by Jo Ann Yhard
Grace couldn’t believe it. It was true about Sandstar! And Rick Stanley was involved! She reached up and tugged her dad’s hat down farther on her head.
“Let’s check out those other two boats,” Mai said to Fred. “Maybe there’s a radio on board we can use to call for help.”
“Jeeter,” Grace called out as they walked onto the wharf. “They’re gone. You can come out. Jeeter?” She poked her head behind the crates where he’d been hiding, but he’d disappeared again.
Cautiously, Grace, Mai, and Fred stepped onto the wharf and climbed aboard the boat closest to shore. The deck was faded and worn. The wheelhouse door was closed, its once-white surface covered in rust stains that had bled from the metal frame of its small round window. Green paint was flaked and peeling from the walls of the boat like the shedding skin of a snake. Only there wasn’t anything new and shiny underneath.
“Do you think this bucket of bolts even runs anymore?” Fred asked, kicking a piece of an old life jacket.
“Well, let’s check it quick and then we can try the other boat,” Mai said. “One of them hopefully has a radio.” She entered the wheelhouse, only to reappear almost instantly. “Nothing in there.”
“Hey, this is weird,” Fred said from over by the fish hold in the middle of the deck. He pointed to a thick chain and lock over the hold. It was shiny and new, and looked totally out of place with the rest of the boat.
“Maybe they’ve stored toxic waste in there too,” Mai said, pulling on a lock of hair. “We should leave and see if there’s a radio on the other boat.”
“I’m going to check out what’s down there,” Fred said. He bent over an old toolbox wedged in a corner of the deck. Screwdrivers and pliers flew in all directions as he searched through the box, muttering to himself. “Aha! Right on the bottom!” He waved a rusty crowbar over his head like a trophy. “This should do it.”
He stuck the crowbar between the links in the chain and leaned forward, trying to break it apart. The crowbar was no match for the new metal of the chain. Sweating, Fred flopped down on the deck. “Rats! It’s not going to work.”
“Good.” Mai looked relieved.
“Um,” Grace said, her curiosity getting the better of her, “what about the hinges on the other side? They look older, like the boat.”
“That’s just what I was thinking!” Fred said, leaping back to his feet with gusto.
Mai glanced over at Grace and rolled her eyes.
Fred wedged the crowbar under the first hinge and pulled. Crumbled pieces of rusty metal flew in all directions and the hinge snapped open. “Wow, that was easy,” he said, popping the second one off and opening the hold.
“What’s down there?” Grace asked. All three of them leaned over the gaping hole.
Grace shuddered. It reminded her of the cave they’d just escaped from.
They looked at one another hesitantly. No one seemed to want to be the first one to go in.
“Well, at least there’s a ladder,” Fred joked. The narrow metal rungs of the ladder were bent in spots and covered with the same rust-stained paint as the wheelhouse door.
“You go, Fred,” Mai ordered. “It was your idea. I’ll stand watch and look after Grace.”
“Yeah, I guess it was my idea, huh?” Fred rubbed his hands together and stretched them over his head. He bent his knees as if warming up before a run. “All right, but if it’s filled with gold—or money—I won’t be sharing!” Flashing a toothy smile at them, he scrambled down the ladder and disappeared. “But I’ll invite you over to swim in the pool in my millionaire mansion!” His words echoed up from below.
“Nut bar,” Mai muttered. She kneeled at the edge of the hatch opening, looking down. “Are you all right?” she called.
“Yeah,” Fred replied. “There’s nothing down here.”
“Then get back up here,” Mai ordered.
“Wait, there’s a door over in the corner,” Fred called. “It looks like it’s for a storage room or freezer or something like that.”
“What’s in it?” Mai asked.
“Can’t tell,” said Fred. “It’s locked, too. Toss me down that crowbar and I’ll try the hinges.”
Mai dropped the crowbar into the hole. It clanged loudly on the floor below. All of a sudden light illuminated the hold. “Sweet!” Fred said. “There’s power down here.”
“That’s strange,” Mai said. “Why would there be power if there isn’t even a rad—”
“I hear a voice! Someone’s in there!” Fred hollered suddenly, cutting Mai off. “A prisoner!”
