“We’re outside!” Bess sounded overjoyed.
George sounded glum. “Yeah—in the middle of a blizzard.”
“This from a wannabe ski bum?” I forced a cheerful tone. I was shivering and exhausted, but hopeful that we’d get out of this okay. “Think of skiing,” I told George.
No one seemed to be around as we made our way through the snow, heading straight for the forest. Halfway there, I heard a low whistle. Nathan’s signal.
A second later he emerged from the woods, carrying a small flashlight. “Where have you been?” he asked, but before I could answer, he noticed George. By now Bess and I were practically holding her up. “That girl needs a doctor,” he said. “We’d better get out of here,” he added. He told us he’d seen Izzy’s car pull up, which is why he’d continued driving by the house. He’d arrived only a little while ago and had been surprised to find my car and not me.
“You had me on the verge of a heart attack there, Nancy, at least for a few minutes.”
“Not to worry. I can take care of myself,” I said, sounding tougher than I felt at the moment.
Nathan shrugged. “I’m parked half a mile away. Can she make it?” He jerked his head back toward George.
“With you and Bess helping,” George said, “yes.”
I took Nathan aside. “I’m going to stick around here and investigate. Please take George and Bess, and get George some medical attention. Afterward find Captain Greene. Tell him where I am, what’s happening, and who’s involved. But be sure you don’t confide in anyone else, Nathan. I know Izzy’s in league with someone in town—maybe more than one person—but since I’m not sure who, we can’t trust anyone else just yet.”
Nathan nodded, visibly impressed. “Hang in there, Nancy. I have a feeling this case is almost closed.”
Before they left, I asked Nathan about Aldwin and the dog.
“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them,” he said, visibly upset. “If they’re anywhere nearby, you’d think at least you’d hear the dog barking.”
After promising Nathan I’d be careful, I circled the house, more visible now in the snow. Heat from the dwelling warmed the perimeter, melting the snow some.
Looking for signs of life, I ended up circling the house twice. The second time around, I heard a whimpering sound over the cry of the wind. After a moment I traced the sound to a well-camouflaged outbuilding, set low to the ground and against a second, smaller rise.
The door of the shed was bolted from the outside. After a couple of tries, I managed to slip the half-frozen bolt. When I opened the door, I was greeted by the sight of Aldwin. In spite of a sleeping bag someone had tossed over him, he was shivering as he hunched in a corner. Next to him was Sherlock. At the sight of me Sherlock let out a warning growl.
Aldwin looked up, his gaze unfocused. At first I thought he’d been drugged, and then I realized he was just confused.
While I debated what to do with him, I knelt inside the door and held out my hand toward Sherlock. “It’s just me,” I told him in a gentle voice. As he crept toward me, I prayed he wouldn’t bite. But it seemed he finally sensed I was friend, not foe, and he licked my finger and whimpered.
Then Aldwin spoke up, his gruff voice reduced to a whispery shred. “The aliens. They are for real. I was on my porch getting ready to look for Sherlock when there was a loud explosion and bright lights. Last thing I remember is being scooped up and stuffed in their vehicle. They’ve stored me here—cold storage. I’ve got to get back to Earth,” Aldwin muttered.
“Aldwin.” I reached out and touched his arm. He flinched. I drew my hand back and said, “You already are on Earth. You’re in Brody’s Junction, Vermont. They haven’t taken you very far away at all. And they aren’t aliens—they are con artists.”
He didn’t answer. He sank back into his corner, and his eyes glazed over. It was obvious he needed help. I only wished I had found him before Nathan had set out with Bess and George.
I had to make a decision: Get out of there pronto with Aldwin, or leave him there in the shed, alone, at the mercy of who knew what, while I cornered Izzy and her cameraman in the house.
It was a no-brainer. I couldn’t leave Aldwin.
I got up and looked to see if the coast was clear. As I stood there, something brushed my leg. It was Sherlock’s tail. He was limping out of the shed, and Aldwin was following behind. He’d found a stick to use as a cane.
