Once Upon a Thriller (Nancy Drew Diaries #4)(6)

Paige seemed surprised by the suggestion. “No, no,” she replied hastily. “The building is very old, you know. I’m sure it was just an old faulty wire, which is what the fire department thinks. Besides, Carol, why would someone want to deliberately set fire to my store? Alice Ann doesn’t dislike me that much, does she?” And then she laughed.

George and I looked at each other. Alice Ann? And Paige was laughing? This was too weird. Paige paid the cashier and quickly headed for the exit. As she pulled her car keys out of her pocket, a slip of paper fluttered to the ground. I leaned down and snatched it up. It read: 9-1-14.

“Excuse me!” I called after her. “You dropped this.”

She turned back, a startled expression on her face. Then she saw the slip of paper, snatched it from me, and fled without saying thanks.

“Whoa,” George said as she appeared at my side. “That was beyond strange.”

“Tell me about it,” I agreed. We headed back to the checkout line and joined Bess, who was busy loading our groceries onto the conveyer belt.

“What was that all about?” Bess asked.

“Nothing,” I said softly, not wanting to speak freely in front of the cashier. Bess gave me a puzzled look, but she just shrugged and began bagging the groceries.

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 ‘9-1-14’ means?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “A date? It could be some sort of code, though.”

“I bet it is a date: September 1, 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 and 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. “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 the canoe out.”

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. “So I think we should be okay. And I’m really curious to check out Lacey O’Brien’s cabin.”

George just shrugged and followed us down to the shore. We climbed into the canoe and pushed off. As Bess and I paddled, George sat back and closed her eyes.

I looked at the expanse of sky and the deep-green fir trees that ringed the lake. It should have been relaxing, but it wasn’t. I couldn’t stop thinking about the fire and the odd facts and timing surrounding it.

“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 was so jumpy when I picked up that slip of paper. And I know she’s a recluse, but even though there couldn’t have been a signing, I’m a bit surprised Lacey stayed away.”

Bess nodded. “Good points.”

I continued, “And what about Alice Ann? Even Paige pointed out that Alice wasn’t too fond of her.”

George glanced down at her phone, which was open to a compass app. “We’re here—well, the northwest corner of the lake anyway.”

She looked from her phone back up at the sky.

“I’m wondering if maybe we should turn back, though,” she said worriedly. “It’s gotten a lot darker out here, 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.”

“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, and the wind had picked up. It was growing increasingly more difficult to paddle through the choppy water. But suddenly, out of nowhere, I caught a glimpse of a dark figure on the beach. Two figures, actually: one in the shape of a bear, the other, a human.

“Look!” I cried out. “Over there. Someone’s on the beach.”

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 . . . maybe we can land on the beach and ask for temporary shelter if it starts to storm,” I said.

Bess sighed.

“You’re both right,” she agreed. “Turning back now in this wind 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 started whipping at us from every direction, but there was nothing else to do but press on. If we could make it to the beach, we’d be safe from the storm.