J.M.J.
Author's note: Thank you for reading! Thank you especially to those who have left reviews! Just a note in case anyone is wondering, but I realize that Mrs. Radley's name is canonically Ethel. However, that's such an old-fashioned name and there are already a lot of old-fashioned names in these stories and since she's such a minor character, so I thought I could be forgiven for changing her name to Emily here. In any case, the next chapter will be up tomorrow. God bless!
July 19 – Wednesday
Frank was back to reading Eli McKellern's journal. There wasn't much else he could do one-handed. If he had been back home and had a regular cast on his arm, he would have been able to use his arm and fingers a little bit, but here his only choice was to keep his arm completely immobile while it healed. At least the fever was gone and he could move around as he liked. He was also glad that his friends' fears for his life were at an end, although he could see that they had taken a toll on them. Joe, in particular, always seemed to be hovering around him. Apart from when he and Chet had gone on their fruitless search for the mysterious girl yesterday, he had scarcely left Frank's side.
For instance, while Frank was sitting outside the cabin, reading Eli's journal, Joe was a couple of feet away from him, peeling potatoes. Frank shifted his position slightly to try to get more comfortable, briefly aggravating one of his bruises as he did so. He winced slightly, and immediately, Joe looked up, anxiety in his eyes.
"Are you okay, Frank?" he asked.
"I'm fine," Frank replied, slightly annoyed. "I mean, I will be. There's no need to panic every time I groan."
Joe put his lips together firmly and went back to peeling potatoes.
Frank sighed, his conscience smiting him for his impatience. "I'm sorry. I know you were worried, Joe."
"That's an understatement," Joe muttered.
"But I really am fine," Frank insisted. "I don't want to be treated like an invalid or a china doll. You, of all people, should understand that."
"Yeah, I do," Joe admitted, continuing to peel so that he wouldn't have to look up at his brother. "But what about next time?"
"Who says something like this is going to happen again, either to me or any of us?"
"Probability," Joe said. "I mean, we're alone here, limited supplies. There's a good chance something else is going to happen. Besides, suppose we never get rescued, and we're here for the rest of our lives? Then one-by-one, something's going to happen to each of us."
"That's morbid."
"It's realistic."
"Okay, sure," Frank admitted, "but it's true whether we get rescued or not. If we get rescued, that doesn't mean we're going to live forever. So why worry about it?"
"Because if anything happens here, whoever's left behind are the ones who are going to have to…deal with all of it. We won't have any doctors or nurses or firemen or…anyone else to help us. You weren't there, Frank. I mean, you were, but you weren't in our position."
Frank took in a long breath, understanding suddenly washing over him. "I'm starting to get the picture. I'm sorry. But thinking about it's not going to help anything."
"Maybe not." Joe closed his eyes. "But it's going to take awhile to be able to stop thinking about it."
HBNDHBNDHB
They were nearly to Wyoming when Nancy's phone rang. She didn't recognize the number, but it was from Hawaii, so she was expecting it to be some important news. What she wasn't expecting was for it to be Carson Drew himself.
"Dad!" Nancy nearly shouted as soon as she heard his voice. "Are you okay? I've been so worried."
"I know. I was a little worried myself." Carson gave a brief account of what had happened. "We're both okay, though. Don stayed in the hospital last night for observation, but he'll be okay. As for me, I'm fine."
"Good. But why did these people think you knew anything about Reese, anyway?"
"Possibly because of Larson looking into him," Carson replied. "With Brock Garret defecting, we're learning quite a bit about what this is all about. There are still some questions, but we're getting closer. You'll be able to help us in Montana."
"Just tell us what to do," Nancy replied.
"You're headed to Beaver Spring, Garret's hometown. We need to do some doublechecking on his story."
"What is his story?"
"Garret wasn't born to fame, as you know. He grew up in a town with about three hundred residents. You know about his parents being divorced and living off his money. Apparently, they were no better even when he was a nobody in Beaver Spring. He wanted to get out of there at any cost. So when this woman approached him, claiming to have connections to Hollywood and that she could get him into show business, he jumped at the chance."
