Haunting of Horse Island Read online

  “Next to the swimming pool last night,” Nancy said calmly, “where someone nearly drowned me. When I got away and turned on the lights, I found your red bandanna near the spot where I was grabbed.”

  Teresa’s face had become ashen while Nancy explained, and a look of disbelief had come into her eyes.

  “That bandanna was stolen from me,” Teresa said.

  “Oh?” Nancy said. “When?”

  “Last evening,” Teresa said. “Someone broke into my cottage. The bandanna was the only thing taken.”

  “Did you report this to Henry Steadman?”

  Teresa snorted. “Report a stolen bandanna? Are you kidding?”

  “Well, you still haven’t told me why you were at the island,” Nancy said. “And before you tell me that you weren’t there, I’d like to remind you that you are the most likely suspect for an attempted murder charge.”

  Teresa studied Nancy for a moment. Then she shrugged. “I was fishing,” she said. “I like to fish.”

  Nancy stared at the woman in front of her. She had seemed genuinely shocked by the story of Nancy’s near-drowning experience. Or was she simply horrified that she had been caught? Her fishing story was hard to accept.

  There was nothing else Nancy could do at the moment. She got back into her car, and the three girls headed back to the resort.

  “I don’t believe that crazy story about her bandanna being stolen,” Bess said.

  “It’s no crazier a story than anything else going on here,” Nancy replied.

  “Well, that’s true,” admitted Bess.

  “So what now?” George asked.

  “I think the key to everything is at Horse Island,” Nancy said. “It’s time for a return visit.”

  Bess looked at Nancy as if she didn’t believe what she’d just heard. “Nancy, no!” she cried.

  Nancy smiled. “I think you and George should stay back at the resort. Keep your eyes open and see if anyone takes off in a boat after I go.”

  “I don’t like this one bit,” Bess insisted. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Nancy assured her.

  The girls arrived back at Steadman’s and had a quick lunch. Nancy didn’t prepare for her trip quietly. In fact, she was determined to let everyone know exactly where she was going. She talked openly with guests in the dining room and to several guests around the boat house, making sure they all knew her destination was Horse Island.

  She got in her canoe, pushed off from the shore, and waved goodbye to Bess and George. “See you later,” she called to them. “Maybe I’ll see a few ghosts!”

  She hoped to lure the person—or persons—responsible for the snake, the prowling, the ransacking, the hanging dummy, the stolen canoe, the poison berries, the fire, and the near-drowning. She didn’t know yet what the connection was between Horse Island and the incidents at the resort. She would figure that out later. So far, the culprit hadn’t really hurt anyone. Nancy was gambling that he or she would stay true to that pattern.

  Nancy realized her plan had worked when she was halfway across the lake. She turned and saw the pinpoint of a figure in a canoe.

  She was being followed.

  13

  A Trap Is Sprung

  When Nancy neared the island, she paddled into the cove that Teresa had used the day before. There she dragged her canoe behind a large rock and then hid herself behind some bushes.

  She could see the figure approaching in the lake and squinted to see who it was. She wasn’t surprised.

  Teresa Diamond paddled her canoe and looked furtively around the shore, apparently trying to find Nancy. While Teresa pulled her canoe up on shore down the beach from the cove, Nancy emerged from behind the bushes and headed inland toward the old house.

  Without turning around, Nancy knew that Teresa had spotted her. She could hear Teresa’s footsteps behind her. Nancy adjusted the knapsack on her back and kept walking.

  The afternoon was warm, and Nancy felt the hot sun on the back of her neck. She wondered if she’d see the horses on the island today. She made a mental note to stay away from the large open areas so that she wouldn’t be caught in front of a stampede again.

  The house loomed up ahead of her. She wondered what Teresa had in mind. Was she carrying a weapon? Had she followed Nancy to hurt her? To deliver another potentially deadly warning?

  Suddenly there was a cry from behind Nancy. She whirled around, expecting to see Teresa. But no one was there.

