The Sign in the Smoke (Nancy Drew Diaries Book 12) (19 page)

“Harper?” I called into the silence.

Then my flashlight died.

“SUCCOTASH!” I screamed.

Stupid, stupid batteries.
My spares were in my dresser back at Juniper Cabin.

With my tiny beam of light gone, the darkness seemed to close in on me. Could I even find my way back to camp? The path was winding and rocky. It had been hard to follow even
with
the light.

I took in a shaky breath.
And Harper—where is Harper?

That was when I heard a muffled cry.

It was coming from my left.

“Hello?” I called. Squinting, I could make out a tiny clearing in the woods to the left, with a bench in the middle. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I started searching the dark woods all around.

And nearly felt my heart stop when I made out four pairs of eyes reflecting the weak moonlight.

I heard a
crunch
and then a shriek of pain. Then Harper’s voice: “Nancy! I knew you would come!”

“Who’s there?” I called, stepping closer. Two other pairs of eyes were at Harper’s height or lower, but the third figure was big, as big as me. And it was standing in an odd position, with the kids clutched to its sides. Its hands seemed to be covering their mouths. . . .

“So you found us,” the larger figure finally spoke, and the sound startled me enough that I couldn’t place it at first. But then, suddenly, it clicked. I moved close enough to make out more detail, and sure enough—

A Yankees cap.

“Sam!” I cried. “What on earth are you doing!”

“She took us!” Sam must have been startled enough by my appearance that she let go of Olivia’s mouth, and the girl’s squeaky voice suddenly sounded from Sam’s side. “I got up to go to the bathroom and she grabbed me! And then we waited a few minutes, and she grabbed Queenie and Harper too, the same way!”

I moved forward hesitantly. “Why did you do that, Sam?” But the truth is, I was afraid of what she’d say. There was no
good
reason to steal three campers and force them into the woods above the lake, on the anniversary of Lila’s near-drowning. . . .

Sam moved forward, out of the cover of the trees, and suddenly reached up and pulled off her Yankees cap. In the thin moonlight, out spilled a pile of silky, silver-blond hair.

I gasped.

“Lila is my sister,” Sam said simply, her eyes shining with a feral glow. “And this is our revenge—on Camp Cedarbark and on Deborah!”

I sputtered, caught off guard. “But—but—Lila survived!” I managed finally. “I looked into it! She had some neurological damage, but she recovered, and she’s alive and well!”

Sam narrowed her eyes. “Sure,
she’s
alive and well,” she said. “But what about me?”

What?
I glanced at Harper and the other girls, and they looked just as confused as I felt. “What about . . .
you
?”

“Lila’s my older sister,” Sam went on. “Have you ever thought about what your life would be like if such a huge accident happened to your sister? The effect it would have on your parents?”

I didn’t have siblings, but I tried to imagine. “Er, not . . . good?”

“Not good at all!”
Sam advanced on me, making me shrink back, but then she stopped and seemed to catch herself. “I grew up in a prison, Nancy. I wasn’t allowed to have playdates, or go swimming at the beach, or climb on the high bars, or pretty much anything.” She snorted.

“But . . . what does that have to do with Camp Larksong?” I asked. “Or Camp Cedarbark? Or Deborah?”

Sam sneered at me. “Are you seriously asking me that question?” she asked. “Deborah was
responsible
for Lila’s accident. She was her counselor. She failed to convince Lila that they’d find the ring later. She didn’t notice when Lila snuck out of the tent, and then she failed to save her.”

I stared at Sam. “It was an accident,” I said. “Even counselors can’t prevent everything, Sam. She didn’t realize how upset Lila was and didn’t hear her get up. Is that really an offense worth all this?” I remembered Harper’s flooding of the bunk. I’d failed to notice how upset she was
before
it happened. It seemed like Deborah hadn’t done anything worse the night of Lila’s accident.

Sam glared. “
Someone is responsible, Nancy
,” she said in a low, creepy voice. “And someone is going to pay.” She turned from me to the girls, who were huddled together, shivering. Her eyes took on a wolfish glow.

I suddenly became very aware that Bess, Deborah, and Miles were nowhere to be seen. “Pay . . . how?” I asked.
Maybe I can keep her talking. Just keep her talking and give them a chance to find us so we can overpower her.

Sam tossed her head. “By ruining any chance of Camp Cedarbark being successful,” she replied. “That’s why I applied to be a counselor here—under a different last name. Deborah never suspected a thing. And so I’ve been sneaking into the lake and pulling people under,” she went on. “I’ve spent the last six months training myself to hold my breath for five minutes! Plenty long enough to get out of sight and take a breath. That also allowed the campers—and
you—
to experience what it must have felt like to be Lila.”

I shook my head. “Lila went under
herself 
,” I pointed out. “No one pulled—”

“Shut up!”
Sam moved closer, a vicious expression on her face, and I fell silent. “That’s why I stole the sleeping bags and dumped them in the lake. And, when no one seemed to be listening, that’s why I set my message aflame in the main clearing. GO HOME—and forget this camp. Never come back! Horrible things happened here!”

I was shivering now, just like the girls.
Sam is crazy,
I realized. Whatever real problems she had, it was clear she wasn’t capable of thinking rationally about this. Which made her capable of a lot of very scary things. I listened hard but couldn’t hear anyone approaching. “What . . . are you going to do now?” I asked, struggling to hide the fear I was feeling.

