The crate and the railroad ties were under the window where she and Joan had left them. She wished Joan was with her now, but since Mrs. Trelawny had forbade Joan to go inside the shaft house, Katie hadn’t invited her along. Katie climbed onto the crate with care, knowing that if she fell this time there would be no one to help her. When she stood up on the ties and leaned through the window, she realized she was trembling.
The shaft house was lighter than it had been yesterday. The ore car rested against the gate. Katie studied the shadowy corner beyond the shaft, but there was no sign of May Nichols’s white face and shining hair.
Might as well get it over with. Gritting her teeth, Katie swung her legs over the windowsill and dropped to the crate on the other side. Her ankle twinged. Cautiously she stepped down to the floor.
The cool damp of the big room wrapped itself around her. There were small scratchings behind the boxes and scrap iron that lined the walls, and when she stopped to listen she heard the sound the wind made as it moved the machinery at the top of the shaft. On tiptoe, she crossed to the ore car.
There could be something—or someone—inside it. She fought a wave of panic. If knackers existed, one could be waiting there for some silly girl to come here all by herself. He could leap up and grab her—
She looked into the car and felt better. It was empty. No, not quite empty. Something lay at the bottom—a small boxlike object.
It was a tape player.
Katie blinked, half expecting the object to vanish. Then she climbed into the car and crouched on the bottom. The tape player was real. It was, in fact, one that she’d seen many times before.
She pressed the PLAY button, and the sound of whirring tape whispered from the machine. She switched to REWIND, then started the tape again.
“Help us! Save us! Get us out of here!”
Katie shuddered and stopped the tape. The cries were terrifying even now, when she knew it wasn’t knackers shrieking from the bottom of the shaft. She snatched up the player and scrambled from the car.
Tears of rage blurred her eyes as she scrambled up on the crate and struggled through the open window. The ties teetered underfoot, and she forced herself to move more slowly. But when she was safely on the ground again, she began to run, the sore ankle forgotten.
“I hate him! I hate him! And he’s going to be sorry!” She tore around the side of the shaft house just as Jay appeared at the other end of the building.
They stared at each other.
“I hate you!” Katie screamed. “You’re just—just gross! I s’pose you came back for this.” She lifted the tape player over her head and threw it with all her might.
“Hey!” Jay lunged forward, but Katie reached the spot where it had fallen first and stood over it, her fists clenched.
“I hope it’s wrecked!” she roared. “Then you can’t use it again to play mean, nasty tricks on people. I bet you thought it was really funny when I darned near broke my ankle!”
Jay stepped back. “It was just a joke,” he protested. “Where’s your sense of humor? You said you were going to hunt for knackers or whatever you call ’em, and we just thought—”
“We!” Katie cringed. It was even worse than she’d thought. “You and—and that awful Poldeen! That big nothing was there laughing at us, too. Oh, I think you’re the meanest, low-downest—you know what?” She felt as if she might explode into a million tiny pieces. “I actually wanted you for my brother, Jay Blaine. I thought you were neat. Well, that was the dumbest idea I ever had. You can go back to Milwaukee tomorrow, as far as I’m concerned. I hope you do. I hope I never see you again!”
She kicked the tape player out of her way and stalked past him. She’d surprised herself with the depth of her anger. It was as if all the harsh words she’d been holding back for months had come flying out when she pictured Jay and Skip Poldeen laughing at her and Joan.
She whirled suddenly and faced Jay, who had been following at a safe distance. “Where were you yesterday, anyway?” she demanded. “You couldn’t have climbed into the cage! Even you wouldn’t have been dumb enough to do that.”
“I was hiding on the other side of the ore car,” Jay muttered.
“And that whole story about going to Tuesday Lake was a lie?”
“No, it wasn’t. I hiked out there in the morning, but the swimming was no good so I came back early. I ran into Skip, and we sat around shooting the breeze for a while. I told him you and Joan were going to the shaft house to look for knackers, and he said we ought to go there, too. He doesn’t like Joan—she puts him down all the time.” Jay paused. “The tape was my idea, not his.”