Chapter
27
POUNDING DRUMS BEAT PAINFULLY IN GRACE’S CHEST. HER HEAD was spinning as she grabbed the top rung of the ladder.
“Grace, your arm!” Mai’s voice was full of concern. “Here, I’ll help you.”
Grace kept going. Sharp pains ripped up her arm to her shoulder.
“Over here,” Fred called to Grace from the far side of the hold. “I can’t get these hinges off. They aren’t as rusted as the other ones. We’ll need a screwdriver.”
Grace raced to the door and pounded on it. “Who are you?” she cried. Could it be him?
“You won’t be able to hear any words,” Fred said. “The noise is too muffled by the door.”
Grace pressed her ear to the cold metal door. She could hear noises inside. Someone was definitely in there.
“Here,” Mai said, panting as she reached the bottom of the ladder. “I didn’t know what kind you needed, so I brought everything I could find.” She dumped an array of screwdrivers onto the floor.
Fred bent down, rummaged through the pile, and selected one with an x-shaped top and a blue handle. “This might work.”
Grace paced back and forth as Fred worked on the hinges. “Fred, come on.”
“I’m trying,” he grunted.
Grace pulled at the lock and bolt. They were new too, like the one on the hatch up on deck. “Open!” she screamed, banging the lock with the heel of her hand. It didn’t budge.
“Fred, hurry up!”
“Give me a break, Grace!” Fred wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. “I’m going as fast as I can!”
Grace banged at the door again, ignoring the pain in her arm.
“Stop it!” Mai said. “You’ll hurt yourself even more.”
“It could be my dad in there,” Grace sobbed. “I have to get in. He could be alive!”
“What about a key?” Mai said.
“I couldn’t find a key anywhere,” Fred answered.
“That’s because I have it,” a voice said behind them.
All three of them whirled around. Rick Stanley stood at the foot of the ladder. Fred pulled Mai and Grace behind him and backed them against the door.
“You!” Grace said. “My dad’s in that room, isn’t he?” Her emotions were raging like a tornado inside her. “You kidnapped him?”
“Listen, I’m not the bad guy!” Rick said.
“You have to let me see him!” Grace’s legs were wobbling.
“It’s not that simple,” Rick said, taking another step closer. He reached into one of his pockets. “It’s the people I work with.”
“Please!” Grace begged. “Open the door!” She moved toward Stanley but Mai gripped her arm and held her back. “Mai, let me go!” she shouted.
“Grace, don’t,” Mai begged.
Grace struggled to escape Mai’s hold. “He could be hurt. I have to see him.”
“He’s fine,” Stanley said. “What do you think I am? A barbarian?” He took a step closer to Grace. “I’m the one who saved him. They would have killed him if I hadn’t staged that car accident.”
“What do you mean?” Grace said. As she spoke, she noticed something moving on the ladder above Stanley’s head. Hiking-boot-clad feet slowly stepped onto the rungs. She recognized the cuffs of Jeeter’s cargo pants.
“He found out about Sandstar dumping the toxic waste. He didn’t get it—you can’t mess wi
th these guys.” Stanley took his hand from his pocket.
Grace’s stomach churned. She could taste vomit at the back of her throat. Did Stanley have a gun? Was he going to kill them?
Instead, Stanley pulled out a pack of cigarettes and stuck one between his lips. Relief flooded through Grace.
Stanley bent his head forward to light his cigarette. As the flame leapt from his lighter, Jeeter descended several more rungs on the ladder.
“Why are you asking all these questions?” Stanley asked, taking a drag on his cigarette. “You must know everything already. You sent me that note.”
“What note?”
“Oh, please,” he said. “Don’t act all innocent! The note you put in my mailbox. I know what you did to Jonathan Campbell, it said. That’s why I had to mess with your mother’s car and get invited to dinner at your house. I had to try and see if there was any evidence in Jonathan’s office about the dumping. I never found anything at the museum. I figured since you only sent that note now, after all this time, that you must have just found something. But then why didn’t you go right to the police? That, I didn’t get. What did you find? Photos? What?”