  The cry came again, a cry for help.

  “Teresa?” Nancy shouted back. “Teresa?”

  “Help me!” came the anguished cry.

  Was Teresa in trouble? Or was this a trick?

  Nancy took a step toward the cries. “Where are you?” she shouted.

  “Here!” came Teresa’s answer. “In here!”

  Nancy began walking toward the voice, her heart pounding. Logic told her that she was walking into a trap. Yet how could she leave, not knowing whether or not Teresa was hurt?

  “Here!” Teresa shouted. “I’m down here!”

  “Where?” Nancy called out as she turned in a circle. “Where are you?”

  “Down here!” Teresa yelled. “In this pit!”

  It was then that Nancy saw where Teresa was hidden. She was in a pit, about ten steps away. It was a hole at least eight feet deep that had been dug into the ground. Thick brush surrounded the pit and fell into its depths.

  “This is a trap!” Nancy gasped, walking over to the pit.

  “I didn’t even see it,” Teresa said from the bottom of the pit. She stood there, now a small figure, looking up at Nancy. “It was covered with brush. Hey, get me out of here, will you?”

  Nancy dropped her knapsack and took a quick look around her. “I need some kind of rope or something I can drop down to you.” She searched through the nearby brush and trees for a long vine or large branch she could drag to the pit for Teresa to climb. She found nothing.

  “What’s taking so long?” Teresa asked anxiously from the bottom of the pit.

  “I’m looking for something to throw to you to pull you up—” Nancy stopped, an idea flashing in her head. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Swell. I’ll be right here,” Teresa said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Nancy dashed up to the old house, around to the back, and let herself in the back door. She ran into the parlor and grabbed all the sheets off the furniture. She wadded them into a huge ball and raced out of the house, back to where Teresa was caught in the pit.

  “I’m going to tie these sheets together,” Nancy called to her. “I need to reach this tree over here, so it’ll take about four sheets.”

  Teresa nodded.

  Nancy tied the corners of four sheets together and tossed one end down to Teresa. Then she wrapped the other end around the nearest tree, which was thin but sturdy.

  “Okay!” she yelled to Teresa. “You can climb up now.” She held tightly to her end and pulled with all her strength.

  Within half a minute Teresa’s head appeared at the edge of the pit, then her shoulders and arms. She threw a leg over the top and climbed up on solid ground.

  Nancy released her end of the sheets and joined Teresa at the edge of the pit. Both of them sat on the ground, resting from their exertion.

  “Who would do this?” Nancy wondered aloud. “And why?”

  “As you said, it’s a trap,” Teresa replied.

  “But who wants to capture humans on Horse Island?” Nancy asked, getting to her feet.

  Teresa stood up but didn’t speak. She only shrugged and looked away.

  Nancy turned to face her. “Teresa,” she said, “why did you follow me?”

  “I wasn’t following you,” Teresa said.

  “Of course you were,” Nancy cried impatiently. “I made a big deal about coming here by myself. It was bait, and you took it.” She moved a step closer to Teresa. “Why?”

  Teresa hesitated for a moment. “I have an interest in the i
sland myself,” she said stiffly.

  “What kind of interest?” Nancy demanded.

  “Professional.”

  “What does that mean?” Nancy pressed.

  “I told you, I’m a writer,” Teresa said.

  “A novelist?”

  Teresa eyed Nancy directly. “It’s a project that I can’t talk about right now.” She turned and took a step away. Then she stopped and turned back to Nancy. “Sorry.”

  Nancy didn’t respond.

  “Thanks for the help,” Teresa said softly. “I really mean that.”

  Nancy scanned the area around them. “I wonder if there are other pits around here.”

  “That’s a good point,” Teresa said. “There may be. You’d better be careful.”

  Nancy gazed at Teresa a moment. “Are you aware that there is a new fence on the other side of those trees?” She nodded toward the woods.

  Teresa didn’t speak for a moment. Then she said, “How do you know it’s new?”

