Secret at Mystic Lake Read online

  “Likewise.”

  “Well, good night, guys—I should probably turn this off,” Zoe said, flicking off the flashlight. As feeble as the tiny beam had been against the huge woods, I was still unprepared for the darkness when it was off. It felt like we were trapped in a black velvet cloud. I raised my hand in front of my face but still couldn’t see it. Clouds must have been covering the moon.

  As tired as I was, my mind was still racing in too many different directions to fall asleep just yet. I kept thinking over the events of the day, all leading to one big question: Whodunit? Henry or Dagger?

  Dagger was right that Henry had the only motive; but at the same time, Henry seemed so doofy and clueless, it was hard to imagine him as a criminal. Except, of course, when he’d lunged at Dagger after he asked him about the fight—that was scary. But on the other hand, we still didn’t know Dagger’s real full name—awfully convenient for someone planning to commit a crime. And he had a pretty huge knife, as much as he tried to insist it was a totally reasonable object to bring camping. But on the other hand . . .

  I yawned and closed my eyes. Just for a minute . . .

  When I woke up, it was still pitch-black and silent. Go back to sleep, I told myself immediately. Wait till it’s light. But my bladder would not listen. I squirmed in my sleeping bag, urging myself to hold it for just a little while—just until it was light! Which might only be an hour or two.

  But it quickly became obvious to me that that was not an option. I had to get up to find a place to relieve myself, and I had to do it now.

  I sat up in my sleeping bag and scanned the area outside our tent. Blackness. Nothing. But just as I was forcing myself to squirm out of the bag, I heard movement.

  Zoe. She sat up too, looking sleepy.

  “I have to go so bad,” she whispered. “I’ve been holding it for an hour. Should we go together?”

  “Oh, gosh, yes,” I said breathlessly, unable to contain my relief. “I don’t want to be a wimp, but . . . safety in numbers!”

  Zoe smiled and we got out of our sleeping bags, then slipped out of the shelter with Bess and George still fast asleep. Zoe shone the flashlight at the trees. It should have made me feel safer, but instead it just seemed to emphasize how dark the woods were outside its feeble beam.

  “There are some good privacy trees over here, I think,” Zoe whispered, leading me back toward the stream. “You take the tall one over there. I’m going to go nearer to the stream. Are you okay if I take the flashlight?”

  “Sure,” I whispered, thinking how I kind of liked Zoe now that I’d gotten to know her. “You’ll come back when you’re done?”

  “Of course. We’ll walk back to the tent together.” Zoe walked away through the trees, leaving me in privacy.

  I had never felt so relieved to take care of business and get back to bed. I stood by my tree, waiting for Zoe to come back and pick me up, but all was silent over by the stream. I figured maybe nervousness was getting the better of her, and tried to be patient.

  How long had it been? It felt like five minutes or more, but surely it hadn’t really been that long? If Zoe was having some kind of trouble she’d tell me, right? She knew I was waiting . . . tense . . . alone . . . in the dark . . .

  “Auuuuuughh!”

  The scream sliced the air like a knife—unmistakably Zoe’s. I felt my insides wrench. Barely a second later, I heard the second voice.

  “Gotcha!”

  My lungs turned to ice.

  Henry!

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A Midnight Visitor

  “RUN, NANCY!” I HEARD ZOE yell—followed closely by another scream. Adrenaline flooded my senses, and I could feel my heart pounding in my ears. I have to run, I thought, but where? I could barely see my hand in front of my face, and who knew where we were, besides “in the woods”?

  Then I heard footsteps coming through the trees, and my instincts took over. I ran. I scuttled between trees and through brush, I tripped over logs and got up and kept going. I skinned my knees and elbows but barely felt it—I knew I just had to keep running. My life depended on it. It had to be Henry behind me, and he knew I was there, and there was no way he was running after me just to chat.

  After a few minutes the footsteps behind me faded away. Had I lost him? I crashed through some bushes and reached the stream. My eyes had adjusted to the night by then, more or less—there was a sliver of moon high in the sky, and it gave me just enough light to see a few feet ahead of me. I stopped and tried to listen, but it was hard to hear anything over the blood rushing in my ears and the crazy thudding of my heart.

