Megan's Island (18 page)

“I don't know if I should or not,” Megan mused. She told them about the mysterious car. “What if they come back? What if they aren't harmless?”

Ben shrugged. “Your grandpa's home, so they won't break in and steal anything. Come on. I brought hamburgers to grill.”

“Okay,” Megan decided. “Are we taking Wolf, or not?”

“Let's not,” Ben said. “He takes up too much room.”

The big dog had already leaped into the boat. After a brief scuffle, Sandy panted, “Let's let him come, even if it's crowded. I can't get him out unless I throw him overboard, and then he'd probably swim after us.”

“It'd serve him right if he drowned,” Ben said, but he shoved off and climbed in the boat without insisting Wolf stay behind. Megan thought maybe his tough talk was mostly to cover up what he was really thinking. She was beginning to understand that sometimes, when you hurt a lot, you don't feel like being nice to other people.

They had a good time on the island. They swam off the little cove, cooked their hamburgers at noon, built some more shelves to hold books and the rest of the supplies, and swam again in the afternoon.

While they were drying out on the warm sand, Megan had a sudden thought. “If we take the boat to go home for supper, how are you going to get back to shore, Ben?”

Ben opened his eyes, shading them to look at her. “You mean you aren't going to swim home?”

“No. You're going to have to row us in, then row back.”

Ben frowned. “You or Sandy can row home, and then I'll row back. Maybe I'll run home long enough to see if Dad's having anything good for supper, and I'll go back to the island after I've had some of it. He's a lot more mellow since he finished his book. Come on, let's go.”

Sandy rowed. Wolf occasionally licked the back of his neck in spite of Megan's attempts to make him sit quietly with her in the bow. The dog didn't wait until they had reached shore before he leaped eagerly overboard, rocking the boat so that Megan, trying to grab him, nearly went over, too.

Water splashed over all three of them when Wolf plunged into the lake, so they were damp and complaining good-humoredly when they nosed into the sandy shore.

It was Megan who came to a halt and interrupted the laughter. “That car is back again. The blue one. I can just see a little of it beyond the trees.”

The boys swiveled to look toward the woods. “Let's go check it out,” Ben said, and trotted off with Wolf and Sandy eagerly following.

“I'm going to tell Grandpa Davis,” Megan said, heading for the cottage.

Her bare feet were soundless on the porch. She had her hand on the screen door when she heard the voice, deep and threatening, inside the kitchen. Megan came to an abrupt halt.

“Oh, you'll tell us, old man. I guarantee, before we're through with you, you'll tell us where those kids are.”

Megan froze, sucking in a breath and holding it. All the fear she thought had faded away after Grandpa Davis talked to that detective came flooding back, worse than ever.

Grandpa's voice sounded strained. “I already told you. Their mother came and got them.”

“Yeah? Then why is their junk still here? A pair of tennis shoes drying on the steps, and that Monopoly game out. You playing Monopoly all by yourself?”

“Kids don't always pick things up,” Grandpa said, and Megan craned her neck to see inside.

The cold within her grew worse.

Grandpa Davis was sitting on a kitchen chair. The way he held his arms behind him, he must be tied there. There were two men in the room with him, both with their backs to the outside door; Megan was pretty sure they were the same ones she'd seen through the binoculars from the island. They were wearing jeans and plaid shirts. The small, skinny one was dark haired. The taller, more muscular one was blond.

“Go see if there's stuff in the bedrooms, Mac,” the dark one said. “Suitcases, clothes, anything like that. I'm betting those kids are still here, or they're coming back.” The blond one addressed as Mac headed for the living room, and for a moment Megan's eyes met Grandpa's across the kitchen. She jerked back to the side of the door, chest bursting with the need for air she couldn't seem to draw.

“What are you trying to do, old man? Make me think there's someone behind me, so I'll give you a chance to do something stupid? We're not kidding, mister. We want those kids, and if you get in the way we're not particular if
you
get hurt.”

Megan saw the boys emerging from the woods on the far side of the yard. Ben was grinning. She shook her head violently and waved them back.

