The Samantha Wolf Mysteries Box Set: Books 1-3

by Tara Ellis

  Following closely behind her dad, Sam holds onto Ally’s hand so they aren’t separated in the throng of people. It’s barely seven in the morning, but the place is awash with activity and noise. Huge cranes lift crates of fish from ships to waiting transport, the men barking out orders from all directions. Workers tromp past them on the boardwalk, going about their tasks with a single-minded purpose. Vendors move at a slower pace, setting out their goods with a practiced ease and waving as the workers go by, recognizing them as potential customers.

  Once inside the large, main building, the marina noise is replaced with a different variety of sounds altogether. Ringing phones, tapping keys and intense conversations fill the space, echoing so that it’s even more disorienting than the scene outside.

  It’s not long before a tall, silver-haired man greets Ethan, shaking his hand enthusiastically. They’re obviously at the right place. After a brief discussion, the man leads them all back out onto the main dock and towards one of the larger ships, moored at the end. When they reach the gangway leading to the deck several feet above them, Ethan turns to the girls and leans in so they’re sure to hear him.

  “I’ve got business to take care of now,” he explains, motioning to the boat behind him. “It’s going to be a lot of boring paperwork at first, checking over all of the documentation to make sure everything’s on track and accounted for. But here,” he continues, taking out his wallet. “There’s enough to explore to keep you busy for hours, Sam. Find some souvenirs for everyone,” he continues, handing her some money. “Let’s meet in front of that big restaurant at noon. After we eat, I’ll be able to give you guys the full tour of this beast here, once I’m familiar with it. Deal?”

  Smiling broadly, Sam takes the cash and looks around at all of their options, unsure where she wants to start. The atmosphere reminds her of a carnival. Mixed with the salty, crisp sea breeze, it’s energizing. “Sure, Dad!” she exclaims, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Don’t worry about us!”

  Her dad’s grin falters slightly as he suddenly questions if it’s wise to leave the girls to their own devices. Sam can tell he’s about to suggest a new plan, but the silver-haired man looks back to see what’s keeping him and calls out impatiently. Shrugging, Ethan finally turns and hurries to catch up.

  “Phew! That was close,” Ally observes. “I thought he might make us sit in some remote corner of that boat for the rest of the morning.”

  Laughing, Sam tugs at her arm and then walks quickly back down the long dock. “Nah…we could have talked him out of it. I’ve been coming to places like this with him for years now. It’s not like we can get lost or anything, and most of the people here are honest workers, not trouble makers.”

  Not completely convinced, Ally studies a scary looking group of men clustered around a breakfast vendor. They look as if they haven’t shaved for weeks, and their clothes are ragged and filthy. One of them turns, as if sensing her stare, and smiles broadly at her, exposing several missing teeth. Blushing furiously, Ally stumbles back into Sam and nearly causes them both to fall over.

  Sam laughs as she catches her friend and whispers in her ear. “They’re just fishermen, Ally,” she explains. “They’ve been out on the boat working for weeks straight. See their waders and boots?” she points out, nodding at their specialized gear. “Some of them might look a bit shady, but they have certain codes they live by around here. We don’t need to worry.”

  Deciding that the food smells good, they take the men’s place after they walk away and order breakfast burritos. It takes some time, but Ally eventually relaxes when no one attempts to kill them. By mid-morning, she’s having as much fun as Sam is.

  Every booth has something unique to offer, and the girls are entranced by the assortment of boats anchored along the maze of interlocking docks. They could easily spend the whole day just looking at them, and still not see them all.

  By eleven-thirty, they’ve made their way to the far end of the boardwalk, and end up finding the perfect gift for the twins. This particular saleslady has a variety of inexpensive trinkets geared for children. Holding up two slightly different bouncy balls, Sam turns them in the sunlight. Inside the clear plastic, starfish light up when the ball is tapped or bounced.

  “Those are very unique!”

  The deep voice makes Sam jump. She spins around to find their neighbor, Kevin Moore, standing there.

