But not clear of the man in the dinghy. Before Nancy could orient herself, a paddle crashed down on her head. Everything went dark.
The next thing Nancy sensed was something cold, rough, and damp against her bare arms. She tried to open her eyes, but her head was pounding, and her eyes felt stuck shut.
“Take it easy,” a man’s voice whispered. “And be quiet!”
Nancy couldn’t tell if his words signaled a warning or a threat. She felt a wave of nausea and began to cough. Rough hands lifted her head up. Nancy touched the ground. It was damp sand. She was on a beach. The memory of what had happened on the lake rushed back to her: the flotilla of boats, the male figure that towered out of a dinghy and tried to drown her. But how had she landed here? And where was here?
Finally, Nancy was able to open her eyes. They were sticky and they stung. “Wh-what happened?” she muttered, looking up.
It was Jim! Shock and fear made her scramble to her feet. Her knees felt weak, but she forced herself to stand and face him. She quickly scanned the unfamiliar beach, looking for something to use to defend herself. “It was you who just tried to drown me!”
Jim gave an infuriating laugh. “I don’t believe you. If I were going to drown you, why would I drag you all the way to this beach?”
Nancy stared at him. “Oh, so you just happened to turn up, and—” Nancy stopped midsentence. Jim’s hunting knife was hanging from his belt. How had he retrieved it from the Fayne cottage?
Jim followed her eyes. “Look, this is a hunting knife. I use it for cutting rope or branches. Not people.” He lifted both hands, open-palmed, in a gesture of peace.
“How did you get it back?” Nancy asked.
Jim’s face registered pure confusion. “Back?” He touched his knife. “I never lost it.”
“I found it yesterday morning on a platform in the woods, right near one of your rock piles.”
“Oh, you mean up in the blind. That’s not my blind. That’s the Lawrence-Joneses’ setup. For so-called nature lovers,” Jim said, mockingly. “What they’re really doing is messing up the environment.”
Nancy studied Jim. Had she been wrong all along? “So, then, what exactly are you doing here? It’s the middle of the night, Jim.”
A funny smile played around his lips. “I could ask you the same question—and I have a feeling we’d have a similar answer,” he said. “There have been some weird goings-on around the lake at night over the past few months. Dredging at night, digging in the woods. I’ve been trying to figure out if someone’s been out to disturb the sites that some of our Native American archeologists have turned up; we’ve found some tribal artifacts.”
“The map locators on your diorama,” Nancy blurted. Suddenly, it all started to become clear. Jim’s weird behavior began to make sense. “But what about all those fetishes and cairns?”
“I’ve been trying to mark places that have sacred meaning to our people. If we win that court battle, we’ll have a right to a narrow strip of land that runs through all the property on this side of the lake. I’ve been trying to blaze a rough trail through some of the more sacred spots. Maybe our tribal elders will want them kept free of visitors. But I’m hoping they’ll want to create some sort of self-guided educational walk so that people in the area will know the true history of the native people who lived here.” As Jim spoke, his eyes brightened, and his face filled with passion.
Nancy had really misjudged him. “So, after all this scouting around at night, what have you found? And who just tried to do me in?” Nancy rubbed her head. “And why?”
Jim put his finger to his lips, motioning for Nancy to lower her voice. “I’m not sure why, but obviously your own ‘scouting around’ seems to be making someone very nervous. I don’t know what you’ve been looking for, but I suspect you’re close to finding it. Here, come with me,” Jim said, motioning for her to follow him.
Nancy took a moment to orient herself. She’d finally stopped shivering, but she was still cold and felt a little sick. She looked to her left and realized she was on the other side of the promontory that formed the western border of Camp Moonlight. The shallow beach was semicircular in shape, with the western part of the camp on the left, and a lower, wooded strip of land on the right. There was no dock or pier. The beach ran right up to the edge of the woods. “What is this place?” she asked Jim.
“State park. It’s small, but it gives hikers access to the water.” He started up the beach. Nancy followed him. Jim moved quickly, but quietly. Together they climbed up to the crest of the wooded hill. Jim dropped to a low crouch, and Nancy followed suit. He led her behind a boulder, then motioned for her to look below.
