Deadfall (11 page)

"Are you sure we want to risk that?" Callie asked. "Stan was pretty worried that those guys would figure out what we were up to."

"Too late now," Joe pointed out. "If we didn't want them to know what we were up to, we never should have shown up at Bo Johnson's mill."

"Finally, we're at Walt Ecks's house. Straight grade to Vance's place. Now if we can just—"

Joe never heard the rest of Frank's sentence. In that instant a shot rang out.

"Duck!" Callie screamed.

Before Joe could even react, a bullet shattered the windshield.

Chapter

14

As Callie screamed, Frank pushed her head down and then ducked under the dashboard himself. He felt the jeep veer wildly to the right and lurch into a nearby field.

''Joe?" he yelled as the jeep rolled to a stop. There was nothing but silence.

"Joe!" Frank shouted as he reached over the gearshift for his brother.

''Yeah, yeah. I'm okay."

Frank sank back, relieved.

"But I think I got some glass in my forehead."

"You're lucky," Callie said from behind Joe's seat. "Somebody isn't kidding around."

"And we're sitting ducks," Frank added. "Joe, when I give the word, throw open your door, then you and Callie slide over and get out the passenger-side door."

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"What about our playmate with the rifle?" Joe asked.

"He should be shooting at your door," Frank explained. "It's our only chance, so let's do it. Ready? One, two, now!"

Frank knew his ruse had worked when the sniper put several rounds through the driver's door. By the time the gunman realized his error, Frank, Joe, and Callie had already scrambled into the underbrush beside the road.

"Who is that guy?" Callie whispered, clutching Frank by the arm as they crouched in the bushes, trying to catch their breath.

"What difference does it make?" whispered Joe, who hid a few feet from them.

Frank heard three shots ring out. The ground only five feet from their hiding place exploded. Callie stifled a shriek and huddled closer to Frank.

"That was too close," Frank said, feeling himself break out into a clammy sweat. "Move into the woods. Fast!"

Frank crawled on hands and knees to where the forest began. Glancing back to make sure Callie was right behind him, he dove into the darkness of the trees, then got to his feet and ran.

Despite the afternoon sun, it was dark beneath the trees. After only fifty yards Frank tripped over a trailing vine. Callie, right behind him, tripped over Frank, and Joe tripped over them

THE HARDY BOYS CA5EFILES

both. Lying still, Callie whispered tensely, ''Okay. What do we do now?"

''We could try splitting up and attacking the guy from two different directions," Joe suggested.

"What are we going to attack him with?" Frank asked impatiently. "Rocks?"

Before Joe could reply, Frank heard shots ring out from somewhere up the road. "Wait," he whispered in the silence that followed, "wasn't that a different gun?"

The crack-whiz! sounds of the second rifle's shots were answered by the familiar boom of the sniper's hunting rifle.

"It sounds like a gun battle!" Frank said, bewildered. "What's going on?"

"Maybe it's the sheriff," Callie suggested. The three of them listened a moment longer. The gunmen were definitely shooting at each other.

"Let's circle back to the road," Joe suggested.

"Right," Frank agreed. "But be careful. We don't want to get caught in crossfire!"

Frank crept behind Callie through the thick woods as she followed Joe. When they reached the bushes that lined the road, ihey paused to make sure the coast was clear.

Just as Joe started to lead them out onto the road, a car came tearing around the bend in the road. Joe froze.

"Joe!" Callie squealed helplessly.

The car slowed and the driver's head appeared through the windshield. To Frank's relief he recognized the face.

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"It's Walter!" he said to Callie. ^'Walter Ecks!"

Walter pulled the station wagon off the road, and Joe, Callie, and Frank raced toward the doors and began climbing in. ''Watch out!" Frank said to Walter. ''There's a sniper out there!"

"I know!" Automatically, Ecks ducked down to the floor along with the others. A moment later he said, "1 heard the shooting from my cabin! Is anybody hurt?"

"We're okay, thanks," Frank replied as the four of them cautiously rose a little in their seats. Frank realized that there was a pump shotgun on the seat beside the driver.

"Who was shooting at you?" Ecks demanded.

"We don't know," Callie replied. "But we heard two guns. Did you fire?"