  Something moved through the brush near the campsite, coming in my direction. Henry was still behind me—if I didn’t move, he’d catch me soon. I gasped for air, trying to catch my breath and make some kind of plan. The stream burbled and poured over rocks and boulders. As I watched the water flow, I remembered something I’d read once in a book: If you’re being followed and you walk through a river or stream, you leave no trace behind. No footsteps, no scent for dogs to pick up. I took a deep breath and plunged my feet into the freezing-cold water.

  Immediately my ankles ached from the cold, but I didn’t have time to whine about it. As quietly yet quickly as I could, I made my way over the rocks downstream. I kept going for what seemed like hours but may have only been minutes. Every so often I could hear something moving in the woods and my heart seemed to stop; I never knew whether it was just wildlife moving around . . . or Henry.

  Henry. So it was him. Did that mean he’d actually done something to hurt his sister? He must have; that’s why he’d led us in circles through the woods, to keep us from telling anyone. And now he’d come back to get us, I realized with a gulp. I remembered Zoe’s terrified screams and shuddered. Then I thought of Bess and George, how I’d left them asleep under the tent. Were they still safe? Had Henry found them as well? What did he plan to do to all of us?

  After a while, the stream bent around a curve, and then I could see the lake shimmering below in the moonlight. Mystic Lake—the stream must empty into it. The sight of the lake we’d been biking around all this time gave me hope somehow, and that hope increased when I got a little closer and could make out a small dock jutting out from the bank—with a canoe tied up to the side.

  A canoe. I’d gone canoeing a few times in Girl Scouts. I was terrible at steering, but at least I could keep the vessel afloat (unlike Bess, whose canoe had capsized somehow, so she’d ended up in the water). And if I could paddle out into the lake, I’d be safe—unless Henry was a champion swimmer, he couldn’t come after me.

  I ran through the stream, up onto the bank to the dock. My feet made splashing sounds in the water, giving away my location to anyone listening, but I didn’t care. As I scrambled down the dock toward the canoe, I heard them again: footsteps. Now he was crashing through the trees just a quick run away; soon he’d reach the edge of the trees, and then he’d surely see me, if he hadn’t already.

  I dove into the canoe, rocking it terribly and making even more of a racket. I started unwinding the rope that fixed the canoe to the dock. Focus . . . focus . . . I heard someone just yards away at the edge of the woods. With trembling fingers, I unwound the last piece and pushed as hard as I could away from the dock.

  Paddle. Paddle. I wasn’t exactly an expert canoer, but I knew that the faster I got away from the dock, the less likely Henry was to come after me. I forced myself not to look back, just to keep paddling, focusing on a spot in the middle of the lake that was shining by the light of the moon. If I could just get there . . .

  Splash. Splash. The paddle cut into the water, over and over again. An owl hooted somewhere, and I took in breath after desperate breath of night air. Finally I looked up and saw that I was nearly at the point I was aiming for—much too far for someone to swim after me. Only then did I allow myself to look back.

  My blood chilled. I was far enough away, and the moonlight was weak enough so that I could only make out
a shadowy figure on the edge of the dock. The figure saw me, though. As I pulled the paddle back through the water, it raised its hand, as if to wave.

  Gulp.

  I was safe now—or was I? The figure couldn’t come after me, but I was also completely vulnerable. I realized now that we were in a small pocket of the huge, sprawling Mystic Lake; you could probably circle the whole area in about an hour. And he could track my movements wherever I went; if I began paddling for the far bank, for example, he could easily try to outrun me on foot and meet me there.

  What now?

  I pulled out my phone, knowing it was a long shot, and I was right: no service. Trying to calm my still-pounding heart, I took a deep breath and looked around. Then another terrible thought occurred to me.

  If Henry was behind everything and he’d come back here, what did he do to Dagger?

  I shuddered. I hoped the meditation-loving nature enthusiast was still alive.

