Free 09 The Clue at Black Creek Farm by Carolyn Keene Page A

gosh, you scared me! What are you doing here?”
    George pulled back and retrieved her phone from her sweatshirt pocket. “I’m sorry, Nancy! I’ve just been getting all these texts from you and Bess about how you were camping out here tonight. I was feeling a little left out. So when I finished my shift at the Coffee Cabin, I ran home, packed a bag, and drove over. It never occurred to me that you might think I was the bad guy. I’m really sorry.”
    I let out a sigh of relief. “It’s fine, George. Actually . . . I’m really glad you’re here.”
    George smiled. She shifted her arms, and I could see now that the heavy-looking thing she was carrying was just her duffel bag.
    I took a step back toward the tent. “Come on in. It’s time for me to wake up Bess for her shift.”
    George raised her eyebrows. “Want me to take the next shift instead?”
    â€œAren’t you tired?”
    George shook her head. “It’s the benefit of working at a place called the Coffee Cabin, Nance,” she said with a smile. “I made myself a double espresso right before I left.”

    Who knows how many hours later, I startled awake to a sharp poke in the shoulder.
    â€œYour turn,” Bess said gruffly. I’d barely woken up enough to hear George come into the tent and wake Bess at two a.m. Before I could respond, she’d already dived around me into her sleeping bag and had the blanket pulled up over her head.
    I shimmied out, reached beneath my pillow formy phone, and checked the time. Four a.m. I glanced over at the other sleeping bag and saw George snoring away.
    â€œDid you see anything?” I asked Bess. My eyes were dying to close again so I could slip back into a dream. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs.
    â€œNothing,” Bess mumbled. “Now I’m enjoying the sight of the insides of my eyelids.”
    â€œGotcha.” I let out a final sigh and then drew myself to my feet and scooted out of the tent.
    The world outside was dead quiet now. Even the crickets and owls had called it a night, it seemed. I breathed in the cold, clear air and looked around. The moon hung just above the horizon, ready to cede the sky to the sun. A barely perceptible glow of grayish-blue light hovered over the horizon opposite. Sunrise couldn’t be far off.
    The crops were quiet, seemingly undisturbed. I yawned, wondering whether this was a bad idea. Maybe whoever’s contaminating the crops knows I’m looking into it, so they’re keeping quiet. I frowned. Maybe whoever’sbehind it is sleeping right there in that house, I thought, looking over at the farmhouse.
    The house was totally dark. I moved around to make myself comfortable, leaning back against the tree and pulling my sweatshirt around me like a blanket.
    Only a few more hours to go . . .

    I woke suddenly to dark-blue sky streaked with orange. I jumped up: What? Where am . . . But then I looked around and saw the fields of crops spreading out below, the tent with my two sleeping friends inside behind me. I must have dozed off. I wiggled around, trying to wake up. I hope I didn’t miss anything. What if —
    CRASH!
    I jumped and turned toward the source of the noise. It was coming from behind the storage barn. I got to my feet, hearing the panicked clucking of chickens. The chicken coop. Someone’s spooking the chickens.
    The sun hadn’t yet crested the horizon, but the moon was gone. Streaks of orange and pink lit up the sky, but the world still looked dim and ink-stained. I squintedtoward the path that led to the storage barn but couldn’t make out anything unusual. Should I call Sam? What if it is Sam? I pulled out my phone and checked it: 4:53. Maybe they always feed the chickens at this hour. Sam and Abby had made jokes the day before about how early the day started on a farm. Why didn’t I ask?
    A shriek sounded from