by Stuart Gibbs
I made a mental note to try to find out when Jeb had signed up for the dig. If he had done it after meeting Harper in Florida, that might have been suspicious. Perhaps Harper had heard about the skeleton and asked Jeb to go check it out.
I wondered why Jeb had taken off so suddenly and where he might have gone. Had he really been scouting the dinosaur for Harper and become worried that we were onto him? Was he even more closely connected to the theft, and fleeing the scene before we figured it out? Or was there another, less incriminating reason?
That was about as far as I could go with Jeb, so I turned my attention to the other members of the dig.
Since the dig was a secret, the full names and contact information of everyone on it weren’t available online. I really only knew how to locate one person: Dr. Ellen Chen.
I found her on the University of Texas faculty website. There was a photo of her out on another dig, in virtually the same clothes she had been wearing that day: jeans, a long-sleeved button-down shirt, work boots, and a floppy hat. Since it was a sunny day in the photo, she was also wearing sunglasses. She was kneeling by some bones protruding from the ground and examining them. The photo caption said she was directing the excavation of a predator called a tarbosaurus in Mongolia. It had been taken eight years earlier. Apparently, the University of Texas didn’t update its faculty photos very often.
Dr. Chen’s official university biography was surprisingly brief. All it said was that she was from San Francisco, had gone to the University of Texas for undergrad and graduate school, and now specialized in therapod dinosaurs. I had to look up what “therapod” meant.
It turned out to be the suborder of dinosaurs that included tyrannosaurs—as well as the spinosaurus, the giganotosaurus and the tarbosaurus, which was regarded as the tyrannosaur of Asia. I googled the tarbosaurus. It looked an awful lot like a tyrannosaur. So did the giganotosaurus, although the spinosaurus was bizarre. It had a skinnier body with a large frill down its back and a long, thin snout full of sharp teeth, making it look vaguely like someone had mated a crocodile with a duck.
My phone rang. According to the caller ID, it was Summer, wanting to video-chat. I answered it quickly. “Hey! How are you?”
“Clean, thank goodness.” She was in the back of her car, wearing a new shirt and shorts.
“Me too.”
“So, have you done any more investigating into this stolen dinosaur?”
“A lot.” I gave her the lowdown on everything that had happened after we had split up, except for the part about Officer Brewster suspecting her father, which I knew would only upset her. Besides, if Dad was right and Brewster was only telling me so that I’d tip Summer off and provoke a response from J.J., I wanted to do the exact opposite.
It took quite a while to share all the rest of the information, as Summer rarely let me say more than a sentence without interrupting to express surprise or ask a question. It was never annoying, though, because Summer really listened carefully, and her questions tended to be good ones. When I finally wrapped up with an explanation of what I had found about Jeb Weems and Dr. Chen online, Summer thought for a few seconds, then said, “I think we need to go back out to the dig site. With Sheriff Esquivel and all those people there today, we didn’t really get a chance to look around. I’ll bet there’s still a clue or two out there.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I don’t think the police did much snooping themselves.”
“Can you reach out to Sage and see if we can visit again?”
“Sure. Hold on.” I switched from video-chat to messaging, although I hesitated for a moment before sending the text.
“This won’t be dangerous,” Summer said, sensing my trepidation.
“It could be,” I argued. “What if whoever stole the skull wants more of Minerva? They might come back.”
“The skull’s the most important piece—and they were lucky to get it out of there. There’s no way they’re going to tempt fate by coming back for some crummy old ribs.”
“I guess.” I texted Sage, asking him if we could come by again, then shifted back to the video. “Done.”
“Good. Now here’s where we are with the anaconda investigation…”
“We?” I repeated, surprised. “I didn’t agree to investigating the Barksdales.”
“I’m not talking about you. You’re not the only person around here who can investigate a crime. While you were busy with the dinosaur, I called Violet and asked for her help.”
