“Oh, I don’t know,” Ms. James said unhelpfully.
Victor had picked up on Rosie’s urgency. “Was the man a civilian?” he asked.
That word was an electric zap that made Rosie’s heart start pounding extra hard and her whole body tingle. Because Rosie was now picturing a very specific civilian, the civilian she and her siblings had seen at the creepy house off Crimson Drive.
“Yes,” Ms. James said, pressing a finger to her chin for a moment. “Now that I think of it, I noticed he was wearing a brown coat, and it struck me as odd on such a hot afternoon.”
The electricity crackled through Rosie like a live wire as all the pieces came together at once: the cages, the meat, the secrecy.
That terrible man was dognapping pets, locking them in cages in the basement of the isolated house, feeding them that meat, and then—well, who knew what his evil plan was? But now that she was onto him, Rosie wasn’t stopping till she found out.
“We have to go,” she told Ms. James as she sprang to her feet and raced down the path. The rain had started up again but Rosie didn’t care.
She simply couldn’t wait one more minute to tell Charlotte and Tom that she, the youngest Bailey of all, had uncovered the truth about the sinister man and the house off Crimson Drive.
“Oh, I love that design,” Sophia exclaimed. She grabbed Charlotte’s hand so she could check out her nails close up.
“Thanks,” Charlotte said, trying to smile. It had been a long week and it was only Thursday.
“You used tape?” Mari asked as she leaned over and admired the bronze, sage, and hot-pink geometric shapes on Charlotte’s nails.
“Yes,” Charlotte said. It was raining outside and the drops splattered against the big windows next to them. The gray of the day mirrored Charlotte’s mood, and she wished she were home curled up with a book instead of under the harsh lights of the crowded cafeteria.
Sophia grinned. “We’re learning your secrets.”
“Well, not completely,” Mari said, wrinkling her nose. She held out nails that looked as though they’d met with a mud puddle. “I tried to do a splattered look, but the colors mixed and it just looks dirty.”
“I think you have to let each coat dry in between,” Charlotte advised. She poked her fork into her salad and pushed it around. It seemed especially unappetizing today.
“Oh, that makes sense,” Mari said. “I actually texted to ask you about it last night, but you never got back to me. What were you doing?”
Now both girls looked at Charlotte, who gulped a little. She and Rosie had been playing with dolls and having so much fun Charlotte hadn’t even thought to check her phone. But she certainly couldn’t tell Mari and Sophia that. “Um, my phone died, sorry,” she mumbled.
“Hi,” Jen Sebastian said. Charlotte had been so busy fending off Mari’s question that she hadn’t seen Jen approach, and hadn’t had time to prepare for what had turned into a daily assault. And as usual, Jen did not waste any time seeking gossip. “Charlotte, how’s your brother?”
“Fine, thanks,” Charlotte said, taking a big bite of salad so she’d have an excuse not to talk.
“Well, he’d better not get too comfortable,” Jen said knowingly. “Because I heard Chase saying that he was going to spook him with one of the worms we’re dissecting in science next week.”
Charlotte crunched down hard on the tasteless lettuce, hating everything about what Jen was saying. If it was true, it was mean and awful. If it was just a rumor, it was still mean and awful. And Charlotte was really tired of mean, awful things happening to her brother. And then getting tossed into her life at lunchtime.
“He shouldn’t be such an easy target,” Sophia said, shaking her head dismissively.
Charlotte thought of what she could say to defend Tom and set everyone straight once and for all. But the thought of Sophia’s reaction made Charlotte’s voice disappear somewhere deep inside her chest. She told herself that the only way to really defend Tom was to get the video and prove his bravery. But even knowing this did not make the queasy feeling go away.
“He’s probably hoping Chase’s family will get stationed at another post,” Mari said, picking up her seltzer.
“I’m not sure that would even matter.” Jen shrugged. “Everyone calls him Sergeant Wimpy now.”
Charlotte wished Jen’s family would get stationed at another post.
