow some wheat and make some flour, then we could bake stuff," Chet commented as they walked along.
"Remember in The Mysterious Island, how they found a corn kernel in one of their jackets and they planted it and got it grow and then eventually were able to have a whole cornfield?" Biff said.
Joe scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, all due respect to Jules Verne, but I don't know that that would work. At least, I doubt we could get it to work. The single stalk of corn would probably die as a sprout, and then we'd be out of luck."
"Well, I doubt any of us have any corn kernels stuck in our clothes anyway," Biff replied.
"That still won't get us any cake," Chet grumbled.
"I wonder if there's any breadfruit on the island," Joe said. "I guess if there is, it won't do us any good. I wouldn't be able to recognize it if I saw it. Besides that, I don't know where it even grows."
"No way to find out, either," Biff noted. "It's kind of weird, not having any way to look anything up. Like, we've got what we already know, and no way to learn anything new, except for what we can figure out."
"Yeah, just wait until one of us has a song stuck in our head, but can't remember more than a few words," Chet said.
Eli's directions unfortunately turned out to be less clear than they had looked at first. He directed them to a boulder just above the waterline with a sheer wall of rock about seven feet high behind it. However, the boys couldn't find any boulder or wall of rock that fit this description.
"What are we missing?" Joe muttered as he stood on one of the stretches of rocky ground that were plentiful on this side of the island.
"Most of these islands around here are volcanic, aren't they?" Biff asked. "So they get a lot of earthquakes. Maybe an earthquake wrecked the boulder and everything."
"Maybe," Joe said. "Seems kind of funny that it would wreck a natural rock formation, but not Eli's cabin."
Biff shrugged. "Earthquakes can be weird like that. I don't know what else could have happened to it."
"How are we going to find the salt deposit then?" Chet asked.
"I guess we'll just have to look everywhere," Joe replied. "Let's spread out."
They thought that a salt deposit would have most likely formed somewhere that the ocean water used to be able to get into but not out of. That way, as the water evaporated, it would leave its salt behind. This would mean some sort of hollow not far above the water line.
While they were looking, Joe was up above a small, rocky cliff. It wasn't as high as what Eli had indicated, but if Biff's earthquake theory was true, it could have sunk. While he was up there, he suddenly had the eerie feeling that he was being watched. Biff and Chet were both still in sight, and Joe could see that neither of them were looking at him. As casually as he could, he glanced around, trying to see if anyone else was there. But who else could be there? Frank, Tony, and Phil had all stayed back at the cabin, and if any of them had changed his mind and come after all, he would say something, not just hide out and watch them.
That left only two alternatives: either Joe was being paranoid and imagining things or there was some unknown person on the island. That latter possibility made the hair on the back of Joe's neck stand up. If there was someone else here who was friendly, surely they would have revealed themselves to the castaways by now, so an unknown stranger would most likely be trouble.
Then the feeling began to fade, and Joe realized that it was much more likely that he was just being paranoid. He was in an unfamiliar place, with no way to get home, and even if he could, there were people out there who wanted to kill him and his friends. Some paranoia wasn't too surprising.
"I found it!" Biff's shout distracted Joe from his concerns and he and Chet hurried to see the salt deposit Biff had found.
There was a lot of dirt and other debris mixed in with the salt. Two weeks ago, they would have never dreamed of using it on their food, but necessity could quickly put an end to pickiness, and they began eagerly scooping the salt into the containers they had brought.
HBNDHBNDHB
For having dated Nancy for almost seven months during their senior year of high school, Don Cameron had never actually worked undercover with her. He wasn't sure how he expected it to be, but he was sure it was going to be awkward. When she answered the door of her hotel room, he almost didn't recognize her. Her hair was now blonde and put up in a more quirky style than Nancy would have normally used. She was wearing more make-up than usual, which wasn't put on with any particular skill. It made her look younger, sillier, and altogether less like someone who knew what she was doing.
Don stared at her for a few seconds before he realized that he was being awkward. He looked away in embarrassment. "Wow. You…really don't look like you right now."
