Let’s hope he doesn’t, I thought.
It took us a few minutes to untie the boat. Once it was freed from the dock, we climbed inside.
“I’ll drive,” I said, taking my place behind the wheel. Joe sat next to me, slipping on a pair of shades.
Before I started the engine, I did a few safety checks. There was plenty of fuel. Check. Life jackets. Check.
After a few more checks, I turned on the ignition switch. When I pulled back on the throttle, it felt loose, but it didn’t seem to be an issue as I cast the boat off from the dock. After turning the craft around, I pushed the throttle forward.
“Full speed ahead!” I exclaimed as the boat cut across the water at an exhilarating pace.
“Woo-hooo!” Joe cheered.
I had forgotten what a blast boating could be—especially knowing we’d have another pretty passenger joining us soon. But my thoughts were interrupted by the roar of a Jet Ski engine.
Turning my head, I saw the Jet Ski in the distance, heading right into our path.
“Slow down so you don’t hit her,” Joe said.
“Duh!” I responded as I grabbed the throttle. But as I pulled back on the throttle, something happened that turned my blood to ice.
The handle came off in my hand!
“Frank, slow down!” Joe cried, his eyes still on the Jet Ski. “We’re going to crash!”
“I can’t, Joe!” I shouted, staring at the handle in my hand. “I can’t!”
ROUGH SEAS
12
JOE
IN A PANIC, FRANK FUMBLED TO POP THE THROTTLE back in, only to watch it pop out again.
“Turn around!” I started yelling at the jet skier. “Turn around!”
By now I was standing up in the boat, my head spinning. We were either going to crash into the Jet Ski or into some trees on the opposite bank. Just as I was about to brace for the worst, I remembered another way to stop.
“The key!” I shouted.
My hand jutted out and turned the ignition key. The boat sputtering to a stop was like music to my ears. I could hear Frank heave a sigh as he slumped back on the seat.
The jet skier zoomed past us, just a few feet away. “When are you going to learn how to drive?” she shouted above the whirring engine.
“When you learn how to turn that thing around!” I shouted back angrily.
“I think I’m going to barf,” Frank groaned slowly.
Picking up the fallen throttle, I shook my head. “I hope the Peytons get a refund on this hunk of junk.”
“I don’t get it,” Frank said. “How could a boat that must have cost hundreds of thousands of dollars fall apart like some kid’s toy?”
“Whatever happened, we’d better find a way to put this thing back where it belongs so we can get back to the dock!” I said.
As I leaned over to check the throttle, something caught my eye. On the floor of the boat, tucked deep under the dashboard, were a bunch of loose screws and a screwdriver.
Picking up one of the screws, I sized it up with the throttle. A perfect fit!
“Something tells me this wasn’t an accident, Frank,” I said.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Are you saying someone unscrewed the throttle before we got into the boat?”
“It’s possible,” I said.
“But I used the throttle to cast off,” Frank said.
We studied the throttle. The most likely explanation was that only part of it had been unscrewed before we got into the boat. It would have been just a matter of time before the whole thing would pop off—which it had.
“Looks like somebody was trying to hurt the Peytons,” I said. “Or us.”
“Us?” Frank repeated.
“The Scaredevils already got to us,” I said. “The fire, the rock through the window . . .”
“How would they know we were going boating?” Frank asked. “The only one who knew was Sierra, and we know she isn’t a Scaredevil.”
Maybe not. But something about Sierra was starting to feel sketchy to me. Like, why had she invited Frank out at the last minute the night of the fire? And why had she invited both of us boating when the boat was unsafe?
Frank must have noticed me deep in thought, because he raised his eyebrow and said, “What?”
“Nothing,” I said. “Let’s just fix this thing so we can get back.”
“Yeah,” Frank said. “Sierra’s probably wondering where we are.”
We used the screwdriver to reattach the throttle handle. When we were sure it was safe, Frank turned the boat around and drove toward the dock—slowly this time!