Katie walked on. “I wouldn’t be proud of that.”
“I’m not. But I didn’t mean to scare you that much. I thought you’d guess it was a joke.”
Katie wondered if he was as sorry as he sounded. She hoped so.
“I even thought maybe you’d catch on right away and climb inside to look around. That’s why I made the ore car move.”
“You and your buddy Skip,” Katie said bitterly.
“Skip was outside. He moved the crate away from the window after I climbed in, so you wouldn’t know anyone else was there. He was hiding behind one of the other buildings.… What’re you doing?”
They had reached the meadow, and Katie plunged off the path. “I’m picking wildflowers, obviously. I said I was going to pick ’em, and I’m doing it.”
“So you told a sort of lie, too,” Jay reminded her, but without his usual bite. “You didn’t want your mother to know you were going to the shaft house—”
“Oh, be quiet!” She wished he’d go away. Instead he just stood in the tall grass watching her, the remains of the shattered tape player dangling from one hand.
“Katie, I want to tell you something. If you knew—”
“I know all I want to know,” Katie snapped. “I don’t want to hear about how Skip Poldeen is really a good kid and I don’t have a sense of humor and nobody loves poor you. Just leave me alone!” She turned her back and snatched handfuls of daisies.
“It wasn’t any of those things,” Jay said. “But I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. Who cares, anyway?”
When she looked again, he was nearly to the road that led into the woods. His shoulders were hunched, and he walked fast, almost but not quite running.
I guess I told him! she thought with satisfaction. She turned back to the wildflowers and tugged at a stubborn stalk of Queen Anne’s lace till it came out of the ground, roots and all.
Chapter Fourteen
“He’s gone! He’s been gone all night. His bed hasn’t been slept in!” Mrs. Blaine’s face was ashen. She stood in the doorway of Jay’s room, staring at the unwrinkled bed. “He’s never done this before. Oh, Katie, where in the world could he be?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did he say anything to you about running away? He was awfully quiet yesterday, wasn’t he? Even more so than usual.”
“He didn’t say he was going to run away last night.” But I said plenty to him, Katie thought as she turned away to hide her expression. Jay was probably on his way back to Milwaukee. She’d have to tell her mother he’d been threatening to go ever since they arrived in Newquay. And she’d have to tell her about yesterday’s fight, too.
“Well, I’m going to call the sheriff.” Mrs. Blaine started for the stairs. “And I’m going to call that Poldeen person, too. If they went off somewhere on the motorcycle and had an accident—”
Uncle Frank stood in the parlor arch waiting for them. “What’s ’appened?” he demanded. “Somethin’ wrong with the boy, is it?”
“He’s been out all night.” Katie realized her mother was crying and attempting to hide it. “Oh, Uncle Frank, I could kill him for scaring me like this—and yet if he’s lying in a ditch somewhere, I’ll never forgive myself. I honestly don’t know how to handle him! I don’t know what to do next.”
“’Ere, now.” The old man put h
is arms around Mrs. Blaine’s shoulders. “You ’ave a good cup of tay before you do anythin’ else, that’s a good girl. Nothin’ like a cup of tay to make a body feel better.”
Suddenly he was in charge, drawing Mrs. Blaine down the hall past the telephone to the kitchen. Katie followed. It was the first time she’d seen her mother too upset to cope. She’d been strong even when Tom Blaine died, saving her tears for when she was alone.
“You ’eat the kettle, missy,” Uncle Frank ordered. “And put some tay in the pot.”
Katie obeyed while Uncle Frank pressed Mrs. Blaine into a chair. He patted her arm and offered her a wadded handkerchief from his sweater pocket. When the water was boiling, Katie brought the teapot to the table and found cups on the shelf.
“That’s better,” Uncle Frank said. “Drink up now.”
“I should be calling the sheriff.”
“In a bit. You drink your tay first.”
Katie collapsed into a chair. After a moment Uncle Frank sat down, too, and took a noisy sip of tea.
“I have this terrible feeling,” Mrs. Blaine quavered. “I can see Jay hurt—”
“No, you can’t,” Uncle Frank said. “Up to some devilment, I don’t doubt, but that don’t mean ’e’s been ’urt.”
