The Fossil Hunter of Sydney Mines

by Jo Ann Yhard

  “Pardon?” Grace’s attention was now split between her mother and her own searing-hot-inferno face.

  “I said I know it’s been hard for you too,” she sniffed, dabbing her eyes. “We never really talk about it. I guess I just can’t face it most of the time…” she trailed off, her voice filled with mother-guilt.

  Grace couldn’t take it anymore. She had to get the blue stuff off her face—now! “Well, I know what happened to Dad wasn’t an accident,” she blurted out. “Something happened to him and I’m going to find out what!” She turned and raced up the stairs, frantically rubbing at the blue goop as she ran, the vision of her mother’s thunderstruck face burned into her brain.

  Grace ran into the bathroom and stuck her head under the faucet, letting the cool water run over her molten skin. A whole layer of skin had probably melted off.

  She opened one eye for a peek—not too bad, actually. Of course, she was now the shade of a ripe tomato, but the scratches from her forbidden excursion had blended in nicely.

  Grace tiptoed back into her room and lay down on her bed. She couldn’t believe she had let the cat out of the bag about her dad’s accident like that. Her mother probably thought she was totally off her rocker. Now she’d be worried that Grace wasn’t moving forward with her healing, or some other therapy junk.

  She crawled under the covers. Fred still hadn’t called her back. Maybe he was waiting to hear from her. She tried to reach him on the walkie-talkie, but didn’t have any luck. Then she remembered he’d said he couldn’t find his. She tried to call Mai as well, but didn’t get an answer from her either. Mai must still be mad, she thought to herself.

  Sighing, she rolled onto her back, gazing at the swirling galaxies above her. She thought about the note from her dad’s office. It had mentioned Point Aconi. And she’d found his field bag out there too. It seemed everything was leading back there.

  She tossed and turned for a long while, unable to get her mind off her father. Finally, she drifted off to an unsettled sleep, only to wake a few short hours later. Her alarm clock glowed 1:30 am. The moon was low and it shimmered through the leaves of the big oak tree across the street and into her front bedroom window.

  She flipped her walkie-talkie on to talk to Jeeter, then changed her mind, tossing it back into her pack. Frustrated, she flopped back onto her pillow and clicked on the wave machine that sat on her night table. Instantly, she felt herself relaxing, her breathing mimicking the pattern of the waves. She was just about to drift off again, when—

  Kchhhh…

  Muffled voices were coming from her backpack. Someone was on her walkie-talkie! Maybe Mai had forgiven her after all. She grabbed it and was about to hit the transmit button when she heard a voice.

  “Things…out of hand,” the voice said, “… can’t find…” Only bits and pieces of what the person was saying were coming in between the bursts of static. The voice spoke again, “… kid is persistent…you know…than anyone….”

  Was that Stuckless’s voice? If so, who was he talking to? Grace looked at her walkie-talkie. It was on channel two, not one they normally used. She must have hit the wrong button when she thought she’d turned it off.

  Grace crept to the side window and cautiously peeked over the sill. There was a faint green glow coming from Stuckless’s basement window. She grabbed her binoculars from her pack and focused them for a closer look. Stuckless was sitting in front of a computer, talking into something…another walkie-talkie, maybe? A CB radio?

  “Okay…you’re sure…could be trouble…” he said. “… yes…tomorrow….” With a final crackle, the conversation ended.

  Grace sat on the side of her bed, clutching her walkie-talkie tightly in her hands. The night had returned to its sleepy silence, but there was no sleeping for Grace. She stared with wide eyes out her window into the empty darkness. What was going on?

  Even her wave machine wouldn’t help her tonight.

  Chapter

  17

  BY THE TIME GRACE WANDERED DOWNSTAIRS THE NEXT MORNING, it felt like she’d already been through a whole day. Her eyes watered as she yawned for the hundredth time. She didn’t think she’d gotten any full hours of sleep time.

  It had taken almost an entire bottle of her mom’s fancy conditioner and endless tugs, yanks, and screams to get all the tangles out of her hair. She was convinced she’d left at least half her long blonde locks in the shower drain.

