The Ghost of Cutler Creek (9 page)

Officer Burke pulled a flashlight from her belt and shone it slowly around the inside of the barn, but Allie didn't even watch. She knew from Mr. Cutler's face that there was nothing to find. She looked at Dub, who appeared stunned, and L.J., who was still staring at the ground. She looked down, too, feeling like a balloon that had suddenly lost its air. Except that a balloon couldn't feel fury and humiliation, the way Allie did.

“Well, then,” Officer Burke said slowly, “I guess we're finished here.” She put the flashlight back in its place on her belt. “We'll be going now, Mr. Cutler. Sorry to bother you. Thank you for your time.”

Mr. Cutler bared his crooked gray teeth, and Allie could see he was enjoying himself. “No problem, Officer,” he said jovially. “We're always happy to help the police, aren't we, L.J.?”

L.J. mumbled something without taking his eyes off the ground, but Allie could tell that Mr. Cutler hadn't really been looking for an answer. He was having too much fun, now that he'd tricked the police and made fools of her and Dub.

She tried to catch Dub's eye, but he was back at the barn door, sniffing loudly. Allie couldn't imagine what he was doing.

But then Dub said, “Wait a second!”

All faces turned expectantly in his direction.

“Take a whiff in here and tell me what you smell,” Dub said to Officer Burke.

She looked at him, her expression half-curious and half-annoyed.

“Please,” Dub added.

Officer Burke sighed, stepped back into the barn, and took several deep sniffs. “Pine,” she said finally. “Like floor cleaner.”

“Exactly!” said Dub, looking extremely pleased with himself.

Allie wondered briefly if he was losing his mind. “Dub,” she urged, “what's your point?”

“What barn smells like pine?” Dub asked. Then, answering his own question, he said, “A barn that's been cleaned out and disinfected to hide the smell of the dogs that were cooped up inside.” He looked around triumphantly.

“This is ridiculous,” Mr. Cutler muttered. To Officer Burke, he said, “You gonna lock me up for having a clean barn?”

The officer gave him a hard look and said only, “I think we're finished here.”

“But—” Allie began.

Officer Burke shot her a look almost as fierce as the one she'd given Mr. Cutler, and Allie closed her mouth.

“Come on,” Ed McHugh said tersely. “Let's go.”

As they all walked toward the driveway where the police car and van were parked, Mr. Cutler said, “You say that missing dog was seen out this way? A vicious animal like that—” He broke off, shaking his head. “Well, I just hope you find her before she hurts somebody.”

Allie could feel the man's eyes on her, but she refused to look at him. She could just imagine the sly pleasure she'd see in his face. He was baiting her, and she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of responding.

But there was something else that kept her quiet. There was something about his cockiness that was making her extremely uneasy. He was lying through his teeth: she knew it, Dub knew it, and L.J. knew it. But Mr. Cutler didn't seem to have any fear of being caught. His confidence was puzzling—and frightening. It made him seem capable of almost anything.

Allie hoped both of the Cutlers would leave them and go back to the house, but Mr. Cutler accompanied them to the police car, and L.J. followed. Several times, Allie had sneaked little peeks at L.J., and every time his face had been the same empty, careful mask. He wasn't gloating, but he certainly didn't seem bothered by the blatant lies. It wasn't that she expected L.J. to speak out against his father, as afraid as he obviously was. But part of her wanted to believe L.J. was as disgusted as she was by Mr. Cutler's behavior.

Allie told herself she was being ridiculous. She'd known L.J. was trouble the first time she'd laid eyes on him at school, and he'd never done anything to change her mind. Like father, like son. They were in it together.

She got into the back seat of the police car next to Dub, rather than sit up front with Officer Burke, who had undoubtedly had it with them both. Allie and Dub watched as Ed McHugh shook hands with Mr. Cutler and said good night to Officer Burke. Then the Humane Society officer leaned into the rear of the car and said, “Next time, you kids get your facts straight before you waste adults' time, you hear?” He didn't wait for an answer before getting into the van, and Allie felt far too demoralized to speak, anyway.

Officer Burke got into the car and started the engine. Before they pulled away, Mr. Cutler said to her, “No harm done, Officer. You know kids. They get wild ideas sometimes. What are you gonna do?” He shrugged. “I'll even forget my complaint against this young lady, seeing as how she probably feels bad enough about the dog being missing and all.”