“He’s kind of asking for it if he gets scared by a little thing like a worm in science,” Sophia said.
Charlotte gritted her teeth at this. Nothing had even happened yet, but here Sophia was, acting like Tom had already totally freaked out.
“Hey, what’s up, Sister Wimpy?” a boy called as he went past.
Jen burst into giggles, and Charlotte sank down in her seat. It was getting worse, not better, as the days passed. The only thing that could help now was making that video. As the girls started in on Tom again, Charlotte promised herself they’d make it happen this weekend no matter what.
That afternoon Charlotte decided to stop by the library after school and sent a quick text to Dad to let him know. She figured picking up a few new books would be a good distraction, and once she was there she ended up sitting on a beanbag in the corner rereading the first Harry Potter book, which was still her favorite. It was after five by the time she finally checked out a pile of books, stuffed them in her backpack, and headed outside.
It was drizzling and foggy, so Charlotte pulled out her umbrella as she walked down the slick steps. She had outgrown her rain boots over the summer and could already feel the toes of her sneakers getting damp as she started down the path. Umbrellas were good for keeping the top half of her dry, but she was pretty sure the bottoms of her jeans and her shoes would be wet by the time she got home.
No one else was outside on such a nasty day. As Charlotte walked down the empty sidewalk and passed the deserted playground, she slowly returned from the pleasant comfort of her book back to the real world. Her thoughts turned to the conversation over lunch. There was just no getting away from the whole Sergeant Wimpy thing and—
Charlotte drew in a sharp breath, because coming toward her was a man, his steps haphazard and unmilitary-like, his shoulders stooped. He was partly hidden in the fog, but Charlotte could see that he was wearing an odd brown leather jacket, just like the man they’d seen at the house off Crimson Drive. Was it him?
Charlotte slowed and glanced around. On one side of her was an athletic field, on the other the post rec center, locked and closed for the night. The road was deserted, with no one in sight. No one but the man, who was coming closer and closer.
Charlotte’s heart thumped heavily against her ribs, and she debated turning and sprinting for home. But then she gathered herself. This was an opportunity to uncover clues about what was going on in the building, even if it was a bit on the spooky side. Anything she noticed about the man could help them with their investigation, so Charlotte stood tall, in proper army style, straightened her umbrella, and strode toward him.
The man looked to be in his late forties, with a weathered face and shaggy salt-and-pepper hair that grew longer than military regulation. He was still unshaven and the coat was thick, much thicker than Charlotte had realized the day before, and it was made from canvas, not leather. But all of those details took a backseat when she finally got within a few feet of him. She’d been so busy looking at his face and coat that she hadn’t noticed the most significant thing: the object he was holding in his hand. It was long, like a baseball bat, made of solid wood, with a loop of what looked like wire on one end. Charlotte wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it was obvious it could do real damage. Just the sight of it gave her goose bumps.
The man barely glanced at Charlotte as he passed. She kept her eyes forward, taking deep breaths until he’d turned the corner. Then Charlotte ran home as fast as she could go.
“So what do you think it was for?” Tom asked in a hushed voice.
It was cozy back home in
her bedroom, but Charlotte still felt shivery telling Tom and Rosie what she had just seen.
“I know! I know what it was for!” Rosie nearly shouted. “Today Victor and I did some detective work and we figured out that the man at that house is dognapping dogs. Buddy was his first victim but now he has Pepper too.”
Charlotte momentarily forgot her frightening encounter as she glanced at Tom, unsure how to let Rosie know that her theory did not make sense. From the way Tom’s forehead was crinkled Charlotte could tell he was thinking the same thing.
“Um, I’m not sure that’s what’s going on,” Charlotte said as gently as she could.
Rosie scowled. “Yes, it is,” she said.
“Well, but why would he steal the dogs?” Tom asked.
Rosie paused—clearly she didn’t have an answer for this.
“And why would he need weapons and syringes?” Charlotte added. “If he was taking dogs, he could probably just lure them with toys or dog treats.”
