“You told her all of that?”
Kat smiled. “Didn’t have to. I thought it, and she picked up on it. Animals are the real mind readers. Most times, they know us better than we know ourselves. I only hope that the part about dinner is true. We need to find their food.”
“On it.” Harper returned to the kitchen to search. This time she realized that a tall framed poster of racing huskies hid a door with no handle. She pulled at the frame to open it. Taped to the other side of the door was a sheet printed with each husky’s name and the quantity of biscuits and meat (60 percent chicken, 40 percent beef) he or she ate daily.
“Jackpot! Husky chow and feeding instructions.”
Kat was relieved. A starving-husky crisis was one they could do without. She left her new friend on the sofa and laid out six bowls. Watching the husky for reaction, she read the names out loud: “Matty, Fleet, Rebel, Thunder, Nomad, and Dancer.”
On hearing her name, Nomad sat to attention.
“Good name for a wanderer,” approved Kat. “Huskies have a reputation for being escape artists. Nomad’s obviously the Houdini of the pack. She must have cut her paw getting out of the kennels to try to find her owner. Harper, are you sure your dad didn’t drop any hints about huskies at Nightingale Lodge? Could he have been saving them as a surprise for us?”
Harper wrinkled her nose. “Dad’s hopeless at keeping secrets, but I suppose it’s possible that he and your mom were in on it together. With the stress of the car breaking down and having to go to Lake Placid, maybe your mom forgot to ask us to feed them.”
“Possibly,” said Kat, knowing full well that an earthquake wouldn’t erase six hungry dogs from her mother’s mind. “Or if these are racing huskies, maybe Ross Ryan didn’t trust anyone except Mrs. Brody to take care of them. But then why didn’t she mention them when she messaged earlier to say she wouldn’t be able to get back here today because the snowy roads were too treacherous?”
Even as she spoke, Kat knew that the mystery of the huskies had nothing to do with Mrs. Brody’s travel difficulties. Something was wrong with Nightingale Lodge. She just couldn’t work out what.
Judging by the way Harper was drumming the arm of the chair and nervously jiggling a foot, her best friend was performing similar contortions trying to make the story they’d told themselves fit.
“I’ll send Dad a text, thanking him for the surprise but not saying what surprise I mean,” Harper said cheerfully. “See what he says.”
“And I’ll dish up the dogs’ dinners.” Kat cast a troubled glance out the window. “If the weather gets any worse, we’ll have to bring them inside. Huskies have two coats and a metabolism designed to cope with harsh conditions, but even they have limits.”
“That’s fine with me. No threat of intruders if we have six domestic wolves and a raccoon keeping watch.”
* * *
Two freezing relays to take food to the kennels, three hundred meters up the track, was enough to convince them that having the huskies in the cabin was the correct decision. According to the barometer hung from the porch railing, the temperature had dropped to 15 degrees.
Before the hour was up, the living room was freshly carpeted—in husky fur. Fleet, Matty, Dancer, and Thunder had made themselves at home on the sofas. Nomad and Rebel stretched out in front of the fire.
The girls were squashed up together in the armchair. As Harper flipped through TV channels in search of a weather forecast, her father’s reply pinged in from London.
Hey kiddo, great to hear from you. As I write, I’m chewing on rubbery poached eggs in my glam (NOT) airport hotel. Storm Mindy is causing mayhem here too. All New York–bound flights are canceled or delayed. WILL get to you before it’s time to come home even if I have to swim! Or ski!
Meantime your text made my day. I’m glad you’re managing to have a good time despite my epic passport fail and Ross’s car dying on you all.
I’m glad you like your surprise! I’m guessing you mean the waterfall behind Nightingale Lodge? I told Dr. Wolfe not to say anything because I thought you girls would get a kick out of it when you discovered it. Can’t wait to see it myself, though if the forecast’s accurate, it’ll shortly be wall-to-wall stalactites! Wrap up and take care. Will call when I land at Newark. Love Dad x
The girls rose and moved like sleepwalkers to the window at the back of the cabin. They stared out at the snowy hill. Through the pines, they could see the wooden corner of the kennels and the track that led to them. There was no telltale mist or rainbow. No muted roar.