Officer Burke nodded and said, “Good night, Mr. Cutler.” As they pulled away, Allie forced herself to look back. Mr. Cutler had turned and was heading to the house, but L.J. was standing in the driveway watching them leave. She had an odd thought:
He's home, but he looks lost.

After she had turned from Dundee onto the road leading into town, Officer Burke finally spoke. “Well,” she said, “that didn't exactly go the way we expected.”

“What do we do now?” Dub asked. “Get a search warrant?”

Allie looked at him in amazement. Didn't he understand that Mr. Cutler had outfoxed them? They were, at best, two kids whose imaginations had gotten out of hand. At worst, they were troublemakers lodging false accusations against innocent citizens. Either way, the police wouldn't want any more to do with them.

“We have no reason to get a warrant,” the officer replied, sounding surprised. “He let us look around. There was nothing to see. And we can't arrest him because his barn smells too clean.”

“So that's it?” Dub protested. “The guy was lying!”

“You mean about Hoover attacking him?” Officer Burke asked.

Dub rolled his eyes in frustration and Allie answered this time. “Hoover doesn't like him,” she admitted. “But she just barked at him. She never
attacked
him.”

“He said you two were out there bothering his son. What was that about?”

Allie and Dub looked at each other. Allie imagined saying,
Well, you see, a ghost dog led me there in a dream.
Instead, she said, “We told Mr. Henry we'd try to make friends with L.J.—that's the son—because he came at the end of the year and didn't know anybody. So we did.”

Officer Burke was quiet for the rest of the drive. When they pulled up in front of Dub's house, she turned around to face Allie and Dub. “I don't understand exactly what is going on here,” she said. “But I'm advising you to stay away from the Cutlers. Hoover isn't there, and I didn't see anything to back up your theory about a puppy mill. We have no reason to bother those people any further. Do you understand?”

Allie and Dub nodded silently.

Officer Burke sighed and pushed a lock of hair off her forehead. Speaking kindly but firmly, she said, “Listen, I know you believed what you were saying. But it's serious business to accuse a person of theft. And there is simply no evidence. You've got to drop this now. Agreed?”

Allie and Dub nodded again.

“All right, then,” she said. “Good night, Dub.”

Dub got out of the car, reached into his pocket, and handed Officer Burke Mr. Cutler's business card. “Maybe this isn't proof,” he said, “but we think it might be a clue.”

Officer Burke examined the card. “Thank you, Dub,” she said. “I'll look into it.”

Allie watched Dub walk up the driveway to his house. The slump of his shoulders told her he felt as discouraged as she did. The way he kicked at a spot on the asphalt meant he, too, was thinking,
But this isn't right. He was lying!

When Officer Burke and Allie got out of the car in front of the Nicholses' house, Allie's parents were working in the flower gardens out front, and Mike was riding his Big Wheel in the driveway. He jumped off and ran toward the car, and Allie's parents came over, too.

“Well, how did it go?” asked Mr. Nichols as Michael climbed into the front seat, making his own siren noises. Officer Burke didn't answer, waiting for Allie to respond.

“From the looks on your faces, not too well,” said Mrs. Nichols, glancing anxiously from Allie to Officer Burke and back.

“Not too well,” Allie echoed glumly.

“Was he uncooperative?” Mrs. Nichols asked.

Allie didn't answer, and after a moment, Officer Burke said, “No. He let us look around. But we found no sign of Hoover or any other dogs.”

Allie's mother arched her eyebrows questioningly, waiting to hear the rest of the story. Officer Burke said, “Allie? Will you excuse us for just a minute? I'd like to talk to your parents.”

In a dull voice, Allie said, “Sure.”

“Michael, go inside with Allie and get a drink,” Mrs. Nichols said, looking worried now.

Allie trudged up the walk with Michael, trying to hold back a sudden rush of tears.
Here we go again,
she thought. Once again, her parents were going to think that her overactive imagination was getting her into trouble. Once again, she couldn't explain herself without saying that she was responding to a ghost. Not only that, but a ghost
dog
. It wasn't an explanation that was likely to calm her parents' fears.

She poured Michael a glass of lemonade. He took a sip, then said, “You told me everything would be okay after you went to the bad place. But I still smell the poopy smell.” He sniffed. “And it's still crying. Don't you hear it, Allie?”