Rosie was stumped by this too and Charlotte hoped that meant she’d let this new and totally unrealistic theory go.
“What do you think that was, the thing the man was carrying when you passed him?” Tom asked Charlotte, getting back to the matter at hand.
Just the memory of it made Charlotte’s heart beat a little faster. “Maybe it was some kind of weapon to subdue the super-soldier,” she guessed.
Tom nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense,” he said. “Because if someone has extra powers, it could be hard to control them, especially if the experiment goes wrong and they turn out like the Hulk or something.”
“Good point,” Charlotte agreed. She didn’t read comics, but everyone knew the Hulk was a pretty scary guy and not someone you’d want running around the base.
“It’s not for the super-soldier,” Rosie said crossly. She was leaning against her bed, Cupcake at her side, and her eyes flashed as she looked at her brother and sister. “I told you, that man is a dognapper, and he’s trying to get more dogs. That weapon is in case anyone catches him trying to take their dog.” Now her hand rested protectively on Cupcake, who took this as an invitation for a belly rub and turned over, ready to enjoy a good scratch. “And I bet he’s going to hold those dogs for ransom or sell them for thousands of dollars.”
Charlotte looked at Tom and bit her lip. Obviously, Rosie was not going to let this go—instead she was going to come up with even more outlandish theories to prove she was right.
“Holding pets for ransom is not exactly a moneymaker,” Charlotte said again, trying to sound patient.
“And selling regular dogs isn’t either,” Tom added.
Rosie pressed her lips together and glared at them. “Then he’s doing something else with those poor dogs,” she snapped. “And we need to save them.”
Charlotte let out an impatient breath. “Right now we need to try to save Tom,” she said. “Next week Chase is going to scare him with a worm and—”
“Wait, what?” Tom asked, his voice squeaky as he sat up straight. “A worm?”
Charlotte was dismayed to see how panicked her brother appeared. “Yeah, I heard about it at lunch,” she said. “Chase is going to spook you with one of the worms we dissect in science next week.”
Tom’s face was getting pale. “What if he surprises me and I do the screech of doom at school?” he whispered.
Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat. That terrible possibility had not occurred to her. But if anyone at Fort Patrick Middle School were to witness that screech, well, these past weeks would be nothing compared to what Tom would endure. Tom and Charlotte both.
“We have to get that video this weekend,” Charlotte said firmly. “Or else.”
She could not finish the sentence, but when she saw the serious expressions on her siblings’ faces, she knew she didn’t need to.
They all knew what was at stake if they failed now.
“I want mint chocolate chip,” Rosie said on Friday afternoon as she stared into the big cooler at the colorful array of ice cream flavors on offer. “Or maybe cookie dough. Or strawberry fudge.” It turned out the Fort Patrick ice cream shop was one of the best Rosie had ever seen and it was very hard to choose.
“Whatever you want, Rosie Posie,” Dad said agreeably. He was licking his cone of salted caramel and did not seem in a rush to get to the PX, their next stop before returning home for dinner.
Her siblings were waiting right outside the store. Charlotte had gotten her usual Heath Bar Crunch, and Tom had ordered boring plain chocolate, though Rosie noticed he wasn’t actually eating it. His cheeks were pale, and he barely glanced at Cupcake bouncing happily between him and Charlotte, hoping for a bite of the cone.
Dad had not wanted to bring Cupcake on the outing, but of course Rosie had insisted. With a dognapper loose, the base was not a safe place for Cupcake, and Rosie had no intention of leaving her unguarded, not for one second. Well, except when she had to go to school, but Dad had been looking after Cupcake then.
“I think I’ll have confetti,” Rosie finally decided. The most colorful ice cream was probably going to be the best.
The woman behind the counter nodded, then plopped a big scoop of the pink, blue, yellow, and purple ice cream on top of a sugar cone and handed it to Rosie. Rosie took a big lick and was rewarded with a sugary-sweet explosion.
“Good?” Dad asked as he handed over money.
“Affirmative,” Rosie said, then licked around the edge of the cone to prevent drips.