  There was something to be said for algae, though. It seemed to have eaten up all the scratches on her face. Her skin had faded from ripe tomato to a pale orange colour. It looked like she’d washed her face in self-tanning lotion.

  Grace walked into the kitchen as her mother was pouring her coffee.

  Her mother looked at her strangely. “I’ve been doing some thinking…” she started.

  Warning bells blared in Grace’s head. Whatever her mom had to say, it wasn’t going to be good. She grabbed her pack, scooped up a muffin, and headed for the door. “Late for school!” she called over her shoulder, slamming the door behind her before her mother had a chance to look at the clock.

  Grace hopped on her bike and decided to go to Jessica’s. She swerved onto Clyde Avenue, then took a left on Beech Street. Minutes later she was reunited with her hat. She plopped her old friend back on top of her head and pulled her ponytail through the back.

  She held her arms out at her sides and tipped her head back. She loved the feeling of the crisp wind zipping over her body, tugging at her clothes and filling her lungs.

  As Grace whizzed across Main and zipped around another turn, she suddenly realized that she was almost at Mai’s house on Crescent Street. Traitor bike! She sighed and veered into Mai’s driveway. It was as good a time as any to eat crow and apologize. She wondered if Mai would even talk to her. Before she had a chance to knock on the door, it swung open and she was looking straight into Mai’s startled brown eyes.

  They stood there, staring at each other, for several seconds.

  “Grace!” Mai finally exclaimed, a huge grin exploding on her face. She dropped her books and grabbed Grace in a tight hug. “I knew you’d apologize. I accept!”

  Grace returned the hug, her mouth hanging open with the unspoken apology still inside. Without another word, they were off to school as if nothing had happened.

  Pedalling slowly, Grace filled Mai in on the recent happenings. Her animated monologue was often interrupted by Mai’s continuous stream of No Way! He did what?! You didn’t!

  When Grace got to the part about Fred’s strange phone call, Mai chipped in. “I don’t know what he’s talking about either. I didn’t see him yesterday. I had band recital all day then my parents took me out to dinner.” She shrugged. “So he had a whole day unsupervised. Who knows what nutty conspiracy theories he’s cooked up without us.”

  “Seriously.” Grace nodded. “We’ve got to find out what he’s been up to.”

  They didn’t get their chance until gym class later that morning.

  “Uh-oh,” Grace and Mai moaned as they entered the gym. Loopy Longmire, their gym teacher, was nowhere in sight, but there was a smoky haze hovering near the ceiling. Not incense again!

  Fred beckoned them over. “There you are! You missed all the excitement. Leroy Weller was complaining about the stink from the incense and then puked all over Longmire’s pink leotard. She cancelled gym class and hauled him off to the nurse’s office. So we have an entire double period free, and then lunch.”

  “Woohoo!” Grace exclaimed. “Let’s go to Black Hole. We’ve got lots to talk about!”

  “Have I got news for you!” Fred flopped down at the table in Black Hole and grabbed a chocolate cake from his pack. “I was working one of my informants, Mr. Pulzifer—you know, the security guard/janitor guy? It was tough, but I kept tailing him, looking for an angle—something I could use to muscle him.” Fred paused to leisurely unwrap his treat.

  “And…?” Mai prompted.

  “I’m getting to the good
part. So, my detective work finally paid off. I followed him down to the boiler room yesterday. He was there to sneak a puff on one of those stinky cigars. So I tiptoed up behind him and caught him in the act! I said to him, ‘Gee, Mr. Pulzifer, isn’t it against the rules to smoke on school grounds?’ Well, he knew I had him, so he coughed up what I was looking for.”

  Mai and Grace exchanged eye rolls at the spy talk and glared at Fred, waiting for the intel. Fred seemed to be enjoying himself and was in no hurry to relinquish being the centre of attention.

  “Spill it!” Grace finally said.

  Fred popped the rest of his cake into his mouth and linked his hands behind his head, grinning at Mai and Grace as he chewed.

  “Fred!” Mai said.

  “Okay, okay!” he yelped. “Pulzifer told me that they’ve been having trouble with the security cameras at school for months. And get this…you know the one in the hallway where Grace’s locker is? It isn’t even working. It’s disconnected!”