For a moment she thought they wouldn't understand her silent message. Then Ben put a hand on Sandy's shoulder, hesitating.

She heard the blond man coming back, heard him say, “They're still here, all right. Their stuff's all over two of the bedrooms.”

Megan raised both hands in a pushing motion, and this time Ben definitely understood. He backed away into the shadow of the trees, drawing Sandy with him.

Megan's heart was pounding so that her chest hurt. What should she do? She didn't think she could even get off the porch without the men hearing her or seeing her.

There was the sound inside, a blow, and a muffled cry.

“That hurt, old man? You got a broken foot, eh? You want us to break it all over again? Maybe take a hammer to that cast, see how well you do with it off?”

She could hear Grandpa's breathing, harsh, painful. “I told you. My grandchildren went with their mother. Sure, they left things here. They're coming back. But they aren't here now.”

Grandpa was trying to protect them from these men, whoever they were. Whatever they wanted.

What could three kids do to save Grandpa from being hurt?

There was a flurry of movement behind her in the kitchen, and then a heavy thudding sound as the chair, and Grandpa Davis, went over onto the floor. Grandpa cried out, and the men yelled at him. Megan, more terrified than she had ever been in her life, ran past the open door and down the length of the porch, vaulting the railing at the end.

She hit hard. Sharp pain went through one ankle, but she kept on running, falling to her knees only when she'd reached the woods. Then she sat down and grabbed the ankle in both hands, rocking back and forth, gritting her teeth.

Ben and Sandy came scrambling toward her, making too much noise in the underbrush, snapping twigs beneath their weight. Wolf licked at her face, and the pain was so severe she couldn't move to push him away.

“What's going on?” Sandy demanded.

Ben was already pulling her hands away from the ankle so he could see it. “Did you break it?”

“I don't know,” Megan moaned. “It's starting to swell up already, and it hurts like fury!”

“Maybe it's only sprained. I sprained mine once, jumping off a roof,” Ben said. “The doctor said I'd have been better off breaking it; then they could have put a cast on it, like your grandpa's, and I could have walked. I didn't walk on it for nearly a month while the ligaments healed. What's going on in there?”

Megan told them, gasping. The pain was already receding, but she wasn't sure she'd be able to stand on the ankle. “They knocked his chair over, and maybe kicked him. What are we going to do?”

“I let the air out of one of their tires,” Ben said. “I thought it would be funny if they tried to drive away and couldn't. Might teach 'em not to hide in the woods and creep up on people. But if they're hurting your grandpa. . . . Maybe I better go get my dad.”

“Yes,” Megan breathed gratefully. “And hurry!”

Ben was up and running. Sandy looked after him uncertainly. “Shall I go with him, or stay here?”

“Stay here. Help me up. I better see if I can walk,” Megan said.

She winced when she put her weight on the sprained ankle. “It's going to hurt, but I can step on it. I will be able to in a few minutes, anyway. Sandy, they're hurting Grandpa! We've got to do something to make them stop!”

Sandy's freckles stood out sharply, and his lips looked white. “What can we do?”

She didn't know the answer to that. “In the movies they create some kind of diversion—you know, make a racket or set a fire or something to draw their attention. . . .”

Sandy glanced around them. “What is there to create a diversion with? We can't start a fire in the woods; it might get out of control and burn up all the cabins and cottages. And what kind of noise could we make that would make them come outside to investigate?”

Megan felt frantic and helpless. “It wouldn't help, anyway, unless we could get Grandpa away before they came back. If we could make
them
go in one direction, while we got Grandpa into the boat, maybe we could get him to the island, only if they saw us . . . Oh, Sandy, I don't know what to do!”

Her brother licked his lips. “Maybe Ben's dad will know.”

It seemed hours that they waited for Ben to return, hearing nothing now from inside the cottage. What were the men doing to Grandpa?

They heard Ben crashing through the brush before they saw him. Megan glanced beyond him, but there was no sign of Mr. Jamison, and her heart sank even before she saw Ben's face.

