by Peg Kehret
“We’ve looked everywhere for that boy,” said a third guard. “We may as well check inside The River of Fear ride, too.”
“Hurry!” Sybil implored.
As the guard ran toward the wooden steps to the platform, Tucker stood at the top, waiting for Joan and Mitch to get deep in the ride and dreaming about what he would do with his unexpected windfall. Intent on his plan to get even, he did not notice the guards hurrying toward him. He smiled, pulled the lever, and started the ride.
Inside the ride, the dim lights came on and the sound effects boomed into the darkness. Ellen stared at her attacker’s face as she struggled to get away from him. The unexpected noise of the ride starting caused him to loosen his grip temporarily but, burdened as she was with Corey’s limp body, Ellen could not move quickly enough to take advantage of the man’s distraction.
Now he shoved Ellen again, trying to push her under the water. She staggered backwards, desperately trying to keep her balance.
Behind him, Ellen saw a boat enter the tunnel and come toward them.
The man yelled, “Joan! Tell Tucker to turn this thing off! What’s he trying to do, kill us all?”
“Maybe he’s trying to warn us that someone is coming.”
The flashlight went off.
With the man momentarily inattentive, Ellen thought: This is my chance. As soon as the boat was close enough, she heaved Corey upward with all her might and dropped him over the side, into the bottom of the boat. She hoped she was not making Corey’s injuries worse by dumping him into the boat that way but the alternative, drowning, was even worse.
The next boat approached; Ellen grabbed hold and swung one leg over the side. As her second foot came out of the water, the man’s arms went around her waist and pulled with such force that Ellen was yanked backwards away from the boat.
“The boy’s gone!” Mitch said. “He’s in one of the boats.”
Ellen kicked furiously and, twisting out of his grasp, dropped to her hands and knees on the slimy bottom.
“Joan! Get down here and help me,” Mitch said. “She’s slippery as a bar of soap.”
As he grabbed for her, Ellen ducked away from him and crawled under the walkway.
Joan tiptoed out the door. Instead of telling Tucker to turn the ride off, she hurried down the back steps, and ran toward the car. Mitch was going to drown that girl just to keep the cops away from Tucker. And if she stayed here, she’d be an accomplice.
Picking a few pockets had been fun, and stealing cars and parting them out was lucrative. But Joan drew the line at murder. Especially a kid. She had never seen Mitch act this way. He liked kids. He’d always been good to Alan. That’s one reason Joan had married him; she knew Alan needed a man in his life. But Alan did not need a man who was wanted for murder.
When Joan didn’t answer him, Mitch dropped to his knees in the filthy water and began reaching under the platform.
“I know you’re under there,” he said.
CHAPTER
15
TUCKER KEPT his hand on the lever for a few seconds after he pulled it, imagining the scene inside the ride. As he turned to leave, Joan dashed from behind The River of Fear and started across the midway. Tucker stared down at her, confused. Where was she going? Where was Mitch? Why didn’t she signal to Tucker?
The two of them were cutting him out! The thought hit him like a snowball striking the back of his neck, sending shivers of shock down his spine. It was the only logical explanation why Joan would run away like that. Mitch must be ahead of her. Joan and Mitch did the dirty work and then, instead of coming up the platform for Tucker, they beat it back to their fancy-dancy Mercedes and left Tucker to take the rap.
Well, he would not let them get away with it. The fact that he had planned to cut them out did not lessen Tucker’s outrage as he rushed down the steps, arriving at the bottom just as three patrol cars pulled up. Two officers got out of each car.
For a moment, Tucker stood frozen with fright. Then he said, “The ride has malfunctioned. It won’t stop until I go to the main electrical center and trip the fuse.” To his vast relief, the officers did not detain him.
Tucker broke into a trot, headed for the parking lot and the Mercedes. He had to get there before Mitch and Joan drove off.
They tricked me, Tucker thought bitterly, as he ran. They got me to stand guard and then they left me to face the cops alone.