“Come back here,” I whispered loudly.
Aldwin continued down the road, hugging the sleeping bag around his shoulders, with Sherlock at his heels.
I wasn’t sure if I should follow him, or if I should stay behind and find proof of the TV crew to bring to Captain Greene.
I looked back toward the house and noticed that the wedge of light near the entrance was wider than before. I realized it wasn’t spilling out of a window, but through an open door.
With the snow muffling my footsteps I crept toward the entrance. Sure enough, the door was open. Why, I had no idea, but I didn’t bother to figure it out. Instead I walked inside. I hovered near the door and listened. Whoever had left the door open didn’t seem to be around.
Quietly and carefully I entered the front hall. A mudroom opened to the right, and the living room was to the left. Leaving my gloves on in case I came across evidence, I went into the mudroom. Inside, the usual assortment of winter outdoor clothing hung from hooks above a lidded storage bench.
I looked inside and gasped. Here was all my evidence! First I found several pairs of child-size scuba fins. I picked one up and examined it. Patterns had been carved into the bottom—patterns that matched the tracks I’d seen in Sherlock’s pen. The box also held a collection of handsome wooden stamping tools. Again, the stamps, if pressed into the dirt, would make some very familiar alien tracks.
More confusing was a pump, a nozzle, and a long tube, as well as a box full of extra-large balloons. Another small carton held a dozen or so spools of plastic fishing wire. I picked up the wire and frowned. Hadn’t one of the UFO hoaxes I’d found online mentioned using fishing wire and balloons?
I pocketed a stamp, one of the scuba fins, and a fistful of balloons, hoping that would be enough proof for the authorities to get a search warrant for the house.
I had started for the door when I heard voices approaching from the living room. I slipped behind the open mudroom door and prayed whoever was coming down the hall wouldn’t find me.
As the voices neared, I held my breath and listened.
“I told you to check that basement before you brought them here!” a woman’s voice said. She sounded angry, and I recognized her at once. It was Izzy, and “they” had to be Bess, George, and me.
“I did,” a man replied in a defensive tone. “Last I looked, two of the girls were still unconscious. How they got out, I’ll never know.” The accent was pure Vermont and very distinct: It belonged to Mayor Brody. So he was the town official involved in the hoax—or at least he was one of them.
“How they got out was by using their wits, Ethan. I found a toolbox down there.”
“Where did that come from?”
Izzy groaned. “Who cares?” I listened to her drum her fingers against something wooden and uncomfortably close by. “I’m sure we can salvage this.”
“I don’t see how,” Mayor Brody said.
“We can chalk up Bess’s and George’s abductions to pranksters trying to play up the idea of aliens among us. I can even use it on the show. Neither of them ever saw me here at the house. They haven’t a clue I’m involved in all this.”
“That’s all well and good, but what about Aldwin and his dog?”
“Aldwin is our biggest asset at the moment. He really believes aliens came and whisked him off his porch. The poor old coot is losing it, but it helps our cause.”
Listening to Izzy, I wanted to reach out and shake her. The woman had no conscience. Aldwin was an old man who might never get his wits back about him again. George’s head was wound
ed. Bess was okay, but just by the luck of the draw.
“What about the other girl—that detective?” the mayor asked. “You forgot about her.”
Izzy groaned. “I wish I could,” she said. “The girl’s too smart for her own good. Fortunately, she comes across as so skeptical on the little footage of her we have that no one will take her claim of a con game seriously.”
The mayor scoffed at her comment. “You’re forgetting something. That girl has a nose for the truth. And the truth is, the con game ended when we turned into kidnappers. We abducted four people, Izzy. Abduction wasn’t part of our bargain. A hoax is one thing. I never signed on for criminal activity, Isabel.”
With every word they spoke, my temper soared. I was tempted to march up to them and say their game was up. But I knew I couldn’t handle both of them alone. I also wasn’t sure how I’d leave the house sight unseen and go for help. And then, where was Frankie?
