The Lost Brother

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Hello?” Rich called. “Bailey, Michael, anyone here? It’s Rich Cole!”

  No answer. “Maybe they—,” I began.

  I was interrupted by a scream. It was Donna. She was staring into the side room. Her face was white.

  “What is it, honey?” Jacob asked, hurrying toward her.

  She pointed with a trembling finger. “Th-there,” she gasped out.

  Rich and I traded a worried look. Then we both hurried forward so we could see into that room.

  “Oh, man!” I exclaimed when I finally saw what Donna had seen. A big glass display tank taking up most of one wall. The top was off, and someone was slumped halfway into it. Headfirst.

  “Bailey!” Rich called out, rushing forward. He carefully reached into the tank and felt for a pulse. “She’s dead,” he reported grimly.

  “Dead?” Jacob exclaimed. “But how?”

  I didn’t need to ask. I’d already seen the huge, hissing rattlesnake twisting itself around the ranger’s lifeless arms and torso.

  Exploring

  I found myself standing in the featureless hallway I’d seen earlier. It wasn’t that different from my cell, actually. Bare cement walls. Tile floor. No windows. The only light came from a few tiny bulbs near floor level. Night-lights, I guessed.

  “Hurry up,” a soft voice urged. “We need to go find Lee!”

  I glanced down at the little girl. Alice. Now that I got a better look at her, I noticed she was wearing a super-frilly pink nightgown and goofy fuzzy slippers shaped like unicorns, complete with a glittery silver horn poking up from each slipper. Perched atop her head was a sparkly toy tiara.

  The outfit was a little odd even for a ten-year-old girl. But not worth worrying about, I figured, all things considered.

  “Come on, Alice,” I whispered. “Show me the way out of here. Then we’ll go find your brother.”

  Alice shot a nervous look up and down the hall. “The Boss Man will be mad if he sees us,” she whispered. “He doesn’t like it when we break the schedule.”

  “It’s okay. He won’t find out,” I assured her.

  Ding!

  A bell chimed softly out of some unseen speaker. Alice jumped and let out a squeak. Then she burst into tears and raced away down the hall.

  “Alice!” I hissed after her. “Wait!”

  It was too late. She disappeared around a corner.

  Oh, well. At least I was out. I took a few steps in the direction the little girl had gone, glancing into the doorways I passed. There were three of them. Each led into another cell just like mine. Except that they were unoccupied, their cots unmade and doors standing slightly ajar.

  When I rounded the corner, there was no sign of Alice. Just another hallway with several more doors leading off of it.

  I glanced into the first one, expecting another cell. But that wasn’t what I saw. Not even close.

  Stopping short in surprise, I took a step inside, squinting for a better look. This room also had whitewashed cement walls and no windows. But it was much larger than my cell. Like, at least twenty times larger. In other words, huge.

  It was lit by several blue and green night-lights shaped like various animals. By their dim glow, I saw what appeared to be some kind of playroom. Swings, slides, and other playground equipment were set up on soft rubber mats. There were even a couple of good-sized trees growing in huge pots.

  Not sure what to think of that, I returned to the hallway and moved on to the next door. This one led into another large room. The night-lights in here were all pink and white. This place was also a playroom, but set up as a sort of fairy-princess land. A sparkly castle playhouse. Springy plastic horses with flowing manes. Pink and glitter everywhere. You get the idea. Alice’s super-girly outfit would fit right in.

  When I came back out into the hall, I noticed a bluish glow coming from the far end. Stopping to listen, I heard a soft buzz and some clicks coming from that direction.

  Tiptoeing forward, I peeked carefully around the corner. It opened into a large area filled with cubicles, desks, and filing cabinets. A bank of monitors lined one wall, though I was a little too far away to see what they were showing.

  The space appeared to be a combo office/security area. The lights were dim in here, too, with the computer screens offering most of that blue glow. There was nobody in sight. I took a cautious step forward. If I wanted answers to my questions about where I was, this seemed a good place to find them.