Ecks's answer was drowned out by a wave of noise that suddenly surrounded the car. Before Frank knew what was happening, Walter Ecks was out of the station wagon, his shotgun aimed over the roof of the car at a very surprised Vance Galen. In one hand Galen held a .22 rifle.

"Don't shoot!" Galen shouted. "It was me who drove the sniper off. Anybody hurt?"

"No," Joe answered from inside the station wagon, "but our jeep got shot up."

"Did you see the sniper?" Frank asked Vance.

"Just a glimpse. It was somebody in camouflage perched in a tree." Galen made his way through the brush to the car. "1 never got a clear look at him."

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*'You heard shots from your place, I guess," Ecks said suspiciously, lowering his own rifle very slowly.

*'Yeah, so I came running. Then I saw your jeep and I knew something was up."

Ecks looked in the car at the three shaken teenagers. *'Who'd want to go after you?" he asked.

*'We think it has to do with Buster's murder," Frank told him.

"Somebody must have figured we were coming to see you or Vance, and they wanted to keep us from asking questions," Joe added.

Ecks sighed wearily. *'I think we'd better go see the sheriff," he said. ''We've got one fine person dead already. No use in more of us following."

"You're right, sir." Frank turned pointedly to Vance Galen. "It's time we all talked to Ferris."

"Will you talk to Ferris now, Vance?" Callie asked, her eyes searching his face.

"Yes!" Galen said. "I've had enough of this violence!"

"And, sir," Frank added to Walter Ecks, "you should tell him about the bulldozer being taken."

Ecks nodded. "Sure, if you think it will help. I want to get the guys who killed Buster."

"Why don't you take Vance into town?" Frank suggested. "Tell Ferris we'll be in soon."

"Where are you going?" Galen asked.

"Relax," Frank assured him. "We're going

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out to find a piece of evidence that may just solve the case."

''Where are we going, Frank?" Joe asked as the two men drove off in Ecks's car.

''We're going to find Coilins's car," Frank replied. "Maybe there's something in it that will link Collins to the murder."

''How are we going to find it?" Callie asked. "Even if CoUins was the guy who shot at us, he could be anywhere by now."

"My guess is that Collins headed for someplace where witnesses could vouch for his presence. A place like Johnson Lumber," Frank speculated. "He probably needs to tell Johnson what's happening, anyway."

Joe frowned. "1 guess it's as good a place to look as any. But what if Collins's car isn't there?"

"Then we give Ferris the evidence and information we have already, and hope it's enough."

It took nearly half an hour to clean up the jeep and check the tires for punctures. When they finished, it was nearly five o'clock.

"Look for a red Cadillac convertible," Frank said as they pulled up to the far end of the Johnson lumberyard's parking lot. The three of them scanned the lot, but the Cadillac wasn't there.

"Now what?" said Callie.

"Now you go ask the guard where CoHins is," Frank said simply.

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'*I what?"

'Tell him you're his parole officer. You need to have him sign some papers right away, or he's in big trouble. Act angry," Frank said, fighting a grin.

Callie hesitated. ''I don't look much like a parole officer after rolling around in the mud," she pointed out.

''Come on, Callie, we have faith in you," Joe prodded, grinning. "The guards will never recognize you without a hard hat on. We'll wait here."

Shaking her head, Callie climbed out of the backseat and headed across the parking lot toward the guard's post by the gate. A few minutes later she was back again. Frank was amused to see her walking primly, with a frown on her face, as though she'd taken on the character of a parole officer and now she couldn't shake it off.

"Where to, boss?" Frank asked as Joe put the jeep into gear.

"Sector eight," Callie answered mysteriously. "Collins is out inspecting log flumes. I know the sectors from inspecting the forests with Uncle Stan. They're numbered one through ten, with number one closest to the mill. Go straight on the access road until I tell you to turn."

As they drove along the muddy, heavily rutted road, Frank looked for CoUins's red Caddy. "I can't wait to return this jeep to the rental counter now," Joe remarked glumly as he, too,

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searched through the trees. *'Let's see, should we tell them a plane wandered off its flight path and flew straight through our windshield? Or maybe the Abominable Snowman turned up and sat on it."

''Don't worry," said Frank. "If we solve this case the rental agent will know who we are. And of course we'll pay for any damage not covered by the insurance."