He threw himself on the ground, chest heaving, so out of breath that he couldn't speak for a few minutes.

“Dad's out on the lake,” Ben finally gasped. “Dad
never
fishes, but it looks like that's what he's doing now. He's way over on the other side, I could see him, and I yelled and jumped up and down, but I don't think he knew I was there! I left a note saying we need help, but he probably won't come in time to do us any good. We'll have to think of something ourselves.”

Megan's despair must have been written on her face, and her knuckles were white where she clenched her fists. “Are there any telephones closer than town, to call the police?”

“I don't know. Nobody on the lake has a phone. Dad said that was one reason he liked the cabin. My mom couldn't call him and tell him how rotten I was. He thinks maybe she wants him to take custody of me, because I get on Lawrence's nerves so much. What happened while I was gone?”

“Nothing that we could see or hear. But they said they were going to get the truth out of Grandpa, about where we are. I hope they haven't . . . ,” Megan gulped, “killed him.”

“That would be pretty stupid. He couldn't tell them anything if he was dead.” Ben was getting his wind back, and he crept forward to look toward the cottage. “We've got to create a diversion so they'll come outside, and then we get your grandpa out.”

“How?” Megan asked, near tears. “Even if we knew how to drive, Grandpa's car doesn't have the keys in it. They hang on a nail in the kitchen.”

“I know how to drive. Well, sort of. I never did it, but I've watched my dad often enough. Look, you work your way around there, Sandy,” Ben made a sweeping gesture, “as close to the boat as you can. Be ready to shove off as soon as we draw those guys out of the house far enough so they can't see you. Megan, you go the other way. Sneak up close to the back of the house and stay out of sight. As soon as they're past you, get your grandpa untied and out of there, into the boat.”

“How are we going to get them to come out?” Megan asked, testing her weight once more on her sprained ankle. Could she run on it? It didn't seem quite as bad as it had a few minutes ago.

Ben grinned. “I'm going to start their car. Maybe run it into a tree, make enough noise to bring them running. They were stupid enough to leave the keys in it.”

“What about you, then? What if you don't have time to get to the boat before we have to shove off?”

“I think I can outrun 'em. I'm a pretty good runner. Besides, I know the woods.
They
don't.”

It was a scary plan, and could easily fail if both men didn't investigate the sound of the car, or if they caught Ben or Megan or Sandy, or if Grandpa had been hurt badly enough so he couldn't get to the boat. Still, it was better than not trying to do anything. Megan drew in a deep breath.

“Okay. Give us time to get into position before you start the car.”

Ben was already gone, crouched over, hurrying. Megan gave Sandy a little push, then took the opposite direction herself, while Wolf trotted after Sandy.

She stayed in the woods as long as she could, then approached the house from the rear. She strained to hear sounds from inside; there were voices, but she couldn't make out the words. Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid she wouldn't hear the car engine when it started, and she must be ready to run. There wouldn't be a second to spare.

Her ankle was holding up better than she'd thought it might, though she was aware of the deep ache in it. Don't think about it, she told herself. Just think about getting Grandpa away from those men.

The motor of the blue car started up, noisy, harsh. Megan held her breath, and then she heard them coming. Both of them, pounding across the porch and down the steps, cursing.

The gears ground, as if Ben had had trouble finding reverse, and then the motor roared for a few seconds before the impact of metal against tree created a very satisfying crash.

The men ran past Megan's hiding place, which wasn't a hiding place at all, since she was at the end of the porch, in plain sight if they'd turned around.

Then she really did forget her ankle, desperate to reach Grandpa in time.

He was still tied to the chair, but he was humping it across the floor toward the counter where he kept the knives. There was a cut at the corner of his lip, and a bruise was rising below one eye; otherwise, he didn't appear to be hurt.

“Get a knife and cut this rope,” he said, and Megan wasted no time in obeying.

“Come on. We've got to get in the boat,” Megan said. “Unless you want to get the keys and drive out of here.”