  Then I stopped short as I realized the place wasn’t totally deserted after all. A lone female figure was bending over one of the desks.

  My eyes widened in surprise. Could that really be . . . ?

  “Hey! You there!” someone shouted from behind me.

  Whirling around, I saw an annoyed-looking young man rushing toward me. He was dressed in drab hospital scrubs and was pretty average-looking in every way except one—the huge, nasty-looking pink scar bisecting his face. Ouch. Whatever had done that had to have hurt.

  “How’d you get out?” Scar Guy demanded irritably.

  “Same way I got in. Through the door,” I shot back.

  Then I jumped at him, wrestling him back against the wall before he could even think about reaching for a weapon. ATAC training. Always go for the element of surprise.

  “Let me go!” the guy yelped, struggling to break free.

  He landed a couple of kicks on my lower legs. But he was smaller than me, and I was feeling pretty confident. Maybe if I could overpower him and find some ID . . .

  ZZZZZZZIP!

  “Aaaaaah!” I screamed as a bolt of electricity shot up my spine, turning my insides to Jell-O. Fiery, painful Jell-O.

  Even through the sudden fog of pain and confusion, I knew what had happened. Someone had just tasered me from behind!

  “Whew! Thanks, Baby Doc,” said Scar Guy as he twisted free of my now limp grasp. “I don’t know how this one escaped, but he . . .”

  There was probably more, but I didn’t hear it. I’d just felt a prick in my still-tingling arm. Then the sensation of a needle sliding into me. Things immediately started to go fuzzy.

  No! I thought weakly as everything went dim. Can’t . . . pass . . . out . . . or . . .

  I felt myself sink helplessly to the floor. After that, everything went black.

  Nuts and Bolts

  “Any news?” I asked as I stepped into the Misty Falls police station the next morning.

  Rich looked up from some paperwork on his desk. “Morning, Joe,” he greeted me, looking tired despite the huge, steaming cup of coffee sitting beside him. “Hope you slept better’n I did.”

  “Not really.”

  Rich just nodded. “Bailey was DOA when we got her to the hospital,” he reported. “Multiple untreated rattler bites. Docs figure she must’ve been dumped in that tank around lunchtime.”

  I gulped, feeling uneasy. That meant Bailey had died pretty soon after she’d tried to call me.

  I pushed that aside. What was the point in what-ifs? All I knew for sure was that this meant another suspect crossed off the list.

  “So the snake attack was definitely what killed her?” I asked.

  “The snake venom was what killed her,” said Rich. “If she’d been conscious and able to get to the hospital reasonably quickly, she almost certainly would’ve recovered. Rattler bites are rarely fatal these days. But the coroner also found she’d had a severe blow to the head. Her bad luck that nobody happened along until we got there.”

  “So someone knocked her out, then draped her over that tank, knowing the snake would finish her off.” I shook my head grimly. “Think someone’s trying to send a message?”

  Rich shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe that snake was just a convenient weapon. Maybe whoever did it didn’t necessarily even want to kill her—just give her a warning.”

  I turned as I heard voices outside. The door swung open, admitting Jacob, Donna, Edie, and Hank. Donna was dressed in riding breeches and tall, shiny black boots.

&
nbsp; Okay, that seemed a little odd. But I don’t waste much time worrying about other people’s fashion choices.

  “Morning, all,” Rich said, his gaze wandering toward Donna’s outfit. “What can I do for you? That PI of yours here yet?”

  “He’ll be along this afternoon,” Jacob said. “In the meantime, we’ve arranged for the local mounted Search and Rescue group to come in and help us look for Justin.”

  “Oh?” Rich’s eyebrows shot up so far they were almost lost under the brim of his cowboy hat.

  All four of them began talking at once. The gist was, Jacob and Donna had been up half the night on the phone with the Search and Rescue people. They both had some riding experience and were planning to ride along with the group. Hank was going too.

  “I wish I could come along,” Edie said, wringing her hands. “I just get so nervous around large animals. I’m sure I wouldn’t be much help.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jacob told her, his eyes glittering with eagerness. Or maybe lack of sleep. It was hard to tell. “We’ll call and let you know if we find any sign of him.”