  “Disconnected?” Mai said. “Since when?”

  “For the last month!”

  “A month? But that means…wait…what does that mean?” Grace asked, confused. “You saw the video. We all did.”

  “It means,” Fred said with relish, “the video was a fake!”

  Chapter

  18

  “A FAKE? BUT WHY?” GRACE ASKED. HER VOICE WAS SHAKING. There must be some explanation, she thought to herself.

  “Maybe Jeeter figured that it would make us like him or something,” said Mai, sounding disappointed. “You know, because it made him the hero. I guess it was too good to be true.”

  “How did he do it?” Grace asked.

  “It wouldn’t be hard, Grace,” Fred said. “He probably just used his own camera and then uploaded the video to his computer.”

  “But if he made the video, then the envelope with Stanley’s name on it and the note from my dad’s office must be fake, too!” Grace exclaimed.

  “Note?” asked Fred, a confused look on his face. “What note?”

  As Grace explained, Fred’s face turned red. “He was in your house?” he spat. “When I was talking to you?”

  “Don’t forget that he saved my life too,” Grace added. “If he was just some evil bad guy, he wouldn’t have done that.”

  “But Jeeter is the bad guy,” declared Fred. “It’s a no-brainer. We have to find out how deep this rabbit hole goes.”

  “It seems like Jeeter’s fixated on Rick Stanley,” Mai said. “There’s got to be an explanation for that.”

  “I think we should stake out Jeeter’s place,” Fred suggested. “He’s in this right up to his six-pack abs and buzz-cut hair, and we need to find out why!”

  “It would have to be dark, for cover,” Grace said. “But there’s no way I can get out of curfew. You two will have to do it.”

  “Too bad you can’t come, Grace. But…does this mean I’m in charge of the mission?” Fred asked. He leapt to his feet and started to pace back and forth, fingers tapping on his chin. “Okay,” he continued, “first thing we’ll need to do is—”

  “If you think for one second I’m going to take orders from you, your brain damage is even worse than I thought!” Mai said. “There’s no way in this solar system, this galaxy, this entire universe—”

  “Can’t you two get along for five minutes?” Grace grumbled. “I can just see it now: Jeeter’s whole neighbourhood will be standing there watching you two fight and you won’t even know it! They’ll probably have popcorn for the show. You’ve gotta stay undercover! Remember what that means?”

  “Sorry, Grace,” Mai said.

  “Fine,” Fred scowled. “Take all the fun out of it.” He sulked for twelve seconds exactly before he was back in planning mode, making suggestions for camouflage.

  They sketched out Jeeter’s yard and worked out Mai and Fred’s positions. Finally, Grace declared that they were as ready as they’d ever be.

  After lunch, Grace, Mai, and Fred returned to school. They were walking down the hall discussing their plans when they rounded a corner and ran smack into Jeeter.

  “Hey, just the spies I was looking for,” Jeeter said, smiling. “What are you guys up to?”

  Mouths hanging open, Grace, Mai, and Fred stared at him like he was a giant ogre about to chop them up for stew. Grace wanted to scratch his eyes out. Liar, she thought.

  “What’s wrong?” Jeeter asked. His smile faded and he looked behind him as if to see if the terrified reception was for someone else.

  “Well, for starters—” Fred growled, stepping forward.

  “Nothing!” Grace grabbed Fred’s sleeve and hauled him backward. “We’re just talking about, um, maybe doing a stakeout of Stanley’s house this weekend.”

  “Great idea,” Jeeter said. His eyes drifted to Mai’s still-frozen face. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?”

  “Well, actually,” said Grace, “Fred’s walkie-talkie isn’t, um, working. Could he borrow yours ’til the weekend? You don’t need it, do you?”

  “I guess not,” Jeeter said. “What’s he need it for?”

  “We have to work on a school thing, and we’ll probably be up late. Mom won’t let me use the phone past nine.”

  “All right,” he said reluctantly. He took his walkie-talkie from his pack and handed it to Fred.

