The Fossil Hunter of Sydney Mines (14 page)

Chapter
18

“A FAKE? BUT WHY?” GRACE ASKED. HER VOICE WAS SHAKING.
There must be some explanation
, she thought to herself.

“Maybe Jeeter figured that it would make us like him or something,” said Mai, sounding disappointed. “You know, because it made him the hero. I guess it was too good to be true.”

“How did he do it?” Grace asked.

“It wouldn't be hard, Grace,” Fred said. “He probably just used his own camera and then uploaded the video to his computer.”

“But if he made the video, then the envelope with Stanley's name on it and the note from my dad's office must be fake, too!” Grace exclaimed.

“Note?” asked Fred, a confused look on his face. “What note?”

As Grace explained, Fred's face turned red. “He was in your house?” he spat. “When I was talking to you?”

“Don't forget that he saved my life too,” Grace added. “If he was just some evil bad guy, he wouldn't have done that.”

“But Jeeter
is
the bad guy,” declared Fred. “It's a no-brainer. We have to find out how deep this rabbit hole goes.”

“It seems like Jeeter's fixated on Rick Stanley,” Mai said. “There's got to be an explanation for that.”

“I think we should stake out Jeeter's place,” Fred suggested. “He's in this right up to his six-pack abs and buzz-cut hair, and we need to find out why!”

“It would have to be dark, for cover,” Grace said. “But there's no way I can get out of curfew. You two will have to do it.”

“Too bad you can't come, Grace. But…does this mean
I'm
in charge of the mission?” Fred asked. He leapt to his feet and started to pace back and forth, fingers tapping on his chin. “Okay,” he continued, “first thing we'll need to do is—”

“If you think for one second I'm going to take orders from you, your brain damage is even worse than I thought!” Mai said. “There's no way in this solar system, this galaxy, this entire
universe
—”

“Can't you two get along for five minutes?” Grace grumbled. “I can just see it now: Jeeter's whole neighbourhood will be standing there watching you two fight and you won't even know it! They'll probably have popcorn for the show. You've gotta stay undercover! Remember what that means?”

“Sorry, Grace,” Mai said.

“Fine,” Fred scowled. “Take all the fun out of it.” He sulked for twelve seconds exactly before he was back in planning mode, making suggestions for camouflage.

They sketched out Jeeter's yard and worked out Mai and Fred's positions. Finally, Grace declared that they were as ready as they'd ever be.

After lunch, Grace, Mai, and Fred returned to school. They were walking down the hall discussing their plans when they rounded a corner and ran smack into Jeeter.

“Hey, just the spies I was looking for,” Jeeter said, smiling. “What are you guys up to?”

Mouths hanging open, Grace, Mai, and Fred stared at him like he was a giant ogre about to chop them up for stew. Grace wanted to scratch his eyes out
. Liar,
she thought.

“What's wrong?” Jeeter asked. His smile faded and he looked behind him as if to see if the terrified reception was for someone else.

“Well, for starters—” Fred growled, stepping forward.

“Nothing!” Grace grabbed Fred's sleeve and hauled him backward. “We're just talking about, um, maybe doing a stakeout of Stanley's house this weekend.”

“Great idea,” Jeeter said. His eyes drifted to Mai's still-frozen face. “Are you sure there's nothing wrong?”

“Well, actually,” said Grace, “Fred's walkie-talkie isn't, um, working. Could he borrow yours 'til the weekend? You don't need it, do you?”

“I guess not,” Jeeter said. “What's he need it for?”

“We have to work on a school thing, and we'll probably be up late. Mom won't let me use the phone past nine.”

“All right,” he said reluctantly. He took his walkie-talkie from his pack and handed it to Fred.

“Well, we've got class,” Grace said. She started inching away from Jeeter, dragging the still-gaping Mai with her. “We'll see you tomorrow to plan the weekend.”

Grace, Mai, and Fred continued down the corridor. Grace looked back over her shoulder just as they were about to turn a corner.

Jeeter was still standing in the same spot, staring at her.

Grace gasped. She raised her hand in a quick wave and scurried around the corner.

“Good thinking, Grace, getting me a walkie-talkie,” Fred said when they were out of earshot. “But mine's probably at home. I would have found it eventually.”

“It wasn't for you,” Mai replied, finally coming back to life. “She didn't want Jeeter listening to us over the airwaves. Right, Grace?”

Grace nodded a silent confirmation.

