Henry shook his head. “It’s not that,” he said. “It’s that I think the food’s been . . . taken.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Time to Get Help
“STOLEN?” I ASKED. WAS HE serious? first the tents, then Caitlin, then the food?
Henry nodded. “I know we left it here last night. And now . . .” He gestured at the empty spot.
Dagger moved forward, looking down where Henry had been searching and then scanning the whole fire pit, as Henry had. “Is there any chance Caitlin moved the food because of the rain?” He had a point. Knowing how sensible Caitlin was, she’d probably stashed it under a rock or something to keep it from getting soaked.
Henry shook his head. “I seriously doubt it. We were scrambling around like chickens with our heads cut off trying to get that tarp up. I don’t know when she would have had a chance to move the food.”
“So just to clarify,” I said, “we’re without food and without the emergency phone. Right?”
Henry looked at me for a moment, then nodded. “We can keep looking for a bit,” he said, “but it seems that way, yeah.”
Bess sighed. “So now we really have to ask ourselves: What do we do now?”
Henry looked pained. “I . . . what do you guys think?”
“We should contact the police,” I said, “one way or another. Caitlin’s been missing for about an hour now, by your timeline, Henry. And now it looks like someone’s stolen our food, and our emergency phone is gone,” I added. “It seems like . . . someone is out to sabotage this trip.”
At my words, I could see everyone shudder a little bit. I’m sure the thought had occurred to all of us, but saying it out loud made it seem truer somehow.
Henry sighed. “I just hate to leave Caitlin,” he said. “On the off chance she did get mad about something and wander off and get hurt, or something like that.”
“I thought you said you didn’t fight,” George pointed out.
“We didn’t,” Henry said, “but you know how girls are.”
When his comment was greeted with stony silence, Henry looked up and seemed to recognize that he was talking to four girls, and only one guy.
“I mean . . . ,” he said. “Uh . . .”
“If we left, where would we go?” Zoe asked in a crisp voice. “Do you even know how to get to the police?”
Henry nodded. “I mean, I’m not totally useless,” he said, with a crooked smile nobody smiled back at. He dug into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a crumpled paper. “I have a map of our ride, and the area,” he said, unfolding it. “According to this, there’s a ranger station about”—he squinted at the map and frowned—“two hours’ ride from here? Give or take a few minutes.”
He passed the map to Dagger, who was standing closest, and Dagger spread it out on the ground so we could all look. The map looked incredibly confusing to me, but Henry pointed out the ranger station, and it didn’t look impossibly far.
“I think we should go,” Zoe said, crossing her arms again and hugging herself. “If nothing else, we’ll be safe with the police.”
She didn’t say more, but she didn’t have to. Her meaning was clear. We’re not safe out here.
Henry looked sincerely pained. “I agree. I just . . .”
Dagger looked at him, raising his eyebrows. “If we leave, we could be leaving Caitlin?” he asked.
Henry nodded, looking grateful. “Exactly.”
Dagger nodded sagely. Then he looked around at the rest of us and raised his hand. “I propose that we stay here at the campsite for one hour more. We can gather our things, try to find something to eat. If, in one hour’s time, Caitlin hasn’t returned, we’ll leave for the ranger station. Okay?”
We all looked around at one another, nodding.
“Okay,” I said, and was soon echoed by Henry, George, Bess, and Zoe.
Once we’d decided, Henry went back to the woods to pack up his and Caitlin’s gear, and Zoe and Bess took off to start breaking down the tent. Zoe quickly rebuffed my and George’s offers to help.
“No offense,” she said, “but it’s a small tent, and I think this is a ‘too many cooks’ kind of thing.”
After Bess and Zoe departed, Dagger went back over to collect his meditation supplies and move them down to the little plateau he’d slept on by the lake. “This seems like a perfect time to clear my mind and connect with the universe,” he explained to us. “Care to join me?”
George and I looked at each other blankly, then shook our heads.
