“I can’t believe this!” Kiki said. “We spent all week killing it in Night Frisbee! Now we don’t even get our chance at the championship?”
I patted her shoulder. “Sorry, kiddo,” I said. “Though you could look at it as, now everyone who would have played in the play-offs is a champion.”
Kiki sighed deeply. “No. I wanted to destroy the eleven-year-olds!”
“Maybe Harper can read us some more from her book during free time,” Maya suggested diplomatically. “Kind of like a bedtime story?”
Most of the girls seemed pleased with that idea. By the time we all filed out of the mess hall and headed toward our cabins, most of the grumbling had stopped—in my bunk, at least. But a haze of disappointment lingered over the whole group.
George brushed up against me as we crossed paths walking to our respective cabins. “Do you think the campout will happen tomorrow night?” she whispered.
I realized I hadn’t thought about it—but it was hard to imagine. “I doubt it,” I whispered back. “This seems like a pretty clear threat. But I didn’t hear that from Deborah, so I don’t know for sure.”
George nodded solemnly.
“Some of my little kids might be relieved,” she said, “but I imagine the rest of the camp will freak out.”
“I know,” I said, “but better a camp-wide freak-out than some other scary thing happening.”
George shrugged. “True. Anyway, have a good night, Nance.”
I squeezed her arm before she walked away, then was startled by a cool voice behind me.
“Too bad about Night Frisbee, isn’t it?”
I turned and looked into the darkly made-up eyes of Bella. In the dim light of dusk, her face was half-covered by shadow.
“It’s a shame,” I replied neutrally.
Bella moved closer. “What’s a shame is that you and your goody-two-shoes friends wouldn’t let me hold my séance before camp even started,” she hissed, too quietly for the campers around to hear. “If I’d been able to communicate with this angry spirit, maybe we could have avoided all this.”
As Bella tossed her hair and stalked off toward her cabin, I stood frozen and watched her, stunned. But not by the snotty comment. I was stunned by Bella’s smell.
When she’d moved in close to me, it was unmistakable: Bella reeked of smoke.
The next morning, about fifteen minutes after breakfast, I stood at the edge of the woods outside Walnut Cabin. Full of nervous energy, I peeked inside the window, but the lack of lights inside made it hard to see anything. Besides, I knew that no one should be in there. I’d seen Bella, Susie, and all six eleven-year-old campers on the soccer field just moments before. Deborah was letting the Night Frisbee play-offs happen this morning, and while the girls were disappointed that it was during daylight, they were all excited to play for the championship.
I’d asked Maya to keep an eye on the girls while I sneaked away “to the nurse for some aspirin” . . . but really, to get inside Walnut Cabin while Bella and her campers were gone.
I hadn’t run my suspicions by Deborah. She hadn’t canceled the campout yet, but she’d told me this morning that she planned to announce after lunch that it was canceled. It was just too risky, she said. There was no doubt now that someone was sabotaging the camp. And it scared her to bring campers to an unprotected location while that was going on.
I was hoping that I’d find something in Walnut Cabin to prove that my hunch about Bella was more than just a hunch. She’d been strangely obsessed with the “ghost” story since we showed up, and she was capable of pulling off all the attacks. If I could find something inside Walnut Cabin that connected her to the crime . . . then maybe the campout could go on as planned, and without the threat of more strange happenings.
I took a deep breath and darted around to the entrance, pushing open the heavy wooden door and slipping inside. The cabin was dim, and it took my eyes a few seconds to adjust after being in the bright sunlight. When I could see again, I saw a cabin that looked a lot like ours, in terms of the general chaos and the items scattered around. Sleeping bags were spread out on each of the bunks, with pillows and sometimes extra blankets or stuffed animals. There were postcards and stationery stacked on one dresser, and a few dog-eared copies of the Hunger Games trilogy on another.