  “Umm, yeah…” Sam stammers, unsure if he’s aware that the two of them were spying on him the day before. “I thought that my little sisters would like them.”

  “Oh, absolutely!” he says pleasantly. “I think that I’ll pick one up for Erica, too. She loves toys that have flashing lights or glow in the dark.”

  While Mr. Moore is going out of his way to be polite, Sam detects an edge just below the surface, making his friendliness feel forced. But he was that way when they first met him on the beach, too. Perhaps it’s just the way he is all the time.

  After paying the woman her two dollars, Mr. Moore tosses the ball up and then snatches it out of the air dramatically before turning back to the two girls. “Enjoy your afternoon, ladies,” he says grandly, nodding to each of them before walking away.

  Without a word, Sam buys the two toys and then hurriedly guides Ally around the backside of the booth. Groaning, she follows, but drags her feet, suspecting what her friend is up to.

  “We can’t follow him again!” Ally protests.

  “We’re not,” Sam answers. “We’re just walking back towards the restaurant where we’re supposed to meet my dad. If we happen to see where Mr. Moore goes…” Lifting her hands in a ‘so-what’ gesture, she looks sideways at Ally.

  “So the fact that we’re walking behind the booths has nothing to do with trying not to be seen?” Ally counters with disdain.

  “Wait!” Sam suddenly mutters, putting out a hand to stop Ally. “Look!”

  Reluctantly, Ally looks to where Sam is pointing. Sure enough, Mr. Moore is talking with the same two men he met in the alley the day before. Although she can’t help but think they’re doing something wrong, she feels a twinge of excitement and moves in closer to Sam.

  Hidden among dozens of other people, they watch silently as the group moves down one of the smaller docks and stops at a boat near the end. The two strangers board first, and then Kevin follows, looking around suspiciously before disappearing inside the craft.

  “If he’s really here on vacation, then what’s he doing with those guys?” Ally whispers, forgetting to feel guilty.

  “Well, he isn’t buying fish,” Sam declares, unafraid of being heard this far away. “That’s not a fishing boat and those aren’t fishermen. It’s not a houseboat either, so I doubt they’re local. In fact,” she continues, walking several feet out onto the dock. “It looks like it’s a custom build. Very expensive.” Studying the forty or so foot vessel from afar, Sam squints in the early afternoon sun. “I wish we could get a peek inside.”

  Before Ally has a chance to object to that idea, the men re-emerge and walk back towards them. They’re so engrossed in their conversation, that Mr. Moore doesn’t even notice them when they pass within five feet of each other. Exchanging a look of relief, Sam and Ally naturally walk the other way…and towards the boat.

  When they come alongside it, Sam looks back just in time to see the men go inside the restaurant, the same one they’ll be eating at soon. “I’m just going to see if that porthole is covered or not,” she tells Ally, scooting in close to the impressive boat. It has a two-story upper deck, with gold-trimmed portholes spaced every few feet, so they’re almost eye level with them on the dock.

  Without waiting for a response from her friend, Sam leans out over the gap, bracing her hands to either side of the window, the water sparkling several feet below. Inside, she can just make out a table made of rich mahogany, with several laptops and papers strewn across it.

  Pushing back, Sam moves to the next porthole, closest to the ramp leading down to the deck. Unlike
the large fishing boat, this one sets below the dock. But as she leans forward, one of the bouncy balls crammed into the pocket of her sweatshirt breaks free and bounces away. Gasping, Sam spins to grab it but misses, watching in dismay as it rolls down the footbridge and into the boat.

  “Oh no!” Ally cries, peering in the window next to Sam.

  They watch helplessly as the lights flash inside the ball while it rolls across the floor and then comes to rest under the table.

  “When Mr. Moore sees that, he’s going to think we went inside!”

  “I’ll just go grab it. Stay here,” Sam says hurriedly, already rushing towards the ramp.