Katie’s mother leaned back and brushed a hand across her eyes. “I am just so tired,” she murmured. “I feel as if I’ve been fighting with him for years, and losing the battle. Maybe I’ve lost it already. I mean, maybe I’ve lost him. The thing is, he isn’t a bad boy”—she looked at Uncle Frank, wanting him to understand—“I know that, even when he drives me crazy. He needs someone more patient than I am, someone who knows more about boys. I get so mad, but it’s only because I’m worried. I love him, for goodness’ sake!”
“Maybe he took the bus back to Milwaukee,” Katie suggested timidly.
“Oh, no!” Her mother was shocked. “Did he say—”
“I’m here.”
They all jumped, and Uncle Frank’s cup rocketed across the table, spilling a stream of tea on the oilcloth. Jay stood on the other side of the screen door. His face was pinched, and lumpy with mosquito bites. His straight blond hair was tousled. He opened the door and came in, his eyes on Mrs. Blaine, a stunned expression on his face. Katie wondered how long he’d been standing there.
“I just meant to go out for a little while last night,” he said. “Sorry about that.”
Mrs. Blaine opened her mouth and closed it. “What happened to your jeans?” she asked, when she’d found her voice.
Jay looked down, as if puzzled by the question. “Oh, yeah,” he mumbled. “I chopped ’em off. Too hot.”
He started across the kitchen toward the hallway, and Mrs. Blaine jumped up. “We were worried to death!” she exclaimed. “I was sure you’d been in an accident.”
“I said I was sorry.” The reply was subdued. “I better clean up.”
“Not till you tell me where you’ve been all night,” Mrs. Blaine insisted. “I want to know.”
“Can’t.” The single word was like a groan. Katie, her mother, and Uncle Frank stared after him as he left the kitchen. Mrs. Blaine sank back into her chair.
“Let it go for now,” Uncle Frank said. He was pale, as if his effort to be reassuring had exhausted him. “I’m goin’ for a nap,” he said.
“Don’t forget your pills,” Mrs. Blaine said automatically, her eyes still on the doorway where Jay had disappeared. “I’m sorry we’ve loaded our troubles on you, Uncle Frank.”
The old man made a dismissing gesture. He squinted down the hall. “Car comin’ across the field,” he said. His footsteps dragged as he went to his bedroom.
Even before she followed her mother to the door, Katie guessed who their visitor would be. Sheriff Hesbruck’s tall frame loomed dark against the morning sun. He nodded a greeting as Mrs. Blaine let him in.
“Your stepson home?”
“Yes—what’s wrong?”
Here it comes, Katie thought. The overwhelming relief she’d felt when Jay returned was dispelled. She heard again the words she’d hurled at him yesterday: I actually wanted you for my brother, Jay Blaine.… That was the dumbest idea I ever had. She’d told him she hated him, and last night he’d sneaked out and done something awful to prove he didn’t care about her or anybody else.
“Want to talk to him about a fire over on the county line road,” the sheriff said. “Happened about midnight.”
“A fire!” Mrs. Blaine gasped. “Jay wouldn’t—”
“I’m not saying he did anything, ma’am,” the sheriff said gently. “But it sure enough was arson—an old abandoned barn burned right down to the foundations.”
“But why do you want to talk to Jay?”
The sheriff shifted from one booted foot to the other. “Same story as last time I was here. Somebody on the county line road thinks they heard a motorcycle about the time the barn went up. I stopped at Poldeens’—Skip hasn’t been home since yesterday afternoon. And your boy’s a friend of Poldeen’s.”
“Was anybody hurt in the fire?” Katie asked.
The sheriff looked up the stairs, as if he knew Jay was there and possibly listening. “Doesn’t make any difference,” he said. “Happens nobody was hurt, but they could have been. Took the whole volunteer fire department to control the fire. And if it had gotten away from them, it could have burned thirty or more acres of crops. A summer’s work for some good men. They would have been hurt plenty!” He moved toward the stairs. “I want to talk to your boy.”
