J.M.J.

Author's note: Thanks for reading! Thank you especially to everyone who has left reviews! You've all been great and I'm so glad you're enjoying the story! The next chapter will be out July 16. God bless!

July 14 – Friday

Iola swung her legs over the edge of the back porch of the Morton home, listening to the conversation. It was an odd gathering, here in the early hours just after dawn, with Iola, Callie, Jerry Gilroy, and Nancy Drew. Nancy had begun the conversation by filling in the gaps in Jerry's knowledge of the entire case. Iola had a lot of thoughts on the matter, but she kept them to herself. She didn't want to give away how disappointed she was that the others accepted the conclusion that the boys really had been murdered so easily, and she didn't think she could hide that if she said much.

The other three were seated in chairs on the porch, and as Nancy finished her explanation, Jerry leaned forward, "So, do we have a plan for what we do next?"

"The start of one," Nancy told him. "Most of the clues in this case are pointing towards Montana as a place where we can get some answers. Mr. Hardy, Mr. Radley, and Jack Wayne are headed there as soon as possible, while my dad will be leaving for Hawaii tomorrow."

"What about the rest of us? Are we just going to sit here in Bayport and do nothing while the others investigate?" Jerry asked.

Nancy gave him an enigmatic glance. "There are some difficulties with getting to Montana. It's a long way from Bayport, and it's too easy to trace people who are flying. If too many of us descend on the area at once, we'll raise a few eyebrows. I wanted to go, but Mr. Hardy was against it, and under the circumstances…"

"So?" Jerry interrupted. "We're all over eighteen around here, and if we happen to want to go to Montana, we have every right to and nobody can tell us that we can't."

Iola stood up. "Then let's go. I've helped on cases before. There has to be something we can do over there."

"What about those eyebrows we'd be raising?" Callie pointed out. "The most important thing is that the case gets solved, rather than who specifically solves it. We don't want to jeopardize that by making people suspicious."

"If we can't fly, then we can drive," Iola insisted. "We couldn't be traced then, could we?"

"You still have to use a credit card when you're driving," Nancy pointed out. "So we would still be traceable, but…."

"But nobody's going to pay attention to every credit card used at every gas station between here and Montana," Jerry said. "Maybe someone would notice your credit card, Nancy, and maybe even Iola's and Callie's, but I doubt they'd be paying attention to some random guy named Jerry Gilroy who happens to be driving cross-country."

Iola watched as Nancy's face, apparently thinking over the proposal. She didn't know Nancy well, and so she didn't know whether such an impulsive suggestion would appeal to her or not. Hoping that this would help the other girl make up her mind, Iola declared, "I'm going to do it, even if none of the rest of you will. We've got to solve this mystery, and soon."

"You'll have to count me in," Jerry said. "I'm the one with the credit card with my name on it."

"Hold on, everybody," Nancy broke in. "First of all, we're not going to have anyone trying to trace us with our credit cards. There's not going to be spies or gangsters around every corner. The bigger problem would simply be that we would be a very large group if we went together with Mr. Hardy and the others. Then, too, Mr. Hardy doesn't want us to go, which is understandable after what's happened, and so if we do this, we need to be absolutely certain that we won't get in the way. To do that, we need to make a plan. So let's work something out. Montana is a big state. The first thing to decide is where exactly to go in it."

"What places would make sense?" Callie asked.

"Mr. Hardy and the others are flying into Butte," Nancy explained. "That's the closest airport to the lake where they found that hitman's body a few years ago. They'll have that pretty well covered long before we can get there in a car. I'm thinking our best option is Brock Garret's hometown."

"Which is?" Iola asked.

"A little town called Beaver Spring," Nancy explained. "It's also close to Butte. I'd have to look at a map again to see how close."

"Then let's head there," Iola decided.

"What will we do when we get there?" Nancy asked.

Iola hesitated. "I…don't know. You're the detective. What would we do?"

"I don't know, either" Nancy replied. "We don't have any real leads. It's a long trip to make so we can scratch our heads and wonder what to do next."

"We can ask questions about this Garret character, can't we?" Jerry suggested. "We could pretend we're fans of his and we want to see where he grew up."

Nancy smiled weakly. "I already tried pretending to be a fan."

"It doesn't sound like such a bad plan," Callie spoke up. "And we have so little to go on. You never know. Besides, maybe your dad would agree that sending us on a road trip that's likely to wind up in a dead end would be a good thing to get us out of the way."

"He'd probably rather if we went to Disneyland or something, but you might have a point," Nancy conceded. "I'll try pitching it to him and see what he says."

HBNDHBNDHB

Frank wasn't sure how long he had been drifting in and out of wakefulness. It seemed he hadn't really slept in ages, although he had fallen into confusing and vaguely disturbing dreams. This time, however, when he woke up, he had the sense of coming out of a deep sleep, one free of dreams. Moreover, as he looked around the cabin, it all seemed much more real and solid, even though he was alone. He was also aware of another thing: he was starving.

After lying there a few minutes, he decided to try sitting up. He pushed himself up with his good arm. It was good to move again. Slowly, he stood up and then took a few steps toward the doorway. He was weak and was sure that he would tire out quickly, but for now, it was a relief to be on his feet again.

His companions were working on clearing the area around the cabin. Evidently, they had been working at that while Frank had been sick, because it already looked different than it had last time he had been outside. At least, Biff and Phil were working. Frank couldn't see Tony and Chet, but he assumed they were working somewhere. Joe was sitting against a tree, sleeping. Frank smiled ruefully. In most of his memories from the last few days, Joe had been in the room, usually at his side. He must have worn himself out worrying about him.

"I don't suppose there's any breakfast left?" Frank said.

Joe immediately scrambled to his feet and rushed to him. "Frank! What are you doing?" He clapped a hand to his brother's forehead. "Hey, I think your fever is gone."

Phil and Biff came hurrying over, as well.

"How are you feeling, Frank?" Phil asked.

"Alive," Frank replied. "And starving. What day is it?"

"It's Friday," Joe told him, "and you fell off that cliff on Monday. You've had a fever most of the time since then."

"I know that much." Frank blinked, suddenly feeling tired from standing.

Joe caught his elbow. "You'd better sit down. We'll get you some food."

"What sounds good?" Biff asked.

"Anything." Frank shrugged as Joe helped him to sit next to the door, not that he needed help.

"I'll find something," Biff said, running toward the nearest fruit trees.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Joe asked. "I mean, you've been pretty sick. Maybe you'd better go back in and lie down."

"I'm okay," Frank assured. "I've felt better for sure, but it feels good to be outside instead of that stuffy cabin."

"It shouldn't be too stuffy. I still haven't managed to get the door up," Phil teased him. When Frank smiled slightly, Phil added, "Do you need any water or anything?"

"Water would be great," Frank replied. "Thanks."

Joe sat down next to Frank while Phil went to get some water.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked him.

Joe gave a shaky smile. "Oh, sure. Just…don't do that to me again."

"I definitely won't do it on purpose." Frank grinned and leaned his head back against the wall of the cabin, looking over the cleared area in front of it. The island looked better than he remembered. Frank might have rather been home, but it was good to be alive anyway.