Allie paused to concentrate and realized that Michael was right. She knew she hadn't fixed anything by taking the police to the Cutlers' house, but she'd been so frustrated by Mr. Cutler that she hadn't paid attention to the faint but persistent sound of whimpering in her head. It was almost like background music, easy to ignore when she had other things on her mind.

And the “poopy” odor. Yes, she smelled it now. It was the smell she'd expected to find at the Cutlers' barn. She hadn't even realized she'd been smelling it until Michael mentioned it.

But so what? She had seen for herself: the barn was empty, and Mr. Cutler had cleaned away all the evidence.

Over the rim of the glass of lemonade, Michael's eyes looked frightened, and Allie didn't know what to tell him to make him feel better. Hoover was still missing, and she had no idea where to look. She was no closer to helping her ghost rest in peace. She had accomplished exactly nothing, except to alienate the police, upset her parents—and give Mr. Cutler a good laugh.

Later, Allie was lying in bed, exhausted but too wired to sleep, when her mother came in.

“Al? Are you awake?”

“Um-hmm.”

Mrs. Nichols sat on the edge of the bed and gently smoothed Allie's hair. “I'm sorry about the way things went, sweetie,” she said.

“I know, Mom,” Allie mumbled.

“You want so much to find Hoover safe and sound. It's easy to see how you could take a few bits of information, put them together, and come up with an answer, even if it was the wrong answer.”

Allie held back a sigh. She knew what her mother was going to say, and she couldn't blame her, really.

“But promise me you'll do as Officer Burke asked, and stay away from those Cutlers. From what Officer Burke said, Mr. Cutler seems to have taken a dislike to you, and he sounds like a good person to avoid.”

Allie was saved from answering by her father's appearance at the door. “Al, I tried Mr. Henry's number again, but there's still no answer. It's just as well, really. There's nothing he can do from out there, and knowing Hoover is missing will only make him worry.”

Her father was right. It was awful knowing about Hoover and being helpless to find her. “Thanks, Dad,” she said.

“I'm hoping by the time we do reach him, we'll have good news to report,” Mr. Nichols went on.

Allie wanted to believe this, but she no longer could.

“The police know their job, honey,” said her mother. “Officer Burke assured us she intends to continue working on this.”

How is she going to catch Mr. Cutler if she's already decided he's innocent?
thought Allie. But she didn't say anything. What was the point?

“Good night, Allie-Cat.”

“Try not to worry.”

“Okay. Night, Dad. Night, Mom.”

The door closed, and she lay in the dark, trying not to worry. It was like trying not to breathe. She was sure she'd never sleep again.

But she must have drifted off at some point, because she was suddenly startled awake. Had she heard an odd noise, or dreamed it? She glanced at the clock on her bedside table. It said 1:17 in the morning. She lay still, listening. Then—there it was again, a rattling at her window.

She got up slowly, walked over to the window, and peered out, wondering sleepily if it was hailing outside. Or maybe a crazy squirrel was cracking open nuts, or—She couldn't imagine what else might be making the sound.

In the tree-shadowed yard below her window, she made out the shape of a person. She sucked in a quick breath of fear before she saw the outline of a bicycle lying in the grass. The person was about her size. Dub!

Good old Dub! He must have had a brainstorm in the night. He had a plan, and now he was here to get her so they could carry it out.

Hastily, she pulled her nightgown over her head, threw on some jeans, a T-shirt, and her sneakers, and quietly inched her bedroom door open. No squeaks—good. Reflecting that for once she was glad she didn't have a dog that might bark and alert her parents, she tiptoed toward the stairs. When she passed Michael's room, she could see his small, sleeping form in the glow from his X-Man night-light. She paused to cock her ear toward her parents' room at the far end of the hallway. Light, regular snoring sounds came from the open doorway.

Gingerly, she placed a foot on the far right edge of the first step, knowing how the old stairs creaked when she and Michael pounded up and down in the middle. Slowly, step by careful step, she made her way down. Only once was there a groan of wood against wood, which caused her to freeze in panic. But her parents never stirred. Heart hammering, she reached the bottom, slipped out the front door, and ran through the damp grass to the side of the house, where Dub was waiting under her window.

But when she drew close, her pounding heart leaped right into her throat. The person facing her wasn't Dub. It was L.J. Cutler.

Before she could scream or shout for help, L.J.'s hand moved quickly to cover her mouth.

