Trail of Lies (12 page)

The booties were made from a thick cotton fabric, and they had Velero fasteners to hold them on the dogs' paws. The three put them on the dogs' feet in tense silence.

Next, Lindsay sent Nancy back to the dresser for two extra blankets. None of them knew what was in the cabin, and the extra protection from the cold might come in handy. Moments later Steve strapped Nancy into the basket of the sled and took his place on the runners.

Lindsay walked to the head of the team and whispered something in Butterscotch's ear. The lead dog gave a short bark.

In the lights from the barn, Nancy saw Lindsay smile. “You and George are in good hands,” she told Nancy. “You've got a great musher.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Steve responded, clearly surprised by his rival's compliment. “Let's hope I earn it.”

The snow was now heavier than any Nancy had ever seen. Huge flakes formed a white curtain, quickly obliterating tracks and reducing visibility to a few feet. She wondered how they'd find the trail to the cabin. To Steve's team, the route would be familiar, but Lindsay rarely took her dogs north of Anchorage.

“We'll get there,” Steve told Nancy, as
though he sensed her worries. “The dogs are used to finding new trails.”

The team was clearly eager to run. They barked and tugged at the line, urging Steve to give the command to start.

“Hike!” he yelled.

They were off.

The snow flew into Nancy's face as the dogs pulled the sled forward. She was glad Steve had insisted she wear a face mask. The thin silk fabric protected her from the fierce cold and the blowing snow. Steve wore a battery-powered light on a band around his forehead.

When the trail started up a hill, Steve jumped off the runners and jogged behind the sled.

“Have to save the dogs' energy,” he said breathlessly to Nancy. For a few minutes, there was no sound other than the swish of the sled's runners in the snow and the dogs' panting.

A large snowshoe hare darted across the trail, and the dogs swerved, starting to follow it. “Gee!” Steve shouted, tugging on the handlebar. Butterscotch turned to look at him, then led the dogs back onto the trail.

“Lindsay was right. You're very good,” Nancy told Steve. Even though it wasn't his team, he had total control over it.

Nancy heard the anger in Steve's voice when he replied, “I still can't believe Craig did this.”

“Let's see what he says when we get to the cabin,” Nancy suggested.

Steve was quiet for a moment. When he spoke, there was grudging admiration in his voice. “You're quite a detective.”

Nancy managed a laugh. “Not really. There's one mystery I haven't been able to solve.”

“What's that?”

“Why you don't like me.”

The trail crossed another hill, and Steve was silent as he ran behind the sled. When he climbed back on the runners, he said to Nancy, “It wasn't anything personal.”

“You could have fooled me,” she replied.

Nancy could hear the pain in Steve's voice, even through the wind that rushed by her ears. “Your father's always telling Dad what a great relationship you two have,” he said. “For years I've heard about the wonderful Drew family. When I quit my job at the shipping company, it got worse. It seems like I've heard about nothing the past six weeks but how great you are and what a fantastic job you've done with your life so far. Well, I'm sorry I can't be you—I'm sure my dad would like me better if I were.”

Nancy shook her head ruefully. “Oh, Steve, you're so wrong about your dad. He loves you. You may not believe this,” she said, “but every
time my dad talks to your dad, all your dad talks about is how proud he is of you.”

“I'll bet.” Steve was plainly skeptical.

“It's true, Steve. It really is. And another thing—maybe he wasn't going about it in the right way, but I think, by talking about me so much, your dad was probably trying to encourage you to find the life that's right for you, whatever that may be.” She laughed. “I mean, you could hardly call what I do an ‘office job,' could you?”

“No, I guess you couldn't,” Steve said thoughtfully. “Maybe you have a point.”

Nancy craned her neck to look at him in the gathering dusk. “You know I'm right,” she said, and smiled at him. After a moment he returned the grin.

The snow continued to fall, and when darkness came, Nancy wondered how Steve could find his way. It seemed as though they'd been traveling for hours, although Steve assured her it had been only a little more than one hour.

“We're almost there,” he said, turning the sled sharply to the right.

Nancy squinted her eyes. It wasn't her imagination. There was something dark a few hundred yards ahead of them. The cabin! Lindsay's dogs began to bark from excitement. Then the night was filled with the sound of answering barks.

Steve pulled the sled to a stop and turned off the light on his forehead. Nancy unfastened the belt that had held her in. She jumped to her feet and ran to the cabin. She flung open the door.

At first glance the cabin seemed empty. Then Nancy saw a dark form on a low cot by one wall. Heart hammering, she ran over and bent down to see who it was.

George was lying there, eyes closed. Her face was perfectly white, and her skin was icy to the touch.

“George!” Nancy said in a low, urgent voice. She shook her friend by the shoulder. But George neither spoke nor stirred. She just lay there, still as death.

N
ANCY'S HEART STOOD STILL
. “George!” she whispered again. Peeling off her mitten, she placed gentle fingers on George's throat just below the left ear.

There was a pulse. It was slow but steady. Nancy turned to Steve. “She's okay,” she said quickly, seeing the expression on his face. “You'd better look for Craig—I'll take care of George.”

Steve spun on his heel and went back out into the darkness. Nancy thought quickly. Craig had probably given George some kind of sedative. She had to get her friend moving to work the drug out of her system.

“George!” she called. She slapped her friend's cheeks lightly. “It's Nancy. Wake up.”