I stepped over to the bunk beds near the door, in the same location as the ones in our cabin where Maya and I slept. Traditionally, the counselors seemed to take the bunks closest to the door. I walked to the dresser at the foot of the bed and idly shuffled through some items on the top: a necklace with a pendant shaped like a key, a tube of cherry-red lip gloss. This looks like Bella’s stuff. Then I noticed a postcard peeking out from underneath a pair of sunglasses. I pulled it out and looked down. Hey, goofball . . . I skipped the message and looked down at the signature. Bingo.
It read Truly, Bella.
So I’d accomplished goal number one: locate Bella’s belongings. Now I just had to search them.
Casting a quick look out the cabin window—the clearing still looked deserted—I threw open the top drawer and started rifling through it. It was full of underwear and socks, and based on the size, they looked like Bella’s and not Susie’s. I was about to close the drawer and move on when my fingers brushed something small and hard in the rear corner of the drawer. Taking it in my hand—it was small enough to fit in my palm—I drew it out of the drawer and looked down.
What I saw made my stomach drop. Matches. As in, something that might have been used to light the message on the grass last night—GO HOME—aflame.
I took in a breath, trying not to get ahead of myself. We weren’t supposed to keep matches in the bunks, but realistically, there were lots of reasons a person might have them. Then I remembered Bella’s séance attempt. She had had matches then, and she’d put them back in her bag after I’d taken her Ouija board and candle. I picked up the matchbook, examining its surface. The striking strip seemed scratched, like it had been used.
I threw the matches on top of the dresser and pulled open the next drawer. Maybe I’ll find something in this drawer that will make everything clearer.
But that drawer just seemed to be filled with tank tops and T-shirts. The next drawer held shorts and jeans. And the next one . . . two bathing suits, a sparkly minidress, and a beach towel. But again, just as I was about to close the drawer, I saw something else.
And gasped.
There was something crammed way in back—something hidden from plain view when you opened the drawer.
Is Bella trying to hide something?
I reached in and nearly recoiled. Hair! The silky strands tangled between my fingers as I grasped the thing and pulled it out. . . .
Only to find myself holding a long silver wig.
I was so surprised, I dropped it.
I remembered what Kiki had said when she got pulled under. She claimed the person doing the pulling had long, silvery-blond hair. Just like Lila had . . . and Bella certainly seemed interested in the incident with Lila.
I picked up the wig with shaking hands. Why would Bella do this? Trying to scare campers and counselors in the water, stealing sleeping bags, setting the clearing on fire? What did Bella have to gain if Camp Cedarbark failed? She was a counselor here, after all. She was a Camp Larksong alum, who claimed to love the camp.
I didn’t have any answers. But gathering the matches and the wig, I moved toward the door.
And tripped over a pair of black Chuck Taylors. I picked one up—the tracks matched the ones I’d seen the night the sleeping bags were stolen. And they were too big to belong to the campers.
I headed out of the cabin.
I definitely had enough to share my suspicions with Deborah.
“I think I may have our culprit.”
Deborah looked up in surprise as I made my announcement while opening the door to her office.
“Just like that?” she asked.
“Just like that,” I replied. “Well, I haven’t figured out her m
otive yet. But I’m pretty sure the person trying to sabotage Camp Cedarbark is”—I paused, and Deborah’s eyes lit with excitement—“Bella.”
I went over everything I knew: Bella’s strange behavior when we’d arrived at camp, her concern with the “ghost” story and wanting to hold the séance. I explained how Bella didn’t have an alibi for any of the strange happenings—she’d excused herself before the swim tests, could have easily snuck away from the campfire when the sleeping bags were stolen, could have snuck away from whatever she was doing when two of my campers were pulled under during their swim time, and I saw her sneak out of the mess hall when the fire was lit in the clearing. Plus, I added, she reeked of smoke later that evening, and I’d found the matches and wig in her bunk. It felt pretty clear that she was the Camp Cedarbark saboteur.
I was expecting the camp owner to look surprised. But instead she looked away, thoughtful, and then gave a rueful little laugh. “Bella. Oh, of course.”
“Of course what?” I asked. What does Deborah know that I don’t?
Deborah shook her head and sighed. “I should have known not to hire someone who had ties to this camp! It was silly of me.”
