Haunted Waters (6 page)

Chapter 17

People passed by the huge nugget
on their way to the exhibit. A woman sold replicas of it, along with snacks and soda. Ashley tugged at my arm to get in line and I followed, hoping we’d get to take some fake gold home. Sam and Dylan were already way ahead of us, and Dylan pointed at a toy miner’s hat with a light in it.

A well-dressed man stood behind the glass to make sure no one tried to touch the nugget.

“I’ll bet you have that thing insured,” a tourist said.

“For 50 million, sir,” the owner said. A muscular guard stood behind him.

It wasn’t that exciting, seeing some hunk of gold a dead guy had hidden. Dylan wriggled down and ran from the store, his miner’s hat shifting on his head and Sam hurrying after him. A stranger at the doorway looked straight at Ashley and me. He walked to the front and talked with the store owner.

We were only three people away from the nugget now. I pointed at Ashley’s camera, but she shook her head. When she turned to look at some fake rocks on the counter, I grabbed the camera and shot a picture of the nugget. As soon as the flash went off, the well-dressed man was next to me.

“Pictures aren’t allowed,” he said, his mouth tight.

I couldn’t see any sign that said No Pictures Allowed. My face got hot, and I knew my cheeks were red. I hate when that happens. It felt like everybody was staring at me, and I was nervous. The camera slipped and bonked on the floor. The memory stick snapped out and clattered away.

“Nice work, Captain Clumso,” Ashley whispered.

I scooped up the camera and handed it to Ashley. She inspected it and frowned, but I could tell it still worked.

The shop owner was next to me now. “I’ll have to ask for the film from that camera.”

“I-I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t see a sign.”

“Whose children are these?” the store owner said, ignoring me. He said it like we were a couple of muddy dogs who had run over his white carpet.

“They’re mine,” Sam said from behind us. He was carrying Dylan, and I was glad he was back. He walked toward us as the crowd parted. “I’m sure this was an innocent mistake.”

The owner frowned. “I would ask you to control your children.”

Sam stared at the man with a look I hadn’t seen before, like a tiger that’s been in a cage too long.

“It’s digital,” Ashley said. “I can delete the picture.”

The owner seized the camera and seemed to know how to work it. He went through every picture Ashley had shot—the ones of the front of the cabin, the view from the window, even one of me sleeping with my Cubs blanket, which I didn’t know she had taken.

The man studied a photo—a bit too long, I thought—then hit the Delete button. Then he deleted the entire set of pictures she had taken. “Just to be sure,” he said, handing the camera back to Ashley, who scowled at him. He looked at Sam. “I’d like you to leave now.”

“Glad to,” Sam said, his voice stiff.

As we walked out, a kid tapped me on the shoulder and handed me the memory stick. I stuffed it in my pocket.

Chapter 18

I jumped into the front seat and Bryce didn’t argue.
His cheeks were as red as a hot pepper when he slipped in beside Dylan, pulled his knees up, and hid his face. Dylan turned on his hat light and patted Bryce on the head, but it didn’t help.

I was bummed that we couldn’t go into the vug. The way the guy pumped it up made me feel like we’d almost be going back in time. Plus, I’d read some stuff on the Internet about gold’s history—how the capitol dome in Denver is made of real gold, and how many people died trying to strike it rich.

Sam looked in the rearview mirror. “There wasn’t a sign, was there?”

Bryce shook his head vigorously.

“Don’t worry about that guy. He’s just wrapped a little too tight.”

“We didn’t even get to see the vug,” I said, then wished I hadn’t because Bryce looked even more miserable.

As we drove away, I saw the shop owner waving and yelling, but Sam sped off.

Back at the cabin Sam lit the grill. Dylan found the pinball machine and dragged a chair up to it, where he stood trying to make it work. There was no tearing him away from it until dinner was ready.

We didn’t make a sound while we ate, except for Dylan, who clicked his hat light on and off and whined about going back to the “Ping-Pong machine.” The burgers tasted great, and Sam waited until after I had eaten mine to tell us they were buffalo meat.

“Mmm, buffalo,” Dylan said, picking up his burger and bouncing it across his plate like it was running in a field. A few pieces fell on his plate, and he giggled. “He pooped.”

That even made Bryce smile.

Sam asked Bryce to help wash the dishes. It would be my turn the next day, so I went downstairs to the computer. Then I remembered I couldn’t send Mom the pictures, so I e-mailed her about what had happened. I also told her I hoped her book was going well. I almost explained what had happened with Hayley, but I just couldn’t.

What must Hayley have thought about me? Had I blown my chance to tell her about God? I really wanted to, not to bang her over the head, but just tell her what a difference God’s made in me. But if I’d watch that kind of stuff, had he made a difference?

Normally my brother and I don’t snoop on each other. He doesn’t read my diary, and I don’t listen on the extension when he talks with his friends. But for some reason I checked Bryce’s e-mail, and something in the subject line of one message told me I should read it. It said, “Better watch out.”

The return address was Darryl Heckler, which I figured was Boo’s dad. I had no idea how Boo had gotten Bryce’s address, but the message sent a chill down my back.

Hey, Timberhead—

I meant what I said today. We’ll be waiting for you Monday, if not sooner.

You know who

I thought about deleting it. Bryce didn’t need to see this, but it might come in handy if Boo ever denied he’d threatened him.

Chapter 19

I didn’t feel like helping with the dishes,
but at least it took my mind off what had happened. Sam washed and I dried.

After Dylan and Ashley were gone, Sam folded his arms, leaned against the sink, and said in his deep voice, “Can I tell you something about people? Most of the time they’re in their own little world, me included. If something goes wrong, they’ll take it out on somebody, and today that was you. You didn’t mean to do anything wrong. I know you’ve got a good heart.”

“He didn’t have to treat us that way.”

“No, and it was all I could do to keep from telling him what I thought.” Sam took the towel from my hand and folded it. “Something’s going on at school, isn’t it?”

“Why?”

“Your mom said she could tell. Wanted me to find out what it was.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” I said.

“Well, if you need help, let me know.” He went back to washing and told me I was done.

I started downstairs, then turned back. “Sam, I’ve wanted to ask you this for a long time.”

“Go ahead,” he said, his hands still in dishwater.

“Why haven’t you become a . . . I mean, what keeps you from . . . ?”

“Doing the God thing?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re better than most Christians I know, the way you treat people. And you don’t curse—at least in front of Ashley and me. . . .”

“How do you know I’m not a Christian?”

“Mom said you weren’t interested.”

Sam turned and smiled. His mustache got lost in the wrinkles in his face, and his eyes sparkled. “One of these days we’ll have to have a long talk about that. For now, you should know I respect you three and your decision to follow God.”

“But what about you?”

He pursed his lips. “Let’s just say God and I haven’t gotten along too well for a while.”

“You mean ’cause your wife and daughter died?”

“That’s part of it.”

He looked like he had just been hit by an ocean wave, so I decided to drop it. Ever since Ashley and I had become Christians we’d been praying for Sam and Leigh. It seemed like God was doing something in their lives, working somehow, but now wasn’t the right time to talk to Sam about it.

Before I headed down the stairs I said, “Thanks.”

“For what?”

“For not treating me like a little kid.”

“You’re welcome.”