Killer Mission

by Franklin W. Dixon

  Frank nodded. “Unless he’s faking. We’d better keep a closer eye on him. Just in case.”

  “Okay,” I said. “But don’t forget, Ellery’s the one who got bitten by Killer. How does that tie in?”

  “Maybe it doesn’t. Could be a red herring.”

  “Yeah. On the other hand, maybe not.” I bit my lip. “I hate to say it, but Killer seems to have pretty good instincts. Well, for everything except how he feels about me.”

  Frank grinned. “You just can’t let that go, can you, bro?” Then he went serious again. “But you’re right. Killer obviously takes his job very seriously, despite being officially retired. He knew that bomb was there, and he knew exactly what to do about it.”

  “So what if he sensed Ellery was up to no good?” I said. “Would that make him attack?”

  “I don’t know. But we should look into it. Darity said some cafeteria worker witnessed the bite. . . .”

  “I’m on it,” I said, guessing where he was going.

  I hurried back into the caf. Thanks to my sparkling personality, I was already making friends despite the rough start. It didn’t take me long to ask around and get the name I needed.

  “Well?” Frank asked when I emerged again.

  “The witness was this newish guy named Chip. I guess he’s already pretty popular around here—everyone kept talking about how much fun they always have at these impromptu poker nights he hosts at his cottage.”

  “What are we waiting for? Let’s go talk to him.”

  “We can’t.” I kicked at a rock on the path. “He’s off campus for a couple of days. Long weekend with the family or something. I guess that’s why I haven’t met him yet.”

  Frank looked disappointed. “Oh, well. We’ll have to catch him when he gets back.”

  “Yeah. But don’t forget, there’s still someone else who witnessed that attack.”

  “You mean Killer?” Frank smiled. “Too bad he can’t talk. He’d probably have this whole thing wrapped up by now.”

  “Very funny. No, I’m talking about the old handler. The one who got fired. Hunt.” Spotting a middle-aged member of the cleaning staff, I called over to her. “Hey, Beatrice! I really need to talk to Hunt, Killer’s former handler. Can you hook me up?”

  “Hunt?” Beatrice wrinkled her nose. “Why would you want to talk to that piece of work if you don’t have to?”

  I gave her my most charming smile. “I’m an enigma, what can I say?”

  “Do you know where we can find this Hunt person?” Frank put in. “Any chance it’s somewhere in this area?”

  “Probably down at the family homestead,” Beatrice said with a disdainful sniff. “Just outside Sugarview. Brother runs it. Just ask for the old Hunter place.”

  •••

  First thing Monday morning, I headed down to town. Well, second thing. As usual, Killer was first on the agenda.

  But after his morning walk, I left him in the kennel and grabbed the rental car. Fifteen minutes later I was in Sugarview. It was a sleepy little place. The streets were pretty much empty, though there were a few old men hanging out on the porch of the local greasy spoon. They were happy to point me toward the Hunter farm.

  I soon found myself bouncing up a rutted drive. At the end was a farmhouse that looked as old as the huge trees behind it. Cows grazed in the fields on either side of the drive.

  As I stopped the car, a woman came around the side of the house. She was leading a large Rott-weiler on a leash.

  “Help you?” the woman called gruffly.

  I gasped. “You!” I blurted out, recognizing her. It was the woman I’d seen cross-country skiing—the one Killer had greeted like an old friend!

  She scowled as she recognized me, too. “What do you want?”

  “I’m here to talk to Hunt,” I said. “I have a few questions for him. Is he around?”

  “He?” For the first time, a ghost of a smile played around her thin lips. “I’m Hunt.”

  Okay, I admit it. That took me by surprise. For some reason I’d assumed Hunt was a guy.

  I did my best to recover. “Um, right,” I said. “Listen, I need to ask you about the, um, incident. You know, when Killer bit Ellery Marks.”

  She tossed the Rottie a treat. A liver snap, by the look of it, though the beast swallowed it too quickly to tell for sure.

  “Killer never bit anyone at Firth,” said Hunt.