“I think I know how this happened,” Frank said as the boat bounced over the rippling currents.
“How?” I asked.
“The Peytons could have had someone working on the boat before we took it out,” Frank explained. “Sierra might not have even known it.”
“Didn’t she say she took the boat out yesterday afternoon?” I reminded. “She didn’t mention anything being wrong with it then.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Someone could have noticed the problem this morning,” he said.
“Right,” I murmured, but I didn’t buy it. The whole thing smelled of sabotage to me, but Frank was way too in love to get a whiff.
As the boat approached shore I could see Sierra, waving both hands in the air.
“Are you guys okay?” Sierra called out. “It looked like you were fixing something on the boat!”
Frank nodded as we climbed out onto the dock. “We’re fine,” he said. “We just had a little . . . mechanical difficulty.”
“Mechanical difficulty,” I muttered. “Yeah, you could say that.”
I got a hard glare from Frank, telling me to shut up. He then smiled at Sierra and said, “Did you finish your work? That order you had to call in?”
She nodded and said, “I got the extra flowers we needed.”
“Flowers?” I said, tilting my head. “I thought you had to order a limo for the band.”
Sierra blinked fast before saying, “I did. Then I got a text from my boss telling me to order more flowers.”
I frowned. Was she lying to us?
“Where’s Mr. Peyton?” I asked.
“Why do you want to know?” Sierra asked.
“I want to tell him somebody messed with his boat, that’s why,” I said.
“You don’t have to tell Mr. Peyton,” Sierra blurted out.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Joe . . . ,” Frank started to say.
“Because while I was inside, I found out there was a problem with the boat,” Sierra said. “I tried to stop you from going out, but it was too late.”
“Who told you about the boat?” I asked.
“Joe, will you quit it?” Frank snapped. “She’s trying to explain what happened.”
Sierra glared at me. “Why does it matter who told me?” she demanded. “You wouldn’t know him anyway.”
“So introduce us!” I said with a shrug.
“You don’t believe me, do you?” Sierra demanded. “What do you think—that I messed with the boat?”
“Forget it, Sierra,” Frank said gently. “Joe is just shaken up from the whole thing.”
“Shaken up?” I cried.
“This boating idea was a bad one, Frank,” Sierra said. “I’m sorry I suggested it.”
“No, it was a great idea!” Frank said. “Maybe we can do it another time?”
“Yeah, like when the boat’s safe?” I added, before Frank gave me a shove.
“We’ll definitely do it another time,” Sierra said directly to Frank. “But just the two of us, okay?”
Without looking at me, Sierra turned to walk back to the house.
“Okay, what was that all about?” Frank demanded.
I waited until Sierra was back inside before saying, “You tell me, Frank. Are you so into Sierra you refuse to call her out on her stuff?”
“What stuff?” Frank cried. “She told us
the boat was busted before we got in.”
“I’m not sure I buy it,” I admitted. “And I’m starting to have bad feelings about Sierra, Frank. Sorry, but I do.”
“Yeah, well, I have feelings for her too,” Frank said. “And FYI, they’re all good.”
“Does that mean you’re not buying my sabotage theory?” I asked. “Any of it?”
“Only if the Scaredevils knew we were going boating,” Frank said. “And I can’t imagine how they would.”
“That’s why we’re going to track down Colin,” I insisted. “I don’t care if he’s with his friends or his great-grandmother—we’re going to question him until he’s blue in the face.”
I could see Frank was disappointed as we walked back to the car. But just as he started unlocking the car door, he got a text.
“Who’s it from?” I asked.
Frank’s eyes widened as he read the message. “It’s from Chet,” he said. “He wants us to come over ASAP.”
“Did he say why?” I asked.
“It’s the Scaredevils,” Frank said, looking up from the phone. “They got to Iola.”