An ambulance sped past, its red lights whirling.
Each time his feet hit the pavement, Tucker grew more furious. His own brother had cut him out.
At the far end of the parking lot, a line of cars waited to exit. There, almost at the end of the line, was the Mercedes, with Joan behind the wheel. Tucker pounded on the locked door until Joan rolled down her window.
“Let me in,” Tucker said.
“What do you want?”
“I’m going with you. I want my cut.” He reached through Joan’s open window, unlocked the back door, and climbed into the back seat. Then he saw that Alan sat in front with Joan and the back seat was empty.
“Where’s Mitch?” he asked.
“He’s meeting us later,” Joan said.
Tucker stared at the back of Joan’s head. “You left him, didn’t you?” he said, unable to keep the amazement out of his voice. “You left your own husband to take the rap.”
“Shut up, Tucker. There won’t be any cuts for any of us if we don’t get out of here soon. This traffic is terrible.”
“What if the cops find him?”
“Mitch can talk his way out of anything. He’ll catch up to us in Portland.”
“You can’t let the cops take Mitch in,” Tucker said. “What if they fingerprint him?”
“What if they do? Mitch doesn’t have a record.”
“He never told you?”
Joan swiveled around so she could see Tucker’s face. “Told me what?”
“Nothing,” Tucker said. “Forget I said that.”
“Told me what?”
Tucker wiped the perspiration off his brow and looked out the window. “I thought you knew,” he said. “I just assumed Mitch had told you.”
“Tucker!” Her voice hissed, like a poisonous snake. “If you don’t tell me, right now, what you are talking about, I will turn you in to the cops.”
Tucker pointed at the back of Alan’s head.
“Alan,” Joan said, “get out and go see if you can figure out why traffic isn’t moving.”
“I want to hear about Mitch.”
“Go!”
Alan opened the car door and walked off.
“Ten years ago,” Tucker said, “Mitch was convicted of armed robbery and assault. After the trial, while he was being transferred from the county jail to a state prison, he escaped; he got away from two guards and was never caught. He lost thirty pounds, had plastic surgery on his nose, cut his hair short, and changed his name.”
“His name?” Joan said. “Mitch Lagrange is not his real name?”
“No. His real name is Michael Garrenger.”
“I married someone called Mitch Lagrange.”
Tucker was sorry he had spilled his brother’s secret but it was almost worth it to hear the shock in Joan’s voice.
Alan rushed back to the car. “You know why we’re going so slow?” he said. “It’s because there are cops up ahead, and they’re checking every car.”
ELLEN heard splashing as the man moved beside the edge of the walkway. She couldn’t see his face but she sensed that he was peering under the walkway every few feet, trying to see where she was.
The thick algae squished up between her fingers as she crawled through the water. The foul smell was worse under the walkway, where the water was more stagnant. She wondered if the smell was part of the scary effect of The River of Fear or merely the result of poor maintenance.
This water is probably full of germs, she thought, and gagged at the idea of crawling on her hands and knees through zillions of wriggling creatures, all
carrying terrible diseases.
She heard another row of empty boats enter the tunnel. They moved quickly, so there was no time to form a plan or consider where the man was standing. As the boats went past, Ellen sprang out from under the walkway, grabbed the side of a boat and jumped headfirst into the bottom of the boat.
She almost made it. She landed in the bottom of the boat but couldn’t get her legs tucked in fast enough. The man grasped her ankles and tugged. Ellen kicked, trying to free herself. The man ran along beside the moving boat, yanking on her legs.
Ellen grabbed the safety bar but her hands were slippery from crawling around in the algae and when the man tugged harder, she was unable to keep her grip. He pulled her up and over the edge. Although she tried desperately to cling to the side of the boat, it slid away from her outstretched fingers.
The man held fast to her ankles and Ellen fell face downward into the water. Immediately, she felt a foot on her shoulders, holding her under.