"And he fell for that?" Nancy asked incredulously.
"Well, as it turned out, she was telling the truth, partly. Her name was Dallas Ermington, and she did get Garret into the movies, but at a price. This woman wanted Garret's personal attention, as well as his knowledge of the local area. Garret didn't realize at first that there was anything strange about this, even though he wasn't completely comfortable with it. As he became less and less comfortable with her attentions, he became more and more suspicious of the whole situation. He was beginning to suspect that there was something illegal going on and that Beaver Spring might be intended as a base of operations of some sort. He asked some of his old friends to keep an eye out for strangers, and one of them spotted Transol. Garret was able to learn who Transol was, and he opened that burner social media account to keep track of crimes Transol was connected to, but he was never able to pin anything more definite than that on this woman. Until now, that is.
"After the whole thing with the boys blew up," Carson continued, "Garret suspected Dallas and her organization were involved. He convinced his agent, Devin Reynolds, to come to Hawaii with him to investigate. Reynolds had worked for Dallas and went along with the official story that it was Reynolds who discovered Garret, rather than Dallas. However, he's become less enchanted with the situation as well and has been trying to break free of it. That's why they were at the hotel instead of staying with Dallas, who owns an estate in Hawaii. They had wanted their trip to remain a secret, but it leaked out with the celebrity gossip. They had to make up a story about wanting to surprise Dallas once they realized that she knew they were there. Garret did some snooping around and found the address of the house where Don and I were being held, as well as the phone number for that sailor on the Pearl Diver. He went there to investigate further and happened to be just in time. I have to say, for someone who claims that he half-expected to be killed then and there, he played it cool."
"Are you saying you suspect he might not be telling the truth?"
"He hasn't given us any particular reason to put too much faith in him. That's why I'd like you to do some checking."
"You said 'we' earlier," Nancy reminded him. "I take it that didn't mean you and the FBI."
"No, they're still concerned about the apparent leaks in the Witness Protection Program," Carson replied. "You know, for as often as it happens in TV, this is the first time I've ever heard of it actually happening. It's no surprise that they're concerned, especially considering that Reese can provide them the evidence they need to get a conviction on Dallas. If anything happens to him or even if he just gets too scared to testify, they're probably not going to get another chance like this."
"Do they know where Reese is or what happened to him? The FBI, I mean?"
"I don't know. They're not telling anybody anything. The police here are getting frustrated with them, too. The whole thing's a huge mess. I'm going to stay here for at least a few more days while we try to get it straightened out."
"Okay. We'll find out what we can in Beaver Spring," Nancy said. "We should be there late tonight."
"All right. I know it's a long shot that you'll learn anything useful to this case, but let me know if you do."
"Okay. I love you, Dad," Nancy said.
She ended the call, and Ned, who was driving, glanced over at her. "He's all right?" he asked.
"Yeah," Nancy said. "And he's given us a task to do."
HBNDHBNDHB
Fenton sat on the edge of the lake, swatting at mosquitos that still insisted on buzzing around him, despite the high-powered insect repellant that he and his companions were constantly using. Since they had arrived, they had only searched the edge of the lake so far. Besides the keys, they hadn't found anything that could possibly be a clue. They would begin searching the lake itself the next day. There was more chance of finding something in there than there was of finding clues on the banks. Eventually, anyway. That was the trouble with this kind of investigation. It took so long, and they needed a bigger team to make it more efficient. Fenton hated this delay and the fact that every minute it lasted was one more minute that the people who had ordered his sons killed were avoiding justice. The fact that the men who had actually committed the murders were dead themselves was small consolation, considering that if they were alive, then the ones most responsible would probably be identified by now.
Fenton's jaw tightened as he thought about it. Even if—when—the people responsible were captured and convicted, it wouldn't change what they had done. It wouldn't bring back Frank and Joe and the other boys.
He glanced over his shoulder at Sam and Jack, who were also sitting down as they took a break from searching. "We should go back into town and check in with Carson and the others. At least, one of us should. The other two should stay here and keep watch in case anything happens."
"I've been thinking the same thing," Sam replied. "I'll go if neither of you want to."