Nancy's cheeks reddened slightly. "That's the idea. Now let's see what we can do with you."
She let Don into her room, while both of them tried to think only of the case. She had a chair set up in front of the mirror over the sink, which was in the main room rather than the bathroom, and Don sat in it.
"Just one second," Nancy said, as she went and retrieved a long t-shirt that she slipped over her other clothes. "I don't want to get makeup on my costume."
Don grinned slightly. "Right. So what do you think?"
Nancy looked critically at him. "I don't think we'll have to do too much. The hair color will help a lot. I have some stage makeup, and I'll use that to try to make you look a little younger. The younger we look, the better, don't you think?"
"Yeah. I think so. I'll take your word for it, anyhow." Don cleared his throat awkwardly.
Nancy gave him a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry about this. If I would have realized what I'd have to do, I would have gotten Bess and George to come with me and the three of us could have done this instead. I think that would look more natural anyway—three girls following a celebrity around."
"It's fine," Don told her, although it might not have been completely true. "I just hope I don't mess this up. I've never done anything like this before, you know."
"You'll be fine," Nancy assured him. "It's even okay if you look and act nervous. We're going to be trying to meet the one and only Brock Garret, after all."
Don grinned. "I'm getting butterflies just thinking about it."
They both laughed, which helped to release the tension. Nancy went to work applying the makeup, and they both found it a trifle easier to relax despite each other's close proximity.
"So, how's everything been at home?" Don asked.
"It's been good." Nancy momentarily hesitated as she considered how much to tell him. Then she decided that telling him everything would be the most fair to all involved. "I'm not going to college…yet, anyway. I've had the dire warnings about what a mistake that is, so you don't have to give me any. It's just that I'd have to cut way back on taking cases if I was in college. I'm not completely neglecting any education. I've done a lot of independent studies in different topics and taken one-time classes and things like that."
"I think you'll do okay that way. I mean, not everyone has to go to college, or not straight out of high school, anyway."
"There are definitely some drawbacks to doing things this way," Nancy said. "There are a lot of jobs that you have to have experience, and sometimes the only way to get it is through a college program, even if the job wouldn't normally require a degree."
"If you keep on with the detective work, you won't have to worry about that," Don replied.
"True." Nancy bit her lip. College wasn't what she had intended to talk about, but she had needed something to lead into the subject. The problem was that she didn't see any natural way to transition to her next topic. She would just have to jump into it. "Um, Don, I am dating someone."
Don took in a deep breath. "Yeah, I heard something about that. A guy from over in Mapleton, I think?"
Nancy nodded. "That's right. His name is Ned Nickerson."
"Wasn't he the quarterback on Mapleton's high school team?" Don asked.
"Yeah. He's going to Emerson College now, and he plays for their team."
"I never thought…" Don started to say, but then he stopped himself. "Never mind. I mean, I'm not surprised he'd be playing for Emerson. He was quite a player. River Heights never stood a chance when our team had to play Mapleton while he was in school."
"I wasn't much of a football fan back then," Nancy commented, "so if I ever saw him play, I wasn't paying particular attention. I wish I would have now."
Don watched her face in the mirror. He wondered whether she really did care about this guy and she was just trying to be considerate of Don's feelings or she didn't care all that much. He didn't sound like her type. Before he stopped himself, Don had been about to blurt out that he had never thought Nancy would be interested in a quarterback. There were a lot of girls back in high school and even in college who seemed to think that dating a key player was quite the status symbol, but Nancy had never been interested in chasing after status. Maybe she wasn't all that serious about this guy.
Don shook his head. He couldn't let himself think like that. It would be easiest for all concerned if he just considered Nancy as being practically married to the guy. Don had had his chance, and if Nancy wanted to give him another, she was having her chance now. Unless she needed some encouragement. No, none of this was helpful. Even if there was still a chance, now wasn't the time to take it, not with Nancy's friends in trouble. Especially after the way Don had embarrassed himself the time he had met them.
"Is something wrong?" Nancy asked, noticing his cheeks redden.
"Uh, not exactly." Don chuckled ruefully. "I was just thinking about the time I met Frank."
