The Lost Brother Read online

  Yeah, no kidding. Eight unexplained disappearances in twelve years can really put a damper on the family-friendly appeal of a place. Even if you believed it was all the work of hungry bears. Maybe especially if you believed it was the work of hungry bears.

  Not that I believed that. Not at all. Sure, there were bears around. The gash on my shoulder was proof of that.

  But no bear had scratched LOST in the dirt in front of our tent. Or injected Officer Donnelly with drugs. Or broken into Farley O’Keefe’s cabin and stabbed him to death . . .

  Farley. In all the panic of the past few hours, I’d all but forgotten about him. He’d been the head ranger at the park for years. He was a crusty old coot who seemed way more comfortable out in the wilderness than he could ever be in civilization.

  “If this is a trail marker of some kind, I wonder if Farley had something to do with it?” I mused as I snapped a few photos of the weird little stone pile with my ATAC-issue cell phone. “Seems like his type of thing.”

  “Won’t argue with you there,” Rich agreed. “Ol’ Farley knew all the backcountry tricks. Wish he was still around to ask about this.”

  He shook his head sadly. I stared at the pile of stones. Frank and I had wondered if Farley might have been involved in the case. Especially after learning that he was Justin Greer’s biological grandfather—a fact that even Rich hadn’t known. Were we too hasty to cross Farley off the suspect list just because he was dead? What if he’d had an accomplice—someone who’d killed him, then taken Frank?

  Okay, maybe it was a little far-fetched as theories go. But it was pretty much all I had. . . .

  “So I guess Farley spent a lot of time out in the woods alone, huh?” I asked Bailey as we moved on, still following the faint trail of broken branches.

  She glanced at me and shrugged. “Got me,” she said. “I didn’t know him all that well. I only transferred up here a few months ago. Till then I worked at a different park downstate.”

  “Oh.” Another dead end. That pretty much described this mission so far.

  The trail we were following quickly petered out too. We circled back to the campsite. A police photographer was getting some shots of the LOST scrawled in the dirt. Another cop was sifting through the stuff from our tent.

  I was feeling restless and on the verge of panicking again. To distract myself, I scouted around the clearing where we’d been camping, hoping to hit on some clue we’d missed earlier.

  No luck. But on my way back from the river, I noticed a broken branch at the edge of the woods. It was shoulder high—just like the ones on the trail Bailey had been following earlier.

  I pushed past it, looking for another trail. Maybe some sign that Frank and/or his attacker had come this way.

  Instead I found myself stepping into a small open area. It was behind some bushy undergrowth, all but hidden from the main clearing.

  And right in the middle was another weird little little pile of rocks!

  My heart pounded as I crouched down beside it for a better look. The stone pile wasn’t identical to the other one, but it was close. How long had it been there? Could there be fingerprints on the stones—maybe left by Frank’s abductor?

  “Wish I had JuDGE with me,” I muttered.

  That was our favorite gadget—more properly known as Junior Data Gathering Equipment. It was wirelessly connected to ATAC’s mainframe computer and could get any evidence analyzed within hours. Just because I happened to break the thing a time or six, Frank refuses to let me carry it anymore. It had almost certainly been in his pocket as usual when he’d disappeared.

  Anyway, it didn’t matter. The police or the rangers should be able to help me out.

  “Yo, Rich!” I shouted, still crouched down beside the little pile of stones. “Come check this out!”

  I waited for an answering shout, but instead heard a very different sound. An ominous rattle.

  Spinning around, I gasped. A huge rattlesnake was coiled to strike right behind me! My eyes widened and my muscles tensed. But it was too late to get away.

  Before I could move, the snake struck, its deadly fangs shooting toward my bare arm.

  Fact-Checking

  Have you ever spent any time in complete and utter darkness? Let me tell you, it’s not fun. It plays weird tricks on your mind. Like making every passing minute feel like an hour. Or sometimes like two seconds.

