The Fossil Hunter of Sydney Mines (6 page)

“We've got to get out of here!” Jeeter shouted.

“Run!” Mai screamed.

Chapter
7

MAI TOOK OFF DOWN THE TUNNEL.

“That's not the way back to Black Hole!” Fred yelled to her. He raced after Mai as she flew around the corner.

“Fred, wait!” Grace called out, imagining him running into a wall, or worse. She and Jeeter followed behind him. But he disappeared around another turn before they could catch up.

“Are we going in a circle?” Jeeter called back to Grace after they took another right turn.

“Seems like it!”

They veered to the right yet again. This time, they were greeted by a beam of sunlight at an opening. There was no sign of Fred and Mai. Cautiously, they stepped out into a thick cluster of trees.

“Over here,” Mai whispered from a few metres away.

Grace and Jeeter crawled over to where Mai and Fred were hiding.

“Look!” Mai pulled back some branches. They were on the opposite side of the old Halfway Road pit, but it wasn't the same quiet spot they were used to. “I think that's what caused the falling rocks in the tunnel,” she said, pointing to a bunch of bulldozers and backhoes buzzing around fresh piles of dirt and rock.

“What are they doing here?” Fred asked.

Grim realization washed over Grace. “The government must have issued a lease to the mining company after all,” she said glumly.

“What do you mean?” Jeeter asked.

“This was one of my dad's projects with the anti-strip-mining group. I even protested with him. He thought this site was a win for sure because it's right in town!” Grace stepped through the trees. Fred, Mai, and Jeeter followed behind her.

“Sorry, Grace,” Jeeter murmured. He squeezed her shoulder.

“Thanks.” Grace could feel tears stinging her eyes. All of her dad's hard work was going down the drain. There hadn't been any more protests since he'd disappeared.

Grace and the others watched the hornet's nest of activity down in the pit. The name Breton Hauling Limited and the initials BHL were all over the equipment. That wasn't the name of any mining company Grace remembered. This one must be new.

“We should leave, Grace,” Fred said. “We could get into trouble for trespassing if we get caught here.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Grace replied.

Suddenly, a pickup truck sped into the pit, pulling in beside another one parked close to where they were standing. Grace recognized the truck, even before its driver got out. The truck's owner spied them and strode briskly toward them.

“Hello, Grace.”

Grace stared at her next-door neighbour, Mr. Stuckless, but didn't answer him. Mai poked her in the ribs.

“You kids can't be here. It's private property.”

“We're not doing anything,” Grace finally replied.

“Well, it's a working pit now. You have to leave, for your own safety.”

Grace folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

“Not planning a protest, now, are you?” Stuckless demanded.

“Maybe,” Grace snapped. “You're not allowed here!”

Mr. Stuckless's smile disappeared. “Not a good joke. But we have a lease now anyway, so we most definitely are allowed here.” He pointed toward the street. “But the same can't be said for you kids. You're trespassing!”

Grace felt a hand tugging on her sleeve. “C'mon,” Mai murmured. “Let's go!”

Without saying another word, Grace turned and strode back through the trees. Mai, Fred, and Jeeter followed behind her. Silently, they walked back to Black Hole to get their bikes.

“I wonder when they reopened the pit,” Fred said, hopping on his bike.

“I never heard a thing about it,” Grace said. “But then it was my dad that filled me in on all that stuff.” She tugged viciously on one of her pack straps. “Mom doesn't care about it!”

No one said anything.

They rode wordlessly back up Pitt Street and with a wave split off into different directions. Grace pedalled slowly toward home. Her mom's car was in the driveway, with a shiny red sports car behind it.
Oh, great!
she thought to herself. She didn't feel much like company.

Grace opened the back door and was instantly surrounded by a swirl of delicious smells.
Mom's cooking?
she thought as she walked toward the stove.
She never
cooks. Mmmm…smells like boiled dinner.
Grace lifted the lid to peer inside. She grabbed a fork and snagged a piece of corned beef.
Delicious!
Her stomach rumbled.

“Sweetie, is that you?” came her mom's voice. “We're in the living room.”

Uh-oh.
Gushy-gooey mom front and centre. The mystery guest was probably some manicure client—a ballerina mom, with her luck. Grace looked down at her clothes—only a bit dirty. She kicked off her muddy shoes and grabbed a handful of grapes from the fruit bowl on the counter.

As she walked through the dining room, Grace noticed that the table was set for three—with the good china. Reluctantly, she continued into the living room.

“Surprise, honey,” her mom smiled. “We have a dinner guest.”

Grace almost choked on the grape in her mouth. There he was, right in front of her face, sitting in her dad's chair, talking to her mom! She curled her left hand into a fist, squishing the grapes in her palm. Juice oozed between her fingers.

