The Samantha Wolf Mysteries Box Set: Books 1-3

by Tara Ellis

  Over half an hour later, they reach the general area where Sam thought she saw the shadows. They could have gotten there sooner, but ornate shells, littering the ground. distracted them. With their bag half full, they make their way along the empty stretch of beach. They’ve only encountered a handful of people, in spite of the prime beachcombing conditions. The tide is swiftly coming in now, causing Sam to rush Ally along.

  “Okay, so now what?” Ally questions, jumping forward when a particularly large wave nips at her heels. The morning is still cool and she doesn’t want to get wet.

  Unsure how to answer, Sam walks a bit farther before throwing her hands up in frustration and turning back to her friend.

  “I don’t know, Ally! I guess that maybe I’m being stupid for thinking we might actually find something. Like they’re going to leave us a sign or something that says ‘look here.’”

  “What about ‘help?’” Ally says excitedly.

  “Huh?”

  “No! I mean a sign that says ‘help’!” Ally explains, still not making any sense. When Sam just stares at her, she rolls her eyes and points behind her. “Look!”

  Following Ally’s outstretched hand, Sam searches the sand near her feet and then gasps in surprise. Sure enough, scrawled into the sand are big capital letters: H E L P.

  “Oh my gosh!” she shouts. “This had to have been made by whoever I saw last night. We got out here right after sunrise and there wasn’t anyone out this far.”

  “Or else it was written earlier in the day yesterday,” Ally suggests, studying the words.

  Watching the water wash away the lower end of the P, Sam straightens up abruptly. “No. It had to have been last night. The tide didn’t go out until well after dark. This was under water until then…like it’s going to be again in just a little bit,” she adds, realizing that the evidence is being rapidly erased. “There’s no way to go get my mom and show her before it’s gone!” she moans, wishing they had gotten out here sooner.

  As a new wave bubbles up to the bottom edge of the E, Ally shouts at Sam to step back. “I can take a picture of it!” she tells her, producing the ever-present cell phone from her back pocket.

  Relieved to have a way to preserve the message, Sam looks around for anything else suspicious while Ally gets several shots of it. Coming up empty-handed, Sam joins Ally in watching the last of the letters get reclaimed by the ocean. With nothing more to do, they head back to the beach house.

  Sam can tell right away that something is wrong when they approach the deck where her mom is standing, obviously waiting for them. She’s got her arms crossed and a troubled expression clouds her face. “I need to have a talk with you, girls,” she says, her tone serious.

  Glancing uneasily at each other, Sam and Ally climb the stairs and leave the smelly bag of shells outside, then follow Kathy into the family room. The house is quiet, and Sam figures her dad and the boys have already left for the marina, and the twins are sleeping in.

  Did Mr. Moore or the harbormaster make a complaint about us? Sam wonders, the all too familiar feeling of guilt welling up inside her.

  “Lisa Moore saw me outside drinking my coffee, and came over to speak with me,” Sam’s mother begins, eyeing them both closely. When neither girl says anything, she continues. “Her version of the story is much different than yours. Apparently, she and Erica saw you two enter the woods earlier in the day and that’s what compelled her to create the story of a lost sister that looked like you, Sam. Well, that and a cartoon she had just watched. She tends to confuse reality and make-believe, I guess.”

  Sam is trying to digest what her mom just said. “Wait,” she cries in alarm. “Lisa told you that she saw us go into the woods before them? That’s a lie!”

  Holding up a hand, Kathy stops the expected tirade. “Let me finish,” she says evenly, leaving no room for discussion. “Shortly after watching you disappeared onto the trail, Erica snuck out when she was supposed to be down for a nap. Lisa finally found her a short distance into the woods, after locating a dropped hairband near the trailhead. It was a nice walk, so she decided to explore it further with Erica. That was when she slipped. She wants to thank for helping her. However,” Kathy continues, “she also made it clear that she has no interest in speaking further with me, or in having you two around Erica.”