"Sssh!" Calhe interrupted, staring to the right and ahead of the car. 'There it is!"

Following Callie's orders, Joe turned right onto a still narrower dirt road. The Cadillac was parked beside a tractor-trailer loaded with metal pipes. The big truck sat next to a large trestle of wood and steel that supported a V-shaped wooden log flume that logs sped down on their way to the sawmill.

"Wow, I've never seen one of these outside an amusement park," Joe said. Frank studied how the flume was built beside a creek that flowed down toward the sawmill. A mechanical pump channeled water into the flume, so that even the largest logs could float down the V-shaped wooden tray to the sawmill. They picked up speed as they coursed downhill.

"I don't see Collins," Frank said to Joe. "Cal-lie, keep a lookout. Let's get to work, fast!"

As Frank and Joe clambered out of the jeep and ran over to the Cadillac, Caliie climbed onto the roof of the tractor-trailer's cab to get a better view of the surrounding forest.

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''Any blood on the backseat?" Frank asked Joe as he reached beneath the driver's seat, finding nothing.

"No. If he took Buster to the Horizon mill in here, he must have put a blanket under him," Joe replied. Then he added, "Bingo! Frank, I found it!"

Frank raised his head over the front seat to see Joe kneeling on the floor behind him. He'd opened a metal tool chest that was stashed behind the driver's seat. The top tray was removed, and Joe held a shiny object half-wrapped in an oily rag.

"What is it?" Frank demanded.

Gleefully, Joe shook the object until the rag fell back, revealing the find to Frank.

"The key ring!" Frank said, a grin spreading across his face. "We've got Collins now, Joe!"

"Not quite!" growled a low voice.

The hair rose on the back of Frank's neck as he slowly turned toward the voice. He knew without looking what he'd find there.

It was Rafe Collins, in camouflage, standing beside the trailer load of pipes. He was pointing a rifle straight at Frank. Frank stared at Collins's index finger as it tightened on the trigger.

Chapter

15

"Get out of the car," Collins told Frank and Joe. "Don't make any sudden moves."

The Hardys stared at the angry, hawk-nosed man in the dim light of the forest. Behind him, Joe ghmpsed Callie's hand waving to get the boys' attention from the far end of the trailer truck.

Frank's intent, watchful expression revealed that he had noticed Callie, too.

"Let's go," Collins barked. "I don't want to get any bullet holes in my Cadillac."

"Looks like it could use a little work," Joe muttered as, hands up, he stepped out of the car. "I guess this mountain life just isn't good for it."

Collins stared at him, unsure whether Joe had insulted him or not. "You've got a smart mouth,

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kid," he said at last. *'You'd better watch out or I just might shut it for you."

*'Don't you have to ask Johnson's permission first?" Frank asked pointedly.

Joe watched as CoUins's squinty eyes got even narrower. '*Keep talking, wiseguys," Collins muttered. ''You're only making it worse for yourselves."

Joe kept stalling so that Callie could make her move. "You're in a big hurry to shoot us, aren't you, Collins? You think that's going to solve all your problems?"

"That would be a big mistake," Frank said, following Joe's lead. "At least before you find out who we've talked to and what we told them."

"Shut up!" Collins exploded. Waving the rifle back and forth between them, he snarled, "Where's the girl?"

Joe saw Callie make an "okay" sign with her thumb and forefinger from atop the pipes at the far end of the trailer. Then she stood up and shoved with all her strength on the end of one pipe.

"All right!" Joe shouted. The pipe shot out and struck Collins on the right shoulder, sending him pitching forward. As Collins stumbled to his knees, his rifle swung up. Joe pounced.

"Grab the rifle!" he yelled at his brother as he grappled with the man on the forest floor. Frank leapt forward and grabbed the barrel of the rifle. Wrestling it upward, Frank tried to

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force the rifle out of Collins's hands. But in the next instant the foreman sent Joe flying with one arm and shoved the rifle stock into Frank's stomach with the other.

With a grunt, Frank collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

"Joe!" Callie called from the top of the trailer.

Dazed, Joe looked up from where he'd fallen to watch, horrified, as Collins lifted his rifle and aimed it directly at Frank.