“Giving up showing doesn’t mean giving up horses, does it?” I asked.
“That’s exactly what I’ve been thinking,” Payton said. “I think I’m going to take a break from competition and try just riding for fun for a while. See if I can remember what I used to love about it.”
She hit the turn signal. There was no intersection in sight—just an unmarked gravel driveway.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“You’ll see.” She smiled as she spun the wheel to turn into the driveway.
I glanced down the lane. It ended at a cute little red barn. Was Payton planning to start rediscovering the joy of riding right now?
Payton brought the car to a stop near the barn. “Look!” she said.
I looked where she was pointing. My jaw dropped as a gorgeous horse and carriage came into view. A woman I didn’t recognize was holding the reins. Sitting beside her was someone I definitely recognized.
“Ned!” I blurted out.
Payton grinned. “Surprise!”
“What? But I don’t understand . . . ,” I began.
“It’s your anniversary gift,” she explained as we both climbed out of the car. “Dana knows the woman who owns this place. I know I ruined your dinner the other night, and Ned mentioned that it was originally supposed to be a picnic. So I figured I’d help him arrange a nice, romantic makeup picnic today.”
“Oh!” Suddenly something else made a lot more sense. “Wait—was my dad in on this too, by any chance? Was that why he wouldn’t let me leave the house?”
Payton nodded, still grinning. “Don’t worry, she’s definitely surprised,” she called to Ned proudly as we approached the carriage.
“Impressive. It’s not easy to pull one over on River Heights’s greatest young sleuth.” Ned winked at her.
I laughed. “Yeah, you got me,” I admitted. “And I love it!”
Payton stepped over to pat the horse, a stocky palomino with a sweet face. “Well, what are you waiting for, Nancy? Your carriage awaits!”
“Thanks, Payton.” I smiled at her, glad to see real happiness in her face as she patted the horse. I hoped she would be able to rediscover the joy in riding—and maybe even in showing. Considering some of the characters I’d met over the past few days, I had a feeling the show circuit needed as many people like her as possible.
But I wasn’t going to focus on that right now. I took the hand Ned was offering me, climbing up into the carriage.
“Ready to ride off into the sunset with me?” Ned asked, squeezing my hand. “Or at least the midday sun?”
I squeezed back. “I’m ready.”
Dear Diary
* * *
* * *
* * *
POOR PEYTON.
The pressure she was under to perform and be number one was too much for her. It would have been too much for anybody, really. It’s too bad she just couldn’t talk to her parents and tell them how she truly felt.
But harming Midnight sure wasn’t the answer.
Hurting anybody—or anything—never is.
* * *
* * *
READ WHAT HAPPENS IN THE NEXT MYSTERY IN THE NANCY DREW DIARIES,
Once Upon a Thriller
AS WE HEADED OUT TO THE CAR, GEORGE and I quickly filled Bess in on what she had missed.
“Weird!” Bess exclaimed. “What do you think ‘nine-one-fourteen’ means?”
“I don’t know,” I replied. “Some sort of a code? A date?”
“September first, 2014,” George stated matter-of-factly.
“Could be,” I mused.
We drove back to the cabin in silence, mulling it over. Then we unloaded our groceries and put everything in the fridge, put on our bathing suits, shorts, and tank tops, and headed outside. Bess unlocked the equipment shed near the cabin, and retrieved the paddles while George and I carried the canoe down to the tiny stretch of rocky sand just behind our cabin.
Bess pulled a bright orange life vest over her head, then handed one each to George and me.
“Ugh,” she sighed. “Why do they have to make these so ugly?”
“So they can be spotted in a storm,” I replied simply.
“Thanks, supersleuth,” Bess joked. “It was a rhetorical question, though.”
She squinted at the sky as she donned her life vest. “Speaking of storms, it looks a little dark off in the distance, doesn’t it?” she asked. “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow to take out the canoe.”
She was right—the sky above the horizon was definitely gray. I pulled out my phone to check the weather.