I was getting frustrated now. I could feel my eyes bugging out. “Ties to this camp? What ties to this camp?”
Deborah looked at me, her eyes apologetic. “Nancy, I should have told you. I’m sorry. It just never occurred to me that there could be a connection.” She paused, leaning her elbows on her desk. “Bella’s family tried to buy Camp Larksong a couple of years before we did. Her family wanted to renovate it and reopen it too. But their financing fell through.”
I stared at Deborah, putting all that together in my head. Bella’s family wanted to buy Camp Larksong? That could explain why she seemed to know so much about the Lila incident. And if she succeeded in scaring everyone away . . . ruining Camp Cedarbark’s first year . . . maybe she thought the camp would go back on the market for a cheaper price? Or maybe her goal didn’t even go that far. Maybe she just wanted to get revenge on the people who’d succeeded where her family had failed.
“Bella was a Camp Larksong alum too,” Deborah said. “Maybe she decided that if her family couldn’t have the camp, no one could.”
I let out a sigh. Even though it all lined up, there was something unsatisfying about this conclusion. It was all about money? Or revenge?
“Why do you think she focused so much on the Lila incident?” I asked. “Was she involved somehow? Did she have an ax to grind?”
Deborah looked at me blankly. “Well, you’re the amateur detective, Nancy,” she said. “But from my perspective? She just wanted to convince people the camp is haunted. Because then people would get scared, and eventually, the camp would fail.”
I frowned, thinking that over. It made sense, of course. And that explained why Bella told us the story right away and wanted to hold a séance the night the CITs arrived. She was setting up the story that an angry ghost lived at the camp.
Deborah suddenly stood. “Let me get Miles. The eleven-year-olds are at the lake now. Sandy and Susie can keep an eye on them while Miles brings Bella back here. We’re going to have to work something out for tonight. Maybe Sam can take over as lead counselor.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Wait—you’re bringing Bella here? Now?”
“Of course.” Deborah looked at me like she couldn’t believe I wasn’t following this. “She can’t stay here, Nancy. Not when she might be putting campers in danger.” She paused. “The only good news is . . . I guess the campout tonight can go on.”
“Excuse me?” Bella sputtered about half an hour later.
We stood in Deborah’s office. Miles said that Bella had not been pleased to be escorted back to camp in front of all her campers. She’d seemed even less pleased to find me waiting for her in Deborah’s office. And when Deborah began explaining why she’d been brought there, I thought her eyes might roll right out of her head.
“Where’s your proof?” she asked now, crossing her arms over her chest in a defensive posture. “Why on earth would I try to sabotage this camp? I came here when I was a kid! I love it here!”
I briefly explained what I’d already told Deborah. With every word that came out of my mouth, her eyes looked harder and angrier.
“And I found these in your bunk,” I said finally, gesturing to the book of matches and the wig that now sat on Deborah’s desk.
Bella let out a rueful laugh. She looked so angry and tense, I was ready for her to explode.
“Do you know why I have matches?” she asked. “And why I smelled like smoke last night? God, Nancy Drew, what kind of detective are you?’
I stared at her. “Because you . . . started the fire?” I asked, thinking it was pretty obvious.
“Nooooo!” Bella lifted her finger into the air and waved it in my face. “I’ve been burning sage to purify our cabin and keep the angry spirits out.” She turned to Deborah, her expression changing from furious to hopeful. “That’s what I was doing last night, when the fire must have been lit! I know it’s not really allowed, so I try to do it when no one else is there. I went back to the cabin as soon as I finished dinner and burned some sage. That’s why my clothes smelled like smoke later. But I didn’t see anything, I swear.”
Deborah looked unconvinced. “That doesn’t explain the wig, Bella. Or the sneakers.”
Bella sighed. “The wig. I brought the wig for the same reason I brought the sparkly dress. I was going to get all dressed up for the end-of-camp party,” she said.
Deborah raised her eyebrows. “End-of-camp party?”