  “Good luck with that,” Rich said. “Not much cell reception out in the wilds of the park.”

  I was staring at Jacob, feeling suspicious. Why did it feel like he was trying way too hard all of a sudden?

  Still, I wasn’t one to look a gift horse—so to speak—in the mouth. While those SAR folks were looking for Justin, they might as well be looking for Frank, too.

  “Mind if I tag along?” I spoke up. “If someone can rustle up a spare horse, that is.”

  Donna looked me up and down, seeming doubtful. “Have you ever ridden before?”

  “Sure, lots of times,” I lied. The truth was, I’d only been on a horse a handful of times. But how hard could it be? I had great balance and reflexes from riding my motorcycle everywhere back home. That thing had some serious horsepower. An actual horse shouldn’t be a problem, right?

  An hour later I was standing in the park’s main parking lot, watching the volunteers unload their horses from a couple of big stock trailers. One of the volunteers walked over to me. She was a fiftyish woman with bright blue eyes and skin the color and texture of old leather.

  “You Joe?” she asked in the direct way people seemed to address each other out here in the West.

  I nodded and stuck out my hand. “Joe Hardy. Thanks for letting me ride along. Which one’s my horse?”

  “My name’s Rina Charles.” The woman shook my hand, then turned to squint at the group of horses. “That’s your mount over there. The bay horse with the white socks. Name’s Filbert.”

  “Filbert?” I echoed dubiously. That wasn’t the kind of name I’d been expecting. More like Thunder, or Duke, or Maverick. Something westerny and rustic.

  I looked at the horse in question. He was standing beside one of the trailers, his head hanging low. His eyes and lower lip drooped sleepily. Once in a while his tail swished at a fly. Otherwise he might as well have been a statue.

  “He’s an experienced dude horse,” Rina said. “He’ll take good care of you. And don’t worry, he can keep right up with the younger horses once he works the kinks out.”

  That didn’t sound too promising. I walked over to Filbert.

  “Hey, buddy,” I said, giving him a pat.

  He opened his eyes slightly, then let them droop again. Otherwise, no response. Close up, he looked even more like a kids’ pony ride horse.

  “Um, are you sure this is the only horse available?” I asked another passing volunteer. “I mean, I was expecting something a little more, you know, spirited.”

  The second volunteer, a crusty cowboy-type dude who reminded me of Rich, shot me a suspicious look. “You the kid from out East?” he asked. At my nod, he added, “Yeah, Filbert should do just fine for you.”

  Rina heard us and came over, looking slightly annoyed. “Look, you can ride along or not,” she told me in a crisp, no-nonsense voice. “But if you’re coming, you’re riding Filbert, case closed. Mounted SAR work in the backcountry is dangerous enough without being overmounted. Especially for a novice.”

  “You sure Cole vouched for this one?” the man muttered.

  I felt my face go red as Rina nodded. So that was why I was being allowed to ride along? Because Rich had put in a word for me?

  In any case, I decided maybe it was better not to push it. Old Filbert would have to do if I didn’t want to be left behind. So I shut up and tried not to attract any more attention to myself.

  Soon we were setting off into the park. Rina led the way, mounted on an impressive-looking black horse. Jacob was right behind her on a stout chestnut. Then came Donna, the cowboy dude, and a couple of other volunteers, and then Hank. Filbert and I brought up the rear.

  “Giddyup, boy,” I said, swinging my legs against the horse’s sides as we fell farther behind.

  Filbert ignored me, ambling along at the same relaxed gait. I wondered if he even remembered I was up there.

  Oh, well. I might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.

  About a mile in, we left the relatively clear trails and set out through the brush. It was pretty rugged country out there. Lots of rocks, lots of thorns, not much flat ground. Luckily, the horses seemed used to it, including Filbert. He wandered down steep, rocky hills and splashed through streams, never quite catching up to the other horses but never falling too far behind, either.