TWISTS AND TURNS
13
FRANK
IT WAS HARD NOT TO GO OVER THE SPEED LIMIT as Joe and I drove to Chet’s house. The text hadn’t explained what had happened to Iola, so we could only think the worst.
“Why would the Scaredevils want to do something to Iola?” Joe asked as I careened into the Mortons’ driveway.
“Because she’s our friend?” was all I could guess. “And any friend of ours is probably an enemy of theirs.”
Chet was already at the door as we raced up to the house. “Hey,” he said.
“How’s Iola?” I asked.
“She’s in the living room,” Chet said, opening the door wider to let us inside. “See for yourselves.”
Joe and I headed down the hallway. We turned into the living room to see Iola sitting on the sofa. She looked okay, but was she really?
“Hi,” Iola said, looking up from a magazine she was reading.
“Just hi?” Joe asked. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Iola sighed. “I’m fine.”
“She thinks it’s nothing,” Chet said. “But Iola was in a fight.”
Iola rolled her eyes. “Almost a fight, Chet,” she said. “Will you stop being the overprotective big brother and give me some space?”
“Tell us what happened!” I urged Chet.
Chet turned to us, his face grim. “Some girls wearing blue bandannas over their faces started picking on Iola as she was walking home from her friend’s house,” he explained.
“What did they do to you?” I asked Iola.
“It didn’t go anywhere,” Iola explained. “Even though half their faces were covered, I recognized two of them from school. When I called them out, they turned and ran away.”
“Good thing,” Chet said.
“Do you know where they went?” Joe asked.
Iola shrugged and said, “Up the block, then around the corner.”
I was still trying to process the whole thing. “I didn’t know girls were in the Scaredevils,” I said.
“I guess they need the money too,” Joe said. He shook his head. “Man, whatever happened to flipping burgers and babysitting?”
The money made me think of the Scaredevils’ benefactor—Colin Sylvester.
“Was anyone else there?” I asked Iola. “Any guys?”
“No,” Iola said, but quickly added, “Yes . . . well, maybe.”
“Jeez, Iola!” Chet complained. “Is it yes, no, or maybe so?”
“I’m not sure,” Iola said. “There was a black car parked on the block. After the girls ran off, the car took off too, practically speeding.”
“Could you see who was inside?” Joe asked.
“No, but I remember his plate,” Iola said. “It said something like Awesome . . .”
“Awesome Dude!” I declared. “Better known as Colin Sylvester.”
“Him?” Iola wrinkled her nose. “That creep was in the car watching us all that time? Eww.”
“I’ll bet he taped the whole thing too,” Joe said. “It’s probably gone viral by now.”
“But nothing happened,” Iola said.
Chet was already on the computer, browsing YouTube. He held it up and said, “Here it is. Slickbro13’s latest viral venture.”
“Slickbro13 . . . Awesome Dude?” Iola scoffed. “The guy obviously has no self-esteem issues.”
We huddled around the computer to check out the video. Colin’s shaky camera caught the Scaredevils approaching Iola, but ended right before they bolted.
“There’s no audio on this one,” Joe pointed out.
“No surprise,” Iola said. “I said the girls’ names—Amy and Desiree.”
“It’s a good thing you did,” Chet said. “Who knows what could have happened if you didn’t recognize them?”
Iola patted Chet’s shoulder. “Thank you for your concern, big brother,” she said. “But I’m okay. Really.”
We were all glad Iola was okay. But the thought of Colin pitting his gang against our friends made me want to hunt him down even more. How could we even think of going boating when he was still on the loose?
“Tonight we find Mr. Awesome Dude,” I told Joe. “Once and for all.”
“Tonight?” Joe exclaimed. “Why don’t we go to his house right now?”
“Because we promised Dad we’d help him fix up the garage for a bit, remember?” I reminded him. “And tonight is Saturday night. Everyone will be out, especially the Scaredevils. And where there’re Scaredevils, there’s Colin.”
Joe nodded thoughtfully. “Tonight could be the night Colin carries out his big plan,” he said.
