Trail of Lies

H
AVE
I
TOLD YOU
this is going to be the vacation of a lifetime?” George Fayne asked as the plane began its final descent into Anchorage International Airport. She leaned her dark head against the back of her seat so that her friend could see past her out the window.

“At least a hundred times already!” Nancy Drew retorted. She tossed her reddish blond hair and laughed. “But who's counting?” Outside the small window the craggy peaks of snow-covered mountains sprawled across the land. Soon the city of Anchorage came into view.

“It's beautiful!” George exclaimed.

Carson Drew, Nancy's father, leaned from
his seat across the center aisle of the first-class cabin to speak to the two girls. “Henry Wilcox has been telling me that for years. He brags about Alaska almost as much as he does about his son, Steve.”

“Right. Steve is just a little older than I. All my life, Dad and Mr. Wilcox have had a competition going over who can tell the most outrageous stories about how great their children are,” Nancy told George, with a teasing glance at her father. “Sometimes my ears burn when I hear the things he says about me!”

Carson shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “Well, with me as a father you'd have to be just about perfect, wouldn't you?”

Nancy and George burst out laughing. “So that's where you get your self-confidence!” George said to Nancy. Then she turned to Carson. “Seriously, though, Mr. Drew, I can't thank you enough for inviting me to come along.”

“I can't take all the credit,” Carson told her. “Henry suggested that Nancy bring a friend.”

Two weeks earlier Carson Drew's old friend Henry Wilcox had telephoned, urging Carson to visit him in Alaska. Though Henry and Carson saw each other infrequently, they had kept in touch over the years since they had gone to college together. Now Henry owned a successful shipping firm in Anchorage. Nancy had heard all about it, just as she had heard all
about Henry's son's prowess in everything from school to sports.

Nancy and her father tried to take a vacation together every year, but they rarely succeeded. As one of River Heights's prominent attorneys, Carson was frequently tied up in lengthy court cases. And all too often, when Carson was free, Nancy wasn't. Though she was only eighteen, she already had a well-deserved reputation as a detective, and it was rare for her not to be involved in some kind of investigation. When Henry Wilcox's invitation had arrived, though, both Nancy and her father were fortunate to be between cases. It was the chance of a lifetime.

“Be sure to check the overhead compartments for your personal belongings,” the flight attendant droned after the airplane landed. The pilot eased the jumbo jet up to the gate, and moments later the three travelers were walking into the sleek, modern terminal building.

They had purposely packed lightly, so they wouldn't have to wait for their luggage at the baggage claim area. “Rental cars this way,” Nancy said, seeing a sign directing them to ground services. “Isn't that where Mr. Wilcox is supposed to meet us?”

While Carson Drew looked for Henry Wilcox, Nancy and George wandered to the shops that lined one side of the large terminal.

“Too bad Bess couldn't come, too,” George said as they peered into the shop windows. Bess Marvin was George's cousin and also Nancy's close friend. She was visiting relatives in Florida and couldn't join Nancy and George.

“Oh, I'll bet she's having plenty of fun in the sun right now. We ought to take something home for her, though,” Nancy suggested. “What about this?” She pointed to a display case in the window of a shop that featured native Alaskan art.

Beautifully carved jade and ivory statues were neatly arranged on glass shelves. The one that had caught Nancy's eye was a tiny puffin made of ivory. The workmanship was so good that the small bird seemed almost alive.

“Let's buy it,” George said eagerly.

“You don't have to shop at the airport. All the stores in Anchorage are waiting for you.” The unfamiliar voice came from behind the girls.

Nancy turned and saw her father standing next to a tall, thin man with carrot red hair and bright blue eyes.

“Girls, this is John Tilden,” Carson introduced them. “He works for Henry.”

“Please call me John. I'm Mr. Wilcox's butler and”—John Tilden grinned at the girls—“sometimes his chauffeur. Mr. Wilcox was
tied up, so he asked me to drive you out to the house. Can I help with anyone's baggage?”

“Oh, no, we're fine,” Nancy assured him. The three of them followed him out to the parking garage.

After the warmth of the plane and the terminal, the air outside felt frigid. Nancy tugged her cap down over her ears. “Brrr. It's really cold here, and it's only November.”

When they'd stowed their suitcases in the trunk, John walked to the front of the car. An electrical cord stretched from under the hood to an outlet in a concrete post.

Nancy watched with amazement as the chauffeur unplugged the car. “What's that for?” she asked.

“It's a heater designed to keep the engine from freezing,” John explained. “The arctic winters are so cold that cars won't start unless you keep them warm.”

“Wow—that's
cold,”
George marveled.

“Where is Henry?” Carson Drew asked as they drove out of the airport. John turned the car onto a highway and headed southeast.

“Mr. Wilcox was in Barrow yesterday and didn't get home until late,” he replied. “He wanted to finish up some things at the office so he could spend the rest of the week with you.”

“That sounds like Henry.” Carson nodded. “He's as bad at taking vacations as I am.”