  I’d spent a few of those seconds-minutes-hours pounding on the door. Then I’d woken up a little more and realized that was a waste of energy. After getting myself back under control, I’d sat down on the edge of the cot to try to figure out what to do.

  That had been about half an hour ago. Maybe. Like I said, it was hard to keep track of the time. But however long it had been, I was no closer to any answers.

  “Let’s be logical about this,” I murmured under my breath. “This has to have something to do with our mission.”

  I thought about that, turning it over in my mind. Doing my “Mr. Logic” thing, as Joe would say.

  So sue me. I like to think before I act.

  Besides, being logical made me feel a little better. A little more in control. So I kept at it, staring into the darkness while I thought about everything that had happened. The parts I could remember, anyway.

  No matter which way I looked at things, I kept reaching the same conclusion. I’d been taken by the same person or people who’d taken Justin and all those other kids. Nothing else made sense.

  When I thought about it that way, the situation had a silver lining. Sure, I was stuck in a dark cell somewhere with no idea how I got here. And even less about how I was going to get out.

  But Joe and I hadn’t been making much progress on our mission up until now. Maybe this was just the break we needed. Maybe now I’d be able to figure things out from the inside.

  “Okay,” I muttered. “So now what?”

  The longer I sat there, the clearer my mind felt. But it was still working more slowly than usual.

  Plus, I still couldn’t remember anything beyond that bear attack, and I was pretty sure I knew why. I’d been drugged. It was the only explanation for the weird grogginess. Not to mention the vivid, crazy dreams.

  To clear my head, I decided to go over the facts of the case again. Who were our suspects?

  “Well, Farley is out,” I murmured, flashing back to the gruesome scene in the ranger’s cabin the evening before. No way he’d been the one who’d brought me here.

  But there was at least one other suspect still at large. Jacob Greer, Justin’s adoptive father. The guy seemed pretty conflicted about having his son back. Was he just upset because Justin didn’t remember him, or much of anything else about his old life? Or was there some darker reason? Either way, Jacob clearly had a temper.

  “Wait,” I whispered into the darkness, straining to remember. “Didn’t Jacob go back home to Chicago?”

  I was pretty sure he had. But I still didn’t completely trust my mind. What if whatever had happened to bring me here wasn’t the only hole in my memory? What if I was still missing big chunks of the past and didn’t even realize it?

  The thought made me even more panicky than not knowing where I was. To test myself, I decided to run through the list of the Misty Falls Lost.

  “Justin was the first victim; he disappeared almost twelve years ago,” I recited. “Next came Kerry, an eight-year-old girl who went missing from her campsite a year later. Then Sarah, age five, two years after that. Next came Luke, a seven-year-old boy who disappeared while sleeping in his family’s car. Alice, age four, the only child to go missing during daylight hours, while on a walk with her older brother. Next was Tommy, age eight. Or was it Kyle? No,” I corrected myself, feeling more confident with each name I remembered. “It was Tommy, then Kyle. And then Ellie, a six-year-old who disappeared just last year.”

  There. I was pretty sure I had the whole list right. Whew! Maybe my brain wasn’t turning into swiss cheese after all. Now if I could only reme
mber how I’d ended up here . . . wherever “here” was . . .

  Okay, I admit it. Even at my most logical, it was tough to sit there pondering the mission in a totally dark room. It was starting to mess with my head.

  I stood up and felt my way around the dark little space again, hoping I’d missed something.

  Nope. All that was in there was me and the cot.

  I stopped at the door, feeling carefully around it. There was no handle on this side, as I’d already noted. No hinges, either.

  My fingers explored the tiny, narrow window. The glass felt pretty thick. I banged at it with the heel of one hand, but my hand definitely took the worst of it. The glass didn’t budge.

  There wasn’t anything in the room I could use to try to break it. Now that I thought about it, I realized I wasn’t even wearing shoes.

  That seemed kind of weird. Had I been sleeping when I was taken?