“Hi there, Grace,” Rick Stanley said from his seat in her dad's chair. His sympathetic gaze met hers. “I'm really sorry for your loss.”

Grace stared at him, looking for some sign of what he was up to. What did he know? What had he done?

“That's sweet. Thank you, Rick,” her mother said. “Grace thanks you, too. Don't you, Grace?”

Grace wondered what she had expected to happen when she ran into Rick Stanley. That she'd be able to tell what he'd done? That she would know what he was thinking? If only she could see inside his brain. Stanley shifted in his seat and it seemed to Grace that he was avoiding her gaze. Was he hiding something?

“Grace!” Her mother's voice slashed across the room like a whip.

“What?”

“Wash up for dinner.”

Grace stormed out of the room. The nerve of Stanley, sitting in her dad's chair. She wanted to yank him out of there. And her mom was letting him! Grace dumped the grape pulp in the bathroom garbage and scrubbed her hands in scalding water. Glancing at her reflection, she noticed a streak of coal dust along her cheekbone. Had her mom seen it, too? Not that it mattered anyway—she was already grounded.

When Grace opened the bathroom door off the kitchen, her mom was pulling scones from the oven. Were those Nana's famous raisin scones?

“Where's Stanley?” Grace asked.

“Stanley? Since when do we call people by their last names? You weren't raised in a swamp!” Her mother banged the baking sheet down. The scones bounced on the counter, and one fell onto the floor. “Look what you made me do,” she said, yanking off the oven mitts. “And I broke a nail!”

“Sorry, Mom,” Grace mumbled. She scooped the hot biscuit up off the floor.

Her mom sighed. “I know this isn't easy,” she said. “But this is the first company we've had since….” She broke off. “Please try to be civilized.”

Grace felt a ripple of guilt. “Sorry,” she repeated. “Can I help?”

“Why don't you grab the butter? Everything else is just about ready.”

Grace opened the fridge and spotted fresh-cooked blueberry grunt on the shelf. Her heart sank. “Where did the blueberries for the grunt come from?” she asked. “Not the ones from the freezer?”

Her mother looked puzzled. “Yes, why? What's wrong?”

“Those were the ones Dad and I picked last August. Remember? We found this great blueberry patch in Florence.” Grace stared at the blueberry grunt. “I was saving them…for pancakes…”

“Well, I can make you pancakes anytime you want, and the grocery store has lots of…” Her mother stopped. “Oh, I see.”

Grace stared at the dessert, wishing the berries back into the freezer. She couldn't believe they were going to end up in Rick Stanley's mouth.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart.” Her mom patted her on the shoulder. “You and I will go out there and pick a pile of them in August.”

Grace faked a smile and tried not to let her mom know that it wasn't the same thing. Not even close! It felt like no matter what she did or how tight she held on, her dad kept slipping away from her.

Chapter
8

“COME ON, LET'S TRY TO HAVE A NICE SUPPER,” GRACE'S MOM COAXED,
giving her a searching look. “I made your favourite…”

Grace let out a deep breath and nodded. Maybe she could turn this situation around and find out what Stanley was doing here. Remembering her nana's favourite saying,
you catch more flies with honey than vinegar
, she vowed to be on her best behaviour.

That lasted about thirty seconds—until the moment she saw Rick Stanley walking toward her dad's chair at the dining room table.
He's not getting that chair, too!
Grace thought to herself. Before she realized it, she'd slipped in behind him just as he was about to sit down.

“Sorry, my chair,” Grace said.

Stanley jumped up, banging his knee against the table. “Whoa! I didn't see you.”

Grace's mother shot her a withering stare. “
Your
chair?”

“It is now,” Grace said.

“No problem,” Stanley chortled. “There are lots of seats.” He pulled the place setting from Grace's usual seat to the one beside her mother.

Grace's mom proceeded to load their plates with steaming heaps of corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, and carrots. Grace lathered butter on a scone and took a bite. It was nothing like her nana's—it was hard as a rock! Her mom's cooking was awful, the rare times she even tried it. Thank goodness boiled dinner was bad-cook-proof.

Crunching on the tough biscuit, Grace watched Rick Stanley as he ate. It was disappointing. He acted very normal and boring, not at all like a criminal. She felt like her chance to get answers out of him was slipping away. Suddenly, she remembered the expensive-looking sports car in the driveway. “I like your car,” she blurted out.

Stanley beamed. “She's a beauty, isn't she? The only one on the island, the dealer told me.”

“Wow!” Grace said. “You must have won the lotto or something.”

Stanley chuckled. “I wish.”

“All my dad ever had was an old pickup. I guess the fossil museum pays way better than it used to.”

Grace's mom gasped into her wine glass. “Grace!”

Stanley's face went bright red. “No, that's okay. I, uh, just came into some money. A relative passed away…”

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry,” Grace's mom said.