“Are those the Chugach Mountains?” Nancy asked, pointing toward the snowcapped range on the horizon ahead of them.

“That's right,” John told her. “We're almost home.”

They drove along a road with a thick evergreen forest on both sides. A few minutes later, in a clearing, an enormous frame house rose above them. It was three stories high, and its ornate trim told Nancy it had been built during the Victorian era. It would have been a grand house anywhere, but with the rugged Alaskan mountains behind it, it was truly magnificent.

“What a place!” George exclaimed.

“You can say that again!” Nancy agreed.

Just as the car came to a stop in front of the Wilcox home, the front door opened and two very tall men hurried across the front porch. Carson, Nancy, and George climbed out of the car.

“Talk about timing!” the older of the two exclaimed, clapping Carson on the back. “I just got home. Welcome to Alaska.”

“It's great to be here,” Nancy's father said. He turned to introduce the two girls, but Henry interrupted.

“You're Nancy,” he declared. “I'd have known you anywhere—you look just as your father described you. And you must be George.” He turned to the young man
who stood behind him. “This is my son, Steve.”

The introduction was almost unnecessary, for Steve had the same attractively rugged features and tall, lean build that his father did. Henry's brown hair was liberally streaked with gray, but both father and son had the same brown eyes.

“Pleased to meet you,” Steve said, staring at George. He gave her a slow smile. “This weekend has just gotten off to a great start.”

George flushed with pleasure.

Nancy was about to step forward to greet Steve when he turned and walked to the front door. “Why don't we go inside?” he suggested, holding the door open for George.

Odd, Nancy thought, as she followed them in. It was almost as though Steve hadn't seen her. He must be really dazzled by George! she decided, smiling to herself.

John carried their luggage indoors, and then Henry turned to Carson. “Let's go to my study. We don't want to bore the young people with talk about things that happened before they were born.”

Steve Wilcox led the girls into the den, a large, comfortable-looking room paneled with dark wood. There was a fireplace on one wall and a big-screen TV on another. Nancy sank into one of the oversize leather chairs, while George took a seat on the couch.

Steve remained standing. “I've heard a lot about you, Nancy,” he said.

Nancy was taken aback. Though Steve's words were harmless, his tone was almost sneering. “All good, I hope,” she answered with an attempt at lightness.

“Naturally.” Again, Steve's voice had a slightly mocking quality. He sat down at the other end of the couch and faced George. “What would you like to do while you're here?” he asked her. “I'm your tour guide, chauffeur, and whatever else you'd like.”

A soft smile crossed George's face. There was no doubt that Steve was attracted to her, and she was obviously enjoying the attention. Nancy wondered if George had missed the hostility Steve seemed to feel for Nancy.

At that moment the doorbell rang, and Steve rose to his feet. “I'd better get that—John's upstairs,” he explained, excusing himself and leaving the room. A minute later he returned with a blond man who appeared to be twenty-two or twenty-three.

“This is my friend Craig Miller.” Steve introduced the two girls.

Craig was about an inch shorter than Steve, and he had a heavier build. His features were pleasant, though he wasn't as handsome as his friend.

Craig sank into the chair next to Nancy's. “I'm not just a friend—I'm also an employee,”
he told the girls, but his smile took the sting out of the words. “I'm Steve's dog trainer.”

“Sled dogs?” Nancy asked, instantly curious.

“The only kind to have in Alaska.” Craig's blue eyes lit up with enthusiasm. Nancy could tell that training dogs was more than a hobby for him.

“Do you race them?” George asked.

Craig gestured toward Steve. “Steve does. He'll be in the Solstice Derby next month.”

“I'm going to win it,” Steve said confidently. He folded his arms behind his head and lounged back on the couch. “Between my dogs and Craig's training, no one can beat me.”

“Lindsay Dunning might disagree with you,” Craig commented.

“Who is Lindsay Dunning?” Nancy asked.

“No one to worry about,” Steve answered. At the same moment Craig said, “She's Steve's biggest competitor.”

George laughed. “Which one of you is right?”

“I am,” the two young men replied, again at exactly the same time. This time everyone laughed.

“You don't know how privileged you are to see Craig tonight,” Steve told Nancy and George. “Usually he spends the weekend nights training the dogs. He lives in the apartment
over our garage just so he can be near them.”

Craig turned to Nancy. “Well,” he said, “given the choice of spending Saturday evening with the dogs or you . . .”

“You'd pick the dogs,” Nancy completed, smiling.

“Not quite,” Craig said warmly. He looked at her, his eyes sparkling. Nancy's smile broadened. The tension she had felt earlier was gone, thanks to Craig's easy banter.

Just then the doorbell rang again.

“I'll get it,” Craig offered. He stood and left the room. A moment later, they heard voices in the front hall. Then Craig appeared in the doorway. “Steve, where's your father?”

Two men stood behind him. Both wore identical heavy parkas, each with a badge on the left sleeve. Craig looked worried.

“He's in his study,” Steve said, standing quickly. “Why?”

“These men are from the police,” Craig said. He sounded nervous. “They want to ask your dad some questions!”