“What waterfall?” said Harper.
“I knew it,” ranted Harper. “Soon as we walked into the cabin, I had a gut sense that something was off.”
“So did I,” said Kat. “I felt it in my bones.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why didn’t you?” accused Kat.
Harper collapsed into the armchair. “We need to take ten deep breaths. Whatever’s gone wrong is not our fault.”
Kat continued pacing. “The animals were the giveaway. If I hadn’t been so exhausted when we arrived, I’d have cottoned on sooner.”
“What animals?”
“The bear lamps and moose cushions. The husky cookie jar and squirrel dish towels.”
“I know, I know,” despaired Harper. “A whole safari park and not a single nightingale. But who’s the idiot who watched TV last night, totally forgetting that the main reason Dad rented Ross Ryan’s cabin was because it has NO TELEVISION?”
“We’re both idiots,” Kat corrected her. “Didn’t your dad describe Nightingale Lodge as a natural log cabin where we’d be able to lie in bed and gaze out over the lake?”
“Uh-huh. This cabin is red wood with a white trim and our room faces the hill at the back. But the biggest clues of all are our fluffy friends.” She leaned over to rub the ears of Fleet, the smallest dog. “The real Nightingale Lodge has no huskies.”
“We’re the world’s dumbest detectives,” Harper raged. “If we can’t detect that we’re in the wrong cabin, what hope do we have of solving the Wish List mystery with no internet?”
It was only then that the full implications of their situation began to sink in.
“Never mind the Wish List gang,” fretted Kat. “If the owner of this cabin catches us here, we’ll be the ones on the news: being charged with breaking and entering. We’re like Goldilocks in the ‘Three Bears’ story. We’ve moved into someone else’s cabin, eaten their dinner, slept in their bed. Unlike the fairy tale, we’ve also stolen their dogs. How did we manage this?”
“It was the nightingale sign,” Harper reminded her. “It was twisting in the wind and must have been facing the wrong direction. Jet took the right fork when he should have gone left. Those lights we saw on the other side of the lake, I’ll bet one of them is Nightingale Lodge.”
“Then we can fix this,” cried Kat. “It’s finally stopped snowing. Let’s clean the cabin, put the huskies in their kennels, and hike around the lake with as much of our baggage as we can carry. The rest we can hide in the shed we saw out the back. If we hurry, we’ll reach Nightingale Lodge before nightfall and before Mum arrives. We can pretend this was all a bad dream.”
Hypnotized by events unfolding on the silent TV, Harper was no longer listening. She snatched up the remote. “Kat, the storm! It’s coming for us.”
A stern American boomed, “Weather forecasters are blaming a brand-new multibillion-dollar IT system upgrade for a glitch that had them predicting that Storm Mindy would track south after dumping record snow on New England, leaving thirty thousand without power.
“Instead, residents of Vermont and the Adirondack region, who were caught off guard by last night’s nor’easter, are braced for an early blast of winter. Storm Mindy, the arctic beast that some are calling the Wolf from the North, has changed course and is bearing down on the northern Adirondacks. Officials are now scrambling to set up emergency shelters after the National Weather Service has issu
ed a blizzard warning.
“Emergency services are gearing up for what could be the worst October storm for decades. Isolated communities in the High Peaks, Blue Mountain Lake, and Raquette Lake areas could be cut off by whiteout conditions and nearly twelve inches of snow. Panic buying of fuel, bottled water, and core groceries emptied shelves in stores—”
Harper muted the voice of doom. “We can forget hiking to Nightingale Lodge. Those isolated communities? We’re in one of them. If Mindy hits us tomorrow, it’ll be a miracle if we don’t have to dig our way out.”
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She handed it to Kat. “Message from your mom.”
They read it together, Harper resting her chin on her friend’s shoulder.