CHAPTER
16
ELLEN TWISTED and kicked. The foot moved off her shoulders but now the man’s hands pressed hard on the back of her head. Ellen felt as if her lungs would burst like popped balloons if she didn’t get some air soon.
Help! she screamed in her mind. Grandpa! Guardian Angel! Spirits! Anyone! Help me!
But even as she pleaded, Ellen knew that she would have to help herself.
Empty boats streaked past beside her, so close, yet so un-reachable.
Frantically, Ellen scooped a fistful of algae from the bottom and flung it over her shoulder at the man. He was leaning over her, holding her head down. The foul-smelling algae hit him in both eyes, temporarily blinding him.
Cursing, he let go of Ellen in order to wipe the algae from his face. She scrambled to her feet, gulped air, and dove into the last boat in the row.
As she rode away from him, she heard him yell, “Joan! Where are you? Turn on the light!”
A short distance ahead, the wolf lunged low toward the side of the boat, then raised its head as the boat passed, snapping its huge jaws.
Ellen realized that when Corey had been knocked unconscious, the wolf’s head must have come along just at the right moment to lift Corey and raise his limp body up, keeping him out of the water. When the ride stopped, Corey still lay on the wolf’s head. If the wolf had not been there, Corey would surely have drowned in the foul water.
Her boat passed the enormous beast. Instead of being scared of the vicious-looking creature, Ellen felt like hugging it.
She continued on through the Tunnel of Terror and past all the horrible monsters of Mutilation Mountain. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have been scared silly by the Dracula, werewolf, and other horrid creatures. This time, she barely noticed them. She was too shaken by her encounters with real danger to be frightened by anything fake.
After what seemed like an hour, she emerged at the top of The River of Fear platform. It was crowded with people.
“There she is! Ellen’s here!”
Ellen recognized The Great Sybil’s voice.
Below, the red lights of an ambulance flashed around and around near the bottom of the steps.
A police officer and The Great Sybil helped Ellen climb out of the boat. The officer turned the ride off.
“Corey’s in one of the other boats,” Ellen said. “He’s unconscious.”
“We already found him,” the officer said. “A paramedic is examining him now.” He called over the side of the platform. “Mrs. Streater! Mr. Streater! Your daughter is safe!”
Below her, Ellen saw her parents standing next to two men in white jackets. Corey lay on a stretcher beside them.
Her parents waved at her and then bent over Corey again.
“What happened?” The Great Sybil said.
“A man inside The River of Fear tried to kill me,” Ellen said. She started to shake. Her teeth chattered as if it were a freezing December night instead of a balmy August evening.
“Here.” The Great Sybil removed the fringed shawl that she had on and wrapped it around Ellen’s shoulders.
“I’m not really cold,” Ellen said. “I don’t know why I’m shivering.”
“Nervous reaction,” said the police officer. “Who tried to kill you? How?”
The officer raised his eyebrows but listened intently as Ellen told exactly what had happened inside The River of Fear ride. Partway through her story, he directed two other officers to look for suspects on the maintenance stairway on the back side of the ride.
“It was Tucker Garrenger,” The Great Sybil said. “He’s the only one who would know to go inside the ride.” She frowned. “I can’t think who the woman would be, though.”
“Who is Tucker Garrenger?” the officer said.
“He’s been running this ride,” The Great Sybil said, “and I haven’t trusted him from the very first.”
“The man inside wasn’t the man who was running the ride,” Ellen said. “The man who tried to drown me wasn’t the same man who tried to push me off the platform.”
“Two men tried to kill you?” the officer said.
Ellen nodded. She didn’t blame the officer for looking dubious; she could hardly believe it herself.
“The man in the water,” Ellen said, “was average height and build and he had thick, dark hair. And evil eyes.” She shivered harder, remembering how the man had looked at her. “And he kept talking to someone named Joan.”
The siren on the ambulance bleeped. Ellen jumped at the sudden sound and then quickly looked down. The medics were sliding the stretcher bearing Corey into the ambulance.