“You have fun,” said George. Satisfied, Dagger disappeared down the rocky slope.
“I think it would take bleach and about three days of scrubbing to clear my mind this morning,” George muttered when he was out of earshot.
I shivered. “Do you think we’re in danger?” I asked.
“I don’t know.”
I paused, then put voice to the question that had been bumping around in my mind all day—the one I wanted most to ignore. “Do you think someone on the tour is behind all this?”
George was silent for a moment. I could feel her shiver too. “I don’t know,” she said, more softly.
For a few minutes we were quiet, just watching the lake, which was still sparkling gorgeously in the sun, like it didn’t realize that a girl was missing and our tents and food were gone and we were hours away from getting any help.
I heard George sigh, and put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry your birthday trip has gone so wrong,” I said.
She shook her head. “Thanks. But I’m not worried about that. I just want Caitlin to be safe,” she said.
I nodded. At that moment Bess’s giggle rang out from the meadow, where she and Zoe were struggling to fold the tent small enough to fit back into Zoe’s pack. George looked over in her cousin’s direction, and all at once I remembered their argument the night before.
“Maybe you should talk to Bess,” I suggested. “Try to work it out?”
George shook her head. “Why bother?” she muttered. “I’m still kind of mad at her for complaining so much. Besides,” she added, nodding in Henry’s direction, “we have bigger problems to worry about.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Bad to Worse
AN HOUR LATER, MY STOMACH was rumbling. Dagger had helped us collect a “breakfast” of edible greens and berries from the forest, and we’d split a couple of protein bars from Zoe’s “snack stash,” plus the bars George’s parents had packed for us, but I was still ravenous from our long ride the day before.
There was no sign of Caitlin.
“We should go,” Dagger said finally, gently, once we’d finished eating.
Henry nodded, balling a protein bar wrapper up in his hand. “Okay.”
We all dragged our gear over to where the bikes waited, near the side of the road.
We picked up our bikes and climbed on—all except, I quickly realized, Zoe. She held her bike upright but was staring back at the campsite. When I shifted to get a look at her face, I realized she looked stricken.
“Zoe?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head, not taking her eyes off the woods. “Are you . . . are you sure it’s a good idea to leave?” she asked. “Maybe we should just wait a little longer.”
Surprised, I looked at Bess.
“We talked about this, Zo,” she said gently. “It’s best for us to get help. Come on, she’ll be okay.”
Zoe shook her head again, looking down at her feet. When she looked back up, I realized there was a tear trickling down her cheek. She was crying.
“I just can’t stand the thought that she might be hurt or . . . or . . .” She swiped at her eyes, shooting me a challenging look. “We don’t know what happened to her. She might need us.”
I leaned over to touch her arm. “Zoe,” I said softly. “She needs help right now. Help from the authorities. Come on, we all agreed on that.”
Zoe seemed to pull herself together, then finally nodded.
“So
rry I’m being such a drama queen. You’re right. It’s just . . .”
“I know,” I said quietly, wondering why Zoe was suddenly so teary. “It doesn’t feel right, but it is.”
Henry, who looked utterly bewildered by this whole display, nodded. Everyone lined up in formation, ready to take off. But I lingered back beside Zoe.
“Zoe,” I whispered, “is there a reason you’re so worried? You don’t . . . know anything we don’t, do you?”
Zoe didn’t meet my eye. She was climbing on her bike, and she looked down at the ground as she settled on the seat and put one foot on the pedal.
“No,” she said finally, shaking her head.
I nodded and adjusted my bike helmet. But I couldn’t resist one glance back at her before we took off.
She was glaring right at Dagger, her expression unreadable.
It was a quiet ride through the woods. Henry had told us that we’d be riding along this road for ten miles, at which point we’d cross a river and turn off onto a smaller path. Nobody seemed able to think of much to say. Even the normally chatty Bess and Zoe were quiet, each staring ahead, thinking their separate thoughts.