Dear Kat, you’ll have heard by now that we’ve chosen the worst possible weather week to take a vacation in the Adirondacks. Storm Mindy is on her way and we’re in her path! As if that wasn’t bad enough, the car part I need is out of stock and has to be ordered. If it’s not here by tomorrow, I’ll rent a car. I did try my best to find a cabdriver willing to take me to Nightingale Lodge before the storm arrives, but it’s impossible. Lake Placid’s jammed with people seeking refuge from the big freeze or buying survival essentials. If Mrs. Brody wasn’t with you, I’d be out of my mind with worry. Thanks for being so understanding, darling. Hope you don’t get too bored stuck indoors without TV or laptops. Spoke to Harper’s father. No doubt she’s heard that her dad’s flight has been delayed till Wednesday night. We love you both and are doing our best to get to you from opposite ends of the globe. Mum xx
“Please don’t tell her we’re alone in a stranger’s cabin,” begged Harper. “Dad will have a nervous breakdown.”
“As if,” retorted Kat.
Hi Mum, sorry you’re having a mare with the car. We’re snug here. The snow is soooo beautiful. We have books, a blazing fire, and a ton of food to help us survive Storm Mindy. I only hope the forest creatures don’t perish or get blown to Alaska.
The huskies weren’t in any danger of doing either. Prone in front of the fire, Nomad was dreaming, her fluffy ears twitching. Rebel yawned and started grooming his immaculate white paws.
Kat ended:
Don’t worry about us and we won’t worry about you! Stay warm and placid in Lake Placid till Mindy’s gone. When we’re all together, we’ll have the best vacation ever. K & H xx
The text whooshed away. Kat and Harper sat in shocked disbelief. They were trapped in who knew whose cabin with who knew whose dogs, with the Wolf from the North poised to pounce. Whatever happened now, they had no hope of rescue.
Their winter wonderland had just become a nightmare.
STAR WITNESS
The next morning brought a diamond-hard frost and a clear sky the infinite turquoise of an Antarctic ice sheet. The needle on the porch barometer had sunk to 5 degrees.
Harper was disconsolate. She kept running to the window to check for the flat, dark nimbostratus clouds that portend snow.
“Where’s a good blizzard when you need one? Why is it sunny today of all days? Where is Storm Mindy? The sooner she dumps snow on the track to our cabin, the better I’ll like it. No chance of the owner dropping in unexpectedly then.”
She took off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. The snow glare hurt. She and Kat had barely slept. Huskies, it turned out, were doggy dynamos. If they weren’t kept entertained 24/7, they invented their own games. Two cushions, a dog-training manual, and one of Harper’s sneakers had already fallen victim to their eager jaws.
* * *
All night long, the huskies had taken it in turns to howl, whine, and scratch at the door for bathroom breaks or to chase one another over the furniture.
“Isn’t there a dog-whispering technique you can use to control them?” pleaded Harper, leaping to save a lamp knocked over by boisterous Matty.
“Of course, but it won’t solve the problem.” Kat lay on the fireside rug between Nomad and Fleet. “Huskies hate being cooped up, especially if they’re used to tons of exercise. See how lean and muscly these two are? Whoever owns them is either a fitness fanatic who takes them on marathon bike rides or runs, or a musher who—”
“What’s a musher?”
“Someone who drives a dogsled. These huskies are so strong that it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re used to taking tourists on sled rides when the lake’s frozen over.”
Harper perked up. “If they belong to a musher, that person might be so appreciative that we’ve kept their dogs fed and alive, they won’t mind a bit about the chewed cushions or book; or the broken mugs, plate, and glasses; or that we’ve been living in their home and eating their food.”
“Possibly,” said Kat without conviction. She kept thinking about the Airstream trailer they’d passed on Otter Creek Road. The one with the sign framed by two painted guns: IF YOU’RE FOUND HERE TONIGHT, YOU’LL BE FOUND HERE IN THE MORNING.
What if their cabin was owned by someone who shot trespassers first and asked questions later?
Somehow, Kat doubted it. In a bid to find answers about who owned the cabin, she and Harper had searched every cupboard and drawer. There was nothing personal in the cabin. No family photos. No electricity bills or bits of string or dried-up pens. No kitschy knickknacks brought home from exotic travels. It looked and felt like a rental.
But who owned the dogs? Was it a seasonal worker such as a ski guide? There’d been fresh food in the fridge, so they’d obviously been expected. Had that person fallen ill or had car trouble too?