“I’ll call him,” Mrs. Blaine said in a low voice.
Katie felt as if she were suffocating, caught between the sheriff’s accusing words and her mother’s panic. Arson was a real crime—far more serious than breaking into a cottage and taking a can of beans. If Jay was guilty, he could go to jail! Katie slipped around the sheriff and went out on the front porch to think.
The sunlight and bird song seemed out of place, like happy music at a funeral. Katie considered going down the hill to pour out her troubles to Joan, but she didn’t really want to tell anyone what the sheriff suspected. Anyway, it could still all be a mistake. The sound of a motorcycle in the night didn’t mean that Skip Poldeen and Jay had started the fire. But why had Jay looked and sounded so strange if he hadn’t done anything wrong? And if he wasn’t with Skip, where had he been all night? Katie went down the steps and along the road, her head throbbing with painful questions, until she found herself in the leafy tunnel that led through the woods.
Here in the shadows it was warmer, and the air was heavy with the scent of pine. Katie thought about Jay, and about poor, sad May Nichols, and about Uncle Frank’s son, Kenny, and about Uncle Frank himself, who had once been as unhappy as Jay was now. She thought about the bus ride north to Newquay and how she’d dreamed happy dreams of life in Newquay. What a baby I was! She put her head down on her knees and sighed.
Gradually, she became aware of a pungent smell, stronger than the pine fragrance, definitely disturbing. She followed the odor along the road, and when it became very strong she pushed her way through the underbrush. A dark blue bundle lay on the ground, partly hidden by a raspberry bush. It unrolled when she picked it up, and she found herself holding two long denim tubes. Blue-jean legs. The smell of gasoline filled her nostrils.
Katie froze, as if the denim scraps were snakes that might strike out at any moment. She heard the sheriff’s car start up back at the house, and she held her breath as it came across the meadow and into the woods. She wanted to peek out to see if Jay was in the back seat, but she didn’t dare. Long after the sound of the motor faded, she stood where she was, the heavy, sweetish fumes rising around her.
When at last she made her way back to the road, tears were running down her cheeks. At the turn in the road, she came face to face with Jay.
He stopped when he saw what she was holding. “I might have known it,” he said, sounding lost. “Well, you can really get even this time, kid. Just call up the sheriff and tel
l him the great girl detective and spook-hunter has solved his case!”
Chapter Fifteen
Katie looked down at the gasoline-soaked denim she was holding. The smell was very strong. Her stomach felt queasy.
“Why would you set fire to a barn?” she asked. “Why would anybody do that?”
“I didn’t!” Jay snapped. “You won’t believe it now, but that’s the truth. I didn’t have anything to do with the fire.”
“Then how—”
“I took a walk down to Poldeens’ last night after the rest of you were in bed. Skip said he was going for a ride and I could come along if I wanted to. It was great! You don’t know what it’s like to ride a motorcycle. Nobody does, if they haven’t tried it. You’re out there between the road and the sky, and you smell the grass and feel the wind.…” He broke off, red-faced.
“So what happened?”
“We were just coasting along, and all of a sudden Skip turned onto a side road and pulled up in front of a barn. He took a can of gasoline out of the trunk on the back of the cycle, and he said we were going to have a bonfire. I thought he was kidding at first. Then I tried to stop him, but he told me to shut up. He said the barn was just an old wreck, but it had some hay stored in it and it would make a terrific fire. I tried to grab the can, and some of the gas splashed on my jeans. Skip lit a match”—Katie gasped—“and he said if I didn’t back off I could be part of the bonfire, it was all the same to him.” Jay’s color faded as he repeated the ugly words. “I thought we were friends, but … anyway, I got out of there fast. I looked back once and saw the fire, and after that I cut across fields because I knew the fire department would be coming. When I got back here, I chopped off the jeans with my knife because the gas smell was so strong.”
“You walked back?” Katie remembered the exhausted, insect-bitten face that had looked in at them through the screen door a couple of hours before. “How could you find your way in the dark?”
Ghosts Beneath Our Feet Page 8