  “The wood is new,” Nancy said. “It hasn’t been weathered. Come with me—I’ll show you.”

  “No,” said Teresa. “I have—things I have to do now.”

  Nancy didn’t speak but held Teresa’s gaze.

  Teresa sighed. “I’m an investigative reporter,” she said finally. “I’m working on a story here on the island, and I can’t say any more about it.”

  “Okay,” Nancy said. “Thank you for telling me that much.”

  Teresa nodded, turned, and walked back toward the cove. That made Nancy curious. Was she leaving?

  Nancy sat down behind a clump of trees and watched Teresa. The woman got into her canoe and pushed out into the water. She looked out over the water and waved her arm. Nancy saw a tiny figure in a motorboat waving back at Teresa.

  Nancy kept watching as the figure in the boat got closer. It looked like a man. Just as the boat approached Teresa, Nancy recognized who it was.

  Rodney Starr, the guy who took care of the horses! Why would he be out here talking to Teresa? Nancy wondered.

  The two spoke for a few minutes, and Rodney’s gaze shifted to the island. Then he nodded at Teresa, turned his boat around, and motored back toward Steadman’s. Teresa kept paddling toward the resort.

  What could those two people have to talk about? Nancy thought. If Teresa really is an investigative reporter, what has she discovered on the island that is so interesting? And how does Rodney fit into all of this?

  Nancy stood when she was sure neither Rodney nor Teresa could see her from their boats and turned to head toward the old house. Just then the air was shattered by the sound of a gunshot!

  14

  Shots Are Fired

  Instinctively Nancy ducked for cover. After a moment she looked up. The only sounds were the gentle rustle of trees blowing in the breeze and the chirping of birds. Hunters, thought Nancy. Maybe it was time to see exactly who those hunters were.

  Keeping low, Nancy made her way deeper into the island. She passed the mansion and continued into the woods. Stepping carefully through the underbrush to avoid any other hidden traps, Nancy kept a sharp eye out for hunters but saw no one.

  Nancy also stayed alert for the sound of stampeding horses. She began thinking about the wild animals, their speed, their beauty, their strength. If it hadn’t been such a dangerous situation, she would have enjoyed seeing the horses galloping by her, their manes blowing in the wind, their hooves pounding rhythmically as they flew by.

  It was a shame that the Steadmans’ guests could not enjoy seeing the wild horses—even from a distance. Henry had said that the horses were protected by law, but—

  Nancy suddenly had a horrifying thought. Were the horses being shot by the hunters on the island? Could the hunters be shooting those beautiful creatures? Nancy shuddered.

  Shifting her direction slightly, Nancy decided to check out the new fence she had seen earlier with Bess and George.

  Could the fence have anything to do with the horses? The hunters? Why had it been erected so recently? And, as George had asked, was it fencing something in, or fencing somebody out?

  Nancy quickened her pace and moved along through the clearing and into a thin layer of woods.

  The underbrush abruptly became thicker there, and Nancy stopped suddenly and gasped. Another trap! She had nearly stepped into it!

  Her heart beating hard, she picked up some of the brush at her feet. A deep pit lay under it. Some twigs fell into its depths and disappeared.

  Nancy kicked aside more of the small branches and leaves hiding the trap and gazed into the pit. It appeared to be about the same size as the trap that Teresa had fallen into. Nancy uncovered the rest of the pit and left it that way so that no one else would get hurt.

  Bang! Once again, a gun’s explosion cracked the peaceful silence of the island.

  This shot was even closer. Nancy’s heart began to pound, and she looked quickly in all directions, alert for movement in the brush.

  Suddenly she heard the thunderlike sound she had heard the day before. This time she immediately recognized the sound of stampeding horses.

  She walked on through the woods until the fence came into view, right where she and the girls had seen it before. But something was different.

  The building of the fence had been completed. It was now a makeshift corral, the fence extending around in a large circle. Nancy was amazed to see that penned up inside the corral were almost a dozen beautiful wild horses!