  “But—”

  “Never,” she said firmly. “He never bit anyone. Now if that’s all, I have things to do.”

  She turned and strode away. I tried to follow. But one look from the Rottie changed my mind. If Hunt didn’t feel like chatting anymore, I might as well give it up.

  On the drive back to campus, I called Frank. “Meet me at the cottage,” I said. “I have news.”

  “Now?” Frank sounded reluctant. “But I told Lee I’d give archery club a try, and I was just leaving—”

  “Forget archery club, prep boy,” I said. “I have a new suspect for our list.”

  That got his attention. He was waiting for me when I reached the cottage.

  “So did you find this Hunt guy?” he asked as I let Killer out of the kennel and into the house.

  “Yep. But Hunt’s not a guy.” I filled him in on the whole encounter.

  “Wow,” he said when I finished. “So now she’s claiming the bite never happened?”

  “Uh-huh. And how weird is it that she’s lurking around in the woods near campus?”

  “Think she’s really just skiing? Or that she even has actual permission to be out there?” Frank shook his head, answering his own questions. “I think you’re right. We have another suspect.”

  It didn’t take long to e-mail HQ and get a brief dossier on Hunt. There was nothing too suspicious in her background, but that didn’t put us off.

  “After all, she’s got a built-in motive,” Frank said, scanning the printout. “Getting revenge on the place that fired her.”

  I was distracted by Killer. He was pacing in front of the door, seeming restless.

  “Looks like he needs to go out,” I said. “Do me a favor and take him?”

  “You do it.” Frank was bent over the laptop. “I want to send HQ a couple more questions.”

  I sighed. “Whatever,” I muttered. “Come on, mutt. Just do your business and get it over with, okay?”

  I snapped on the leash. It was too risky to leave him loose outside even for a brief potty break. Especially now, when it was getting dark out.

  As soon as I opened the door, Killer leaped through it so violently that he almost jerked the leash out of my hand. “Hey!” I yelled, giving the leash an irritated yank.

  My eyes widened as Killer spun to face me. He barked and came flying at me, knocking me flat on my back!

  Sneak Attack

  I heard Joe call out and Killer bark. Looking up from the computer, I was just in time to see Joe hit the floor—and something whiz over him and thud into the opposite wall. An arrow! If Killer hadn’t knocked Joe down, it would’ve hit him right in the chest!

  “You okay, bro?” I shouted.

  “What the—?” Joe muttered, sitting up. Yeah, he was okay.

  Killer had already turned around. He was staring out into the lowering darkness outside.

  “Come on, boy.” I grabbed his leash and took off. I could hear someone crashing around in the shrubbery along the path—it had to be the same someone who’d just taken a shot at Joe.

  Killer heard it too. He strained against the leash as we ran. I’m in pretty good shape, but it wasn’t easy to keep up with him.

  The dog led me down the path a short way, then veered into the woods. Great. It was even darker in there. Branches and thorns grabbed at me as I ran, trying not to trip over any roots or get the leash wound around the trees.

  Meanwhile the sounds ahead were getting fainter. Finally they faded away completely. The attacker had lost us. I stopped, feeling hopeless.

  But then I realized
it didn’t matter how far behind we were. Not when I had Killer’s sensitive, highly trained nose on my side.

  “Track him, boy,” I urged the dog.

  Killer seemed to understand. His nose was twitching like crazy. With a bark, he plunged forward again.

  We followed the trail deeper into the woods. I had to strain my eyes to see anything in the darkness beneath the trees. But once in a while I spotted footprints in the snow, making me believe we were on the right track.

  Then we hit a dead end. Killer skidded to a halt at the edge of a wide, shallow stream.

  I groaned. Of course. Whoever we were chasing must have waded in and followed the stream, knowing the water would wash away any trackable scent. It was the oldest trick in the book.

  “Oh, man,” I muttered as the dog cast around uncertainly on the stream bank. His paw prints mingled with the footprints the escapee had left.