  I felt my clothes. Loose-fitting V-neck shirt. Drawstring pants. As best I could tell, I seemed to be wearing something like hospital scrubs.

  I don’t own hospital scrubs.

  “Weird,” I murmured.

  The pants had pockets, but there was nothing in them. No surprise there. If my watch was gone, there wasn’t much chance my cell phone would still be on me. Or JuDGE. Or my flashlight. Or any of the other stuff I’d kept on me night and day during this mission.

  I pressed my face against the window, trying to see anything on the other side. But all that met my gaze was more blackness. Either it was equally dark on the other side, or there was something covering the glass. I couldn’t tell which.

  Turning away, I stared into the darkness, trying to make sense of all this. But the only thing I knew for sure was that those kids hadn’t just fallen prey to bears or the river or whatever.

  “Or to ghosts, either,” I whispered with a grimace.

  That was Joe’s nuttiest theory. He’d paid a little too much attention to some local ghost stories.

  I’d never believed that, of course. Mr. Logic, remember? But if there’d been doubt, it was gone.

  A ghost hadn’t drugged me. A bear hadn’t locked me in this dark, featureless room. No, someone—a person, or people—had taken me, just as he/she/they had taken all those kids over the years.

  But why? We obviously weren’t dealing with your run-of-the-mill serial killer. Otherwise Justin couldn’t have come back. I wouldn’t still be alive.

  CLANG!

  Suddenly a blinding light shot into the room. I stumbled back, half-blinded after all that time in utter darkness.

  I was so startled that it took me a second to realize what had happened. Someone had flipped open whatever was covering the little window in the door, allowing light from outside to come in.

  “Hey!” I shouted, leaping toward the door. “Who’s out there?”

  I squinted, desperately trying to force my eyes to adjust so I could look out.

  CLANG!

  Too late. The window shut again, returning me to total darkness.

  Surprising Outbursts

  BANG!

  “AAAAH!” I yelled, falling back as the snake suddenly exploded in front of me. Right in front of me. I actually felt the creature’s fangs scrape across my skin as it flew into the air.

  Panting with adrenaline, I glanced back and saw Detective Cole standing there, his service revolver still pointed toward me. Or rather, toward the rattler.

  “You okay, Joe?” Rich quickly holstered the gun and hurried toward me.

  “Yeah.” I jumped to my feet, casting a wary glance at the snake. Or what was left of it. “Nice shot. Oh, and thanks.”

  “No problem.” The detective bent over me, examining my arm. “Looks like I wasn’t a second too soon—it was about to take a chunk out of you.”

  “What was that? Who’s shooting in here?” Bailey pushed her way into the little clearing. When she saw the dead rattler, she blanched. “Oh no! Why’d you do that?”

  Rich shot her a look. “Why do you think?”

  “And why do you care?” I added, shuddering as I glanced at the rattler again. “It’s not like rattlesnakes are an endangered species or anything, right?”

  She frowned. “That’s not the point. I hate to see any wild creature harmed by humans. Even rattlesnakes have their place in the ecosystem. In fact, we keep an injured one in captivity at the ranger station so people can see it up close—through a layer of protective glass, of course—and face their fears in a rational way. Maybe even come to appreciate the beauty of the species.”

  Rich raised an eyebrow. “Oh? I thought that captive rattler was there to show folks what they look like. You know—so they can avoid them out here.”

  Bailey shrugged. “That’s another reason, I suppose. But a lot of people are way too quick to demonize wild animals for anything and everything. In fact, that’s the whole reason I asked for a transfer to this park.”

  “Huh?” I said. “What do you mean?”

  She suddenly looked like she wished she hadn’t said anything. “Just what I said,” she replied slowly. “You know. Because of all the lost kids. People were blaming bears, acting like they were all killers. That’s a dangerous way to think. Dangerous for the bears, and for all wildlife and wild places like this park.”

  Interesting. I glanced at Rich. He rolled his eyes so Bailey couldn’t see. I guessed he thought she was kind of a kook.