Nancy cringed inwardly. "Don't bring that up."
"Trust me, if I could pick one memory to erase, that would be the one," Don replied.
"Well, you can trust me on this: Frank would never bring it up to you," Nancy assured him. "Now, Joe on the other hand…"
Don groaned. "Are you sure we've got to find them?" he joked.
Nancy gave a thin, polite smile, but didn't say anything.
Don sighed. "I'm sorry. Maybe if I could learn not to put my foot in my mouth every time I open it, I wouldn't have so many embarrassing memories."
"It isn't that. I just hope we can find them. And I can't help wondering what's happening to them right now."
"There's no point in worrying about that," Don assured her. "We'll find them, and they'll be fine. They've got the best detective in the country looking for them, after all."
Nancy nodded. "Mr. Hardy will find them if anyone can."
"I wasn't actually talking about Mr. Hardy."
Nancy stepped behind him, but he could still see her face in the mirror. Exactly what her expression showed, he wasn't sure.
"I think you're done," Nancy said. "What do you think?"
Don turned his attention to his own reflection. His own transformation wasn't quite as startling as Nancy's had been. He did look younger, more like about sixteen than nineteen, and through some trick of the makeup, Nancy had made his face look a bit narrower. It might not have been a shocking change, but Don thought that anyone who didn't know him particularly well would have to look closely to recognize him.
"It looks good," he said. "So now what?"
Nancy checked the time on her phone. "Brock's plane should be getting in any time, but Jack hasn't texted yet to let me know he's here. So we'll head toward the airport and be ready."
HBNDHBNDHB
"Yes. I understand. Thanks anyway." Fenton ended the call and frowned. Sam and Mark looked up from their research questioningly. "That was one of my contacts with the FBI," Fenton explained. "He says there's nothing they can do to get Delmont to cooperate with us. The orders came from high up in the pay scale."
"Great," Mark said before looking down at his laptop again.
"That doesn't make any sense," Sam protested. "You've worked with the FBI enough that they'd have better communication than this."
"I know," Fenton agreed. "It seems pretty obvious that there's something going on here that someone doesn't want us to know about, but nothing I can think of makes any sense."
"You think someone's bought off the FBI?" Mark asked, looking up again.
"Not the entire Bureau," Fenton replied. "I don't think anyone has that much money. At least, not anyone who'd have anything against me."
"Maybe not," Mark conceded. "But the cartels might come close."
Fenton and Sam glanced at each other.
"I thought you were convinced that a local crime organization was behind this," Sam said.
"I am," Mark confirmed, "but just because they're local doesn't mean that they couldn't have connections in other parts of the world. You pulled in Fenton from investigating the cartels, Sam. Maybe that was the point."
"In other words, a local gang might have owed the cartel a favor?" Fenton asked. "And the murder the boys supposedly witnessed was a smokescreen?"
"It could be," Mark said.
"But what about the other four boys?" Sam asked. "If this was directed at Fenton personally, why take them?"
Mark shrugged. "Wrong place, wrong time? Or maybe they realized that if they were trying to make it look like the boys were kidnapped to keep them from testifying, they needed to take all six."
"It could explain the whole thing," Fenton agreed. "We'll keep watching for anything that could connect this with my other case. In the meantime, let's keep focusing on the suspects Hikialani gave us."
HBNDHBNDHB
Nancy was quiet as she sat in the passenger seat of Don's car. She was liking this assignment less and less the longer it lasted, and it hadn't even lasted very long. She didn't like to be sitting alone in a car with her ex-boyfriend, whom she now felt certain hadn't yet moved on. She wished it was Ned sitting in the driver's seat. She hadn't told Ned this part of the plan, but she would, as soon as she was back in her hotel room that night.
Nancy's phone buzzed, indicating an incoming text. She seized on it and saw that it was from Jack. "It looks like it's go-time," Nancy reported to Don. "Jack says that Brock is in a yellow Camaro, so at least he's not trying to hide. If you head down this street, we should see him. We'll just tail him for now and hope that he goes somewhere we can get closer soon."
