Free Night of the Black Bear by Gloria Skurzynski Page B

was still at the table. All through dinner he’d been planning it, arguing with himself over whether he should do such a deceitful thing. Yet this was one chance to either find out the truth, or even better, to put his suspicions to rest.
    Earlier, he’d seen Merle’s guitar case in the hall, lying on the floor near the bathroom door. Moving quietly now, Jack picked up the guitar case and carried it into the bathroom, setting it on the sink counter. He left the door open just a little way so he could hear if anyone came.
    It was an old case, the leather cracked on the outside and the red felt lining peeling away from the inside. Cautiously, he lifted the guitar out of the case, his left hand beneath the neck and his right hand supporting the bottom. Glancing up, he saw himself in the bathroom mirror, and he hated his own image. Jack the mole. Jack the sneak. Why was he doing this? If Merle was in trouble, there was nothing Jack could do to help him. Or was there?
    Holding the guitar with both hands, he jiggled it a little but heard nothing. Then, after shaking it harder and still hearing nothing, he turned the guitar upside down.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    Jack jumped so hard he nearly dropped the guitar. He didn’t need to turn around, because he could see in the mirror in front of him that Merle stood right outside the partly open door. Jack hadn’t heard him approach.
    â€œI know what you’re doing,” Merle said, his voice as cold as his steel-gray eyes. “I saw the same movie. You think I might be carrying drugs in my guitar, don’t you? You think I might be dealing.”
    â€œN-not drugs,” Jack stammered. “Mushrooms.”
    â€œOh for cr—!” Merle shook his head and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “’Shrooms. Like I’d be dealing magic mushrooms in Gatlinburg. Gatlinburg is not New York City, Jack. It’s not even Nashville.” Then, “Hand over that guitar. It’s the only thing I have left from my father, and I don’t like spies touching it.”
    â€œI’m not—” Jack began, but Merle was already putting the guitar back into the case.
    Merle snapped the case shut, picked it up, and as he turned to go, he said, “I thought maybe we were gonna be friends, Jack. I was wrong.”
    He was halfway through the door when Jack cried, “Where do you work, Merle? Tell me where you work as a busboy.”
    The door slammed shut. Merle was gone.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    â€œY our mother has already left,” Steven said from where he stood between the two beds. Grabbing Jack’s big toe, he shook it hard to wake him.
    â€œWhat?” Jack asked groggily. “What time is it?”
    â€œIt’s seven-thirty, lazy boy. Time to rise and shine. You, too, Ashley.”
    Blinking, Ashley rolled over on one elbow. “What’d you say about Mom?”
    â€œI said she’s gone. She and Kip are on their way to the lab in Knoxville. Jack, you can use my shower. Ashley, this bathroom’s all yours. Move it, kids. After you’re ready, we’ll have breakfast here at the hotel, and then we’re going for a ride.”
    â€œWith Yonah, too?” Ashley asked sleepily, and then, “Oh, I forgot. It’s Monday, so he’s in school.”
    â€œNo, not Yonah. You’re going with me and your brother, if I can drag him out of bed. Come on, guys, hustle, hustle. I’ll tell you about everything over breakfast.”
    â€œEverything” turned out to be that Olivia and Kip were taking half a dozen different mushroom samples to the Knoxville lab, more than an hour away, to check them for hallucinogens. Steven, Jack, and Ashley would drive through the park, gathering information and images connected to the bear attacks.
    â€œLike detectives,” Ashley said.
    â€œLike biologists or animal behaviorists,” Steven corrected her. “Detectives study crime scenes. No crimes