At first there was no response. Then George's eyelids flickered. Her pupils were dilated, and she didn't seem to recognize Nancy.

“George! It's Nancy.”

A glimmer of recognition made its way into George's eyes. “Check the dog food,” the drugged girl said. Her words were slow and deliberate, as though she had to force them out. She closed her eyes again, drifting back to sleep.

Steve strode back into the cabin and stamped the snow from his boots. “Is she okay?” he demanded fiercely.

Nancy shook her head. “It looks like Craig gave her some kind of sleeping pill. We have to get her back to your house and call the doctor. Did you find Craig?” she asked.

“No—I don't know where he is,” Steve said. He looked around the room, then walked to the stove that stood in one corner. He opened the large box next to it and peered inside. “Maybe he went to get wood. There's not much in here, and I didn't see any outside.” He unzipped his parka. “In this weather nobody would take a chance on running out of firewood.”

“How about your dogs?” Nancy asked. “Are they all right?”

Steve nodded. “They're used to being outside,
even in a storm. Craig unharnessed them, so I guess he's planning to stay here for a while.”

Nancy felt a cold draft sweep along the floor. She looked up.

“You bet I plan to stay,” Craig's voice boomed from the open door. He was dressed in a light blue snowsuit, and his blue eyes glittered dangerously, chilling Nancy more than the arctic wind.

Craig closed the door behind him and glanced around the room. “Quite a cozy gathering, isn't it?”

Before Nancy or Steve could reply, George opened her eyes and started to sit up. When she saw Craig, she moaned and sank back onto the cot.

“What did you do to her?” Steve demanded, a worried frown etched on his face.

“Nothing.” Though it was only one word, Craig's tone indicated how unimportant George was.

Steve clenched his fists and took a step toward Craig.

“Don't,” Nancy warned him in a low voice. Craig's eyes blazed with excitement, as if he was looking for an excuse to fight. That was the last thing they needed.

Steve evidently realized the same thing, for he lowered his hands to his sides.

Craig sneered. “What's the matter, big man? Didn't they teach you how to fight at those fancy schools your daddy sent you to?”

“You were really clever to arrange the smuggling,” Nancy said, trying to shift Craig's attention. “I still haven't figured out how you managed all the details.”

“Playing for time, huh?” Craig said with a sidelong glance at Nancy. Her stomach contracted. He wasn't going to take the bait.

Then Craig smiled and leaned back against the wall. “Well, I may as well boast a little,” he said easily. “Because you kids won't be going anywhere for a long, long time.

“It was all so easy,” he went on. “I was out with some friends one night when I heard this guy in Seattle was looking for a partner in the shipping business—someone who wanted to make lots of money. That was right up my alley. The guy had contacts in the Far East who made ivory statues. He needed someone in Anchorage to get the stuff off a ship and into the hands of the dealers.” Craig tossed his head arrogantly. “It was Craig Miller to the rescue. All I had to do was pull a fast one on old man Wilcox. Boy, is that guy slow on the uptake!”

Steve growled low in his throat and started to move toward Craig. Nancy put a cautionary hand on his arm.

Craig looked from Nancy to Steve, then
back again. “You're a little rusty yourself, Ms. Drew,” he told her. “That ivory was right under all of your noses, all the time.” He crowed with laughter.

Steve could control his anger no longer. “I can't believe it!” he cried. “I thought you were my friend.”

Craig's laughter stopped abruptly. His voice was little more than a snarl. “Do you think I liked being one of your employees? It was demeaning having to work as your kennel boy. But you never thought about that, did you?”

Now that Craig was talking, there was no stopping him. “Do you think I liked training your dogs but never getting to race them?” he demanded. “All the work but none of the fun? I'll bet you never thought about that, any more than you thought about what it's like to be poor. Well, I'll tell you and Ms. Drew here one thing. I'm never going to be poor again.”

Craig smiled, but his smile was filled with malevolence. Nancy could hardly believe this was the man who'd once been friendly to her.

“You were too smart for your own good,” he told her. “You wouldn't take my hints and stop the investigation.”

“Hints? You mean all those . . . mishaps?” Nancy asked carefully. Her eyes darted around the room as she sought a weapon of some kind.

“Mishaps.” Craig chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, that's very funny. Mishaps. Yes, I guess
you could call tumbling down a flight of stairs and nearly being trampled by a team of runaway sled dogs ‘mishaps.' ”

He looked down at George, and his smile was not a pleasant thing to see. “I would have pulled it off without a hitch, you know. It was just bad luck that your pal George came in at the wrong time and saw me hiding the ivory.” He pursed his lips primly. “There's a lesson in this somewhere—something about minding your own business. Too bad you all won't live to put it into practice.”

That was more than Steve could take. He lunged forward to tackle the friend who'd betrayed his trust.

But Craig was quick. In one fluid motion he stepped to the side. He grabbed Steve's arm and twisted it behind his back. Then he pulled a big, old-fashioned revolver from the pocket of his parka. He raised the butt and brought it down on Steve's head.

Steve crumpled to the floor.

Nancy started toward him, but Craig's barked command stopped her. She turned and looked at him.

His eyes were serious at last. “I'm afraid this is goodbye,” he said. Slowly and deliberately he raised the gun and pointed the barrel at her. “It's your turn now, Nancy Drew.”