“Yeah, well, we have a plan too,” I said, glaring at the YouTube clip on Chet’s computer.
• • •
Fixing up our fire-wrecked garage was grueling work, and it would take more than a few hours to finish the job. By the time we stopped for the day, Joe and I were ready to take on another wreck—Colin Sylvester!
But first . . . we had to be excused from dinner.
“What do you mean, you won’t be home for dinner?” Mom asked. “Your dad is grilling some steaks.”
“Save us some leftovers, please,” Joe said. “We’ll be hungry when we get back.”
The last thing we wanted to do was worry Mom or Dad with the details. All we wanted to do was wait outside the Sylvester home for Colin. As soon as his car left the house, we wouldn’t be too far behind.
“I’m getting hungry,” Joe said after about an hour of watching for Colin. “Maybe we should have taken some food for the road. Steak for a stakeout . . . get it?”
“Got it,” I groaned as I slumped back on the seat. My eyes burned from looking for Colin in the dark. “Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.”
My phone beeped. Another text from Chet. Had the Scaredevils come back for Iola? Or for him? But when I read his message, it was good news, or at least helpful.
“Chet said he just spotted Colin’s car parked at the Cineplex,” I said, sitting up straight again. “The Awesome Dude plate gave it away.”
“Perfect!” Joe said with a grin. “I’d rather stake him out at the movies than here.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked.
“Three words,” Joe said. “Take-out food!”
Awesome Dude’s black Benz was still parked at the Cineplex when we arrived. We were able to find a spot close to Colin’s car but not close enough for him to see us waiting.
“I wonder what movie Colin is seeing,” I said.
“Probably one that makes him laugh,” Joe said with a smirk. “Like a slasher movie.”
Joe browsed his tablet for movie times. “The next movie ends in forty-five minutes,” he said. “Plenty of time to grab some grub.”
My stomach was starting to growl too, so we left the car for the Stop and Snack. The convenience store did a good bus
iness, being right next to the Cineplex. It was owned by Bruce and Sheila Davis, a cool couple who were there most of the twenty-four hours it was open.
But as Joe and I walked inside, something felt and looked different. The place wasn’t packed with the usual moviegoers. It was just Bruce, Sheila, and two police officers.
Sheila saw us and waved. “Come on in, guys,” she called. “Everything’s back on the shelves now. We’re taking customers again.”
“Back on the shelves?” Joe murmured as we stepped inside. “That doesn’t sound good.”
The police officers walked past Joe and me on their way out of the store.
“What do you mean, you’re taking customers again?” I asked the Davises. “What happened?”
“Ah, some crazy kids were in here a couple of hours ago,” Bruce said. “They were running up and down the aisles and knocking stuff off the shelves.”
“No way!” I gasped. A few hours ago it was still light out. If it was the Scaredevils, they were getting bold.
“Were they wearing blue bandannas?” Joe asked. “Over their faces?”
“Yeah,” Bruce said. He raised an eyebrow. “How did you guys know?”
“It’s the same gang that’s been trashing Bayport the last few weeks,” I explained.
“I know all about those pranks,” Sheila said, shaking her head. “I’m sure the cops are working hard, but when are they going to catch those punks?”
“Probably when they catch the ringleader,” I replied.
As we walked over to the pretzels and chips Joe whispered, “You mean when we catch the ringleader.”
We bought a medium-size bag of honey-mustard pretzels and two cold lemonades. As we walked back to the parking lot, Joe suddenly said, “Frank—over there!”
Joe’s hands were full, so he pointed with his elbow. I turned to see Colin walking away from the Cineplex, his arm around a girl.
“I guess he didn’t stay for the credits,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Come on. Let’s let him know we’re here.”
Colin was already in the car as we got near.
“Spare me,” I groaned. “Colin and his girl are kissing.”
Joe’s eyes suddenly grew wide.
“What?” I asked.
Mystery of the Phantom Heist Page 8
