Nightmare Mountain (4 page)

At least this explained why the gate had been left open and why the truck driver didn’t have any lights on in the middle of the night. He was stealing the llama; Merrylegs was in the back of the truck.

She scrutinized every foot of the llama pen but found nothing.

She decided to call the sheriff herself. If Glendon didn’t have sense enough to report the theft, she would have to do it. It would probably make him angry if she called, but what difference did that make? He was already angry at her anyway.

“My cousin,” she said out loud, as she gave the side of the pen a kick, “is a jerk.” She heard a faint scuffling sound and whirled around. She thought Glendon had gone outside. She would never call him a jerk to his face, even if it was true.

He wasn’t behind her and she realized the noise had come from overhead.

She looked up just as a huge bale of hay tumbled over the edge of the loft. It was a solid, oblong bale, bound
tightly with wire, and the sight of it falling rapidly toward the top of her head made her freeze momentarily. She quickly recovered her senses and leaped backwards, trying to jump out of the way, but she couldn’t move fast enough.

The heavy hay landed on her shoulder, sending a sharp pain through her arm. As she fell, she hit her head on the railing of the pen. She tried to yell but no sound came from her lips. The barn walls seemed to whirl briefly in a circle and then everything went black.

Sheriff Donley drove her to the hospital.

“I’ll need to talk to Phil about the missing llama,” he said. “And we should have a doctor check you. I think they’ll want to X-ray that shoulder.”

Her shoulder throbbed. Molly tried to concentrate on what Sheriff Donley was saying but it was hard to pay attention when she hurt so much.

“That bale must have been pushed to the edge of the opening accidentally,” the sheriff said. “No telling how long it’s teetered there.”

She winced as the sheriff’s car hit another hole in the road. Even though she was lying against a pillow in the back seat, every bump they hit felt like someone was pounding on her with a hammer.

She didn’t know how long she lay unconscious in Merrylegs’ pen. Once she thought she saw Uncle Phil standing beside her. She struggled to open her eyes, wondering when he had shaved off his beard, but she was too woozy to talk to him.

When she finally came to, Glendon was shaking her and asking what had happened. Uncle Phil was still at the hospital, so Glendon called Sheriff Donley for help.

“Seems a bit strange that so much has gone wrong in the last day,” the sheriff said. He glanced at her in his rearview mirror. His face looked grim. “It doesn’t add up,” he said.

“It sure doesn’t.”

“Just since you got here,” he said.

Molly didn’t answer. She didn’t know what to say.

Sheriff Donley put his foot on the brake and Molly tried to brace herself with her feet, to avoid sliding off the seat.

He pulled the car to a stop and then turned in his seat and looked closely at Molly. “Why did you come here for a visit?” he asked.

“Mom had to go to Japan on business and there wasn’t anyone to stay with me.”

“Where’s your father?” Sheriff Donley asked.

“He lives in Colorado.”

“When did you last see him?”

“If you think my dad had anything to do with this,” Molly said, “you’re all wrong. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“Oh?”

“He got married again right after he and Mom were divorced. He has two little boys and I go there every summer for two weeks. Except for that, we don’t keep in touch too much. I was going to write him a letter and tell him I’m here but I didn’t do it yet.”

The sheriff nodded, pulled the car back onto the road, and continued driving.

Molly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. What was the sheriff getting at? Why did he ask so many questions?

She wondered how much farther it was to the hospital. She hoped the X-rays would show that her shoulder wasn’t broken.

Sheriff Donley had said she’d be lucky if that’s all it was. She wished he’d quit telling her how lucky she was. First it was the cod-liver-oil pills and now . . . Molly’s eyes flew open as she realized what the sheriff was thinking. He thought someone was trying to kill her!

Was he right? Molly’s mouth felt dry and she stared upward at the roof of the sheriff’s car. Someone had put poison in the food Aunt Karen ate—or maybe, if Glendon was telling the truth, in one of Molly’s cod-liver-oil
pills. Someone drove fast down the lane last night with no lights on and nearly hit her. And now a heavy bale of hay fell on her. Had it tumbled accidentally—or was it pushed? Was the poison that made Aunt Karen so sick meant for Molly? Did the truck driver intend to hit her?

Three separate incidents in less than twenty-four hours were too much to be a coincidence. Still, Molly knew no one who would want to harm her. She got along with everyone, except . . . Glendon. Molly thought about the way Glendon had looked at her that morning. An icy look, full of hatred.