“Oh, good detective work.” Fred smiled his approval. “So the stakeout is this weekend? Great! That'll give me time to survey the area. You know, pick out the most strategic observation posts.”

Grace shook her head. “No. You've gotta go tonight!”

Chapter
19

“TONIGHT?” FRED SQUEAKED. “BUT I'M NOT READY!”

“Geez, Fred, get a grip!” Mai said. “We can handle it, Grace. No problem.”

“Good,” Grace said as they walked down the nearly empty hallway.

“Shoot, I'm going to be late!” Fred said suddenly, looking at his watch. “See you!” He rushed off to class.

“Come on, Mai,” Grace said, opening the door to the library. “I want to check something out on the computer.” They had a free period and didn't have to be in class until later.

Grace raced to the back of the room, claiming the one and only computer. She opened the web browser and typed the name
Sandstar
into the search box.

“What's Sandstar?” Mai asked, pulling a chair up beside her. “It sounds familiar.”

“When I searched Dad's office, there was a ton of stuff about Sandstar,” Grace replied. “That's the company that got the tar ponds cleanup project. I want to check it out, just in case it means something.”

A long list of hits popped up in the search engine. Grace clicked on the first one. “Wow, look at this,” she said. “The Sandstar contract is worth four hundred million dollars!”

“Hey, now I know why that name sounds familiar!” Mai's eyes glimmered with recognition. “I saw something about them when I was researching our project for Mr. Grange's class. I remember reading that it was one of the costliest environmental projects ever undertaken. But I was mainly researching the history of the contamination—I hadn't done much on the cleanup part.”

“Hmm,” Grace mused, clicking on another internet link. “Look at this one. It's an environmental site. They don't think the method Sandstar is using will work. That's what Dad had in his notes, too. He said an incinerator wouldn't work 'cause there's too much waste to get rid of.”

“Try another one,” Mai said.

They scanned the list. “Ooh, that's Sandstar's website,” Mai said, pointing at a link. “Try that.”

Grace clicked on the link and scanned the news section of the site. “It looks like they started the cleanup six months ago and it's on schedule. Look at all these articles—apparently they're meeting all their deadlines and the government is happy with the progress.” Grace's hopes plummeted again. Another dead end.

She was about to log off when, on a whim, she searched for the Cape Breton newspaper site. When it popped up, she clicked on the obituaries and entered Beatrice Stanley, the name of Rick Stanley's great-aunt, in the search box. Nothing came up. She deleted the last name and just searched for Beatrice. Still nothing. Had he been lying about where he got the money for his car? But so what if he did? There was probably nothing wrong with the guy anyways. Jeeter was the suspect now.

Coasting into her driveway after school, Grace stopped short at the sight of her mom's car.
Darn.
She was supposed to be working.

“What are you doing home?” Grace asked as she walked through the back door into the kitchen. Her mom was sitting at the table, filing her nails.

“I switched shifts with Eleanor,” she explained. “I wanted to spend a little time with you.”

“Oh.”
Ugh, gushy-gooey Mom front and centre.

Grace's mom frowned. “How about a little enthusiasm?”

“Sorry, Mom.” Grace did her best to seem happy. “Sounds fun! What do you want to do?”

“Let's do some baking,” her mom replied. “I thought we'd make some squares for the community fundraiser.”

“Great!” Grace said, faking a smile.

It took hours to make four different kinds of squares. Who'd want to eat them anyways? Grace wondered. She was sure her mom had mixed up the salt and baking powder measurements, but she knew better than to say anything.

“There!” her mom smiled, putting the last piece of cherry on a square. “Who says we don't make a good team?”

Grace looked up at the clock. Seven-thirty. It was getting closer and closer to night time—and spy time.

“Grace,” her mom said, wiping her hand on a dishtowel. “I talked to Dr. Solomon today.”

Whoa!
Grace hadn't expected that. “Dr. Solomon? Why'd you do that?”

“I was concerned after our talk last night so I called him,” she answered. “He wants to see you.”

Grace could feel her face getting hot. “Well,
I
don't want to see
him
. I'm fine!”

“No, Grace, I don't think you are fine,” her mom replied. “You talked last night as if you're trying to be some kind of detective, investigating what happened to your dad—like that's going to change anything. It's called avoidance, Grace. Believe me, I know.”

“Mom—”

“Let me finish, honey. It was a terrible accident, but it happened and there's nothing we can do about it. It won't bring him back.” She reached over and cupped Grace's face gently. “I worry about you. You're all I have.”