Fenton was about to reply, but then he stopped himself. He did want to go, which was part of his motivation for mentioning it, but Sam had a family, too. He didn't complain often about being separated from them. For that matter, his casually phrased offer to go was the closest he would come to putting his own preferences before someone else's. "Okay. Thanks," Fenton told him. "If you wouldn't mind, could you call Laura and check to see if she's all right?"
Sam readily agreed, and then he set out, leaving Fenton and Jack behind.
Jack began setting up the small propane cookstove. "I'm getting hungry. You about ready for supper?"
"I guess so," Fenton replied reluctantly. He didn't care about things like food so much these days. He looked up toward the reddish evening sky. "It's getting late. Sam should have waited until tomorrow."
"I'm sure he'll be fine," Jack replied, although he also glanced uneasily toward the sky.
HBNDHBNDHB
"There doesn't seem like there's that many places to hide on this island," Biff grumbled as he and Tony hiked one of the overgrown paths on the southern end.
Tony shook his head as he pushed through a bush. "You sure about that?"
"I didn't mean…I mean, yeah, there are lots of places you could hide for a little while," Biff conceded, "but that girl has to sleep somewhere. She has to have some things. She has to leave some trace of herself."
Tony shrugged. "Most of what she has would be things that she's found or made here on the island. We could walk right past a lot of it without realizing. As for where she stays, she's had a lot longer than us to explore island. She's probably found places that it would take us months or years to find."
"In other words, there's more to the island than meets the eye?" Biff asked wryly.
"Yeah, that's one way to put it, I guess. I think we were already figuring that out, though."
If Biff was going to make a reply to this, he didn't get the chance. A crackling in the brush caused them both to halt and look around them. Since they hadn't seen any ground animals larger than mice on the island, they were convinced by now that there were none, so any sound of movement could only be either a bird or the girl. Both boys looked around them carefully, trying to spot the source of the sound, but since it wasn't repeated, this was hard to do.
"I don't see anything," Biff said in a low voice.
Tony held a finger to his lips and signaled for Biff to stay where he was while Tony started to circle around to where they had heard the sound. For a few seconds, Biff doubted that the procedure would get them anywhere, but then he remembered that when Frank and Joe had seen the girl, she hadn't tried to run until Joe had gotten close to her. He also remembered how disastrously that incident had ended, but since he wasn't currently standing on a cliff, he felt he was probably safe enough. For a few minutes, he could hear Tony moving through the bushes, because although he was trying to be as quiet as possible, he couldn't manage to move without making some noise. There were no other noises, and Biff wondered whether the first one they had heard really was just a bird.
Then there was a squeal and a person came bolting out of the trees, although she didn't make straight for Biff. Instead, she began running down the path away from him. Biff had only had a brief glimpse of her, and all he noticed was her long brown hair. On impulse, he started to run after her, but then he stopped, realizing he would probably only scare her more that way.
Tony caught up with him a second later. "Where did she go?"
Biff started to point, but then they heard a distressed cry ahead of them. They ran toward the sound and a few moments later, found the girl sitting on the ground. She was rubbing her ankle and she looked up at the two boys with wide brown eyes. Now that they could see her, they noted that her clothing was a plain, dull gray and was made up of a skirt and a piece of fabric that was simply wrapped around her torso and pinned with tiny bones. She was about thirteen years old, and although she had a dark tan, she looked to be of European descent. She tried to scramble to her feet, but her ankle was too injured and she sat back down with a groan. She turned once again toward the boys and grabbed a stone that was within reach, clearly ready to use it as a weapon if need be.
Biff crouched down to try to appear less threatening, and after a moment, Tony followed his lead.
"Hey," Biff told the girl. "There's nothing to worry about. We're not going to hurt you."
The girl stared at him uncertainly.
"We might even be able to help you," Tony added. "We're sorry you hurt your ankle. We might be able to help it feel better."
The girl still didn't make any response. Tony and Biff glanced at each other, uncertain what to do. In all their conversations about how they needed to find the girl, they hadn't talked about what to do when they found her. Obviously, if she didn't want to come with them, they couldn't force her, but now that she was hurt and it was at least partially their fault, they couldn't simply leave her.