  “Well, we’ve got class,” Grace said. She started inching away from Jeeter, dragging the still-gaping Mai with her. “We’ll see you tomorrow to plan the weekend.”

  Grace, Mai, and Fred continued down the corridor. Grace looked back over her shoulder just as they were about to turn a corner.

  Jeeter was still standing in the same spot, staring at her.

  Grace gasped. She raised her hand in a quick wave and scurried around the corner.

  “Good thinking, Grace, getting me a walkie-talkie,” Fred said when they were out of earshot. “But mine’s probably at home. I would have found it eventually.”

  “It wasn’t for you,” Mai replied, finally coming back to life. “She didn’t want Jeeter listening to us over the airwaves. Right, Grace?”

  Grace nodded a silent confirmation.

  “Oh, good detective work.” Fred smiled his approval. “So the stakeout is this weekend? Great! That’ll give me time to survey the area. You know, pick out the most strategic observation posts.”

  Grace shook her head. “No. You’ve gotta go tonight!”

  Chapter

  19

  “TONIGHT?” FRED SQUEAKED. “BUT I’M NOT READY!”

  “Geez, Fred, get a grip!” Mai said. “We can handle it, Grace. No problem.”

  “Good,” Grace said as they walked down the nearly empty hallway.

  “Shoot, I’m going to be late!” Fred said suddenly, looking at his watch. “See you!” He rushed off to class.

  “Come on, Mai,” Grace said, opening the door to the library. “I want to check something out on the computer.” They had a free period and didn’t have to be in class until later.

  Grace raced to the back of the room, claiming the one and only computer. She opened the web browser and typed the name Sandstar into the search box.

  “What’s Sandstar?” Mai asked, pulling a chair up beside her. “It sounds familiar.”

  “When I searched Dad’s office, there was a ton of stuff about Sandstar,” Grace replied. “That’s the company that got the tar ponds cleanup project. I want to check it out, just in case it means something.”

  A long list of hits popped up in the search engine. Grace clicked on the first one. “Wow, look at this,” she said. “The Sandstar contract is worth four hundred million dollars!”

  “Hey, now I know why that name sounds familiar!” Mai’s eyes glimmered with recognition. “I saw something about them when I was researching our project for Mr. Grange’s class. I remember reading that it was one of the costliest environmental projects ever undertaken. But I was mainly researching the history of the contamination—I hadn’t done much on the
cleanup part.”

  “Hmm,” Grace mused, clicking on another internet link. “Look at this one. It’s an environmental site. They don’t think the method Sandstar is using will work. That’s what Dad had in his notes, too. He said an incinerator wouldn’t work ’cause there’s too much waste to get rid of.”

  “Try another one,” Mai said.

  They scanned the list. “Ooh, that’s Sandstar’s website,” Mai said, pointing at a link. “Try that.”

  Grace clicked on the link and scanned the news section of the site. “It looks like they started the cleanup six months ago and it’s on schedule. Look at all these articles—apparently they’re meeting all their deadlines and the government is happy with the progress.” Grace’s hopes plummeted again. Another dead end.

  She was about to log off when, on a whim, she searched for the Cape Breton newspaper site. When it popped up, she clicked on the obituaries and entered Beatrice Stanley, the name of Rick Stanley’s great-aunt, in the search box. Nothing came up. She deleted the last name and just searched for Beatrice. Still nothing. Had he been lying about where he got the money for his car? But so what if he did? There was probably nothing wrong with the guy anyways. Jeeter was the suspect now.

  Coasting into her driveway after school, Grace stopped short at the sight of her mom’s car. Darn. She was supposed to be working.

  “What are you doing home?” Grace asked as she walked through the back door into the kitchen. Her mom was sitting at the table, filing her nails.

  “I switched shifts with Eleanor,” she explained. “I wanted to spend a little time with you.”

  “Oh.” Ugh, gushy-gooey Mom front and centre.

  Grace’s mom frowned. “How about a little enthusiasm?”

  “Sorry, Mom.” Grace did her best to seem happy. “Sounds fun! What do you want to do?”

  “Let’s do some baking,” her mom replied. “I thought we’d make some squares for the community fundraiser.”