Nancy peeked around the rock. There was another moonlit beach hemmed in by trees. Clearly visible in the moonlight, a woman stood knee-deep in the lake. As Nancy watched, a man in scuba gear broke the surface of the lake, just a few yards away from the woman. He was holding some sort of box. It was dripping with weeds and muck, but even from where she stood, Nancy heard the woman cheer.
“We found it!” she cried happily.
“Emily Griffen!” Nancy whispered, slowly shaking her head. So Nancy had guessed right. Emily knew about the treasure all along. Somehow, she had figured out where to find it.
“And that nasty Dale Weyrhausen,” Jim murmured.
“Nasty?” Nancy repeated.
“That’s the polite word for him,” Jim declared hotly. “That guy and his partner have been breaking every rule about dredging in the lake for artifacts. The police turn a blind eye to it; either they don’t believe these guys ever turn up anything of value, or they just don’t care. It’s illegal to take anything from the lake, whether it’s tribal, or not. Meanwhile, Dale and his partner have also been raiding some of the small Native American sites I mentioned earlier. They look dumb, but these guys are smart enough to sell anything valuable someplace far from here. They bring all the general junk to Timothy’s, in town. Tim’s another one who turns a blind eye, though the stuff they bring him is really only of value to junk collectors.”
“Let’s get a closer look,” Nancy said, slipping past Jim and quietly moving down the hill. The brush was thick, and Nancy was able to creep within a few yards of the pair. They had carried the box to the shore, and were both bent over it.
“What’s she doing?” Jim asked.
Nancy couldn’t believe her eyes. “She has a key!” she whispered excitedly, turning to Jim. Had Emily found the key in one of the trunks? Or maybe that’s what was under that floorboard in the pantry?
“Hey, what’s going on there?!” Jim whispered loudly to Nancy.
Nancy’s whirled around. While Emily knelt in front of the box, trying to work the key in the lock, another man had slipped behind her. He was holding a piece of driftwood in his hands, and was brandishing it over her head. It was Kevin, Dale’s partner. Where had he come from?!
Nancy didn’t give it a second thought. She sprang into action. “Emily, watch out!” she yelled, tackling Kevin from behind.
Kevin fell flat on his face, but Dale was quick. He grabbed Emily’s arm and the box and began dragging them toward the woods.
Kevin quickly recovered from Nancy’s surprise attack. He rolled over and tried to pin her down, but Jim raced to her rescue. He yanked Kevin off Nancy. “You tried to kill her once tonight. You’re not going to get a second chance.” He hauled back and punched Kevin in the nose, knocking him out cold.
Nancy scrambled to her feet. “Dale has Emily!” she said, breathlessly. “What do you think, is it safe to leave him?” She gestured toward Kevin.
“He’s down for the count,” Jim said, then followed Nancy into the woods. They could hear Dale and Emily crashing through the bushes just up ahead.
“Let me go!” Emily was shouting.
“Give me the key, and I’ll let you go!” Dale snarled.
Nancy stopped in her tracks. She motioned silently for Jim to go in the opposite direction so that the two of them could c
ircle around the pair.
Jim nodded, put his fingers to his lips, and let out an owl’s cry. Then he raised three fingers. Nancy grinned. A signal.
A few minutes later, “Hooo! Hooo! Hooo! Hooo!” rang through the forest.
Emily and Dale were still shouting at each other. Nancy counted to three, then burst through the bushes.
“You again?” Dale snapped, but Jim had grabbed him from behind.
“Yeah, us again!” Jim said. He looked toward the spot where Emily had stood only moments ago. “Hey,” he said, surprised, “what happened to Emily?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want rescuing!” Dale taunted.
Nancy could hear Emily stumbling through the forest. “Jim, I’ll follow her. Why don’t you bring Dale down to the beach? As soon as I get Emily, I’ll call the police.” Jim nodded.
Nancy followed Emily’s trail. Just ahead, at the clearing on the edge of Camp Moonlight, she saw Emily half running, half limping down the dirt driveway of the camp, with the box tucked under her arm. It looked like she was heading toward the line of forest between her property and Steve Delmonico’s.