  Once inside, Sam’s eyes quickly adjust to the dim lighting, and she crosses the small but lavishly decorated living area. Beautiful wood trim is everywhere, buffed to such a shine that it almost looks fake. Sam has seen boats like this before on tours, and knows how much they cost.

  Not slowing down to admire the work, she squats at the table and reaches blindly for the ball that stopped flashing. Her eyes are level with the table, making it impossible not to notice the odd documents on top. I’m not really snooping, she tells herself, as her hand closes over the ball and she scoops it up. Not if I just happen to notice something during a totally innocent act.

  The papers are covered with long strings of math equations and diagrams of odd, hexagonal structures. At the top of each sheet is a logo, a simple design she’s seen before, but can’t quite place. The letters W and M are written in fancy text above and below the image.

  Before she can look more closely, she hears the unmistakable sound of heavy footfall behind her. A flood of fear begins in the pit of her stomach and quickly spreads. Turning, her worst fears are confirmed as she sees the two unknown men blocking the light of the entrance, Ally cowering before them.

  “Which one of you wants to explain what it is you’re doing on my boat?” the largest one growls threateningly.

  9

  A CHANCE ENCOUNTER

  Her mouth suddenly dry, Sam tries to swallow but nearly chokes on her fear. Up close, the two middle-aged men are even more intimidating. Both are large, with a polished and dangerous look. Not like common street criminals, but smart, with a hard edge. The man who spoke is closest to Sam. He’s wearing what appear to be brand new clothes, from a local shop. She notices his boots aren’t even broken in.

  “Well? Speak up!” he demands, his blue eyes flashing. He has a thick accent, which Sam can’t quite place. German? Russian?

  Her paralysis finally broken, Sam stumbles away from the table and trips over something on the floor, nearly falling at the man’s feet. Putting her hands out to catch herself, she grabs onto a bag that’s now tangled in her feet. Sam vaguely registers that it’s a backpack…the type kids use for school. It has a bright tie-dye design. Clipped to the outside of it is a cellphone, encased in a bejeweled holder with the name ‘CARRIE’ carefully printed on it with a marker.

  Blushing furiously, Sam struggles to her feet and focuses her attention on the men blocking the exit. “I’m really sorry, s…sir,” she stutters. “I was getting this ball.” She holds out her hand, revealing the bouncy ball inside. “Honest. It fell out of my pocket and rolled in here,” she rushes, near tears.

  The words continue to pour out, running together until Sam isn’t even sure they can understand what she’s saying. “It went under the table, and I was going to get it and leave. I promise we weren’t doing anything else. I’m really, really sorry,” she says again, looking back and forth frantically between the two hardened faces.

  Evidently unsure what to think, the man who seems to be in charge looks over his shoulder at the other guy, who shrugs, but remains silent. When he turns back to Sam, she gives the ball a little squeeze, causing it to light up. Perhaps it can somehow help prove their innocence. A slight spasm tugs at the corner of his mouth and Sam prays that he’s fighting against a grin.

  “Get outta here!” he finally orders, stepping aside to allow them to pass. “If I ever catch you near my boat again, I’ll turn you into the harbormaster and let him deal with you!”

  “Yes sir,” Sam mumbles, looking down at her feet. “I’m sorry,” she repeats one more time, before grabbing a still-frozen Ally and dragging her up the gangplank. Almost running now, they make it onto the dock and head straight for the restaurant.

  Finally daring to look back, there’s no sign of the men or Mr. Moore. Thank goodness he hadn’t returned to the boat with the other men, or things might have been a whole lot worse. If they had made a scene with the harbormaster, it could have jeopardized her dad’s job there.

  “What if they tell that Moore guy, and then he tells your parents?” Ally whispers, voicing Sam’s fear.

  “Then we’ll probably be on the first bus back home,” Sam answers morosely. “What was I thinking?” she moans, finally stopping. They’re in the spot her dad told them to wait, but there’s no sign of him yet. “Why didn’t I just leave the ball? Sometimes I wish I’d stop doing things without thinking first,” she adds, crossing her arms over her chest and looking at Ally.