Don nodded and started driving. Sure enough, they soon spotted a yellow Camaro and began to tail it. Another car, which they recognized as Jack Wayne's, fell in right behind them. Brock went straight to an upscale hotel. He had someone else in the car with him: an older man with thinning hair and a sour face. The two of them went into the hotel by a back door.
"He must be trying to avoid paparazzi," Nancy commented.
"Looks like he's succeeding so far," Don replied. "Do we follow them in there?"
Nancy thought about it for a second or two. "No. Let's take a look at his car first. If anyone challenges us, remember we're superfans."
"Right. I'll just start quoting one of his movies at them," Don replied. "At least, I would if I knew any quotes from his movies."
They crept up to the car. The first thing Nancy did was to snap a picture of the license plate and text it to Fenton so that he could check into it. Don, meanwhile, was peering through the back window.
"The only thing I see is that Brock is a slob," he reported. "Look at all the stuff he's got piled up in there. I bet half of it's garbage."
"Slobs make the best suspects," Nancy told him. "They're much more likely to leave evidence lying around than someone who's tidy." She also peered through the back window.
"I don't see anything incriminating lying out in the open, so slob or not, it's not too helpful, unless you know how to break into a car," Don said.
Nancy grinned. "I'll plead the Fifth on that." Nevertheless, she reached for the handle of the door. To her surprise as well as Don's, it opened.
"Uh, are you just going to search through his car now?" Don asked.
"I think I'd better," Nancy told him. "You keep an eye on the hotel and warn me if anyone comes out. Even if it's not Brock or the other guy with him, we don't want the police called on us."
Don didn't seem too pleased about the prospect as he stood by, tapping his foot and watching the hotel and each end of the parking lot. Nancy began rooting through the mess in the back seat of Brock's car. It was hard to tell what might be important and what wasn't. There were numerous sticky notes and pieces of scratch paper with names and phone numbers scrawled on them, as well as business cards, sometimes with additional names or numbers written on the back in the same large, careless handwriting. Nancy began grabbing any of these that she saw. One, at least, might be a clue.
"Nancy!" Don whispered suddenly. "The guy who was with Brock is coming!"
Nancy jumped back out of the car and closed the door. Fortunately, the suspect apparently hadn't noticed them yet, as he was walking with his head down. Nancy shoved the sticky notes and business cards she had collected at Don.
"I don't have any decent pockets," she whispered. "Hide these!"
Don stuffed the papers in his pocket, not caring if he crumpled them more than they already were.
He had barely accomplished that when they heard a loud, "Hey, you!" Brock's companion had seen them and was stalking toward them. "What are you kids doing here?"
"N…nothing,' Nancy stammered, pretending to be more nervous than she was. She didn't think that the suspect had seen the car door open, so there wasn't too much he could do to them.
"What are you doing by that car?" the man shouted, causing both teenagers to wince.
"We're not hurting anything," Nancy insisted, trying to sound close to tears. "We're just standing here."
"Why are you standing by my car?" the man insisted.
"Oh, this is your car?" Nancy asked innocently. "We thought it was somebody else's. We were just waiting to see if he came out. We're terribly sorry."
That seemed to mollify the man a bit—but only a little bit. "Whose car did you think it was?"
"Just…somebody's," Nancy replied evasively.
"Whose car did you think it was?" the man repeated, the anger in his voice rising again.
Nancy looked down at the pavement and brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Uh, Brock Garret's?" she said in a small voice.
The man groaned. "That kid. One of these days…" Whatever he said was lost as he dropped into a mutter than Nancy couldn't hear. Then he looked up at the detectives. "Get out of here. Don't you two have anything better to do than chase around some loser celebrity?"
Nancy and Don hurried back to Don's car and climbed in.
Don let out a long sigh and leaned against the steering wheel, being careful not to hit the horn by accident. "That was close. Do you think you got anything helpful?"
"I hope so." Nancy took her phone out. "I'll text Jack and ask him to pick those up. You and I are going to have to keep staking Brock out."
"Great," Don muttered.