  As for me? I was kind of surprised at how strenuous it was. I mean, Filbert was doing most of the work. All I had to do was sit there and hold on. But by the end of the first hour I was sweating, my leg muscles were screaming, and I was wondering when we were going to take a break.

  Despite all that—and my worry about Frank—I couldn’t help being awed by the park’s natural beauty. There were no signs of civilization out here. Just deep canyons, rushing rivers, soaring hawks, ageless trees, and great views everywhere I looked. Beautiful, but definitely wild. A few times I found myself wondering what would happen if we got lost out here.

  “Guess that won’t happen, huh?” I murmured to Filbert as we began another slow climb up out of another steep canyon. “I hear you horses can always find your way home.”

  Filbert flicked one ear back in my direction. Otherwise he didn’t respond. He just kept climbing steadily up the twisting, narrow trail.

  I gave him a pat, mentally apologizing for my earlier doubts. He might not be the swiftest horse in the world. But he hadn’t put a hoof wrong on these tough trails. That was worth something.

  Then I glanced forward. The rear end of Hank’s horse was visible just cresting the top of the ridge. The rest were all out of sight already.

  “Guess you were never a racehorse, were you, Filster old buddy?” I commented with a grin. “That’s okay. Slow and steady wins the—”

  I stopped short as I heard a weird whizzing sound somewhere right behind me. Was I being dive-bombed by a mosquito? I lifted my hand to swat at whatever it was.

  At that same moment, Filbert snorted and jumped about a foot in the air, tossing his head skyward. I was so startled I started to slide sideways in the saddle.

  I grabbed the horn to steady myself. Good thing.

  Because a split second later, Filbert suddenly bolted off up the trail at breakneck speed!

  Caring and Sharing

  When I awoke to find myself back in my cell, I almost despaired. What was this place? How was I ever going to get out?

  I closed my eyes to block out the harsh glare of the overhead light. My mind was feeling a little fuzzy again, though not nearly as bad as before. More like the typical getting-knocked-out kind of wooziness. I could deal with that.

  So I did my best to focus. To try to make sense of what I’d seen on my brief trip out of my cell.

  It wasn’t easy. Nothing I’d seen made much sense.

  But I was pretty sure of one thing: This was it. The place where all those missing kids had gone. It had to be. The evidence all pointed to that.

&nbs
p; Meeting Alice. Seeing Luke’s name scratched into the wall. Those rooms full of playground equipment and other kid-friendly stuff.

  I still had a lot of questions, of course. But one in particular.

  Why?

  Who would—and could—build a place like this? A secret place where a whole bunch of kids could be taken and never found?

  And for what possible purpose?

  From what I’d seen of Alice, she looked perfectly healthy. A little nervous, yeah. Obsessed with finding her brother, okay. But otherwise she’d seemed almost . . . normal.

  Sort of like Justin. Yeah, he didn’t seem to know how to use a knife or fork. And he came across as a little wild, a little untamed.

  But he spoke perfectly good English. Could hold a conversation with people. Seemed pretty well-adjusted, all things considered. Was that because he’d been here all along, chatting with Alice and the others? If so, how in the world had he ended up wandering around Misty Falls with no memory of any of it—or of his own family, his own name?

  CLANG!

  I pulled myself together quickly. The little window had just opened. Was it Alice? Had she returned to let me out again?

  “Omigod!” a muffled female voice exclaimed. “I thought that was you!”

  It wasn’t Alice. But I definitely recognized the voice.

  “I thought that was you I saw out there too,” I said, looking into the pair of wide brown eyes staring down at me through the narrow window. “What’re you doing here, Chloe? And where are we?”

  I was already wondering if I was asleep and dreaming again. Why else would the cute, friendly candy striper from Mercy Hospital be in a weird place like this?

  But I’d been pretty sure she was the person I’d seen out in that security area right before that goon tasered me. And now here she was.

  The door cracked open just wide enough for Chloe to slip inside. She looked kind of upset.

  “I can’t believe you’re here, Frank,” she said, wringing her hands and staring at me. “Omigod, I really can’t believe you’re here!”