A note in his mailbox? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Grace said. “I got a note in my locker saying it wasn’t an accident and there was an envelope with your name on it.”
Stanley looked as confused as Grace felt. What was going on here?
“Grace didn’t send you the note,” Jeeter growled from behind Stanley. “I did!”
Stanley spun around to face Jeeter. At that exact moment, Jeeter pounced on his chest, knocking him to the ground.
Grace watched in horror as Jeeter and Stanley fought, rolling around on the floor. Jeeter didn’t stand a chance—Stanley was a lot bigger than him. She winced as Stanley punched Jeeter in the ribs.
We have to do something! Grace panicked.
As if he’d read her mind, Fred raced past her and jumped on top of Stanley. “Let him go, you creep!” he yelled.
Grace picked up the crowbar and tossed a screwdriver to Mai. “Let’s go!” she hollered, racing over to the mass of arms and legs writhing around on the floor.
Mai swung her screwdriver.
“Ouch!” Fred cried. “Not me! Get the bad guy!” He grunted as Stanley elbowed him in the chest—hard. He rolled off to the side, trying to catch his breath.
Stanley lunged at Jeeter and grabbed him by the shirt. Jeeter took a wild swing at him, connecting with his jaw.
“Umph!” Stanley moaned, kicking Jeeter in the shin.
Fred got to his feet and charged back into the fray. But he tripped, accidentally knocking Jeeter to the ground. Stanley pounced on top of Jeeter, pinning him to the floor. Jeeter was squirming and kicking, but he couldn’t get free.
Holding her breath, Grace brought the crowbar down on Stanley’s back as hard as she could.
CRACK!
“Uhhh,” Stanley moaned. He went limp and rolled to the floor.
Jeeter pushed him away. “Thanks, guys,” he said, panting and pressing a hand to his ribs.
“No problemo, Jeetman!” Fred said, helping Jeeter to his feet. The two boys exchanged a look of silent truce.
Grace bent down to search Stanley’s pockets. “Here it is!” she said, holding up a key with trembling fingers.
She ran to the door and tried to unlock it. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably. “I can’t get the key in the lock!” she cried.
“Let me help,” Mai murmured beside her. She laid a steadying hand over Grace’s and they turned the key together.
Chapter
28
THE LOCK CLICKED OPEN. GRACE HELD HER BREATH AND SLOWLY pushed the door inward.
Her dad was sitting on a small cot inside the storage room, his legs cuffed to a thick steel ring in the floor. His hair was ruffled and he was dressed in rumpled clothes that looked two sizes too big for him. The air in the room was stale and cold.
“Grace?” he croaked. He stretched his arms out toward her. “My word, is that really you? Am I dreaming?”
Grace raced to his side and threw her arms around him, ignoring the pain that flared in her injured arm. “Dad!” she cried. She buried her face in his chest.
“It’s okay, Gracie,” he soothed as he rocked her back and forth. “You found me…I thought I was buried for good.”
Grace held him tighter. “I thought you were dead,” she sobbed. He felt so thin and frail. She never wanted to let him go.
“I’ll be okay now—thanks to you.” He pried her gently away from him and looked up at her and Mai. “How did you kids find me?”
Grace stared up at her dad. His eyes were rimmed with red and his face looked pinched and pale. Uneven grey stubble covered his chin.
CRASH!
A loud bang came from outside the storage room. “Oh no you don’t!” Fred yelled. There were more sounds of a scuffle and then Fred’s sweaty face appeared in the doorway.
“Good news, Grace. Stanley woke up and he’s not dead. So you’re not a murderer.” Fred smiled weakly, but he looked scared. “Don’t worry, we’ve got him under wraps,” he added, holding up a roll of duct tape. “Get it? Duct tape? Under wraps?”
“You’re making jokes?” Mai shrieked. “He could be a murderer!”
Fred gulped and looked behind him, then gave a shaky thumbs-up.
Jeeter appeared beside him in the doorway. “Grace, we should get your dad out of those cuffs.”
“Oh, right,” Grace said. She reluctantly relinquished her grip on her dad’s hand so she could pass the keys to Jeeter. Part of her thought he might be a dream and that he’d disappear if she let go.
