by Linda Gerber
Logan must have felt me watching him, because he looked up at me then. “What?”
For an instant, I saw in my mind a flash of the colorful little frog skittering away, and I laughed. Yes, I had just compared Logan to a tree frog.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“Nothing,” I said. “I was just thinking about something. You having any luck?”
“Well, I’m signed on,” he said, and showed me his online status. “How about you?”
“Um, just a minute.” I quickly found the right commands and navigated my way online.
“Can you sign in to your blog?” Logan asked.
“Oh.” Well, that was one thing I couldn’t do. “They’ve changed the passwords,” I told him. “I’m supposed to submit my entries to someone at the network from now on, and they’re going to post them.”
“Well, we can look at it on the website anyway, to see if there’s anything new.” He typed in the URL. I did the same, trying to beat him. Our screens showed the When in Rome page at practically the same time. I hurried to manipulate the arrow and get to my blog. I beat him by half a breath. There had been no new entries since the two that I had removed the other day. Even my replacement post from the first day I had found a bogus message had been scrubbed. In its place were some pretty—but generic—pictures of Costa Rica. And the words: “Stay tuned for the next adventure.” Clever.
“Looks like whatever they’re doing is working,” Logan said.
“Either that, or the hacker has lost interest,” I said hopefully.
“Or, if we’re right that it’s someone here at the farm doing it, maybe they know we’re on to them.”
“Who do you think it is?” I asked.
“My lead suspect?” He thought for a moment. “Marco, probably.”
“I don’t know. He’s been nice to us the whole time we’ve been here.”
“He’s too smooth,” Logan said.
“What about Claudia?” I asked. “You can never tell what she’s thinking. And she always seems to be watching us. It’s eerie.”
“Of course she’s watching,” Logan said. “She’s a cameraman. Er, woman. And she’s too obvious.”
“What do you mean, obvious?”
“She’s the most likely suspect, so it can’t be her. Don’t you ever watch crime shows?”
“Um, no. I don’t really get a chance to watch much TV. How is it you do?”
“I didn’t say I did.” He raised his brows and smirked at me. Remember how I said he could be annoying? Yeah.
“So by your logic, our lead suspect has to be Estefan, because he’s the least likely. He’s so quiet and, I don’t know…earnest.”
“Earnest?”
“Yeah, like that time he was telling us about Monteverde’s history, and he got all excited about—”
Logan grabbed my arm. “Wait. Look down there.”
In the field below, Marco and Britt strolled along, hand in hand. Their voices carried up the hill, but not loud enough for us to understand what they were saying.
“Come on!” Logan said, pulling at me. “Hide.”
We scrambled to the back of the rock and ducked behind it so that we could watch Britt and Marco, but hopefully they couldn’t see us.
“Man, she’s got it bad,” Logan said.
Below, Britt was gazing up at Marco with such a stupid grin on her face, it was almost embarrassing to watch. Even more embarrassing, she giggled every few steps—that much carried clearly up the hill—and the two of them swung their hands back and forth like a lovey-dovey pendulum as they went along. I could just imagine their conversation: “I like you more.” “No, I like you more.” “Oh, no. I like you more.” Blech. Unless it was Logan saying that to me…
They stopped to talk a little bit, and Britt threw her arms around Marco, then drew back and tucked her chin demurely, as if she couldn’t believe what she had just done. Gag. He leaned in for the kiss, and I found myself holding my breath in anticipation. But then he planted one on her cheek. Wow. Mr. Romance.
Logan made a lovesick face and pantomimed kissing the air, and I laughed, then clapped my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. Marco glanced up, and Logan and I dropped to the ground behind the boulder, trying not to laugh anymore. Of course, the harder we tried, the harder it was to keep it in. Logan’s shoulders were moving up and down so fast, it looked like he was having a seizure. And my stomach shook until it ached.
“We better lie low until they’re gone,” Logan whispered, wiping his eyes.
I couldn’t even answer, but nodded with my hand still clasped over my mouth.
Eventually, our laughter died down, and we settled onto the grass with our backs up against the warm/cold boulder. I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun.
“I wonder how Victoria’s doing,” I said softly.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” he soothed.
“It looked pretty bad.”
“Allergic reactions will do that. Once my cousin got stung by a bee, and his tongue swelled up so big he couldn’t even swallow. They gave him a shot, and he was right as rain the next day.”
I cracked one eye open and peeked at him, smiling. “Right as rain? Really?”
He bumped my shoulder with his. “Absolutely. Haven’t you ever seen how right rain can be?”
I thought of huddling beneath the umbrella with Logan during the rain; hanging out with him inside because of the rain; dancing in the hot springs, our faces turned to the cooling rain. “Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I have.”
I’m not sure how long we sat there together soaking in the sun, but finally, Logan said softly, “You think they’re gone?”
I kind of hoped they weren’t, because I liked being stuck with Logan. But I volunteered to check anyway. When I peeked around the edge of the stone, Britt and Marco were leaving, hands still swinging, near the far side of the field. “Almost,” I told Logan.
He crawled around to where I was and looked for himself. “Where’s he going?”