Violet Grace was one of our friends from school, the head cheerleader and a classmate of Summer’s. “You dragged Violet into this?” I asked.
“I didn’t drag her. She’s excited to do it. We’re going to do exactly what you suggested: visit the Barksdales and question them about where they got the snake.”
“I didn’t suggest that,” I reminded her. “Xavier did.”
“Well, it’s still a good plan. When Violet called the Barksdales and told them she’d heard they had a new anaconda, they invited her over in like two seconds.”
“She already called them?!”
“I told you she was excited. I’m going too, so I can help with the questioning.”
“I don’t like this,” I said. “The Barksdales are bad news.”
“That’s why I need you to come,” Summer told me. “And Dashiell and Ethan too. You guys can all hide outside. Violet and I will call you before we go in and you can simply eavesdrop over the phone. If anything goes wrong, you can be our backup.”
I swallowed hard, thinking about that. If Tim and Jim Barksdale wanted to cause trouble, there wasn’t much I would be able to do about it. Dashiell and Ethan would be much more help. They were star athletes at school and pretty much the only people Tim and Jim were afraid of. Plus, both Dashiell and Ethan had gone through growth spurts recently. They were significantly taller and more muscular than they’d been when I had met them six months earlier. And yet, I still was concerned. “Maybe we should leave this to the authorities…”
“We’ve already tried that. Have you heard anything from Tommy Lopez or the FunJungle reptile guys?”
“The reptile guys said they were going to visit the Barksdales,” I reported. “But I don’t know what happened—or if they’ve even gone yet. We haven’t given them much time and I’m sure they have other things to do…”
“For all we know, it could take weeks for the adults to do anything. We can learn where the Barksdales got the anaconda today. They’re expecting us in half an hour.”
“That soon?!” I exclaimed.
“Yes. What were we supposed to do, wait until tomorrow?”
“Yes! Or maybe never go over there. The Barksdales are psychos.”
“Well, we’re going. With or without you. So are you in or out?”
I weighed my options. I didn’t like this plan much, but I knew Summer was going to go ahead with or without me. I didn’t want her to end up in danger. I wasn’t sure if I could handle the Barksdales, but if anything went wrong with the anaconda, I knew a thing or two about snakes.
“Okay,” I said. “I’m in.”
“Good. Because I’m here.” Summer turned her phone around to reveal that the car was approaching the front gates of FunJungle. “So come meet me. We have a case to solve.”
10 THE STING
We ended up getting to the Barksdales’ later than Summer had hoped, because I had to call my parents to let them know I was leaving the park—and as I was about to do that, Sage texted back. He was thrilled that I wanted to visit the dig site again, and he suggested that we make up for our failed attempt to camp out the night before and camp by the dig that night. I told him that I was about to see Summer and Violet, and maybe Dashiell and Ethan too, and he said everyone could come if they wanted; obviously, there was plenty of room to camp on the ranch.
So then I had to ask my parents if it was okay to camp out at Sage’s. I had thought they might balk at the idea, but they were okay with it. In fact, Dad was extremely enthusias
tic; I think he wanted to find out what had happened to Minerva even more than I did. Still, that meant I had to go back to my trailer to pack clothes for the next day, and then we had to go collect Violet. By the time we arrived at the Barksdales’, it was half an hour after Summer had said she and Violet would be there.
The Barksdales lived in a small house a quarter mile from our middle school, on the outskirts of town. It had been Tim and Jim’s grandparents’ house and had passed down to their family. At one point, it had probably been kind of nice, but the Barksdales hadn’t taken very good care of it. This was partly due to laziness, but also because the Barksdale parents had trouble holding jobs. They were renowned throughout town as troublemakers—and had been since they had been in high school—so the local business owners were wary of hiring them to do anything that required skill or morals. The Barksdales eked out a living by doing sporadic work like digging ditches and stringing up barbed-wire fences, and they hunted for meat to eat as well. (You were allowed to hunt for sustenance if you followed certain laws, although it was suspected that the Barksdales often violated them.)
