The Sign in the Smoke (Nancy Drew Diaries #12)(20)

“If you were working alone,” George pointed out. She had walked over to join the group too. “Maybe it was several people working together.”

“Or maybe it wasn’t human at all,” Bella muttered, looking off toward the lake.

We all fell silent, staring at her.

“What?” she asked. “It’s not like we have an angry spirit on the loose here or anything.”

“You’d better keep your voice down,” George whispered fiercely. “If my campers hear a word of this . . .”

Bella shook her head. “We could have taken care of all this last night,” she murmured sulkily. “If you’d just let me have my séance.”

I frowned, but turned my face so she couldn’t see. Why is Bella so obsessed with her séance and the supposed ghost? What did she know? It was all very weird.

“Guys, there are footprints right here,” I said, shining my light on the Converse tracks. “And unless ghosts commonly wear Chuck Taylors, I think our suspect is fully human—and it looks like she took several trips toward the path.”

“She or he,” a familiar voice piped up behind George. I glanced over to see Bess joining our little disgruntled circle. “Let’s not be sexist. We’re all missing sleeping bags, I’m guessing?”

“Yup.”

“Uh-huh.”

We all nodded.

Bess sighed. “Well, great. This was a lovely welcome for all the campers. I went to Deborah and Miles’s house and let them know what’s happening. Deborah was already in her pj’s, but she was going to throw on clothes and come over.”

“We already found footprints,” I said, shining my light on the Converse tracks again. “Let’s follow them. Maybe if we hurry, we can catch the thief in action. Deborah will find us.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bess agreed.

We followed the trail—trails, in some places—of footprints across the main camp and into the woods, down the path that led to the lake. The cool breeze off the water made me shiver as we got closer to the beach. While I was starting to believe I’d hallucinated the figure I’d seen—or at least, I really wanted to believe that—the beach still gave me the heebie-jeebies. I’d have to try not to show it when my campers had swimming.

“Oh no,” Maddie moaned as we followed the tracks to the beach. “Please tell me they didn’t . . .”

But they had. The tracks left off just before the water’s edge . . .

. . . And a soggy pile of sleeping bags was visible just beyond the waist-deep water.

“What happened?” Deborah’s voice suddenly came from the path, and when we turned, she sprang out of the woods and onto the beach, her feet clad in bedroom slippers. “Did you find them?”

“I’m afraid so,” said George, gesturing at the sodden pile of nylon and fleece that bobbed up and down with each ripple in the lake.

Deborah looked at the lake and seemed to take in what had happened. “Oh no,” she murmured, shaking her head as she stepped closer. “Who would have done this? Did anyone skip the campfire tonight?”

We were all silent. No one had skipped it, that I’d known of—all the counselors and campers were present and accounted for. But it had been dark, and everyone’s attention had been focused on Deborah, Miles, or whoever was leading the singing or storytelling. It wouldn’t have been hard for someone to sneak away.

I remembered Bella’s flushed cheeks. Did she . . . ? And then I thought of the other counselors who had also been missing when I’d been pulled under in the lake. Sam . . . or Taylor? Could one of them have snuck away from the campfire, too?

“Maybe it wasn’t a person,” Bella suddenly said. While her voice was quiet, it seemed to echo in the silence.

Deborah looked at her, nonplussed. “What does that mean?” she asked.

Bella shrugged, not meeting Deborah’s eye. “Something in the lake just seems to be really angry,” she said. “What with the thing that pulled you down into the water, the thing that pulled Nancy down, the figure she saw. Maybe something’s going on that’s bigger than just some kid playing a prank.”

Bella looked Deborah in the eye then, and something washed over Deborah’s face. Recognition, or anger, or some kind of unwelcome realization that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Deborah met Bella’s stare with her own intense one, and then the moment was over. She looked out over the lake and sighed, like she was accepting something.

“Miles and I will remove the sleeping bags from the lake and have them all washed and dried,” she said in a low voice. “But I’m afraid there’s no way we can have them ready for the campers to sleep in tonight. I’m very sorry, but you’ll all have to sleep on the mattresses provided, and bundle up in your clothes. Tell the campers they’ll definitely get their bags back tomorrow.”

I glanced at Bess and George. It wasn’t a surprise that the sleeping bags wouldn’t be returned tonight, really—I’d suspected as much once we’d found them in the lake. But I wasn’t sure how our campers would take the news. And I was more concerned about Deborah’s reaction.

“If anyone knows anything about how these bags got in the lake,” Deborah went on, “I would ask you to please come and talk to me or Miles, so that we can prevent it from happening again. I understand that some pranking is normal at camp, but a prank on this scale is unacceptable. Got it? Good. Off to bed, everyone.”