"Look, we're really sorry about this," Biff tried again. "My name's Biff, and this is Tony. We're stuck here on the island, just like you, I think. We don't want to hurt you. We just thought that maybe, since we're all stuck here together whether we like it or not, maybe we could help each other."
The girl still refused to answer, but she possibly looked a bit less frightened. Biff tried to inch toward her, and instantly her eyes widened and she raised the stone again. Biff retreated again and let out a long a breath.
"This isn't going to be easy," he said to Tony.
"She doesn't have any reason to trust us," Tony replied. "I don't know what to do."
"Maybe if we just sit and keep talking to her, she'll realize we're not going to hurt her," Biff suggested.
That seemed like a reasonable idea, so he and Tony both sat down cross-legged and tried to talk to the girl. No matter what they said, she wouldn't say a word in response, so instead of asking her questions, they began telling her about themselves and their companions and how they had ended up on the island. She listened intently, but she showed absolutely no emotion at anything.
"I don't know that we're making any progress," Tony noted.
From the way the girl continued to sit, rubbing her ankle, Biff didn't think so either. Every time they tried to move closer to her, she would raise the stone and try to scoot back. Eventually, she began to slowly stand up. Her ankle was apparently not seriously hurt, and so she only winced slightly.
Biff and Tony also stood up, trying to guess what she was going to do. After a brief conference, they started walking back toward the cabin. To their relief and surprise, the girl began to follow them. They stopped several times on the way to let the girl rest her ankle. She was careful not to come too close to them, but she didn't stop following.
At least, she didn't until they were nearly to the cabin. Then her eyes widened again as if she suddenly realized where she was. She shouted several words in an unfamiliar language and then she turned and ran away.
HBNDHBNDHB
Sam checked his watch as he listened to the ring-back on his phone. It was almost 8:30 here, which would make it 10:30 at home. A little late to call, but when he was on a case, Emily was always ready to answer the phone at any time of the night. However, Emily's voicemail came on. Sam debated with himself for a second or two whether he should leave a message or wait for her to call back, but he decided that if she didn't call back before he was out of cell reception again, he would leave a message to reassure her that he was all right and was only calling to check in with her.
He had already called the Butte police, as well as Carson and Nancy. With all those business calls finished, he next tried Laura. While he was waiting for her to answer, he glanced around him again. He hadn't gone all the way back to Butte, but just far enough to get cell reception. That meant that he was on a lonely country road, and he didn't like it much. Laura answered and they spoke briefly, with Laura reporting that nothing of interest had been happening in Bayport.
Sam was just ending the call when he saw a car coming towards him from the direction of Butte. There were enough side roads off this one that there was nothing suspicious in it being used, but Sam didn't want to take any reckless chances. He started the motor and began driving. He met the other vehicle a few moments later. It was a pick-up truck with a canopy, like many people drove around here. The license plate was also from Montana, but the glimpse of the two men inside did nothing to reassure Sam. They peered at Sam with a hard and suspicious look. Their pick-up was immaculately clean, which was unlike most of the ranch vehicles Sam had seen. He drove past and then watched for the nearest place where he could turn around.
He spotted a gravel pull-off about a quarter of a mile down the road and turned onto it. What he hadn't noticed was that there was a board lying in the pull-out with several nails sticking out if it. He drove over it and instantly heard the thump as the board hit the wheel-well. He stopped and got out to survey the damaged, crossing his arms and frowning at it when he did so. This was a rental car, and Sam recalled that the terms of the rental specified that there was no spare tire included. In the event of a flat tire, the renter was to call a tow-truck and have the tire professionally changed.
Sam was annoyed by the situation, but he knew that wouldn't help much. He took his cell phone out and saw that he was back out of cell reception. He wouldn't be able to call for help without hiking, and he had a feeling that he didn't have much time for that. He was about ready to start walking when he heard another vehicle approaching, this time from the direction of the lake, which the first pick-up had taken. Sam tensed and watched as it came into view, but he relaxed once he saw it. It was a pick-up, all right, but a different one than had gone past before. This one was an old Ford, from the '90s at least, with its paint coming off. The regular pick-up bed had been replaced with a flatbed and a thick layer of dust covered the vehicle up to the windows. A border collie was riding on the back, watching Sam with interest. This was most definitely a ranch vehicle.