Sam smiled. “A few missing campers should dampen the enthusiasm for Camp Cedarbark,” she replied. “And if I dump them in the lake? All the better. People will remember Lila and know that something is evil here.”

Something sure is.
A chill ran up my spine. “You can’t hurt these girls,” I said. “They’ve done nothing to you!”

Sam laughed—a hollow, insane laugh. “I’ve done nothing to anybody either!” she cried. “But my parents treat me like an invalid. Listen. I
can
do whatever I need to, to get my message across. But you know what?” Her eyes took on a satisfied gleam. “A
counselor
missing—that would really be the icing on the cake.”

She stepped forward. Trembling, I stepped back.

And back.

And back.

“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to sound tougher than I felt. “Are you going to attack me? Because I may look small, but I’m scrappy! I could take you!”

Sam snorted. “Could you?” she asked.

I looked her in the eye. “I’ve taken on worse than you,” I said. And that was true.

Sam laughed that same hollow laugh again. “The thing is, I won’t even have to do the work,” she said, nudging her chin toward something behind me. “The fall would kill you. You’ll probably hit your head on one of those big rocks, and then . . .
splash.
”

My blood chilled. I looked behind me and inhaled a silent scream: Sam had backed me up just inches away from the rocky drop that led down to the lake. She was right: the fall was steep enough, and rocky enough, that I probably wouldn’t survive it.

Even in the dim moonlight, I could see that.

I closed my eyes.
Please, Bess,
I prayed silently.
Please, anyone . . .

“NO!” I CRIED, AND MY
voice shook a little. “How does killing one random counselor punish Deborah? It punishes my family! My dad—” My voice broke at the thought of Dad. Or Hannah. Or Ned.
Might I really never see them again?
I forced their images out of my mind and thought,
Keep her talking.

“I don’t care about your family,” Sam said simply, moving closer, “just like Deborah didn’t care about mine.”

The girls were advancing behind Sam, watching the action with wide, terrified eyes. I realized this was their chance to escape. “Girls! Get help!” I cried. “Run back to camp. Tell someone—anyone!”

The girls moved forward, and Harper looked at me regretfully, the moonlight shining off her glasses, like she couldn’t decide whether to leave.

“I mean it,” I whispered fiercely.
“Go.”

With one final look in my direction, the three girls scampered down the path.

Sam moved even closer as the girls disappeared. “I hope you really enjoyed your time as a counselor, Nancy,” she said, her lips parting in a terrifying smile. “I hope it was a great final act.”

I listened as hard as I could, hoping against hope to hear Bess, Deborah, and Miles. But all I heard was a dull
clink—
probably one of the girls kicking a rock on their way back to camp.

I took one more step back and felt my heel hit a rock. I was at the end. I closed my eyes, trying to squelch my fear.
Stay alert. Stay in the game.
I knew it was my only chance of surviving.

I felt rather than heard Sam advance one more time.

And then, suddenly, the night air was cut by her scream. “AAAAAAUUUUGH!”

I opened my eyes to see a shadowy shape grab Sam’s legs and plunge something sharp into her calf. Dark blood oozed up from the wound, and Sam fell backward.

“AAUUUGH! What are you doing?” she shouted.

I felt frozen but forced my legs into motion and scampered around Sam and my savior so I was no longer backed against the edge of the drop. As I stared at the tangle around Sam’s legs, I recognized Harper—minus her signature glasses!

The sharp thing she’d stuck into Sam’s leg was still in her hand, covered with blood. It was a broken lens from her glasses.

“Harper, thank you!” I cried.

Then, before I could say more, I heard voices coming up the path.

“. . . think I heard them up here,” Bess’s voice came from the trees, and then she, Deborah, and Miles burst into the clearing.

I stared at them, overwhelmed with relief.

“I’m so sorry,” Bess blurted as soon as she spotted me. “We took a wrong turn right out of the clearing and got totally turned around . . .”

“What happened here?” Deborah asked, taking in the scene with a stunned expression.

I leaned down and pulled Harper toward me, away from Sam, who was crumpled on the ground hugging her leg. “Ouuuuuch!”

“I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you,” I said, “but I think we’ve found Camp Cedarbark’s ghost.”

“
What
a story,” George breathed the next morning, as we lounged on benches in the clearing that separated our cabins. “I have to admit, I figured something shady was going on at the camp . . . but I never could have put that together.”

“I’m just relieved it’s not a real ghost,” Bess murmured, scratching a bug bite on her arm. When George and I both turned to her with surprised looks, she shrugged. “What!” she cried. “I’m not saying I always believe . . . but that thing in the water was pretty creepy.”

“It sounds like Sam has real problems,” George said, looking thoughtful.

I nodded. “Yeah,” I said. “I heard Deborah and Miles turned her over to the police, but they recommended counseling. She was nearly catatonic when they brought her back to camp.”

“Maybe medication would help,” Bess said.

“I hope so,” I admitted. I wasn’t about to forgive Sam for trying to kill me any time soon . . . but I wanted her to get better. I realized she wasn’t in her right mind.

It seemed like Bella had been telling the truth, after all. . . . She really hadn’t done anything wrong, except burn some sage. I still wasn’t sure why she was so interested in the “haunting,” but then I didn’t understand why Bess watched that Kardashian show either. And I was sure Bess didn’t understand why I loved solving mysteries. I guessed we all had weird interests, when it came down to it.