As we were riding, something occurred to me, and I noticed that Dagger had fallen to the back of the pack, a few bike lengths behind the others. I slowed my pedaling to fall beside him.
“Hi,” I said, giving him a friendly smile.
“Hello,” he said with a nod. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m okay,” I said with a shrug. “Can I ask you a question, though? Something’s bothering me.”
Dagger nodded. “Perhaps it’s the same thing that’s bothering me,” he suggested.
“Perhaps,” I agreed. “Well . . . you said you heard Henry and Caitlin having a pretty bad argument before she disappeared. But Henry says they didn’t fight at all.”
Dagger nodded grimly. “Yes. I find that troubling,” he said.
“This may sound silly, but are you sure you heard them fighting?” I asked. “You weren’t just . . . dreaming or something like that?”
Dagger shook his head. “I heard an argument, clear as day. And there was a lot of emotion involved,” he added. “Caitlin, at least, sounded very upset. I can’t imagine why Henry is denying it. But then, I don’t understand many things about Henry.”
Like how he doesn’t seem to know anything about this trip, I filled in. But that was more understandable, if Henry was used to Caitlin taking charge. Could any sane person really have a fight with their sister and not realize it was a fight?
Or was Henry—more likely—just trying to hide something?
I hadn’t forgotten that Dagger had acted slightly weird this morning too. He’d claimed to think the scream was a birdcall and had discouraged me from checking on Henry and Caitlin. I still shuddered when I remembered his footsteps behind me as I ran toward their campsite, and the way he’d stopped short when Bess had come out of the tent and called to me.
Was he about to hurt me? Stop me from going after Caitlin?
As much as I hated to believe it, I knew it was possible that someone in the group had something to do with Caitlin’s disappearance. And the most likely suspects were Henry—who’d been missing, at first, with her—and Dagger, who’d also been up when I got out of our tent.
Dagger said he’d overheard a fight. Henry said it never happened.
Who was lying?
“Excuse me.” I suddenly realized that Dagger was snapping his fingers, trying to get my attention. Oops. I’d wandered off into sleuthyville there.
“Yes?” I smiled, trying to look like someone who wasn’t suspecting him of kidnapping and potentially murder.
Dagger raised his eyebrows. “Shouldn’t we have passed the river by now?”
Huh. I thought about it, and soon realized Dagger was right. We’d been riding for at least an hour. Surely we’d gone ten miles?
“I think you’re right,” I told Dagger.
Dagger pedaled faster to get closer to Henry, calling for him. When he had the coleader’s attention, he insisted that we stop. Henry obeyed, and we all pulled over to the side of the road. Dagger moved up to confront Henry, stepping off his bike and frowning at him.
“Where is the map?”
Henry looked confused. “Hold on, hold on. Why are we stopping?”
“Give me the map,” Dagger insisted.
Henry frowned at him. “Not until you tell me what’s going on, man. What’s got your nose out of joint?”
Dagger let out an exasperated sigh as the rest of us got off our bikes and gathered closer. “You said we would ride ten miles and pass a river. We have not passed a river. And we’ve surely gone more than ten miles, haven’t we?”
Henry looked thoughtful. “Huh. I guess . . .”
Dagger held out his hand impatiently. “Give me the map.”
Henry shook his head. “Hold on, hold on.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the crumpled map, but he angled his body away from Dagger so only he could look at it. “Okay. Um . . . yeah. I guess I misread something, but . . .”
Dagger groaned. “Clearly you can’t read a map! Can you give it to me, please, so we can get to the ranger station and tell the authorities what’s going on?”
Henry looked up, anger flashing in his eyes. “Hey, watch it. Give me a minute to figure things out. I want to get to the ranger station even worse than you do!”
Dagger cocked his head, raising a single eyebrow. “Do you?”
The anger in Henry’s eyes intensified. “What are you trying to say?”