“I can’t bear the suspense a second longer,” said Harper, reaching for the remote yet again. “I have to know how Storm Mindy’s progressing.”
The primary colors of the TV popped out at them. The local news was just beginning. A banner scrolled across the bottom of the screen. Harper read it twice before she could take it in.
BREAKING NEWS: STAR WITNESS MISSING AND BODYGUARDS IN ICU AFTER WRONG TURN IN THE ADIRONDACKS
“Kat, our case! You’ve got to see this.” She stabbed at the volume button.
A ghost of a frown fluttered across the newsreader’s crease-free forehead as the story unfurled on her teleprompter.
“The star witness in the trial of alleged Wish List gang leader Gerry Meeks is missing, feared lost or the victim of foul play. It is believed that protection officers assigned to guard the witness took a wrong turn in the snow-hit Adirondack Park in upper New York State.
“The drama began early this morning when a snowplow driver called nine-one-one to report an abandoned vehicle with the engine running. Paramedics attending the scene found a critically injured man and woman and evidence that a third person had been in the vehicle.
“The identity of the star witness in the high-profile Wish List gang trial has until now been a closely guarded secret. With Storm Mindy set to bring whiteout conditions to the northern Adirondacks later today, New York State detectives from the Bureau of Criminal Investigation have taken the unusual step of naming the witness due to her age and extreme vulnerability.”
“No!” gasped Kat as a photo of a grinning girl in a pink baseball cap popped up. “No, that’s impossible. Harper, that’s Riley, the girl I told you about. The one who could mimic a loon and gave me her blue neckerchief.”
“You’re positive?”
“One hundred and ten percent. Remember me telling you that there was something distant and peculiar about her aunt and uncle? Now I understand why. They were police bodyguards, not relatives. I guess the ‘cousins’ they talked about weren’t real either. Uh, what are you doing?”
Harper was on a chair squinting at the screen at close range. When she climbed down, footage of a black SUV in a forest clearing was being replaced by a picture of a handsome man in an expensive suit. Riley was beside him, scowling in an equally expensive dress.
The newsreader continued, “Riley Gabriella Matthews, twelve-year-old daughter of Daylesford Bank chairman Wainwright Matthews, was the sole witness to the theft of Cynthia Hollin
ghurst’s fifty-million-dollar diamond necklace at the Royal Manhattan last month.
“Police have launched an appeal for witnesses to this morning’s accident. Local volunteers with knowledge of the northern Adirondacks are urged to call this number if they can assist search-and-rescue teams…”
Harper killed the TV. “Where’s the map?”
Kat was in tears. She couldn’t bear the thought of the warm, funny girl who’d danced with her in the ruby rain being lost in the snowy wilderness.
The report didn’t specify what “foul play” Riley might have fallen victim to, but Kat imagined it had something to do with the Wish List gang. Without a star witness to testify that Gerry Meeks had stolen the diamond necklace, the trial would collapse. Gerry would walk free from the court.
Had his accomplices ambushed the SUV and whisked Riley off to their lair? Or had she escaped into the forest, disoriented or injured?
Tears streamed down Kat’s cheeks at the thought of Riley frozen, afraid, and at the mercy of kidnappers and wild animals. The American girl had talked of the trees and loons as if they were her only real friends. If she was lonely then, how must she feel now?
Kat had offered Riley Tiny’s photo as a talisman of friendship and protection. Would his Savannah energy be enough to keep her safe from polar temperatures, charging bears, or ruthless kidnappers? It was a lot to ask of a cat on the other side of the Atlantic, even one as unique as Tiny.
Harper had nipped upstairs. She returned with a packet of Kleenex for Kat and the giant map. “I’ve seen it; I’ve definitely seen it.”
“Sorry, you’ve lost me,” mumbled Kat, blowing her nose.
“Pine Cove Road.” Harper spread the map with shaking fingers. “I spotted the sign in the side-view mirror of the TV van filming the SUV. I’m sure I saw it when we were trying to find Otter Creek Road on Sunday, the day we arrived in the Adirondacks.”
Kat Wolfe on Thin Ice Page 6