Corey lay still as stone. Mrs. Streater climbed in the back of the ambulance and knelt beside Corey. Mr. Streater looked up, waved at Ellen, and pointed to the ambulance before he, too, climbed in.
Ellen waved back. Her parents were going to accompany Corey to the hospital. It must be serious, for both of them to go, leaving her here. Even though they could see that she was unharmed and did not need their assistance, it was unlike her parents to take off like that without explaining to her first.
And what about the Streaters’ car? Dad must be in a terrific hurry to get to that hospital, if he was leaving his car at the fairgrounds, to be retrieved later.
Ellen knew that the police officers or The Great Sybil would be sure that Ellen got safely home. Maybe Dad had arranged for the police to drive Ellen to the hospital when they finished questioning her. Even so, she trembled harder as she watched both of her parents and her brother leave the fairgrounds in an ambulance, its siren wailing and its red lights flashing. Surrounded by people, Ellen felt completely alone.
CHAPTER
17
MITCH SPAT into the water and wiped more algae from his face. “They got away,” he muttered. “Both of them.”
The only sound was the splash of the boats in the distance and the noises of the scenes in the tunnel.
Mitch sloshed through the foul-smelling water toward the landing. Joan had said maybe someone was coming. She must have slipped outside to watch and listen. Or maybe she had gone back up the steps to tell that idiot Tucker to turn the ride off. Mitch could not imagine what had possessed Tucker to turn the thing on in the first place. Tucker knew Mitch and Joan were inside; what was he thinking?
Furious, Mitch hoisted himself onto the landing and pushed open the door. “Joan?” he whispered.
Where was she?
He heard voices now, excited voices. A loud babble came from the front side of The River of Fear. He had to get out of there before the girl talked to anyone.
“Joan?”
If she had climbed up to tell Tucker to turn the ride off, she would be on the front side of the ride by now. Surely, if the voices were guards or cops, Joan would hightail it back to warn him. Unless she couldn’t. Maybe Joan had no choice but to talk to them, too. She’d figure out some lie, some way to throw them off the track until Mitch got away. He just hoped that idiot, Tucker, kept his mouth shut and let J
oan do the talking.
Silently, keeping as close to the back side of the ride as he could, Mitch glided down the maintenance steps. When his feet were on solid ground, he looked around carefully, still hoping to find Joan waiting for him. He didn’t like going to the car without her. He decided to wait a few minutes, just in case she returned.
There were more voices now and lights shone over the top of The River of Fear. Mitch chewed on his lip and wished he could light up a cigarette.
A siren shrieked. Mitch jumped at the sudden, close sound. Sirens, any kind of sirens, were bad news. He could wait no longer. Joan had probably gone back to the car and was waiting for him there.
Mitch hurried through the darkness, away from the back of The River of Fear. His mind raced ahead to what he would do if Joan was not waiting in the car. Should he take Alan and leave, trusting Joan would contact him through their man in Portland? Or maybe her mother. Joan could always go to her mother’s place, knowing Mitch would eventually come for her there.
He concentrated so hard on his own thoughts that he did not hear the footsteps behind him. When the police officer spoke, Mitch tried to run but by then it was too late. A second officer quickly cut him off.
“We’d like to talk to you,” one officer said.
Mitch silently cursed himself for hanging around so long, waiting for Joan.
“How did you get so wet?” the older officer, Sergeant Hall, said. “Your clothes are soaked, clear to your waist.”
“Some kid spilled his Coke on me. I tried to wash it out in the rest room.”
“Sure.”
Mitch said, “I’m a hard working, law-abiding citizen and if you don’t have anything better to do than harass me, I suggest you let me be on my way before I file suit for unlawful arrest.”
The two officers exchanged a glance. “Something doesn’t add up,” Sergeant Hall said. “Why would he try to kill some girl he doesn’t know? What is he hiding?”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Mitch said, “and I certainly did not try to kill anyone.”
“I want a fingerprint check,” Sergeant Hall said.