Just then, a hand clamped down on my shoulder.
“You, girl, are too persistent for your own good!”
17
A Big Bang
I managed to wriggle around far enough to see who’d snared me. “Frankie Lee!” I exclaimed, looking up at the lean man.
“What’s going on there?” Izzy called out, and poked her head out of the next room. “Not you again.”
“She’s back?” The mayor spoke up from behind her. When he saw me, he smiled, but this time his smile definitely lacked charm.
“What now?” Frankie asked, squeezing my shoulder until it hurt.
“Put her down in the storage area . . . not the one she managed to get out of earlier,” Izzy added sourly.
“It doesn’t matter if I get out or not,” I said. “With Nathan Blackman’s help I uncovered your whole scheme. He’s out getting the cops now. Whatever happens to me, your game is over.”
“Now, don’t we feel smug?” Izzy said archly. “I don’t think you are exactly in a position to make threats.”
“And no one’s going to believe an oddball like Blackman when he accuses me of being part of a scam,” the mayor said.
“Besides, I’m just making a TV show. Everyone knows that. If I stretched the truth a bit, or went in for special effects, no one will care. . . . In fact, the publicity will help, not hurt.” Izzy sounded sure of that.
“Tell that to the Feds when you all are charged with kidnapping,” I shot back.
Before I could say more, Frankie hauled me down a short flight of steps and into another storage room. As he dragged me over to a chair, I quickly took in the details of the space. Several shelves were filled with winter provisions. One side was stacked with bottles of water and nonperishable foodstuffs. The other side held a complement of kerosene lamps, a portable kerosene heater, flashlights, and batteries. Above these Frankie had stored his film canisters, cameras, and lots of electrical paraphernalia. Other boxes labeled EXPLOSIVES were stashed below the shelves on the floor in a corner. Part of his special effects arsenal, I figured.
Still holding on to me, Frankie reached for some rope. Then the lights flickered and went out.
For a moment Frankie’s grip loosened. Taking advantage of the dark, I wrenched free, darting in the general direction of the storage room door. Before I reached it, I was knocked down from behind. I fell hard and for a moment almost blacked out. I was aware of Frankie moving past me and up the steps.
In the dark I sensed him stop in the doorway. I realized I couldn’t get past him. I tried to picture the layout of the storage room. I remembered the flashlights and the camera equipment. If I could stand up and find my way back toward the shelf with the flashlights and heavy electronic gear, maybe I’d have a weapon handy to fend him off with if he came at me again.
As I tried to rise, I realized the fall had knocked the wind right out of me. I lay there, unable to get up.
I heard the thud of footsteps above me in the hall. Suddenly from his perch on the top step, Frankie yelled, “Where are you going?”
Izzy shouted something back. I couldn’t make out exactly what, but Frankie let out a string of curse words in response.
“You double-crossing witch!” he yelled into the darkness. His words seemed to fall into a black hole, though; he didn’t get anything in response.
Then I heard the mayor urging Izzy to get her act together and get out while the going was good.
The shouting stopped as abruptly as it had started, and I heard Frankie close the storeroom door.
Had he left?
I tested my legs and managed to scramble to my feet, but even as I did, a light flickered on. It was faint, but bright enough for me to see that Frankie was still in the room. He’d lit one of the kerosene lamps and was putting it on the shelf.
His back was turned. Taking advantage of the moment, I made for the steps. Before I gained the door, though, Frankie tackled me again from behind. This time I was prepared, however. I spun around and used the force of my movement to deliver a swift kick to his face.
Unfortunately, I missed. The man was athletic and lithe, and I instantly realized that he possessed considerable martial arts skills.
I did, however, have the advantage of surprise. He didn’t expect me to be able to defend myself. Before he could regain his balance, I aimed another kick at his arm.
He wheeled out of the way, again out of my reach. In the process his hand flew up and bashed right into the kerosene lantern. It crashed off the shelf and spilled burning fuel all over the floor.