It pulled up next to Sam, and the driver reached across the seat to roll the window on the passenger side down with the manual crank. He was a teenage boy, no more than sixteen. That helped Sam make up his mind; such a young boy probably wouldn't be involved in this whole sordid mess.
"You need some help, sir?" the boy asked.
"I'm afraid I do. I've got a flat tire and no spare."
"Well, I could give you a ride into Butte and we could find somebody who could fix it up," the boy offered. "With the interstate going right through, they're used to travelers having car troubles any time of the day or night. I'm sure we could find someplace that's open."
"Thank you." Sam glanced back over his shoulder, biting his lip as he tried to make a decision. "Actually, could you do a different favor for me?"
The boy hesitated a moment. "Sure, depending on what it is, anyhow."
"I'm camping by the lake with a couple of friends of mine," Sam explained. "There's no cell reception up there, and they'll be worried if I don't get back before long. Would you mind taking me back there instead? We can figure out the car tomorrow."
"Oh, sure. Get in." The boy sat back up straight in the driver's seat and waited for Sam to climb into the passenger's seat. "Not too many people come by here, you know. You'll have to walk a long way in the morning to get help. I could go into town still tonight and see what I can find."
"That would be helpful, if you don't mind," Sam admitted.
The boy shrugged. "Oh, I don't mind a thing like that. I'm Pete, by the way."
"I'm Sam Radley. You'll probably have to tell that to the tire place."
"Right. Sam Radley. I've got a terrible memory for names, so if I ask you again before I drop you off, it's nothing personal that I forgot your name."
Sam chuckled. "That's all right."
Pete continued to chat as they drove, asking Sam about himself and where he was from and how he happened to come out to this area. Sam gave brief, vague answers, and Pete didn't particularly press. He was clearly just making small talk. In fact, when Sam mentioned fishing—grasping at a plausible explanation for picking a lake to camp at—Pete went into a long monologue about the fishing in the area. Apparently, he was an enthusiast.
Pete dropped Sam off not far from the lake. He would have taken him all the way in, but just in case there was trouble, Sam didn't want him getting involved. He thanked the boy and handed him a fifty-dollar bill for his time and gas.
"There's no need for that, Mr. Radley," Pete protested, evidently not needing a reminder of Sam's name after all.
Sam insisted, and so Pete took the money and drove off, calling out the window that he'd make sure he found someone to fix Sam's car. Then Sam turned his attention to walking down to the lake.
All seemed quiet, but Sam proceeded with caution anyway. He walked just off the road, where he could duck into the bushes quickly if need be, but he wasn't at any risk of losing his way. When he reached the place where they had parked a few days before, he saw that a different vehicle was there now. It was getting dark rapidly, but Sam could still see enough to tell that it was the same pick-up he had seen earlier. He didn't see anyone around, but he didn't take any chances. He slipped into the trees and started toward the lake.
He was about halfway there when he spotted the two men, carrying something between them. Neither said a word and nothing in their manner indicated that they were nervous. However, the object they were carrying was unmistakably the size and shape of a human body. Sam followed them surreptitiously down to the edge of the lake. Once they reached it, they set their bundle down. Then one started walking back up toward the vehicle.
Sam looked around, trying to see if Fenton or Jack were nearby, but he didn't see either of them. Then he saw the bundle move slightly. His eyes widened, especially when the man had been left guarding the bundle pulled a gun from his belt and aimed it at the bundle.
Instantly, Sam had pulled his own gun from under his jacket and shouted a warning at the man on the lake shore. The suspect dropped his gun, but then, inexplicably, there was a shot anyway. It was so sudden and unexpected that it took Sam a moment to realize that it must have come from the other suspect. It was nearly the same moment when pain caught up with shock, and Sam realized he had been hit in the shoulder.