  “Mom, she’s lying about seeing us and she’s totally downplaying what happened. She didn’t just ‘slip.’ She almost died!”

  “I know, Sam. I already spoke with the boys about it and they swear that you two were on the beach the whole time and that they followed you to the trail, and then had to talk you into going on the hike. They confirmed that Erica and Lisa had to have gone in there quite some time before the rest of you. I have no idea why she would bend the truth like this, but I think it best that we all steer clear of them from now on. Understand?”

  Hesitating, Sam looks at Ally seated silently beside her, firmly gripping her phone, the picture of the word ‘help’ still lit up on the screen.

  “But what if Erica wasn’t making it all up?” she asks cautiously, peering sideways at her mom.

  “Sam…,” Kathy says firmly. “Do not start. I mean it. While Lisa’s response to her daughter’s problems is troubling, I won’t let you turn this into something it’s not.”

  “Shouldn’t we at least consider the possibility that Carrie might be real? Or that she could need our help?” Glancing back at the phone, Sam watches the picture go dark, perhaps a sign that now isn’t the time to bring it up.

  Kathy covers her face with her hands, and speaks through her fingers. “No. We shouldn’t, Sam.” She utters the words tiredly, rather than with anger. Coming to what appears to be a hard decision, she slides her hands up through her hair before leveling both girls with a hard stare. “Your father and I talked about this before he left for the day. We both agree that we made it clear before coming here that we weren’t going to put up with any…unacceptable behavior. You aren’t going to get another warning about this. Push the issue, and I’m taking you home.”

  Sam watches Ally slowly put the phone with the incriminating photo back into her pocket. Swallowing hard, Sam reaches for her friend’s hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

  “Okay, Mom.” Forcing the expected answer, she hopes it sounds sincere. It’s clear now that they’re on their own.

  15

  MAYBE BROTHERS AREN’T SO BAD AFTER ALL

  John stands in a wide stance on the dock, shading his eyes in order to get a good look at the suspicious boat. He and Hunter have just completed the guided tour of the larger fishing vessel with Ethan. It didn’t last nearly as long as the same tour did with Sam and Ally, who asked a ton of questions. While he enjoys boats and all, he just isn’t that interested in how every little thing on them works.

  What he is interested in is getting closer to their current target. They’ve cautiously circled around the marina from a distance, making sure there isn’t any obvious activity onboard the boat in question. They haven’t seen anyone come or go, but there could still be someone inside.

  They can’t afford to have Mr. Moore or the other thugs complain about them. Sam and Hunter’s parents are already on edge after Lisa Moore came over, giving her lame excuse and lies. John understands why they want to stay out of it, and not get involved…but to be honest, he’s beginning to see how Sam and his sister get themselves caught up in this stuff. It’s kinda exciting. Hunter, on the other hand, doesn’t appear to share his enthusiasm.

  “Can we get outta here now?” Hunter says earnestly, looking over his shoulder for the third time. “It’s not like we’re going to be able to learn anything that could help. This is stupid.”

  Ignoring him, John silently approaches the bow and tries to read the name painted boldly across the front. “Her Vaere Drager. I wonder what that means,” he mumbles under his breath.

  “I’m going to peek in the window real quick,” John tells Hunter, deciding to look the name up later. Una
ware how closely he’s mimicking Sam, he moves towards the nearest portal. Before Hunter can object, John leans out and cups his hands to either side of the small, round glass.

  It’s dark inside, but he can still make out the room. It’s very close to how Sam described it, except that the table is cleared of everything but a torn sheet of bubble wrap. There’s no sign of the laptops, paper, or backpack. Disappointed, he pushes away from the boat and then crosses his arms over his chest, thinking about the situation.

  “Well?” Hunter asks impatiently. “What’d you see?”

  “Not much,” John says quietly as he turns away abruptly. Making his way along the length of the boat, he looks around again, then peers into the last window on the exposed side.