Nancy caught up to her easily. She grabbed Emily’s arm, and the box went flying. It landed hard on a rock, popping open and spilling its contents.
Precious stones of every sort glistened in the moonlight. There were ruby bracelets, diamond pendants, loose stones, all sorts of gold rings, a fortune’s worth of gold coins, and finally, a small oval locket.
Nancy stooped down over the box, but Emily tried to kick her away. “Stay away! That’s mine!” she cried, as Nancy warded off the blows. Emily sank down beside Nancy and began to sob.
“Just because you found it doesn’t mean it’s yours, Emily,” Nancy said. “You didn’t even find it on your land. Even if you had, this is stolen property. The FBI looked for this stuff all through the nineteen-thirties and never found it. Obviously, the place where Malone buried it got flooded by the lake. It looks like he planned it that way,” Nancy added. She thought for a moment. Malone did have the foreknowledge of the hydroelectric project. He planned that his treasure would be buried where no one but he or his wife could eventually find it. Nancy wondered about whatever happened to Malone . . . why he never came back when his jail time was finished . . .
Just then the wail of sirens pierced through the night. Emily looked up, clearly panicked. She tried to gather up the jewels. Nancy stopped her. “I wouldn’t try to avoid the police on this, Emily. Or you might end up in some real trouble here.”
Suddenly George, Ned, and Bess broke through the bushes. The beams of their flashlights danced across Steve Delmonico’s dirt drive. “Nancy—thank goodness, you’re okay!” Ned cried.
“I heard a noise and thought there was a ghost,” Bess admitted shyly. “I grabbed a poker that I’ve been keeping in the bedroom, and went downstairs. Then I saw you walking toward the boathouse. When I saw you set off in a boat, I woke everyone up.”
“But by the time we got outside, your boat was gone, and there were hundreds of canoes everywhere!” George pointed out.
“What’s with Emily?” Ned asked, then he spotted the jewels. “Man! That’s Malone’s treasure!”
“All that jewelry!” Bess gasped.
“It’s not Malone’s treasure. It belongs to me!” Emily suddenly cried, grabbing a locket and jumping up. But the state police were coming up the driveway.
Just then, Steve Delmonico came barreling out of his house. “Caught you!” he shouted, as the police got out of their car and walked toward the little group gathered by the edge of the driveway.
“What’s going on here? What are you kids up to?” asked one of the officers. Then he spotted the jewels. “Omigosh, is that what I think it is?”
His partner shoved back his hat. “I don’t know what you think it is, but I’d say that’s a pretty valuable cache of jewelry. Does it belong to any of you?”
“Me!” Emily said, two little red spots burning on her cheeks. She stood square to the policemen. “This locket belonged to my great-grandmother, which makes it mine.”
“Your great-grandmother?” Nancy asked.
“Mike Malone’s wife, Nellie,” Emily said, with a defiant toss of her head.
“Well, I’ll be,” Steve Delmonico exclaimed, looking at Emily with new respect. “That’s why you were so hot to buy that property. So you could find those famous missing jewels. Congratulations! You’ve hit the jackpot.”
“Wait a minute,” Nancy said, talking directly to the troopers. “She found this box buried just offshore of the state park—not on her land.” The troopers turned to Emily.
“You’re wrong. It’s mine,” Emily insisted. “Yes, I found it there, but it’s still mine.”
“Hmm. You kids had nothing to do with all those boats being vandalized, though?” one of the troopers asked.
“Doesn’t matter. I won’t press charges,” Steve said, with a new-found deference to Emily that Nancy personally found revolting.
“Then I will,” Nancy said. “None of us had anything to do with those boats. If you row over to the state park beach, though, you’ll find Jim Whitehall-Evans. He’s standing guard over Dale and Kevin. They assaulted me and Emily, and they’re the ones who vandalized Mr. Delmonico’s property.”
The trooper got on his walkie-talkie and radioed the lake patrol police to pick up the two men and bring Jim back to town.
