Free 09 The Clue at Black Creek Farm by Carolyn Keene

or chirping of crickets. I glanced over at the house; all the lights were out except one, on the top floor. I watched a figure pass in front of the window: Jack. I shuddered and wasn’t sure why. Jack had finally returned to the farm as we were finishing up our weenie roast on the back porch. He claimed he’d been working in a coffee shop all day—trying to collect his head. No one questioned him, and he asked where Julie was and then disappeared upstairs. Sam had looked after him, pensive, and Abby had put her hand on his arm and told him to “give Jack time.”
    Then the conversation had shifted.
    The figure disappeared from the window, and soon after, the light went out. Everyone would be going to sleep now—except me.
    I cast my eyes out over the fields again. Where are you, little crops poisoner? I thought. Greenhouse destroyer? Dream trampler?
    I rested my back against the tree and got ready for a long night.

    It was almost midnight. I stared into my phone, watching each minute pass, dying to wake up Bess so I could get some shut-eye. It had been a long day, and adrenaline could only get me so far.
    That was when I heard what sounded like a car coming up the road. My heart squeezed. There were only two farms and one or two other houses on this road—what were the chances someone could be coming home this late? I blinked my eyes and shook my head, trying to wake up. Could this be my crops saboteur?
    I got to my feet. The car noise died down right in front of the farm. I heard the shuddery sound of anengine turning off, and then a car door opening and slamming.
    Gulp. I ran my fingers over the phone in my hand. I’d typed in the farm’s house number as a “favorite.” The plan was, if I saw anything unusual, I would call and wake them up.
    Should I call now?
    It was unusual to have someone pull up to the house in the middle of the night, wasn’t it?
    I swiped my finger across the bottom of the screen to wake up the phone, but before I could enter my pass code, I heard them.
    Footsteps.
    They were headed from the house . . . this way .
    I turned and squinted toward the path that led from the driveway, behind the house, to the foot of the hill where we were camped. There it was: a dark figure. It looked small, like a teenager or petite woman, and it wore a gray sweatshirt and a baseball cap. It was carrying something large and heavy-looking in its arms.
    Whoever it was, he or she was close enough that they would be upon me before I could get Sam or Abby out here. My fingers clutched uselessly at my phone. Should I call the police? I thought of the unlit lantern sitting nearby and considered grabbing it.
    But it was too late. I heard a twig snap just feet away and realized the person was already climbing the hill. It’s like they know we’re here! I felt my heart start to pound in my chest.
    â€œBess!” I tried to shout, but my voice came out as a husky whisper. This is like a nightmare! With my last remaining wits, I scrambled back to the tent and reached inside for the item Sam had insisted on loaning us before he went to bed . . .
    . . . a baseball bat.
    The thing was aluminum and super heavy. Sam said it had belonged to Jack. I raised it over my head and forced air into my lungs, so I could shout . . .
    â€œSTAY BACK! I HAVE A WEAPON!”
    The figure stopped short. He or she was just a few yards away now, down the hill. I was peeringdown at the top of a dark baseball cap. Jack?
    â€œNancy?”
    The figure spoke in a female voice. It took me a few seconds to realize that this was a familiar female voice. She reached up and pulled off the baseball cap, revealing a mop of short-cropped black hair.
    â€œGeorge!” I dropped the baseball cap and lunged toward her, folding her into a hug. (I’m not normally the huggy type, but it’s funny what thinking you’re in mortal peril will do to you.) “Oh my