  The view through the porthole is partially blocked by a curtain, but he can still see beyond it, into a small bedroom. The bed is unmade and there are towels and blankets strewn across the floor…and in the far corner, a backpack. A tie-dyed backpack with what looks like a phone case hanging off it. It’s too dark to see any writing on it, but he’s certain it’s the same one Sam tripped over.

  “Bingo!” John says triumphantly, but then frowns again when he turns to Hunter. “I can see the backpack your sister told us about, but that’s pretty much it. No one’s in there, and there’s no real evidence someone is staying there, just a bunch of towels and blankets.

  “Whatchya doin’?” A small voice behind them makes the boys jump. They both stumble guiltily away from the boat.

  Hunter’s convinced he’s about to have a heart attack, but then breaks out laughing when he sees their accuser. Hardly more than three feet tall, the small boy has a head full of tight, blonde curls. His vivid blue eyes are wide and sparkling with curiosity. Wiping at his runny nose with a small fist, he continues to look back and forth between the older boys, seemingly unoffended by the laughter.

  “We’re just admiring this cool boat,” John says politely, squatting down so that he’s eye level with the little boy. “My name is John, what’s yours?”

  “Bucky,” he says happily, rocking back on his heels. “My momma says it’s not polite to look in people’s windows,” he adds in a hushed voice. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell no one.”

  Chuckling, John glances at Hunter and raises his eyebrows. “Thanks, Bucky,” he says, turning back to him. “I’m wondering if you’ve ever seen a girl on this boat. Her name is Carrie.”

  Scrunching up his nose so tight that John thinks it must hurt, Bucky shakes his head dramatically. “Nope! Just those mean guys who yelled at me.” He hugs himself at the memory. “Told me to mind my own business. Pappa says I gotta stay away from them. They don’t act normal. They wake me up almost every night, ‘cause they go someplace late and don’t come back sometimes until I’m eating breakfast. They’re weird.”

  Not convinced that Bucky ever took a breath while he was talking, John breaks into a wide smile. This is good stuff.

  “That is weird, Bucky. They ever have anyone with them?”

  “Nah…I just only seen the four of them.”

  “Four?” Hunter echoes, sharing a surprised look with John. It’s safe to assume that the third guy would be Kevin Moore, but what about the fourth? “Are you sure?”

  “Uh-huh,” Bucky drawls. “I know how many four is. I can count to ten! They all talk real funny, except for the one ‘merican. Momma says it’s ‘cause they’re from a different… umm…whatchya call those places?”

  “A different country?” John suggests good-naturedly.

  “Yeah! That’s it. A different country. I still think they’re mean, though. I don’t care if it’s ‘cause they’re from….umm…someplace else.”

  “Bucky!” a voice calls sharply. Looking for the source, John finds a young woman standing in the bow of the boat that’s docked next to Her Vare Drager. “Come back here and stop bothering those young men.”

  “Bye!” Bucky says cheerfully, obviously used to being called away from strangers. He’s skipping across the dock before either boy has a chance to say goodbye.

  Standing up, John suddenly finds himself as eager as Hunter to put some distance between themselves and this place. Mr. Wolf was happy to let them take the van, so they didn’t have to stay at the marina all day. They just have to come back later to pick him up.

  “Let’s go get some lunch at the restaurant before going back to the house,” John says. “I’ll bet there’s Wi-Fi in there that we can use.”

  “Why do we need Wi-Fi?” Hunter asks, already making his way back towards the buildings.

  “Because I’ve got my tablet. I brought it to read books on, but I can use it to search for some more info on this bioengineering company. The search function is a lot easier to use than the one on Ally’s phone. Plus, we can try and figure out what the name of the boat means.”

  “Why does that matter?” Hunter wants to know. They’ve stopped in the shadow of the restaurant, and can finally face each other without being blinded by the harsh sunlight.

  “The name chosen for a boat usually holds some form of significance,” John explains. “You should know that, Hunter. Hasn’t your dad talked about it?”