She swallowed. Was it possible? Could Glendon be trying to kill her?

No. He might not like her but he was still her cousin. Even though he was angry because she broke his model ship, and jealous because Buckie liked to play with her, surely he wouldn’t try to kill her. Would he?

She thought back to the truck incident. What if it was Glendon in the barn last night? Could it also have been Glendon who drove away in the truck? Did he know how to drive? She knew that kids in rural areas sometimes learn to drive farm equipment long before city kids ever think of getting behind the wheel of a car. Maybe Uncle Phil had taught Glendon to drive the truck so that he could help on the ranch. Maybe that’s who tried to run her down last night. He knew she was walking down the
lane, alone, to close the gate. Could he have run out to the truck in the dark, started it, and come after her?

Afterwards, when she knocked on his bedroom door, there was no answer. Was it because he didn’t want to speak to her or because he wasn’t there?

And today, when he said he was going to look for Merrylegs, is that what he really did? Or did he sneak up the ladder to the hayloft, look down at Molly, and deliberately push the hay over the edge?

A tear slid down Molly’s cheek and she turned her head to let it soak into the pillow. She wondered if she should tell Sheriff Donley what she was thinking. Would he believe her? He might think she was imagining things or trying to get Glendon in trouble. She didn’t know how Uncle Phil would react, either, and if she told the sheriff, he would tell Uncle Phil.

And what would Glendon do if they questioned him or accused him? He’d deny it, of course, and she had no proof. If he
didn’t
know how to drive and had nothing to do with the bale of hay, how would he feel about being accused? He’d really hate her then.

Molly decided to say nothing yet. Probably there was no connection between the poisoning and the truck and the hay. Probably there was no one trying to harm her at all. And even if there was, she was safe now. They were almost to the hospital and Uncle Phil would be there and
nothing could happen to her with all the nurses and doctors around.

Sheriff Donley had called, so the hospital staff was expecting her. Uncle Phil was waiting for her, too, and she was so glad to see him, she nearly cried. He had dark circles under his eyes and his clothes looked rumpled.

“What happened?” he asked, as he helped Molly out of the car.

“I was in Merrylegs’ pen. She’s gone and . . .”

“Gone! Gone where?”

“We don’t know. When I went to the barn this morning, she wasn’t there and before I could call you, the hay fell on me.”

“Has the lab report come back yet?” Sheriff Donley asked.

“We just heard from them,” Uncle Phil said. “All the food checked out OK. They’re testing the cod-liver-oil pills now. They suspect cyanide.”

Molly forgot her aching shoulder. Glendon was right. If all the food was OK, it must be the cod-liver-oil pills. Her vitamins had poison in them. She felt queasy.

“Is she going to be all right?” she whispered.

“She’s still unconscious, but at least she’s alive. And Karen’s a fighter; I think she’ll make it.”

“Do you know where the pills were purchased?” Sheriff Donley asked Molly.

“I’m not positive,” Molly said. “But probably at the Castle Store by our condo. That’s where Mom usually shops.”

“I already have a call in for your mother,” Uncle Phil said.

“As soon as we know for sure that it’s the pills, we’ll alert all the Castle Stores in Los Angeles County,” Sheriff Donley said. “If someone tampered with one bottle, they may have tampered with more. We’ll need to call the manufacturer, too. This is big trouble for them.”

By then, Molly had been instructed to lie down on a gurney and a nurse had strapped her on, so she wouldn’t fall off. As the nurse pushed Molly out of the room, she heard Sheriff Donley still talking to Uncle Phil.

“We’ll get the FBI in on it,” he said. “The pills were purchased in California and the victim swallowed one in Washington. It isn’t a local problem.”

“I thought all bottles were sealed somehow, so they’re tamperproof,” Uncle Phil said.

Molly couldn’t hear anymore. She was wheeled around a corner and into the X-ray room.

The X-rays were negative. “No broken bones,” the doctor told Molly.

She was happy to hear it. It hurt whenever she moved but at least she didn’t need a cast or a sling and she didn’t have to stay in the hospital.

“The shot we gave you will take care of the pain for
several hours,” the doctor said. “After that, you should be able to get by with aspirin. Call if you have any problem but I expect you’ll be as good as new in a day or two.”

“I’ll drive Molly home,” Sheriff Donley said. “Do you want me to notify anyone about your llama?”

“I’ll make the calls; I can do that from here.”