Dad led the way out into the steamy afternoon. Rosie loved the feel of the hot sun on her face while she licked the deliciously cold ice cream.
The Baileys headed for the PX, walking slowly past the movie theater, where people were starting to line up for the late-afternoon show.
“Hi, guys.”
Rosie turned and saw Tash had come up.
“Are you going to see the movie?” Charlotte asked.
Tash nodded. “My mom is really into movies, so we come almost every week,” she said. “Have you guys been yet?”
Couples and families ambled past, some heading to the ice cream parlor, which now had a line out the door, and others toward the pizza place across the street.
“Not yet,” Charlotte said. “We’ve been kind of busy. But hopefully soon.” Her words were nice, but Rosie could tell that her sister was worried by the way she was biting at her lip instead of eating her ice cream. Even worse was Tom, who had just dumped his uneaten cone in the trash when Dad wasn’t looking.
Tash nodded. “Before they start previews, everyone stands up for ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,’ like at a ball game.”
“Do you put your hand on your heart like for ‘Retreat’?” Rosie asked.
Tash nodded and smiled in a friendly way Rosie liked. “Sure do,” she said.
“Maybe sometime you can come over to our house,” Rosie said, certain that this would help cheer up Charlotte, at least a little. “We have a really good dollhouse.”
Charlotte gave a strangled cough as Tash’s eyes lit up. “I love dolls,” she said.
“You can come anytime,” Rosie said. “Except not now, because we’re going to the PX. And not this weekend, because we have an important secret mission. But after that.”
The corners of Tash’s eyes crinkled as she smiled. “Okay, maybe after that,” she said, then headed back to her mom.
“Let’s go, troops,” Dad called. He had finished his cone and now seemed eager to tackle their next errand of getting new rain boots for everyone.
As they headed down Patrick Boulevard, Cupcake danced at Rosie’s heels, looking up longingly at her ice cream.
“Remember, sugar isn’t good for her,” Dad said. He knew it was hard for Rosie to resist when Cupcake begged.
When they arrived at the PX, Rosie realized they could not take Cupcake into the store. But luckily there were some neighbors, including Ms. Dunbar, holding a small bake sale out front, and they agreed to keep an eye on Cupcake while the Ba
ileys shopped.
“Make sure you don’t take your eyes off her,” Rosie instructed.
Ms. Dunbar nodded seriously. “Don’t worry, I won’t,” she promised. Then she glanced at Dad. “Good luck in there—it takes a brave person to try and shop at the PX on payday.”
Dad rubbed his head for a moment. “Oh, I’d forgotten it was payday,” he said.
Rosie didn’t understand why Dad looked so worried, but once they’d walked through the doors of the huge box store she got it—it turned out that payday made everyone on post run to the PX as fast as possible. The aisles were jammed with people and carts, kids were running wild, and register lines seemed to stretch on forever. After giving up on getting a cart through the crowd, Dad sent Charlotte and Tom to get their boots farther down the aisle while he helped Rosie. But unfortunately the only pair in her size was not right.
“I don’t like the blue boots,” Rosie told Dad. “I definitely want pink.”
“But, sweetie, these are the only ones that will fit you,” Dad said, pressing his forehead the way he did when he had a headache. All the voices around them were kind of loud.
Rosie was about to tell him to take an aspirin, which was what Mom said to do when he had a headache, but then someone next to them dropped some flowered rain boots on Dad’s foot, and Dad was busy saying it didn’t hurt at all, even though Rosie could tell by the way Dad was limping that it did.
“Maybe we could get the blue boots this time and pink when your feet grow,” Dad said hopefully when the boot droppers had moved on. He looked like his headache was getting worse, and Rosie wanted to help, but there was no way she would ever wear ugly mold-blue boots.
“How about we wait and come later for pink boots?” Rosie said, pleased she had found a good solution. “We can come next week.”
“I don’t know if I can face coming here again in this lifetime, let alone next week,” Dad muttered as a woman pushing a baby stroller nearly plowed them down.
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