  And maybe she was. But I couldn’t help recalling that Farley had been one of those people who’d loudly and frequently insisted that those kids had disappeared due to bears or other natural causes. And now he was dead. Could there be a connection?

  “So if it wasn’t bears, what do you think happened to all those kids?” I asked Bailey, trying to keep my voice casual.

  She shook her head. “Wish I knew. I’ve been poking around, trying to figure it out.”

  Meanwhile Rich was staring at my arm again. “We’d better get you to the hospital, Joe,” he said. “It doesn’t look like the snake broke the skin, but better safe than sorry.”

  I groaned. “Again?” I complained, glancing down at the bandage poking out from beneath my shirt. Courtesy of that bear attack a few hours earlier. “They’re going to have to name a wing after me soon!”

  Rich grinned. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll drive you.”

  A couple of hours later I was still at Mercy Hospital. Not because of the snakebite—the docs had cleared me on that. But I’d figured as long as I was there, I might as well stop by and check in with Justin. See if he’d remembered else anything yet. Especially anything that might help me find Frank.

  I knew the cops were still searching the park. But I was starting to think that was a waste of time. After all, nobody had ever found anything useful when those kids had disappeared. Why should we expect anything different now? No, if I wanted to find my brother, I was going to have to figure out another way.

  It was late morning, and I had the waiting room to myself. I checked my watch, then went and peered down the hall toward Justin’s door. Still closed.

  “Hurry up, dude!” I muttered under my breath, feeling impatient.

  When I’d tried to go in, the nurses had stopped me. They’d said Dr. Carrini was in there having a private session with Justin.

  Carrini was some big-shot memory expert from the nearest university hospital. He’d been spending a lot of time in Misty Falls trying to help Justin get his memory back.

  He definitely wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type of doctor, though. When he gave an order, he expected to be obeyed. I knew better than to interrupt him now.

  But it was tempting. The longer I sat in that waiting room—or, rather, paced restlessly back and forth—the more impatient I felt. As if time was literally ticking away for Frank.

  And the longer I waited, the more the truth sank in. If I wanted to find my brother, I needed to figure out this case. But Frank wasn’t going to be there to help me this time.

  It was a weird thought. Very weird.
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  “Man, could I use some of his nerdy theories right about now,” I murmured.

  See, that’s the thing about Frank. He might be kind of a nerd, especially compared to me. But he’s also supersmart. Sure, I have plenty of great ideas. But he’s the one who turns them into workable plans.

  See what I mean? We were a well-oiled team. That’s why we’d been able to solve so many tough missions. Together.

  But now I was on my own. I just had to deal with that and do my best. Frank’s life could depend on it.

  “But no pressure,” I whispered with a shiver.

  I quickly shoved away that thought. If I was going to do this without Frank, maybe it was time to try thinking like him. So what would my brainiac brother do if he were here now?

  “What do you think, dude?” I said aloud, trying to picture Frank standing there in the waiting room with me. “What’s our next step?

  “Well, my incredibly studly and awesome brother,” I said in a slightly nerdier tone, doing my best to channel Frank’s response, “we should look at things logically. You know, indubitably and stuff.”

  My shoulders slumped slightly. Okay, my Frank impression was pretty spot-on. But I was going to need more than that. . . .

  “We aren’t finding much in the way of clues,” I pointed out to imaginary Frank. “And our suspects keep dying.”

  I could almost see imaginary Frank roll his eyes. He hates when I exaggerate.

  “Only one suspect has died so far, my incredibly illogical yet astoundingly handsome brother,” I said in my stuffy imaginary-Frank voice. I started pacing again as I thought hard about what Frank might say next. “In any case, we shall have to explore other avenues of cluedom. Perhaps your brilliant idea of talking with Justin again shall produce some breakthrough.”

  I sighed, stopping again just long enough to peer down the hall. Then I turned and wandered back across the waiting room, almost imagining I really could see Frank standing there looking dorky and thoughtful.