“Sir, do you think you can walk?” Jeeter asked. “We should get to the other boat and get out of here in case those other men come back.”
“What other men?” Grace’s dad asked, frowning.
“The Sandstar people. They could come back any minute.”
“They were here?” he asked. He took Jeeter’s arm and tried to stand. He wavered and gripped Grace’s shoulder for support.
“Take it easy, Jonathan,” Jeeter said.
“I’m a bit dehydrated, I think,” he said. “This has taken a toll on—Marcus, my word, what are you doing here, son?” he broke in, suddenly recognizing Jeeter. “I didn’t recognize you without the long hair.”
“Roger came out here to check on the tar ponds project. He had planned to come even before anything happened to you. He let me come, too—I wanted to see you again. But you had…disappeared…by the time we got here.”
“Didn’t he get my email about Rick Stanley? I hoped he might put two and two together and figure out what was going on.”
Jeeter nodded. “He did, but you’d never said anything about Stanley working for Sandstar, just that he was acting strangely.”
Grace’s dad frowned. “I guess that makes sense. I didn’t know for sure that there was any connection myself until I saw the barrels out at the PA4. But by then it was too late. Rick followed me there that day. He captured me and brought me here before I had a chance to tell anyone about the dumping.”
“I tried to get Roger to look into your car crash,” Jeeter explained. “But he wouldn’t listen…he said he’d checked with the police and it was ruled an accident. But I…I couldn’t let it go. I knew there was something wrong. So I tried to find out about Stanley on my own. Well, with Grace, I mean.”
“Well, the important thing is that you found me,” Grace’s dad said, shaking his head. “I don’t know how you managed to do it. I’m sure there is an explanation as to how you and Grace ended up here together. However, we have more pressing things to deal with at the moment. Has anyone contacted the police or the Coast Guard?”
“I tried to find a radio, sir,” Jeeter said. “But Stanley showed up and I had to hide.”
“Well, we’ll have to get out of here as quickly as possible,” Grace’s dad said.
“Yeah,” Grace added. “We don’t want to be he
re when those Sandstar guys come back.”
Fred and Jeeter duct-taped Stanley’s wrists in front of him. At first, he refused to climb the ladder. But when Jeeter threatened to lock him up and leave him in the belly of the boat, he scurried up the ladder without another word of protest.
After Fred and Jeeter had tied Stanley up on deck, they returned to help Grace with her dad. It took a while to get him loaded onto the other boat as they had to stop every minute or so for him to rest. Eventually, they managed to get him aboard. Thankfully, there was no sign of the Sandstar yacht yet.
Grace’s dad collapsed on a small bench on the deck. Sweat was running down his face and he was breathing fast. “My word,” he gasped. He held a hand against his chest and closed his eyes. “You’d swear I had just climbed Mount Everest.”
“Take it easy, Dad,” Grace said.
He didn’t answer. His face had gone white. Grace put her hand on his forehead. It was cold and clammy. “Mai, there’s something wrong with him,” Grace said. “He’s unconscious!” Who knew what months of captivity and little food and drink had done to him?
Mai knelt down beside Grace’s father and held his wrist. “His pulse is really fast,” she said.
“What’s wrong with him?” Grace asked.
“I don’t know, Grace,” Mai replied. “But I think he needs a doctor.” She handed her bottle of water to Grace, and placed her jacket around Grace’s dad’s shoulders. “Let’s keep him warm and see if he’ll drink any water.”
“Who knows how to drive?” Fred called from the door of the wheelhouse.
They all exchanged looks. Nobody spoke up.
Stanley snickered at them. “Not one of you knows how to drive a boat? This should be good. Do you have any idea what the currents are like around here?”
“Well if we drown, so do you!” Jeeter snarled.
“Fred, your dad owns a dive shop,” Mai said. “Don’t you know how?”
Fred shook his head. “My dad won’t teach me. He says I have to wait ’til I’m older. Besides, he doesn’t have time to show me—he’s always either working or out diving.”
“I’ve sailed a small boat on a lake before,” Jeeter said. “It can’t be that different, can it? I’ll give it a try.” He disappeared into the wheelhouse and a few seconds later the engine roared to life.