  I was tempted to encourage him to track along the bank until he maybe picked up the scent again. But I wasn’t sure whether to try upstream or downstream, and it would be dark soon. So I gave up and headed back to check on Joe.

  He was fine, if a bit shaken. “Thanks, boy,” he said, giving Killer a pat.

  As usual, the dog pretty much ignored him. This time, though, Joe didn’t seem to mind. At least not too much.

  I walked over to look at the arrow still stuck in the wall. “Weird,” I said.

  “Yeah.” Joe smiled ruefully. “Think this is someone’s way of letting you know you’re supposed to be at archery club right now?”

  “I’ll admit, it does make me think of archery club.” I peered at the arrow. From what I could tell, it looked just like the ones the club used. “Whoever shot at you had dead aim.”

  Joe shuddered. “Can we use another term, please?”

  “I’m just saying. There’s only one person I know of who shoots that well.” I thought back to the practice I’d watched with Ellery. “Lee Jenkins.”

  “Lee’s a great shot and a superstar soccer player?” Joe shook his head. “Doesn’t seem fair.”

  “It’s hard to believe Lee could be behind the mischief,” I said. “He seems like such a nice guy.”

  “I know, right? But he was hanging at the back of the group the other night when that bomb went off. And you just said he’s, like, some awesome shot, so . . .”

  “But that’s just it.” I stared at the arrow. “He’d have to realize he’d be suspect numero uno for something like this. And he’s not stupid.”

  “Maybe it’s a frame job,” Joe suggested.

  That made a lot more sense to me. “Could be. And now that you mention it, I can think of one person who seems to have it in for Lee. And is also a member of the archery club.”

  “Is he a peach of a guy?” Joe joked.

  I nodded. “Patton. This could be his way of knocking out the competition.”

  The front door was still standing wide open. Killer looked out and barked.

  Joe and I both rushed over, wondering if the attacker had returned. But it was just one of Joe’s neighbors heading across the lawn toward his own cottage.

  “Hi, Phil,” Joe called out as the guy waved.

  “Hey, that reminds me,” I murmured. “We still need to track down that Chip guy who witnessed Ellery getting bitten.”

  “What a coincidence. Phil there was the one who told me he was away. I think they’re pretty good friends.” Joe raised his voice. “Yo, Phil. Any idea if Chip’s back on campus yet?”

  Phil came toward us. I recognized him as part of the grounds crew. “Nope,” he said, sounding kind of bummed. “Actually, it’s funny you should ask. I just got a text from him saying he’s not coming back.”

  “What?” said Joe. “Why not?”

  Phil shrugged. “Got me. Said he’d explain later. But he quit his job and he’s out of here for good.”

  “Hear anything from HQ yet?” Joe asked quietly, pausing beside my table on his way toward the cafeteria line.

  I looked around to make sure none of my table-mates had heard him. “Nothing yet,” I hissed.

  We’d sent a note earlier, hoping ATAC could track down where this Chip guy had gone. But by the time we left for dinner, we hadn’t heard back.

  As usual, I’d found a seat with the GTT crew. Unfortunately, nobody seemed interested in talking about frat issues for once. I’d even tried to launch the subject a couple of times. No luck.

  By the time I met up with Joe after dinner, I was feeling frustrated. “Got anything?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “My peeps spent half the meal gossiping about Chip’s sudden departure,” he reported. “But I don’t think any of them actually knew anything. He wasn’t here for long, remember.”

  I sighed. This mission was going nowhere fast. “We have all these suspects, but none of the scenarios really make sense,” I complained. “And the more we find out, the less we seem to know.”

  “Let’s grab the pooch, then see what we can sniff out,” Joe said. “Maybe we can find Lee and talk to him—or at least figure out if he has an alibi for the time I almost became a shish kebab.”

  By the time I fell into bed that night, we still didn’t have any solid answers. I lay awake, staring into the darkness and listening to Zeke snore.

  There were just too many loose ends going in all directions. Too many suspects. Not enough solid facts.

  If Darity wanted to shut down the frats, would he really go so far as to set that bomb? It seemed pretty unlikely.