As soon as the trooper was off the radio, Emily asked, “So, I can keep the box and its contents?”
“Uh . . . no, miss. First of all, it seems that it is stolen property. Second, I need more proof of your relationship to Malone. If your story is true, you’ll have to prove it in court. Meanwhile, I’ll have to confiscate this. If you come in to the barracks with us, we’ll give you a receipt for its contents.”
Emily looked devastated.
Just then, the troopers’ radio squawked. Lake patrol had picked up Jim and the two men. They would book the two guys and get Jim’s statement about what happened.
“I should go into town too. You’ll probably need my account of what went on tonight,” Nancy volunteered, putting her hand on Emily’s arm. Emily started to pull away, then relaxed. Tears started rolling down her cheeks.
“I’d appreciate the company,” Emily said quietly.
Nancy turned toward her friends. “Maybe you guys could follow in my car? When Emily’s finished down there, we can give her a lift home.” Ned, Bess, and George agreed.
• • •
“So, now, what’s the whole story, Nancy?” Bess asked early the next afternoon. “I can’t bear the suspense one minute longer!”
The night before, after brief questioning, Emily had decided to stay in a motel in town. She would go to court in the morning to stake her claim to the property she’d found. Nancy’s friends waited outside while Emily and Nancy spoke to the troopers. Everyone except for Emily had arrived home just as dawn was breaking over the lake.
They were all too tired to talk, but Nancy had promised to relate Emily’s story over brunch.
A light rain was falling, and the foursome was devouring pancakes at the table in the family room. The deck doors were open, and a fresh, damp breeze blew through the room.
“It turns out,” Nancy started, “that Malone’s wife was visiting relatives with her infant son at the time of Malone’s arrest here at the lake. The missing letters from that packet I found, revealed the fact that he’d buried a boxful of jewels and gold on the far end of what was then still his property. He purposely buried the box in a place where it would be offshore once the lake was flooded.”
“Wow, his planning worked,” George marveled, pouring herself some orange juice. She passed the container to Bess. “The FBI was never able to find it.”
“Apparently, his wife knew all along where it was. She was supposed to be able to retrieve it if she needed the money. But the FBI kept too close a watch on her, just like Ms. MacGregor told Ravi.”
“But where does
Emily come into all this? And how come she didn’t know about being a Malone until recently?” Bess asked. “Or did she?”
Nancy shook her head. “When Emily’s great-grandmother died on the West Coast, her son was adopted and given a new name by his adoptive parents.”
“Griffen?” Ned surmised.
“Yes,” Nancy continued. “This woman’s son was Emily’s grandfather. By the time Emily Griffen was born, no one had a clue that she was actually a Malone.”
“Until Emily researched her documentary,” Bess concluded. “It’s such a romantic story.”
“It’s a sad story. And I don’t know if Emily will ever be able to claim the property. There must be insurance questions. The only thing that she seems to be able to prove legally belongs to her is the locket, which has her great-grandmother’s photo in it. She found another photo of her during her research.”
“But how did she know about the letters? And what about that plan?” George asked.
“I’m not sure. She said she knew there had been letters of some sort, because she read that the FBI began intercepting twice-a-week mail from Malone to his wife when he was in prison. Emily learned about the secret passage from plans she found in the main house. The letters inside mentioned a plan for where the treasure was hidden, and the boathouse. She never did find out what the boathouse had to do with anything. Maybe Malone originally intended to hide his stolen goods there.”
For a moment they all sat silently, listening to the drum of rain on the deck. “It is a sad story,” Bess said. “Finding out who your family is—and then learning that you have a relative who was a big-time gangster.”
Nancy nodded. “Emily’s having a hard time with that. But I think in the long run it’s going to work in her favor. Imagine doing a documentary about your own great-grandfather!”
Suddenly, there was a knock on the back door. “Anyone home?” a high-pitched woman’s voice called in a British accent.
“Oh, no!” Bess slumped down in her chair. “The Lawrence-Joneses. Now what did we do?”
“We can’t tell them we aren’t here,” George said, getting up and going to the door. “Hi, come on in!” she said brightly.
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