“If you promise to keep quiet,” he whispered fiercely, “I'll take my hand away.”

Allie managed to nod. She was so paralyzed with fear, she didn't think she'd be able to speak, anyway. Her mind was whirling with questions and wild ideas about what in the world L.J. Cutler was doing at her house in the middle of the night.

L.J. looked right into her eyes for a long moment before he removed his hand. Allie, free now, remained still and stared back. Something passed between them during that short time. Allie wasn't sure what it was, but her heart slowed its frantic pounding, and she felt her fear subside.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quietly.

“I'm gonna help you get your dog back.”

“You took her! I knew it!”

L.J. shook his head impatiently, but said only, “And there's something you gotta do for me.”

Allie looked into his dark eyes. “What?”

“You'll find out. Come on.” L.J. bent to pick up the bicycle that lay on the grass, and Allie was surprised to see it was the same pink bike she and Dub had stepped over in the Cutlers' yard. She'd assumed it was broken. Maybe it had been, and L.J. had fixed it. Ordinarily, she might have found it amusing to see L.J. Cutler mounting a pink bicycle with tattered pink and purple streamers on the handle grips. But there was nothing ordinary about this night.

“Where are we going?” Allie asked.

“You'll see. Just follow me.
Hurry
.”

“All right. Let me get my bike,” said Allie. But if L.J. was going to issue ultimatums, she had a demand of her own. “We've got to get Dub. His room's on the first floor. It'll be easy to wake him up.”

“No! There's
no time
!”

“I'm not going without Dub,” Allie said, crossing her hands over her chest. Part of her was amazed at her own courage in standing up to L.J. Maybe it wasn't courage. Maybe she was afraid, and that was why she wanted Dub along. At any rate, it didn't feel right to go without him.

“He can help,” she added.

L.J. let out an angry breath. “All right. We'll get your boyfriend—”

“He's not my boyfriend!” Allie protested.

“Would you just get your bike,”
L.J. said, sounding exasperated. “I
told
you, there's
not much time
.”

Allie ran to the garage, entering by the small side door instead of lifting the heavy, noisy garage door. L.J. was already at the end of the driveway, ready to go. She rode up, motioned for him to turn left, toward Dub's house, and followed him out onto Cumberland Road.

It almost didn't seem real, to be pedaling her bike quickly down the middle of her silent street in the quiet summer darkness. A half-moon gave enough light to see by. The moist air still held the day's heat, and Allie almost felt part of the night itself.

They didn't pass a car or a single soul, adding to the dreamlike feeling of their trip. When they reached Dub's house, Allie was relieved to see that he'd left his bike leaning against the porch. She got off her own bike, motioned for L.J. to stay where he was, and went around to the back of the house, where Dub's room was. The window was open, the curtains fluttering slightly in the night breeze.

She looked in and saw Dub lying on his back, his legs sticking out from under the sheet. She scratched on the screen and whispered, “Dub! Get up! It's me.”

There was a slight rustle from the bed, as if Dub had awakened and was wondering, as she had, if he'd really heard something or merely dreamed it.

“Dub!” she whispered again. “Wake up! It's me.”

Dub sat up and looked toward the window. “Allie?” he said groggily, throwing off the sheet. He was wearing a T-shirt and baggy boxers.

“Shhh!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Quiet. I'll tell you in a minute. Come on out.”

“Out the
window
?” Dub asked. He didn't seem to be fully awake.

Allie thought about it. The window looked big enough, and it was probably safer than trying to get through the house without waking his parents. “Yeah.”

Dub came over and started lifting the screen.

Allie almost laughed. “
Put some clothes on,”
she said. “And some shoes.”

Dub scratched his head, then shook it a few times to wake himself up. By the time he'd pulled on shorts and sneakers and slid out the window to stand beside Allie, there was a big grin on his face. “So what's up?” he asked.

“L.J.'s here, too.”

Dub's smile fell. “L.J.'s
here
?” he repeated.

“He says he'll help us find Hoover. And we have to do something for him.”

“What does he want us to do?”

“I don't know,” Allie answered. They were both still whispering. “But I didn't have much choice. We've got to get Hoover back. Anyway, we have to hurry. L.J.'s really jumpy. He keeps saying there's not much time.”

“I'm glad you came to get me.”

“Me too.”

“Let's go.”