“You need to go home and get some sleep,” the doctor said. “Let the sheriff worry about your llama.”

“I must alert the other llama breeders in the state,” Uncle Phil said. “If anyone tries to sell Merrylegs, I want the word out that she’s mine.”

Uncle Phil sounded terribly upset. Molly knew it wasn’t just because Merrylegs was an expensive animal. She’d seen him singing to the llama and touching noses with it. Uncle Phil really loved Merrylegs and now he might never see her again.

“You need some rest,” the doctor said. “There’s nothing you can do for Karen here. We’re watching her constantly and I’ll call you if there’s any change.”

“Can you walk to the car, Molly?” Uncle Phil asked. “Or do you need a wheelchair?”

“I can walk.”

“Let’s go.”

They drove home in silence. Molly wanted to ask how soon Uncle Phil thought Mom might call and when Aunt Karen might be well enough to come home but the shot
the doctor gave her for pain made her sleepy and she couldn’t quite manage to say the words. The questions tumbled hazily in her mind as her head drooped slowly toward her chest. Finally she gave in, closed her eyes, and slept.

When the car stopped and Uncle Phil got out to open the gate, Molly woke up. She felt better. Her shoulder didn’t hurt much at all, the sun was shining, and soon she’d get to talk to Mom on the phone.

Glendon seemed surprised to see her. Apparently, he expected her to stay at the hospital. She suspected he was disappointed. “How’s Mother?” he asked.

“Still unconscious,” Uncle Phil said.

“Have they figured out what’s wrong with her?” Glendon asked.

Uncle Phil sank into a chair and told Glendon everything that had happened.

While he talked, Molly fixed him a sandwich. He looked exhausted and she was quite sure he’d eaten nothing since the night before.

When Uncle Phil got to the part about the laboratory and how they were now testing the cod-liver-oil pills, Molly sensed that Glendon was staring at her again. She turned to him and he quickly looked away but not before she saw the hatred in his eyes.

She knew he already suspected her and she was sure this convinced him that she was guilty. She’s the one who
brought the bottle of pills here and who told Aunt Karen that they might help prevent a head cold. Whether Molly actually put the poison there or not, there was no getting around the fact that if it hadn’t been for her, Aunt Karen would never have swallowed that cod-liver-oil pill.

“It could be worse,” Uncle Phil said. “If Karen hadn’t taken the pill, Molly would have and Molly weighs much less than Karen. If one pill made Karen this sick, it would surely have killed Molly.”

Molly shivered. She looked at Glendon again. He had watched her swallow one of the pills yesterday morning. Surely he must realize that she wouldn’t do that if she knew some of them contained poison. Unless . . . unless they
hadn’t
contained any poison then. Everyone was assuming that the bottle of pills was tampered with before they were purchased. But maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe the poison had been added later; maybe it was added yesterday, after Glendon learned that Molly took one of the pills every day.

Glendon
did
guess quickly that the sheriff suspected Aunt Karen had been poisoned. Was it because he already knew? Did he try to poison Molly? Did his plan backfire, so he accidentally poisoned Aunt Karen instead?

Her stomach felt all knotted up, the way it did when she had to give a speech in school. Was her cousin really capable of trying to poison her? Could he possibly hate
her that much? And even if he did, where would he get the poison?

She knew he had a chemistry set in his room but chemistry sets don’t contain lethal poisons. Then she remembered the shed. Aunt Karen and Uncle Phil had showed her the shed that first day, after they showed her the barn. It held mostly garden tools—shovels, rakes, and a pitchfork—but there was also a shelf of fertilizers and pesticides.

Molly hadn’t paid close attention to them at the time. All she could remember now was a shelf of bottles and boxes but she was quite sure some of them said CAUTION on the label, and at least one of them had a Mr. Yuk symbol so it must contain some kind of poison. She decided that at the first opportunity, she’d go out to the shed and take a closer look at those bottles.

“I need to make some calls about Merrylegs,” Uncle Phil said and he reached for the phone.

Glendon went outside and Molly decided to follow him.

“Do you think there’s a chance you’ll get Merrylegs back?” she asked.

Glendon shrugged. “It depends on where the thief takes her.”

They walked along in silence for a moment while Molly thought back over everything that had happened. She wasn’t sure if she should be trying to convince Glendon
that she would never purposefully do anything to hurt Aunt Karen, or if she should be trying to find out whether Glendon was trying to hurt her.