Flames instantly began to spread. Frankie stared in shock, then threw himself right at me. I tried to step out of his way, terrified I’d fall into the puddles of fire. But instead he grabbed me, this time by the wrists. He made for the steps, dragging me with him.
“Get out of here—now! There’s a box of explosives behind that shelf,” he warned in a panicky voice.
In horror I remembered seeing the boxes.
He shoved me up the stairs and out the storeroom door. “Look, we’ll both be killed if that blows. . . .”
He pushed me down the corridor, then let go of my arm. I barreled toward the open front door, with Frankie close on my heels. Now he wasn’t chasing me, though. We both were running for our lives.
I plunged outside and skidded across a sheet of ice several yards away from the house. In the middle of my panic I found myself thinking that the temperature must have risen, turning the snow into ice. Ice had probably brought the electric wires down, causing the outage. The thoughts were rattling through my brain when I felt the force, and then heard the noise, of a loud explosion.
Instinctively I hit the ground, facedown, covering my head with my arms, as shards of glass and dirt rained down.
A second later the rain of debris stopped, and I felt only icy snow pelting my head. I looked up. Frankie was lying a few feet behind me. I scrambled to my feet and hurried over toward him. He was lying facedown, not moving. I ripped off my parka and threw it over him.
“Is he okay?”
I was shocked to see Izzy running up. She was yelling into her cell phone, calling for the fire department. The mayor was right behind her.
I was glad that they were choosing to do the right thing—to call for help instead of running. Still, I was disgusted that their publicity stunt had turned this ugly—and I figured everyone else in town would feel the same when they learned what was really behind the UFOs.
Frankie wasn’t moving. I felt for his pulse. It was there, but he was still unconscious. The force of the explosion had knocked him right out.
For some reason, though, the fire behind us had quickly burned itself out. Maybe it was because the house was half-buried in the earth to begin with? I had no idea.
“What happened?” Izzy gasped.
“What happened is you almost got two people killed with your scheme.”
“What scheme?” Izzy actually smirked. “When my show airs, the world will see there was no scheme. You can’t change that.”
“I don’t have to,�
�� I retorted. I spelled out everything I knew—about her, about Frankie’s special effects know-how, about the remote control planes and the evidence of helium balloons and fishing lines and material to fake alien footprints. Then I added, “As for your show, all the footage in there is gone. As in, it went up in smoke.” It was my turn to feel self-satisfied.
Izzy just shrugged. “Did you think I had only one copy of that footage? I have duplicates in my van and also in the mail to my offices in LA. As for proof of the UFOs being real, anyone watching the show will be convinced. Believe me.”
I turned away in disgust. That’s when I saw Bess. She was half lurking behind the producer’s white van, holding a little camcorder. Behind her, looking a bit baffled, was Nathan, holding up one of the TV crew’s microphones. I realized then that my whole encounter with Izzy was being taped.
Bess motioned for me to keep on talking.
“Besides,” I challenged Izzy, “how are you going to explain the kidnappings? Bess and George have already gone to the police tonight.”
Izzy shrugged again. “I’m sure they’ll believe me over two hysterical girls.”
“You’d be surprised . . . unless, of course, the police are in your pocket, as well as the mayor here.”
Mayor Brody had been uncharacteristically silent until now. He looked up from staring down at Frankie, who was still pale and unconscious. The mayor had taken his own coat off to cover the cameraman.
“You can’t prove a thing,” he said, not sounding so sure of himself.
“I overheard everything, about how you were in on the hoax but didn’t want to go to jail for the kidnappings,” I reminded him sweetly as the sound of sirens pierced the air.
State police, town police, a black FBI car, and a fire engine arrived all at once, followed a minute later by the local ambulance.
Captain Greene got out of his car and marched right up to me. “You’re all right?” he asked. I didn’t bother to answer; I just pointed to Frankie.
Close Encounters Page 11