  Nancy stared in awe at the animals. They were skittish and nervous, running back and forth and around the enclosed circle.

  She took a few steps closer, and the horses, sensing danger, ran to the far side of the corral, whinnying and snorting anxiously. These horses are certainly wild, Nancy thought. They are obviously not used to being around humans.

  Nancy looked around her. Apparently she was alone with the animals. At least Nancy couldn’t see anyone. But she had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched. And she knew for certain there was at least one other person on the island—the person who had fired that shot.

  She fixed her gaze on the dense woods beyond. Did she see a movement in the shadows? Was someone standing there watching her? Would that person, realizing that the warnings did no good, decide to do something more dangerous—more deadly?

  Nancy walked along the side of the corral, her eyes on the horses. She counted ten of them, but the corral could hold more. Had someone gone to round up more horses?

  And what then? What was to be done with the animals? Would they be tamed and sold? What was the purpose of capturing the wild creatures?

  Nancy kept walking, and the feeling that she was being watched returned to her.

  “Hello?” Nancy called out.

  There was no answer.

  “Is anyone there?” She directed her question to the woods, where she thought she had seen movement, but all was still.

  Nancy continued her walk along the side of the corral. Something blue caught her eye up ahead. She focused on it. It appeared to be caught on the gate to the corral. Reaching the gate, she found that it was a piece of cotton. Its edges were uneven and rough, as if it had been torn away from a larger piece of cloth. Carefully she freed it from the gate’s latch and slipped it into her knapsack.

  Nancy continued her walk around the corral. The horses were aware of her every move, and they nervously edged away, snorting as soon as she got close.

  Up ahead a footprint caught her eye. She hurried over to it and squatted. Then Nancy saw that there were several of them. The ground was still soft from the heavy rain two days before. The prints were large, mostly made by a man or a large woman, and sunken into the earth about an eighth of an inch. They appeared to be from shoes with a pattern of treads on the soles.

  Nancy was so busy inspecting the footprint that she didn’t realize someone was approaching from behind. The next thing she knew, a searing pain shot through the back of her head and stunned her.

  And then Nancy
was enveloped in blackness.

  15

  Face-to-Face

  Nancy tried to look out through the haze in front of her eyes but could see nothing. Her head ached, and she lay on something hard. She attempted to focus her eyes, strained to move her arms and legs. They wouldn’t work, and the effort was exhausting. The blackness crept up on her, and she fought it until she had no strength left.

  When she opened her eyes again she was able to see more clearly. Her head still ached, but her mind was sharper, although she had no idea how long she had been unconscious. She looked around and realized she was lying on the floor in the parlor of the old house. Her hands and feet were tied together.

  “Well, well, well. The intrepid young detective.”

  Nancy knew who was speaking before she saw him. She looked up to see Steve Matheson sitting in a large overstuffed chair halfway across the room. He was wearing jeans and a red polo shirt, and his sunglasses were perched on his head. “Did you have a nice nap?”

  “I suppose I can thank you for the whack on the head,” she said defiantly.

  “I’m afraid so,” he admitted. “I bet you’re surprised it’s me, huh?”

  “Not really,” she told him. “I was beginning to suspect you. I know it was you Bess saw standing out in the woods that night when we were stranded on the island.”

  “What makes you think that?” he asked calmly.

  “Those sunglasses,” Nancy said.

  “You can’t prove they were mine.”

  “No,” Nancy said, “but I’m pretty certain they were. They were prescription sunglasses, which I noticed you wear.”

  “So do a lot of people.”

  “Yes, but the next day you didn’t have your sunglasses on. It was a bright, sunny day. If you hadn’t lost your glasses, you would have had them on.”

  Steve’s face turned red.

  “And I’ll bet,” Nancy continued, “that those glasses on your head now are new. You had them made on that trip into town for ‘supplies,’ didn’t you?”

  Steve regained his composure. “Okay, so it was me. I was already here on the island when you girls arrived. I set your canoe adrift.”