Thus, the Barksdale home wasn’t in good shape. The front porch sagged, several windows were patched with duct tape, and the chimney tilted at a precarious angle. The front yard was merely a weed patch strewn with broken appliances. I could only guess why the appliances were there: Maybe the Barksdales had bought them for spare parts, or had attempted to repair them and failed, or had broken them and never got around to hauling them to the dump. Eventually, someone had used them for target practice. There were two washers and dryers, a stove, an ancient television, and a stack of microwaves, all perforated with bullet holes.
However, the Barksdales’ pickup truck was in perfect condition. It seemed to be the only thing they had spent any money on. It wasn’t new, but unlike the house, it was lovingly cared for, recently washed, and even polished since that day’s rainstorm. It had a large crew cab with a back seat, and like many pickups in central Texas, it was jacked up to accommodate oversize tires, which would allow for better four-wheeling.
Behind the house was a decrepit chain-link dog run. Three mangy dogs paced back and forth in it, barking and snarling as our car approached. They reared up on their hind legs and placed their front feet on the fence, looking like they wanted to climb over and rip our throats out. I had rarely ever met an animal I didn’t like, but the Barksdale dogs instantly put me on edge.
Dashiell and Ethan were later than we were.
They had agreed to come help with the sting; they were always happy to do anything that could result in causing trouble for the Barksdales. The plan was for them to hide with me in Summer’s car while the girls went inside, but as Tran parked in front of the Barksdale home, Dash texted to say they were running behind. Ethan’s older brother had volunteered to drive them over, but he hadn’t shown up to get them yet.
“We have to wait for them,” I said.
“I don’t think we can,” Summer told me. “The Barksdales know we’re here.”
Sure enough, the dogs had tipped them off. Tim and Jim emerged onto the sagging porch. To my surprise, it appeared that they had tried to dress up for the girls. Normally, the boys wore almost nothing but camouflage hunting gear or clothes from the army surplus store, but both had put on polo shirts and slacks and even combed their hair. They looked to Summer’s car a bit too eagerly, indicating that they had been waiting impatiently for the girls to arrive.
“Look at them,” Violet said. “They actually think this is, like, a double date. Like we’d ever forget how awfully they’ve behaved.”
Summer dialed my phone with hers. “I’m going to leave my phone on speaker,” she said, “So that you can hear everything. Just don’t make any noise.”
I ignored the ringing. “You can’t go in before the other guys get here! What if you end up in trouble? I can’t beat up the Barksdales!”
“You won’t have to,” Violet assured me. “These guys are going to be putty in our hands.”
“We’ll be fine,” Summer said. “If there’s any trouble, Tran’s here to back us up too.” She looked to her driver. “Right?”
“Sure,” Tran replied. He was already opening his book to start reading and didn’t seem nearly as concerned as I was.
Summer returned her attention to me. “See? Nothing to worry about. So answer your dang phone.”
I did. Summer then got on her phone, even though she was sitting right next to me. “Agent McCracken ready for action. Do you copy?”
“I copy,” I said.
“Good.” Summer gave me a kiss on the cheek. “Now hide so they don’t see you when we get out.”
I slumped behind the driver’s seat. Summer tucked her phone into her pocket and both girls climbed out of the car.
The Barksdales grinned expectantly. Until recently, the two of them had been indistinguishable from each other, but Tim had developed a virulent case of acne that he made worse by scratching until it became infected, so his face was now as scaly and red as that of a Gila monster. He made a last-ditch attempt to smooth his cowlick into place while Jim waved to the girls and spoke as cordially as he could manage. “Hey, ladies! What took you so long?”
“Sorry,” Summer said. “We got stuck in traffic.” Her voice was muffled, since her phone was in her pocket, but the system still worked decently.
I sat up again and peeked through the window. I figured this was safe, as the glass was darkly tinted, and I was pretty sure the Barksdales’ attention would be riveted to the girls anyhow.
