Free Strawberry Summer by Cynthia Blair Page A

silence.
    “Listen, I think that instead of running away, we should go after whoever’s following us. Or whoever’s hiding in the woods.”
    “You mean now?” Richard gulped. “In the dark?”
    His fearfulness made her even braver. “For heaven’s sake! How on earth will we ever get to the bottom of this if we don’t take the bull by the horns and go afterwhoever it is who’s doing all these things to Camp Pinewood?”
    “Chris is right,” Susan agreed. “We can’t just run away.”
    “Okay,” said Alan. “If that’s how everybody feels, why don’t we break up into two couples and take a quick look around? This area isn’t that big. If there really is somebody hiding in the woods right now, we should have no trouble finding him.”
    Richard was all ready to ask, But what do we do if we find him? when the four of them heard a loud noise that made them all jump.
    “Somebody just slammed a car door,” said Alan. “Whoever was here is now on his way out.”
    “Let’s follow him!” cried Chris. “Quick, where’s the pickup truck?”
    Alan led the way. The others followed him, hanging on to one another to keep from tripping over a stone or the root of a tree in the unfamiliar darkness. They scrambled into the track—Alan and Chris in the cab, Susan and Richard in back.
    “Leave the lights off,” Chris warned as Alan turned the key in the ignition. For once, the battered old truck started right up. “That way, they won’t realize they’re being followed.”
    “Hey, you’re pretty clever, you know that?”
    Chris laughed nervously. “I’ve seen a lot of detective stories in the movies. Plus I’ve read every Nancy Drew mystery ever written!”
    Alan’s pickup hurried along the dirt road for a few hundred feet. He had an advantage over anyone else driving that road; every square inch, every dip and pothole, was familiar to him. Even with only the light of the moon and the stars to help him see, he managed to maneuver his truck quickly and with ease. Before long, they spotted a car up ahead.
    “There he is!” Chris whispered hoarsely. “He’s turning right, onto the main road. Let’s follow him! But stay back, so he can’t see us.”
    “I’ll have to turn on the headlights...  .”
    “I know. But hopefully he’ll think we’re just another car, traveling this road behind him.”
    Alan drove slowly, staying a few car lengths behind. The other car neither speeded up nor slowed down—a good sign, Chris concluded. He didn’t seem to suspect that he was being followed.
    Then he signaled a right turn and eased off the road. Chris leaned forward in her seat, peering through the windshield.
    “What’s that? Where is he stopping?”
    Alan groaned—then laughed. “We’re out of luck, I’m afraid. That happens to be the Okie-Dokie Inn, our neighborhood tavern. Unless you’re willing to go inside, I’m afraid this is where our chase has to end.”
    Sure enough, as they drove by, Chris saw that it was indeed a restaurant and bar. And given the dozen or so cars parked in front, it was impossible to tell which car was the one they’d been following.
    “Dead end,” she sighed. “Might as well turn around and go home.”
    As Alan drove into the parking lot, Chris took a closer look at the Okie-Dokie Inn. It was a seedy-looking establishment, really a small white-shingled house with peeling brown shutters that had been converted into a tavern. A red neon sign advertising one particular brand of beer blinked on and off in its main window. There was something sad about that little roadside inn, Chris thought.
    But as Alan put the truck in reverse, preparing to back out of the parking lot once again, his headlights passed over another building, right behind the Okie-Dokie. It shared the same parking lot—yet she hadn’t noticed it before. It was long and flat, with several separate entrances, like a motel. They reminded her of doctors’ offices, or one of those buildings that housed small