  Then I caught sight of something across the water, not far from the direction I’d come from. It was a small wooden structure—a shed—no, a cabin. I felt a tingle of hope in my chest. There were no lights on, but if I could get over there, maybe there would be someone inside, sleeping—or even just a landline I could use. Or a bike. Or a car. (George once taught Bess and me how to hot-wire a car—for emergencies—and I was not above using that information in a pinch.)

  If I could get to that cabin, maybe I could find a way to get help.

  I started paddling, at first trying to be stealthy about it, then quickly realizing how ridiculous that was and just trying to move the canoe as fast as I possibly could. After what felt like an eternity, I was close enough to see that the cabin had a small dock. About a dozen yards away I gave up paddling and just jumped into the lake, swimming wildly for a ladder on the dock’s side. I was desperate. I knew seconds counted if I was going to get help before Henry found me.

  I scrambled up onto the dock and ran down toward the cabin, soaking wet, cold, and dripping. The closer I got, the more clear it became that the cabin was uninhabited. There was no car parked nearby, no bike. The windows were dark; no sign of life inside.

  Still, I was quiet as I snuck up on the small porch. I didn’t want to startle anyone inside. And if Henry was nearby but somehow hadn’t spotted me yet, I didn’t want to attract any attention.

  I felt for the doorknob and automatically tried to turn it. The latch easily gave way and the door pushed open. Really? I wondered, staring at the tiny sliver of the dark front room that was now exposed. Maybe we’re so far out in the wilderness, they don’t think it’s necessary to lock their door?

  I stepped inside. If they didn’t lock their door, they must have a phone for emergencies—right? That was just good common sense. I could only hope they had a landline.

  I looked around. There was just enough moonlight reflecting off the lake and through the window for me to see that I was inside a small kitchen. There was a sink below a window, a small fridge, and a two-burner stove. My stomach rumbled, and it occurred to me that there might be some food in the cabin, but first I wanted to find a phone.

  There was a door off to the right that seemed to lead to a small living room. I walked toward it, and just as I passed over the threshold I was suddenly blinded as the lights in the living room went on.

  I felt a chill go up my spine. I blinked, trying to make my eyes focus in the sudden bright light. I could just make out two figures sitting on a small plaid couch.

  “Hello, Nancy,” said a familiar voice.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Cabin in the Woods

  IT SEEMED LIKE IT TOOK forever for my eyes to focus. When they finally did, I wondered if I was seeing things.

  “Caitlin!”

  My tour leader smiled, tossing her long blond ponytail. “Aren’t you a clever little thing, Nancy? Too nosy for your own good. I’d say you’re a kindred spirit, a future overachiever, but I wouldn’t want to wish my life on you.”

  I shook my head, then turned to the figure sitting next to Caitlin. Wait a minute.

  “Zoe? How did you get here so quickly?”

  Caitlin laughed, and Zoe smiled as she looked from Caitlin to me. “I knew a shortcut. And, honey? You’re not exactly ready for the Olympic canoeing team. You never did catch on that we know each other, did you?” Zoe asked me, a faint smile on her face. “So maybe it would have taken you a little longer to figure out everything. But we couldn’t be too careful.”

  Figure out everything . . . wait. “You faked your own disappearance?” I asked, turning back to Caitlin. “But—why? Your life seems . . . perfect.”

  Caitlin rolled her eyes at me.

  “What?” I asked. “You graduated with this crazy high GPA and you’re going to Yale on scholarship in the fall!”

  Caitlin shrugged one shoulder. “It’s not like I wanted to give all that up,” she said, sniffing. “I just needed a break, okay?”

  “From?” I asked, still utterly confused.

  “From the sheer effort of being me!” she exclaimed. “Working so hard all the time. Being perfect. Making sure everything goes according to plan. Taking care of my parents, making them happy, so my brother has time to loaf around and do whatever he does.” She sighed and blew some hair out of her face.

  Zoe elbowed her. “I think it’s all too clear what he does,” she said, making a face, then laughing.

  Caitlin groaned. “Oh, don’t remind me.”

