Secret at Mystic Lake (8 page)

“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.”

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.

“That's the one,” I said. “Dagger, why do you have a weapon?”

Dagger laughed, looking fondly at his knife. “This isn't a weapon!” he said. “I always bring my knife on
hikes or camping trips. It's extremely helpful for cutting through brush, or chopping food, or in a pinch, dealing with hostile wildlife.”

Henry raised his eyebrows. “Like me?” he asked.

Dagger looked at him, clearly not following.

“You pulled that knife on me,” Henry said. “Don't tell me there was an angry bear behind me. You used that knife to threaten me into giving you the map.”

Dagger shrugged, putting the knife back in his pack again. “Perhaps I did,” he admitted. “You were frustrating me, being unreasonable. You're coleading a bike tour, yet you don't know how to read a map. I lost my patience.” He paused, looking at our unsure faces. “Oh, come on. I promise you I'm not a threat to any of you. Does someone else want to take the knife?”

“Yeah,” said Henry, reaching out his hands. “I'll take it.”

Before I could even think through what a potentially bad idea that was—Henry being one of my two main suspects for sabotaging the trip and being behind Caitlin's disappearance—Zoe spoke up.

“I'll take it,” she said, stepping forward and carefully taking the knife from Dagger. “Now, if you boys are finished swiping at each other like a couple of cranky bears, can we get back on the road? Some of us are still worried about Caitlin.”

We all quickly obeyed, jumping back on our bikes and falling into formation behind Dagger now. I groaned inwardly at the thought of retracing our steps, but I held out hope that this would bring us to the ranger station—and help for all of us.

As we rounded a curve back in the direction we'd come, I found myself next to Zoe.

“Good thinking,” I whispered to her, “getting the knife away from the boys. I don't quite trust either of them.”

Zoe nodded grimly. “They both had the opportunity to hurt Caitlin, I know. But it's worse than you think,” she whispered back. “I was talking to Dagger yesterday at lunch when no one was around. He was telling me he used to be homeless; he says he had some major issues and did all sorts of things he's not
proud of. Like spending some time in jail.”

I frowned. “But if it's in his past, like he says, then he isn't necessarily a threat. Did he mention anything specific?”

Zoe shook her head, then pursed her lips. “No, he didn't mention anything. It's more of just a feeling I get . . . like he's always sneaking up behind me, or something.”

I shrugged, not wanting to let on that Dagger had spooked me on more than one occasion too.

I pedaled even harder. We couldn't get to the ranger station fast enough.

Four hours later the midday sun beat down unmercifully, making our group even more miserable than we already felt—which was saying something.

We were hopelessly lost. Dagger's “course correction” didn't lead to the river, and since then, each one of us had taken a turn trying to read the map and lead us in the right direction. But we had no idea where we were anymore; nothing we saw seemed to match up to any place
on the map. I was beginning to worry that we'd wandered so far that we weren't even on the map anymore.

Which meant we were even farther from civilization. And even farther from the ranger station.

“We need to stop!” Zoe shouted from the back of the pack, and everyone groaned, but we still dutifully pulled over.

“This route isn't right either,” she went on, although she really didn't have to say it out loud; we were all thinking it. If George had been correct in reading where we were, we would have passed a picnic area along this path. But we'd been riding for an hour and passed nothing. Now we were in a heavily forested area. Deep woods flanked the path on either side.