“What?” Okay, so I admit to being a little distracted, with Logan leaning around me to see down the hill, but I hadn’t been paying attention. Britt was now heading toward the lodge, but Marco cut across the field toward the cow barn. At the door, he paused and checked furtively over each shoulder and then slipped inside. “All right. That was weird,” I said.
“Looks like Marco has something to hide,” Logan said darkly. “What did I say?”
I blew my bangs from my eyes. “Just because the man went into the barn by himself doesn’t mean he’s our guy,” I told him.
“He snuck into the barn,” Logan corrected.
“Again, not proof of guilt.”
“What do you think he’s doing in there, milking cows?”
“He could be,” I said stubbornly. “I’m sure there’s plenty he could be doing to help out. My gramma says work is never done on a farm.”
“But Marco’s a guide,” Logan said. “Why would he be working on the farm?”
I wouldn’t back down. “Marco’s our guide. That doesn’t mean that’s his occupation. Did you ever ask what he does when he’s not showing us around?”
And on we went. We must have argued about Marco’s true identity for about ten minutes before Logan stood and pointed to one of the rental SUVs making its way toward the road. “Hey, look. Someone’s leaving.”
“Who do you think it is? What if something’s wrong with Victoria, and they called Liz to go to the hospital and—”
“Victoria is going to be fine. I keep telling you.”
“Britt, then. What if she’s gone looking for us?”
Logan rolled his eyes. “Stop worrying so much. Britt knows we went out to walk around the farm.”
“Well, someone is leaving, and those are the only two grown-ups here from the group. Except Marco, and he’s helping out in the barn.”
“Hiding out in the barn,” Logan said.
“Whatever. We should get back down there.” I b
rushed off the seat of my pants—which had become uncomfortably damp from sitting on the ground—and had started down the hill when Logan stopped me.
“Uh, Cass? Look at this.” He held his phone out to me, and I took it from his hand. On the screen was the logo for my blog, and beneath that…a new entry.
“What the—? When?” I sputtered. “We just looked at my blog half an hour ago and there was nothing here.”
“Marco’s been in that barn long enough to post something.”
I couldn’t believe it. But it looked like Logan was right. And I was wrong. I thought finding the hacker would make me feel powerful and vindicated, but in reality, it felt awful. Marco had been so nice to us. And to poor Britt…“Oh, my gosh,” I breathed. “I know how he did it, how he found his way through the firewalls. Britt’s our resident techie. He’s been using her to get the information.”
Logan scratched his cheek. “Why would she give it to him?”
“Are you kidding? She likes him. She probably didn’t know what he was up to.” My chest felt hollow thinking about it. “She’s going to heartbroken.”
“We’ve got to tell her,” Logan said grimly.
“And Bayani and Victoria,” I added.
“Let’s go.” He took my hand again to help me down the hill, and although I appreciated it (a lot), I was too upset to enjoy it the way I would have liked to.
By the time we burst into the lodge, I was completely out of breath. “Liz?” I wheezed. “Britt? Who’s here?”
Mama Tica peeked out through the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Hey! Que pasa, cala—” She stopped. “Is everything all right?”
“I need to talk to Liz,” I said. “Do you know where she is?”
“You just missed her. One of my employees drove her down to the hospital.”
“Oh, no!” I shot a look at Logan, as if Liz and the hospital were somehow his fault. Well, he did tell me I worried too much. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing bad,” Mama Tica assured me. “There was some problem with the insurance, and the hospital needed a signature from your network representative.”
Logan met my look with one that said “See?”
I ignored him. “Is Britt around?” I asked.
“She said she was going to find you,” Mama Tica said. “Have you been playing hide-and-seek?”
“We went for a walk,” Logan volunteered.
Mama Tica hid a smile. “Yes, there is a lot of walking going on these days.”
I stole a quick peek at Logan, hoping he didn’t catch her meaning. Britt and Marco’s walks were all about romance. She probably thought Logan’s and mine was, too. Not that I wouldn’t have liked that. I think. But I didn’t want Logan to get embarrassed. Okay, and I didn’t want to be embarrassed, either.
“We should find Britt,” I told Logan.
“She was out by the car shed last time I saw her,” Mama Tica said.
I thanked her, and Logan and I ran back outside.
“There you are!” Britt called when saw us. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
“Sorry.” I looked around to make sure Marco wasn’t within earshot and then asked if she knew what time everyone else was getting back.
She seemed to catch the urgency in my voice and was suddenly concerned. “Why? What’s wrong?”
I looked to Logan, unsure of how much to say. He made the decision for me. “We know who’s been hacking into Cassidy’s blog,” he said.
“We’ve got to talk to Bayani,” I added.
Britt shook her head as if she hadn’t heard right. “What are you talking about?”
“We saw…” I floundered and looked to Logan for help again. “I can’t say it.”
He took over for me. “Whoever was posting those things on Cassidy’s blog has been doing it from right here,” he said. “Bayani’s friend tracked it for us.”
“I was sure it was Claudia,” I told her.
“But it wasn’t.” Logan stalled, and I’m sure he felt as awkward delivering the news to her as I did. He took a deep breath and then finished in a rush, “It was Marco.”
