Haunted Waters (18 page)

Chapter 67

I stopped two yards from Boo
and his friend and put my backpack down. Ashley stood behind me.

“So, you gonna let us ride?” the little one said.

I stared at Boo.

“Answer us,” he said, sneering and stepping closer. “Or just hand over the keys.”

I wondered if Boo had ever really beat anyone up. He scared people and pulled a lot of threatening pranks, but the more I thought about it, maybe he was all show. I couldn’t remember when he had actually hit someone.

Who was I kidding? This guy had fists the size of cinder blocks.

“We’re not allowed to let anybody ride them,” I said, my voice shaky. But I hadn’t stuttered. That was a start. “If you have a problem with that, you’re talking to the wrong person.”

“Hiding behind your daddy?” Boo said. “Where’s he now? Huh?”

I held my ground and kept staring.

Ashley stepped forward. “We have your e-mail. Coach Baldwin knows what you did in the locker room. You want to be expelled, keep it up.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared,” Boo said. He made a fist. “I’ll ask you one more time. You gonna let us ride?”

I had always loved the story of David and Goliath, but right now I didn’t have a slingshot. “No,” I said, and the strength in my voice surprised me. “Leave us alone, Aaron.”

Boo slapped me hard.

Ashley gasped and stepped back.

I put a hand to my face, and it was hot. “You
slapped
me?” I said, squinting at him.

He looked flustered and glanced at his friend. Then at me. “Come on, put ’em up.”

“You’ve never actually been in a fight, have you?” I said. “You just intimidate everybody.”

I knew my face was red, but inside I was smiling.

A truck raced to the end of the school parking lot and Boo turned.

“I’m still gonna get you,” he said. “And we’ll have those four-wheelers.”

As Boo and his little friend hurried away, Ashley patted me on the shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I rubbed my face. I knew the verse about turning the other cheek, and I was glad I hadn’t had to.

Chapter 68

As we got on the ATVs,
Mrs. Watson called out from her door. Bryce took off toward the pasture, and I rode to her house.

“Your uncle was here asking for you,” she said. “I told him what time you got out of school, and he said he’d see you when you got home.”

Uncle?
Our uncle Terry had died, and as far as we knew Sam didn’t have a brother. I thanked Mrs. Watson and tried to catch up with Bryce. He was waiting on the knoll near the school. I glanced at the truck in the parking lot and wondered if it had been some kind of coincidence or if Sam had sent someone to protect us.
Our uncle?

We rode into the pasture. Halfway home, I noticed the truck going slowly on the road beside us. I couldn’t see the driver, but the license plate was green and white like the Colorado plates Sam and Mom have.

We were almost to the house when the pickup sped into our driveway, kicking up dust. It zoomed through our yard and came straight at us, stopping a few yards from us. That’s when I remembered where I had seen it before.

On Gold Camp Road.

Chapter 69

When a man in a ski mask jumped
from the driver’s side, Ashley and I gunned our engines, went around the truck, and headed for our front door.

The man got back in the truck and followed, but we were off our bikes and on the front porch before he could get out.

We ran inside, the man catching up to us, and before we could close the door, he stuck his foot in it.

Mom appeared, her glasses pushed down on her nose, which meant she had been working on her book. Pippin and Frodo barked from the backyard.

“What in the world?” Mom said as we pushed with all our might to get the door closed. It burst open, pushing us all back, and Ski Mask was inside.

Mom grabbed us and thrust us behind her. “What do you want?”

“The computer,” he said, his voice muffled.

“What computer?” my mother yelled. “Get out of our house!”

The man pulled a gun from his belt, waved it toward the living-room couch, and motioned for us to sit.

My cell phone was in my pocket. If I could dial 911 quickly, the guy would never know it.

“The computer with the e-mail,” he said. “Now!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Mom said.

“They do,” the man said. “You sent an e-mail from the cabin before the power was cut. Now where is it?”

I looked at Mom. “Did you open an e-mail from me Friday night?”

“You know I don’t check e-mail while I’m writing. It probably downloaded but—”

“Tell me where it is right now, lady, or one of these kids gets hurt.”

“In my office.”

The man gestured with the gun for us to stand. “Show me.”

Chapter 70

I don’t know about Bryce,
but all I could think was,
This is not why I moved to Colorado!

I heard a beep as we entered Mom’s office.

The man stopped.

Another beep.

“What’s that?” he said.

A third beep.

He grabbed Bryce’s arm and out came his cell phone. The man snatched it out of his hand and punched the red button, stopping the call. He threw the phone to the floor and pointed at Bryce. “Try that again and you’re dead.”

Mom’s laptop lay on the desk with lots of papers and mail stacked nearby. The man grabbed the laptop, closed it, and unplugged it from its docking station.

“You can’t take that,” Mom said. “That has all my work on it!”

“Downstairs,” he said.

If only I could slip away and call Sam or the police. Something. Anything. But if one of us ran, the man would shoot. Maybe I could distract him.

“How did you find us?” I said.

“Just get downstairs. Sit on the couch.”

“You were pretty smart to track us here.”

As we sat, the man said, “I’ve got my ways.”

I looked at Bryce. “Now there’s no way they’ll be able to find out who Winkler’s accomplice was. He has the only file of our picture.”

“Shut up, missy,” the man said.

“And you’re the guy with his back to us at Gold Town, talking to Winkler, right? Which means you have the gold.”

“Please don’t take my computer,” Mom said. “All my work is on that hard drive. Do you know how long it took—?”

“Shut up!” the man said, and I thought I recognized his voice.

“Bet you’re glad that Winkler guy’s been put away,” I said. “Now you won’t have to share any of the loot.”

The man just stared at us. When a siren sounded in the distance, he ran to the window and searched the horizon.

“Guess my 911 call went through,” Bryce said. “You should have left the phone on and told them it was a mistake.”

“Shut up!”

“You can’t say that,” a tiny voice said from behind us. It was Dylan, rubbing his eyes. “You’re not supposed to say shut up.”

“Honey, come here,” Mom said, picking Dylan up.

The man’s gaze darted around the room, and he scratched the top of his head. He ordered us into the kitchen, herded us into the food pantry, and jammed something against the door to block us in.

We heard footsteps through the kitchen toward the front. The screen slammed. Then someone yelped, and there was a thump.

Seconds passed.

“Hello?” Leigh called. “Anybody home?”

We yelled for her to let us out.

“Who’s the guy with the gun?” she said, opening the door.

“Long story,” Bryce said. “Where is he?”