“Well, there’s no rain predicted for this afternoon,” I assured her. “I think we should be okay. And I’m really curious to check out Lacey O’Brien’s cabin.”
“I’m not sure I agree, but all right,” Bess grumbled. George just shrugged and followed us down to the shore. We climbed into the canoe and pushed off. As George and Bess paddled, I looked around at the many different green shades of the trees next to deep blue of the water. It should have been soothing scenery, but it wasn’t.
I couldn’t turn off my brain.
“Stop fidgeting, Nancy. What are you thinking about anyway?” Bess asked.
“Just the bookstore fire,” I replied. “I’m really curious to hear what the fire department says. Paige seemed awfully certain it was accidental, but I’m not so sure. And she seemed so jumpy when I picked up that slip of paper. And where was Lacey O’Brien’s this morning. I know she’s a recluse, but why didn’t she shown up for her book signing?”
Bess nodded. “Good questions.”
I continued. “And what about Alice Ann? I overheard her talking to the baker in front of the Cheshire Cat before I bought the books, and she didn’t seem particularly fond of Paige or Lacey.”
“Wait, who’s Alice Ann?” George asked. She handed the paddle to me as we carefully switched places.
“That woman at the inn who returned my wallet and gave us directions to Lacey O’Brien’s cabin,” I explained as I started paddling.
“Oh, right,” George answered. Then she glanced down at her phone, which was open to a compass app. “Speaking of directions, that’s the northwest corner of the lake right there.”
George looked from her phone back up at the gray sky.
“I’m wondering if maybe we should turn back, though,” she said worriedly. “It’s gotten a lot darker and my hair’s suddenly standing on end because of all the static electricity in the air. I don’t like the idea of being on the water in a lightning storm, no matter who we’re looking for.”
“I agree,” Bess said nervously. “And the wind is changing—I can feel it. I’m getting goose pimples on my arms.”
The sky definitely did look more menacing than it had before, but suddenly I caught a glimpse of a dark figure on the beach.
“Look!” I cried out. “Over there on the beach. You think it’s Lacey O’Brien?”
I gave George and Bess a pleading look.
“We’re actually closer to this shore of the lake now than we are to our cabin,” George said with a sigh. “I’d rather be near the shore—any shore—than in the middle of the lake if we do run into trouble.”
“Maybe . . .” I began. “Maybe we can land on the beach there and ask for some temporary shelter if it starts to storm.”
Bess sighed.
“You’re both right,” she agreed. “But next time you’ll listen to me. Turning back now would be more dangerous than going ashore here.”
Bess and I paddled hard. The gusts picked up while George gripped the sides of the canoe. The wind was whipping at us from every direction, but there was nothing else to do but press on.
The shadowy figure on the shore loomed larger as we got closer. I put my head down and used all my strength as I pulled on the paddle. The waves were getting bigger, and every time one hit us we rocked unsteadily from side to side.
“Whoa!” Bess cried out.
“Ugh,” George
moaned. “This rocking motion is making me feel ill.”
“Try to keep the canoe cutting through the water perpendicular to the waves!” I called to Bess over the howling wind. “That way we won’t tip over.”
“Okay!” Bess called back as she and I both maneuvered to turn the canoe so the bow of the boat was slicing through the waves at a right angle. Suddenly the wind changed and a swell of water hit us hard from the left, causing us to tip toward the right.
“Yikes!” Bess screamed. At that moment George pointed to a floating dock that had come up seemingly out of nowhere.
“Nancy! Bess!” she shouted. “Watch out!”
In trying not to hit the dock, Bess and I managed to turn the canoe so that we were once again parallel to the waves. A second later, we were hit from the left with another giant swell.
Before I even realized what was happening, the boat lurched wildly to the right, throwing us into the dark, churning water.
Read all the mysteries in the
NANCY DREW DIARIES
#1 Curse of the Arctic Star
#2 Strangers on a Train
#3 Mystery of the Midnight Rider
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN 978-1-4424-7860-2 (pbk)
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Mystery of the Midnight Rider Page 11