George grabbed my arm and shot me an alarmed look. I nodded and shrugged. I could see this conversation was turning ugly, but the sleuth in me wanted to see what Dagger and Henry would say to each other, and if it would shed any light on whether either of them was involved in whatever had happened to Caitlin.
Dagger breathed in through his nose, as if to calm himself. “I am saying,” he said, “that you were the last person to see your sister. You fought with her, and you are denying it. You claim to have no idea what happened to her, yet somehow, mysteriously, her satellite phone is missing as well, so we have no way of calling in the disappearance to the authorities. And now you are leading us in circles, in the guise of getting help.”
Henry’s eyes widened, and he swung his leg over his bike to dismount and lunged toward Dagger. “Are you seriously saying—”
“I’m stating the facts,” Dagger replied, his calm expression intact.
“Why should we trust you?” Henry asked, pointing at Dagger with the hand that still held the map. “You were up and around right after my sister disappeared—don’t think I didn’t notice. You gave us a fake address on your tour application—yeah, I noticed that too, dude, and I brought it up to Caitlin, but she said we needed a seventh person or they’d cancel the tour—and you’ve paid for everything in cash. How do we know who the heck you really are? Is your name even Dagger?”
Dagger didn’t flinch. “My name is Dagger now,” he said calmly.
Henry shook his head, as if trying to shake something off, and then stepped back. “If I find out you hurt her . . . ,” he said in a low voice, smoothing out the map.
Dagger held out his hand again. “Give me the map, Henry.”
But Henry had turned back to the map and was busy trying to follow our route with his finger. “Okay, so our campsite was here,” he said, his brows furrowing. “And then I think we rode here, and . . .”
Dagger sighed quietly, seeming to register that Henry was ignoring him. Then, very calmly, he reached into a pocket on his backpack and pulled out a long, gleaming, silver blade. My heart seized.
“Let’s try that again,” he said, gesturing toward Henry with the knife. “Give me the map.”
CHAPTER NINE
Revelations
A HORRIFIED SILENCE FELL OVER the group. Without thinking, I reached out for George’s and Bess’s hands; they both grabbed mine, squeezing to let me know they were just as freaked
as I was.
“Please,” Dagger went on, his voice just as cool and calm as always. “The map, please.”
Henry shot an alarmed look at the rest of us—as if to say, You saw that, right?—and then held the map out to Dagger. “Knock yourself out, dude.”
Dagger took the map without comment. He pushed the handle of the knife between his torso and upper arm and held it there while he used both hands to spread out the map. He didn’t make another peep; didn’t look at the rest of us; didn’t make any move to touch the knife. At one point, he took one finger and pressed it to his lip, thinking.
“Hmmmmm,” he said. “Well. Hmmmmm.”
I looked at Bess and George. What was happening here? I didn’t know what to think; was Dagger—or the Stranger Formerly Known as Dagger—going to kill us now? Was he just waiting to figure out where we were on the map before he gutted us like fish and buried us in the woods? I could tell from my friends’ expressions that they were just as thrown by this as I was.
After what seemed like an eternity, Dagger looked up. “Very well,” he said, handing the map back to Henry, who took it with the enthusiasm of someone heading to the dentist for a root canal. “I am guessing we missed a turn about eight miles back. The map is a bit confusing, but we do not cross the river on this road. We need to turn off to a smaller path, then cross the river, then turn again.”
He grabbed the knife and slipped it into his backpack, then walked back to his bike and set it up to mount.
Henry looked at the four of us girls; we stared, bewildered, back at him.
“Um,” said Henry, straightening up, “you going to kill us now, dude?”
I cringed. Not how I would have put the question. But Dagger looked mystified as he turned back to Henry.
“What do you mean? I’m ready to continue on our way.”
Henry stood even straighter. “You just pulled a knife on me, man!”
Dagger frowned at him. “What, this?” he asked, pulling the knife back out of his backpack and waving it in our direction. All five of us took a step back.