“Don’t you remember?” Bella asked. “The kids at Camp Larksong always talked about this big costume party the counselors had after the kids left at the end of the week. I figured, since it was a Camp Larksong tradition, we’d be doing the same at Camp Cedarbark.”
Deborah closed her eyes. “I remember,” she said. “But the end-of-camp dance was called off the last year of Camp Larksong because . . . well, because. I didn’t plan to keep the tradition going here. I’m not sure why you would just assume we’d be having the dance.”
“I told you,” Bella said. “Because I thought Camp Cedarbark would be the same as Camp Larksong. And I wanted to be prepared.”
“Why silver?” I asked, not bothering to try to hide my skepticism. “You just happened to bring a silver wig and not, say, pink or blue or any color not worn by a fake ghost in the lake?”
Bella looked at me like she was almost afraid. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said. “I wore that wig for my Halloween costume two years ago. I thought it looked really cute on me. That’s all.”
“What about the sneakers?” I pressed.
Bella looked at me with disdain. “You mean the same Converse sneakers every other teenager in America wears? Yeah, that’s some real incriminating evidence there.”
I glanced at Deborah, wondering whether she was buying this. Her expression told me she wasn’t. “I’m sorry, Bella,” she said after a few seconds. “But I just don’t believe you. I’m not going to press charges, but I want you to leave this camp immediately. Call your parents from this phone to pick you up, and I’ll escort you over to pack your things. I can’t put my campers at further risk. I can’t. And if you try anything to further sabotage this camp, I will call the police.”
Bella shook her head like she couldn’t believe this. “You have no proof!” she cried. “I’ll sue you! We’ll sue!”
Deborah looked tired. “If you want to sue me over losing one day of your summer job, Bella, have at it. But I’m afraid you still have to leave.” She began walking toward the door, and I stepped aside to let her pass. She took Bella’s arm as she passed her and said, “Come on.”
Bella glared at her, then turned her ferocious stare on me. “I won’t forget this, Nancy,” she said in a low voice. “If our paths ever cross again . . . Mark my words, you’ve made a lifelong enemy!”
With that, she whirled around and fol
lowed Deborah out of the cabin. I watched them walk across the clearing, past the burnt GO HOME message in the grass, and toward Bella’s cabin.
Well, I thought, straightening up as the words lifelong enemy replayed in my mind, you certainly won’t be the first.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Stormy Night
“ARE WE ALMOST THERE YET?” Kiki asked, grabbing my arm and walking up beside me. “Just kidding! Ha-ha! Remember the first day when we hiked to the creek, what wusses we were? This feels like nothing now.”
I smiled, but I couldn’t quite agree with her. We were making the long hike up Hemlock Hill to the site of the camp-wide campout, and my legs were burning. Of course, some of my tiredness might just have been from the fact that it had been a long day for me. After Bella’s parents came to pick her up—they hadn’t seemed terribly thrilled by Deborah’s decision either—I’d had lunch with my bunk and a session of serious friendship bracelet-making. It was only about five o’clock, but I felt ready to climb into my sleeping bag and say good night to this day.
“I think we are almost there now,” I said, “but yeah, point taken, Kiki.”
“You guys are so much stronger than you were!” cried Maya excitedly. “You’ve grown so much this week! I can’t believe you’re all going home tomorrow. We have to keep in touch.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “Don’t get all sappy, Maya,” she said. “We still have tonight.”
At that moment, I caught a snippet of conversation from the eleven-year-old group in front of me. Sam, who’d taken over Bella’s position as of lunchtime, was patiently repeating the story she’d told about fifty times since Bella’s departure. “She just urgently had to go home,” Sam said. “I told you guys, everything’s fine, but it was unavoidable. She wanted to say good-bye, but she couldn’t. Don’t worry, though—we’ll still have fun.”
“Why do you always wear that baseball cap?” one of Bella’s campers, a redhead named Haley, asked.
Sam grinned, touching her fingers to the brim. “Because it keeps the sun out of my eyes,” she replied. “Plus, it looks so darn good on me. Yankee blue is my color, don’t you think?”