Summer and Violet wound their way through the obstacle course of bullet-pocked appliances, acting like this was a perfectly normal thing to have in one’s front yard.
“Thanks for having us over!” Violet said. “I’m really excited to see this snake of yours!”
“Oh, we’ve got plenty more to show you than that.” Tim held open the door to the house.
“More?” Summer asked, intrigued. “Like what?”
“Wait and see.” Tim grinned knowingly at Jim as the girls passed between them. Then the boys followed them into the house and shut the door.
The moment the girls were out of my sight, I grew nervous. I didn’t like the idea of them being inside the Barksdales’ house at all. I glanced down the street, hoping to see Dashiell and Ethan arriving, even though I knew they were still probably several minutes away at best.
Another voice came through the phone. It was extremely faint, as whoever was speaking seemed to be at the far end of the house from Summer. “Tim! Jim! Who’s here with you?”
“Just some girls from school, Mom!” That voice was much clearer, as it was closer to Summer, although I couldn’t tell if it was Tim or Jim.
“Girls?” another distant voice asked. Pa Barksdale. “What girls?”
I grew even more nervous. I had forgotten that the Barksdale parents’ sporadic employment meant they might be home in the middle of a workday. While most adults could have been counted on to curb their children’s bad behavior, the Barksdale parents were prone to behaving badly themselves.
“Summer and Violet,” Tim or Jim answered quickly, like they didn’t want to deal with their parents.
“Your father and I are going out!” Ma Barksdale yelled. “You know I don’t like you having strangers in the house when we’re not home!”
“They won’t be here long, I promise!” Tim or Jim yelled back. “They only came by to see our new pets!”
There was the sound of a door opening, followed by a startled cry from Violet. “What is that?”
“A baby alligator,” Tim or Jim said proudly.
That got Tran’s attention. He set his book down. “Those morons have an alligator?”
“Ain’t it cool?” Tim or Jim asked.
“So cool,” Summer replied, although it sounded like she was trying hard to sell this. “Can I take a video of it?”
“Sure!” Tim or Jim said.
A few seconds later, I got a notice that Summe
r wanted to switch to a video call. I realized what she was doing; she was only pretending to film while actually allowing me to see what was going on. I had to smile; my girlfriend was awfully clever.
I accepted the call, and suddenly, I had a handheld view of the Barksdales’ bathroom. It was as rundown as the rest of the house, with chipped tile, rust stains, and a shower curtain that was black with mold. But Summer was directing my attention toward the bathtub, which was half-full of water and had a young alligator submerged in it.
It was hard to judge its size on the phone, but it seemed to be about eight inches long and was black with yellow stripes. It was so delicate, it looked more like a toy than a live animal.
I snapped a few photos of it from the video call, in case we needed them as evidence.
“It’s so cute!” Violet said, despite herself.
“Her name’s Snappy!” Tim or Jim said, and the camera shifted to them.
“Want to feed her?” Jim asked. “She eats hot dogs. She’ll jump up and take them right out of your hand.” He held up his hand, and I saw that three of his four fingers had Band-Aids on them, indicating that the baby alligator might have taken bits of fingertip along with the hot dogs he’d been feeding it.
“Where’d you get her?” Summer asked.
“It’s a secret,” Jim said.
“Awww,” Summer said, in her coyest voice. “C’mon. You don’t have to keep secrets from us.”
“All right,” Tim said. “We got it from—”
Jim punched him in the arm before he could finish. “Dude! We said we’d keep it a secret!”
Tim punched him back. “Don’t hit me!”
“Then don’t go blabbing our secrets!” Jim punched him again.
Tim then slugged his brother in the jaw.
Suddenly, the Barksdale boys were in a full-on fight, trying to throttle each other in the tiny bathroom. The camera shook as Summer and Violet scrambled out of the way, obscuring my view of everything.