  Hunt Hunter had a better motive. But could she have pulled off all the mischief without being spotted? That seemed unlikely too.

  And what about Patton? He too had a decent motive. But it was hard to believe he could have pulled off some of the stuff. The guy was pretty much an open book, with every thought and emotion playing out on his freckled face. He just didn’t have the personality to keep so many secrets.

  Then there were our other suspects, most with pretty weak or downright nonexistent motives. Lee. Westerley. Destiny. Ellery.

  I finally drifted off to sleep. But the questions haunted me all through my dreams.

  BZZZ! BZZZ!

  I swam upward out of sleep. My head was filled with confusing images of various suspects buzzing around me like bees.

  My eyes flew open to total darkness. It was the middle of the night. And I realized the buzzing noise I heard was my cell phone.

  It had to be well after midnight. Who would be calling me now?

  Joe, I realized. Maybe he’d had some kind of breakthrough.

  The thought woke me up enough to reach over and grapple around on the bedside table. I could hear Zeke mumble something cranky from the other bed. My hand finally closed around the phone.

  “H’lo?” I mumbled into it.

  All I heard for a second was the sound of screaming. I pressed the phone to my ear, wondering if this was still a dream.

  “Hello?” I said again.

  “His face!” an unrecognizable voice shrieked into my ear. “Oh my God—it’s eating his face off!”

  Cutting to the Chase

  I raced through the darkness, my heart in my throat. Frank’s call had yanked me out of a sound sleep.

  “I think something terrible has happened at the frat house,” he’d said. “I’m already on my way.”

  “What?” I’d mumbled sleepily, not sure if I was awake or dreaming.

  “Someone called. Not sure, but I think it might’ve been Spencer. Hurry up!”

  I’d pulled on some clothes and taken off. Killer had barked as I passed, but I’d left him behind. Whatever was going on, it sounded like it might be too late for him to save the day this time.

  Frank and I almost collided outside the GTT house. All the lights on the first floor were blazing, and people were milling around outside despite the frigid night air.

  “What’s going on?” Frank shouted as we pushed our way toward the door. “Where’s Spencer?”

  “Here I am!” Spencer came rushin
g toward us, his face pinched and anxious. “Thanks for coming, Frank. I—I didn’t know who else to call, and since you said someone in your family was with the FBI . . .”

  “It’s okay. Just tell us what happened,” said Frank.

  Spencer looked at me as if he was wondering what I was doing there. But he just nodded. “Come inside.”

  We followed him into the house. Someone was lying on the couch with a wet rag over his face.

  “Is that Patton?” I asked, noting the red hair on the figure’s arms.

  Spencer bit his lip. He looked really upset now. “Don’t worry, I already called an ambulance.”

  Then he told us what had happened. It turned out the frat had been holding a secret late-night pledge ritual in defiance of the ban. This one was another long-running GTT tradition. The pledges were supposed to go blindfolded into a room in the basement. There, they had to eat and drink various unseen substances and smear others onto their skin.

  “It can get pretty gross, but it’s just some harmless fun,” Spencer insisted. “Nobody gets hurt beyond maybe a little barfing. Usually.” He shot a look at Patton, who had just started groaning softly from under the rag.

  “So what went wrong?” Frank asked.

  Spencer sighed and closed his eyes for a second. “Patton volunteered to go first,” he said. “For a while everything went fine. He ate and drank everything, and didn’t even hurl. We were all pretty proud of him, since he can be kind of a wuss.”

  That didn’t seem very nice, considering. But I kept quiet.

  “Then he came to this bowl of raw eggs he was supposed to smear on his face.” Spencer swallowed hard. “As soon as he did it, he just started, like, screaming.”

  Another senior had wandered into the room and heard him. “Yeah,” he put in, looking pale. “At first we just thought it was Peachy being Peachy.”

  “But then we realized he wasn’t just being dramatic,” Spencer went on. “Someone must have added something to the egg goop. Like acid or something.” He shuddered. “It just started burning away his skin!”