  Shrugging, Hunter looks a bit chastised. “Probably. I guess I don’t always pay attention.”

  “Well, I read about it a couple years ago. And if these guys are from Denmark, then it’s probably even more likely. I think that your sister might be right,” he continues, the change in subject catching Hunter off guard.

  “Right about what?” Hunter wants to know.

  “That something isn’t right here.” A lone cry of a bald eagle circling overhead pierces the air, adding a sense of urgency to the observation. “We need to figure out what it is.”

  16

  HERE BE DRAGONS

  “Here Be Dragons. What does that mean?” Ally asks her brother. “And how did you figure it out?”

  The four of them are gathered in the back of the house, in the boys’ room, under the guise of playing video games. After sharing their encounter with Bucky, and what they did and did not see inside the boat, the boys then explained their findings on the name.

  “Well, first I just tried a search for the name, but that didn’t lead anywhere,” John tells her. “Then, I figured that since the company is based in Denmark, that I should try a translation using the common language there, which turns out to be Danish. It was easy then to just plug it into the online program.”

  “Very smart,” Sam says approvingly, just a little bit disappointed that she hadn’t been in on it. “I know I’ve heard that before, but I can’t remember where.”

  “It’s been used in lots of things,” John confirms. “But the original meaning was on old maps.”

  “Old maps?” Ally questions. “What kind of maps?”

  “It goes back to medieval times,” John tells them. “It means that it’s dangerous or unexplored territory. On some of the oldest maps recovered, they put the pictures of dragons and sea serpents in the regions that were unknown, as a warning.”

  “So these guys like to brag about being dangerous.” Hunter has been pretending to be engrossed in the video game he’s playing, but Sam knows that he’s just as interested as the rest of them. Putting the controller down now, he turns around to look at them. “Doesn’t that bother any of you?”

  “I’m not convinced that’s why they chose it,” Sam counters, not really answering her brother’s question. When he raises his eyebrows at her, she searches for the best way to explain her thoughts. “I think we’re missing the bigger picture here,” she finally states, including John and Ally in her observation. “John, you said you found out some more stuff about BioCore Resources?”

  “Yeah…,” he confirms, pulling out a folded napkin from his back pocket. It was the only thing available to write on at the restaurant.

  “It was a lot easier to try some different searches with my tablet, and the Wi-Fi was much faster there than in that ice cream shop. It isn’t much, but aside from
the secret government contracts, they also manufacture vaccines for WHO, the World Health Organization. I only found that out because of an article on the company’s CEO, or Chief Executive Officer. He’s part of a special vaccine board for the non-profit group, and has been active in some programs going into poorer countries. There was a scandal last year, where he was accused of having some ulterior motives. That rather than being a humanitarian, he was using the people as guinea pigs.

  “Apparently, one of the biggest hang-ups in producing vaccines, or any sort of medicine, is getting to the point of doing human trials. Especially in the developed countries, where they make the people who create it jump through a bunch of hoops before allowing them to test it out on real people. He got around that by being put in charge of this program, and then sending out his own unfinished vaccines to the un-monitored countries. They tested it on unsuspecting people, improved it, and then turned around and sold it for a profit of billions of dollars.”

  “How could they get away with that?” Ally demands, arms crossed angrily.

  “They shouldn’t have, but they did,” John replies. “They’re smart, and knew exactly what they were doing. While it was unethical and wrong, nothing they did was illegal. At least, not in the countries they were doing it in. Some of the claims couldn’t be proven, so it never went anywhere legally. I guess the big pharmaceutical companies don’t care, because they keep buying their stuff. It’s all about the money. But…I found some other things, too. It’s a bit more controversial. One doctor over in Africa wrote a paper claiming that BioCore wasn’t just testing vaccines. He believed that they were creating something much more dangerous. I only found the one article though, and then nothing else.”

  Nodding her head as if expecting it, Sam claps her hands together. “That’s it!” she exclaims, “That’s what the name on the boat means!”