The Clue at Black Creek Farm (Nancy Drew Diaries #9)(19)

. . . a baseball bat.

The thing was aluminum and super heavy. Sam said it had belonged to Jack. I raised it over my head and forced air into my lungs, so I could shout . . .

“STAY BACK! I HAVE A WEAPON!”

The figure stopped short. He or she was just a few yards away now, down the hill. I was peering down at the top of a dark baseball cap. Jack?

“Nancy?”

The figure spoke in a female voice. It took me a few seconds to realize that this was a familiar female voice. She reached up and pulled off the baseball cap, revealing a mop of short-cropped black hair.

“George!” I dropped the baseball cap and lunged toward her, folding her into a hug. (I’m not normally the huggy type, but it’s funny what thinking you’re in mortal peril will do to you.) “Oh my gosh, you scared me! What are you doing here?”

George pulled back and retrieved her phone from her sweatshirt pocket. “I’m sorry, Nancy! I’ve just been getting all these texts from you and Bess about how you were camping out here tonight. I was feeling a little left out. So when I finished my shift at the Coffee Cabin, I ran home, packed a bag, and drove over. It never occurred to me that you might think I was the bad guy. I’m really sorry.”

I let out a sigh of relief. “It’s fine, George. Actually . . . I’m really glad you’re here.”

George smiled. She shifted her arms, and I could see now that the heavy-looking thing she was carrying was just her duffel bag.

I took a step back toward the tent. “Come on in. It’s time for me to wake up Bess for her shift.”

George raised her eyebrows. “Want me to take the next shift instead?”

“Aren’t you tired?”

George shook her head. “It’s the benefit of working at a place called the Coffee Cabin, Nance,” she said with a smile. “I made myself a double espresso right before I left.”



Who knows how many hours later, I startled awake to a sharp poke in the shoulder.

“Your turn,” Bess said gruffly. I’d barely woken up enough to hear George come into the tent and wake Bess at two a.m. Before I could respond, she’d already dived around me into her sleeping bag and had the blanket pulled up over her head.

I shimmied out, reached beneath my pillow for my phone, and checked the time. Four a.m. I glanced over at the other sleeping bag and saw George snoring away.

“Did you see anything?” I asked Bess. My eyes were dying to close again so I could slip back into a dream. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs.

“Nothing,” Bess mumbled. “Now I’m enjoying the sight of the insides of my eyelids.”

“Gotcha.” I let out a final sigh and then drew myself to my feet and scooted out of the tent.

The world outside was dead quiet now. Even the crickets and owls had called it a night, it seemed. I breathed in the cold, clear air and looked around. The moon hung just above the horizon, ready to cede the sky to the sun. A barely perceptible glow of grayish-blue light hovered over the horizon opposite. Sunrise couldn’t be far off.

The crops were quiet, seemingly undisturbed. I yawned, wondering whether this was a bad idea. Maybe whoever’s contaminating the crops knows I’m looking into it, so they’re keeping quiet. I frowned. Maybe whoever’s behind it is sleeping right there in that house, I thought, looking over at the farmhouse.

The house was totally dark. I moved around to make myself comfortable, leaning back against the tree and pulling my sweatshirt around me like a blanket.

Only a few more hours to go . . .



I woke suddenly to dark-blue sky streaked with orange. I jumped up: What? Where am . . . But then I looked around and saw the fields of crops spreading out below, the tent with my two sleeping friends inside behind me. I must have dozed off. I wiggled around, trying to wake up. I hope I didn’t miss anything. What if —

CRASH!

I jumped and turned toward the source of the noise. It was coming from behind the storage barn. I got to my feet, hearing the panicked clucking of chickens. The chicken coop. Someone’s spooking the chickens.

The sun hadn’t yet crested the horizon, but the moon was gone. Streaks of orange and pink lit up the sky, but the world still looked dim and ink-stained. I squinted toward the path that led to the storage barn but couldn’t make out anything unusual. Should I call Sam? What if it is Sam? I pulled out my phone and checked it: 4:53. Maybe they always feed the chickens at this hour. Sam and Abby had made jokes the day before about how early the day started on a farm. Why didn’t I ask?

A shriek sounded from behind the coop, followed by more panicked clucking. I quickly grabbed the lantern, turned it on, and started to run down the hill, then paused. Should I wake up Bess and George?

Whatever was going on in the chicken coop, it clearly wasn’t someone poisoning the crops. I’ll go check it out quickly. It could just be an animal—or a family member feeding them. The chickens sounded upset, but my dealings with chickens so far had convinced me they weren’t the brightest of animals. I wasn’t ready to sound the alarm over a few angry chickens.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and scurried down the hill, trying not to make a sound. I darted into the storage barn, which was completely dark except for the glow from my lantern.

“Hello?” I asked. “Anyone out here? Sam? Abby?”