We probably could have blown a puff of air at her and knocked her right over. “M-Marco?” she repeated.
“We saw him,” I said, finally finding my voice, “sneaking into the barn. And then a few minutes later, another post showed up on my blog, even though the passwords have all been changed and…and…” I let my words die off because Britt’s face had gone completely white. I couldn’t even imagine how she must be feeling—especially if Marco had milked any of the tech information out of her.
She shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Why are you saying this? It’s impossible. There’s not even an Internet connection here.”
“But there’s supposed to be a connection,” I said. “We think somehow he’s been jamming it.”
“Then how,” she demanded, “could you have seen anything he posted?”
“Our phones,” Logan said. “You can get a signal up the hill. That’s how we saw him. We were up on the hill trying to find the signal, and—”
“We’re sorry, Britt,” I told her. “We really are.”
She crossed her arms tight across her chest, which anyone knows is a defensive gesture. I felt so bad for her. “What now?” she asked, her voice small and lost.
“We need to tell Bayani,” Logan said, “and have his friend verify that this last post came from here so we can prove it was Marco. Then we can take it to the network, and with luck we can win back the sponsors and save our show.”
Just then, I saw Marco on the path coming from the barn. I nudged Logan, and he gestured to Britt. When she saw Marco, she staggered back a step.
When she turned back to Logan and me, her lips were pressed into a grim line, and her nostrils flared. I’ve never seen anyone go from heartbroken to angry so quickly. “Let’s go,” she said. “I’ll take you to Bayani.”
Marco called out to her and waved. “Hurry,” she urged, and herded us to the car shed.
“Hey,” Marco called. “Hey, Britt!”
She wrenched open the door of the remaining rental SUV and hissed to us, “Get in. Quickly.”
Logan and I scrambled into the backseat just seconds before Britt threw the thing into reverse and squealed out of the shed. Through the rear window, I could see Marco running toward us, waving his arms and shouting.
“Go! Go!” I yelled.
Britt shifted into drive before the SUV had completely stopped and the gears ground angrily before they caught, pitching us forward. She sped down the driveway and swung out onto the road, mumbling to herself the whole way.
In the backseat, Logan and I were tossed first one way and then the other. “Seat belt,” he told me, and pulled his own over his shoulder and lap. The SUV bounced and shuddered over the potholes.
“Um, Britt?” I reached forward to nudge her shoulder, but I was thrown back by another door-rattling bump in the road. “We’re clear. You can slow down now.”
She slammed on the brakes, and Logan and I were thrown forward. I was grateful he had reminded me to strap in. “Sorry,” she sniffed. “I’m so sorry.”
Logan and I sat quietly in the backseat and left her to her thoughts and her tears. What could we say? I couldn’t think of anything that would make her feel better, so I kept my mouth shut.
Until we veered off the main road just before we reached town. The new road was narrower and paved with gravel that spit and pinged against the underside of the car so that I had to yell over the noise. “Where are we going?”
“To the hospital, to see Bayani,” she yelled back.
The SUV bucked and rattled down the road. I mean literally down the road. As in, we were headed downhill. I wondered where the hospital was. I couldn’t think of another town close to Monteverde except for Santa Elena, and that seemed to be across from Monteverde, not down.
We had gone maybe five miles before the SUV began to sputter and slow until finally
Britt pulled over to the side of the road and we lurched to a stop.
“I do not believe this,” she muttered. “The thing’s overheated.”
“We’re stuck?” I asked stupidly.
She turned around in her seat. “Do either of you know anything about engines?”
We both shook our heads.
“Great.” She popped the hood and kicked open her door to climb out.
“Maybe we should see if we can help,” I said to Logan.
We joined Britt at the front of the car to frown at the engine parts.
“It will be okay,” Britt told us. “The radiator needs water so it can cool off.”
“Do we have any water in the car?” I asked helpfully.
“No, but there are some empty drink cups in the front-seat holders,” Britt said. “Maybe you and Logan could climb down to that stream and fill them up.”
Logan and I looked toward the swollen stream at the bottom of the embankment, and then at each other and shrugged. Sounded like as good an idea as any. We grabbed the cups and started climbing down the hill, which is much easier than it sounds, because we were still wearing those silly rubber boots, so we had no traction on the loose rocks and kept slipping and skidding down the embankment.
We were only about halfway down when I heard the engine turn over again. “Logan. Listen. She got it started.” We scrambled back up to find that Britt had turned the car around so that it was facing up the road.
She rolled the window down and called out to us. “I’m sorry, kids! I didn’t want to have to do this, but you couldn’t leave well enough alone. Just follow this road uphill and you’ll find the road that leads to Monteverde. You can call your parents from there.”
“What are you doing?” Logan demanded.
“Leaving Monteverde it appears, thanks to you.”
I dropped my empty cup. “I don’t understand.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “You will in time. But by then, my post on your blog will have done its work, and I will be long gone.”
“Your post on my blog?” I sputtered. “What are you talking about?”
“My job.”
“Your job? But…you work for the show. You’re one of us.”
“Right,” she said with a sneer. “You keep believing that.”