  So Henry . . . I struggled to understand. “Wait a minute. Was Henry in on it?”

  Caitlin laughed. “As if! No, Henry was part of the reason I needed to get away.”

  I raised my eyebrows, silently asking for more information.

  She sighed. “Listen. Henry and I are twins, but we couldn’t be more different. Since we were tiny babies, it’s always been this way: I’m the good one. He’s the lazy one. But the thing is, everyone loves Henry, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “And that makes you . . . mad?” I asked.

  Caitlin glared at me. “Of course it makes me mad! Wouldn’t it make you mad?” She shook her head. “All through school, I’m up late studying, he’s up watching dumb videos on his computer and hanging out with his stupid friends. I work all summer to save money for college, he goes to surfing camp on my parents’ dime. And now I’m going to Yale on scholarship and paying for books myself, but he somehow convinced our parents to bankroll his six-month backpacking trip through Europe. How does he do it? And why can’t I get away with it?” She sighed again.

  “So your coleading this tour with him and disappearing,” I began, “was your way of framing him? To get revenge?”

  Caitlin stood up, holding out one hand to me. “No, no. I mean, not exactly. I wanted it to look like he did it for a while. I wanted him to feel bad, to wish he’d treated me better.” She paused. “What happened was, last spring I went to this weeklong camp for high-achieving girls. And that’s where I met Zoe.”

  I glanced at Zoe, surprised. She smirked.

  “Don’t look so shocked, Nancy. I actually started my first business—a manicure salon that makes house calls—when I was just fifteen. I really don’t like camping, but that doesn’t mean I’m totally useless.”

  I nodded. “Of course not. Um . . . how does that relate to Caitlin disappearing?”

  Caitlin smiled at Zoe. “Well, Zoe here, she saw how crazed I was about everything and how hard I had to work and how miserable I was. She was the one who told me, ‘Honey, you need a break. Life doesn’t have to be this hard.’ So I started opening up to her, talking about my life and my family and everything that’s going on. She and I started talking about how I could get a few days off for myself. So when my parents asked me if I’d let Henry colead this bike tour with me—since I needed a coleader anyway—I said sure. And as I was planning it, and Henry wasn’t helping me one bit, I started thinking, Hey, what if there were a way to use this tour to show everyone what a screwup Henry is? And in the process, I realized, I could get a
little vacation.”

  I took a deep breath. “A vacation?” I asked. “That’s what you’re calling your . . . disappearance?”

  Caitlin nodded. “I was going to come back in a few days. Claim I’d bumped my head on my way back from the bathroom, got a little disoriented, wandered off, then lived off the land until I could find the ranger station.” She smiled. “Genius.”

  I frowned. “And the satellite phone? The missing tents, the food?”

  Her grin widened. “I took them all and stashed them in a hiding spot in the woods. When I left, I wanted to make the tour look like a total disaster. Look how useless Henry is! He doesn’t even know where the satellite phone is! I even spent two weeks mocking up a fake map of the Mystic Lake area, so you guys could get completely, hopelessly lost before you’d find help. Then I slashed all your tires at the stream, just to drive the subject home.”

  I couldn’t believe all this. “What about your job with Adventures and Company?” I asked. “When the tents went missing, Henry said something about you wanting them to hire you next summer.”

  Caitlin laughed. “Oh, I couldn’t care less,” she said. “I’m sure an all-star student like me won’t have any trouble finding a job. But I wanted Henry to feel good and guilty when he’d completely messed up this tour, in addition to losing his sister.”

  I shook my head. “Do you realize that Henry and Dagger have been fighting each other all day about who had something to do with your disappearance?”

  Caitlin laughed, looking delighted, and turned to Zoe.

  “It’s true,” Zoe said. “Henry came up with this whole theory about how Dagger used a fake name to kidnap you or something. I kind of fed into it. And it just so happens that Dagger travels with this crazy knife. Henry almost got into a fistfight with him over it.”

  Caitlin’s cheeks turned a tiny bit pink. “Wow,” she said. “That’s kind of sweet. I didn’t know Henry had it in him.”