  “I’m the one who said we’d get in trouble if they found the ball,” Ally adds, trying to point out that it’s not all Sam’s fault. “Besides, It’s not like we really did anything wrong. They probably won’t even tell Mr. Moore. Why would they?”

  Sam tries to think about the situation rationally. Ally’s right, the men have no idea that the girls are staying in the beach house next to Mr. Moore. They’ve never even seen them before. They’re just a couple of kids getting a lost ball. It might not be so bad, after all.

  “Sam! Ally!”

  Expecting the worst, Sam spins around, but finds her dad waving at them and smiling happily. Relaxing, she lets out a big breath she didn’t realize she was holding. “Hey, Dad!” she says in return, hoping she sounds normal.

  Ushering them inside the restaurant, Ethan leads them to a booth and announces that they can have whatever they want to eat. Sam figures things must be going well with work.

  After ordering burgers, onion rings and milkshakes, Sam and Ally sit back and listen politely to Ethan’s detailed descriptions of the project he’s overseeing. It’s normally the kind of stuff Sam likes discussing with her dad. But the nagging guilt she’s battling is preventing her from enjoying it.

  Several times during the conversation, she’s tempted to interrupt and tell him about her poor decision to go onto the boat. But he’s in such a good mood that she can’t bring herself to do it. I’ll tell him later, she promises herself. On the way back to the beach house.

  After they finish eating, Sam’s dad takes them on an hour-long tour of the fishing vessel. It’s massive, and by the time they’re through, Ally has a better understanding as to why Sam is so fascinated by it. There are nearly a dozen workers spread out, performing various tasks. It’s Ethan’s job to make sure they’re all on track and able to have it completed in time for the coming season.

  The two girls are turned loose with a few more hours to kill before her dad is done for the day. Sam’s anxiety has finally settled enough that she’s starting to relax, but as soon as they walk back out onto the dock, it comes back with a vengeance.

  “Look!” Ally urges, elbowing Sam in the ribs and then pointing out towards the marina.

  Sam follows the direction of Ally’s arm, sure that the harbormaster must be barreling down on them. She doesn’t even know what he looks like, but she imagines he’s large, with a patch over his eye. To her surprise, she sees a very distinctive boat heading out to sea instead.

  “They’re leaving!” Sam exhales, all the stress of the past couple of hours going with it. “They must not have reported us.”

  “Well, they said they wouldn’t unless they caught us snooping again,” Ally reminds her, always the rational one. “I’m sure it was no big deal to them.”

  Her mood vastly improved, Sam smiles and starts to skip back towards the vendor area. “Come on!” she calls, waving for Ally
to follow. “Let’s go see if we can find out more about the Wood’s Sea Creature or the lighthouse!”

  They spend the remainder of their time browsing the rest of the businesses and talking with some of the locals. Well, those who were willing to talk to them. Most either laugh or wave them away at the mention of the old legend, but one lady in particular is helpful. She runs a small booth filled with small, hand-carved wooden figurines, and is likely even older than the man from town. Everything from seagulls to whales lines the shelves, but the item that catches Sam’s attention is identical to the large statue in the town square.

  On the ride back to the beach house, Sam rolls the replica of the sea creature around in the palm of her hand. The woman’s tale had been almost identical to the old man’s, with one important addition. After selling Sam the trinket for just a few dollars, she’d given them a dire warning: “Stay away from the beach at night, or you might end up in the beast’s belly, too,” she cackled, her voice harsh. “And the lighthouse!” The woman had directed the last statement pointedly at Sam, who’d been hounding her with questions about the structure. “It’s cursed! There’s a reason the town council voted unanimously not to repair the trails. You’d be smart to mind the signs and stay away.”

  Sam looks out the window at the passing scenery, now starting to look familiar. The woman’s voice echoes through her thoughts. Could there really be something to the story of the haunting? Does Mrs. Wood’s ghost return to the lookout, trying to lead her husband home?