But what if Grandma had gone to the bell? What if the bell had "called to her"? That's what Grandma said. Sometimes things called to her, and she had to follow their voices. A bird. A cluster of irises. The pond. The moon. All these things called to Grandma from time to time. And she always went when she was called.
Evan dove into the woods, finding the path that led through the trees to Lovell's Hill. The sun was dipping below Black Bear Mountain and everything had gone flat and gray, but Evan knew the path. He hurried until he made it to the top of the steep rise where the old oak crossbeam stood.
Evan looked around. Black Bear Mountain rose behind him like a giant tidal wave. The trees looked like soldiers guarding a gate. The snow under his feet seemed to deaden all sound, and the cold was beginning to creep up into his boots and snake its way up his legs.
Evan stared at the crossbeam, empty like an eye socket. Grandma wasn't here. The bell wasn't here. Nothing was the way it was supposed to be. Nothing was ever going to be the way it was supposed to be.
Evan had that feeling that he got sometimes—that out-of-nowhere feeling—of missing his dad. His dad was supposed to be here in an emergency. But his dad wasn't here and hadn't been for a long time. Sometimes he sent e-mails with pictures attached of all the places he traveled for work, and sometimes he sent gifts—a felt hat from Pakistan or a tiny bottle made out of blue glass from Afghanistan. But Evan hadn't seen his dad in almost a year.
And suddenly Evan knew who it was he needed to help him find Grandma. It wasn't his father. It wasn't his mother. He needed someone who would treat it like a math problem, who would keep a clear head. Someone who would be able to solve the puzzle. He needed Jessie.
Evan knew the way to Maxwell's house and figured he could be there in ten minutes if he ran the whole way. But as he turned to head down the hill, the air splintered with sound—first a scream and then the noise of shattering glass. The sound came from the direction of the little bridge that crossed Deer Brook. Evan started to run.
Chapter 11
Agent 99 Goes Solo
Jessie felt as if someone had waved a wand and turned her entire body to stone. Every muscle froze; the air locked in her lungs; even her eyes refused to blink. She pressed her back against the wall of the house and prayed to become invisible.
The two boys, though, never turned around. They raced off the porch without a single backward glance and ran toward the barn. Within ten seconds they were gone, and Jessie and Maxwell were left alone on the wide wooden porch.
"That was a close one," whispered Jessie, surprised her voice was working at all.
But Maxwell didn't say anything. His face had gone sort of grayish white, and his eyes kept staring where the boys had been.
Finally he whispered, "They would have killed us if they found us."
"They would not!" Jessie whispered back. "Maybe they would have yelled and told their mother, and maybe we would have gotten in trouble, but they would not have killed us."
"You don't know them!" said Maxwell, his voice rising dangerously.
"Shhh! You want to get us caught? Jeepers, Maxwell, act like a spy, would you?"
Maxwell stood up and started walking in circles. Jessie stared through her binoculars at the barn.
"They were carrying stuff," she said. "Did you notice?" Jessie had seen that both boys had something in their hands, but she'd been too scared to see what.
"A shoebox and a hammer," said Maxwell, still walking. "Jeff had the shoebox. Mike had the hammer."
"Wow. You are a good spy," said Jessie. She wished she'd noticed those things, but it had all happened so fast.
Jessie looked at the barn again. Maxwell started to walk slower and slower, and then he stopped and just stood in one spot, rocking back and forth.
"We need to go see what they're doing in that barn," said Jessie.
Maxwell started shaking his head.
"Yes, we do," she said. "I bet that's where they hide things. I bet they've got a secret compartment in that barn, and that's where they are right now, and if we find that secret compartment, we'll find the bell."
"No," said Maxwell. "No, we won't. We will not find the bell in that barn."
"Well, we're going to find something, that's for sure," said Jessie. "Come on." She scooted off the porch in her low-to-the-ground crouch and hurried across the open front yard to the barn. One quick glance over her shoulder told her that Maxwell was staying behind. She'd have to do this bit of spying alone. Agent 99 goes solo.
The large sliding door to the barn was open just a foot, but Jessie didn't want to spy from there. If the boys came barreling out the door, she'd get caught for sure, and she could still remember what it felt like to be on the porch, pressed up against the wall of the house, with nowhere to hide. She could hear music coming from inside the barn, a pop song that she recognized.
Nope, this time she was going to be smart. She and Evan had circled this barn a dozen times over the years. She knew there were windows on the sides and back of the barn. She walked to the left until she came to the first of two small windows. The boys had turned on all the overhead lights—rows and rows of them, which lit up the barn like a stage. This was lucky for her, because it made it much easier to see inside the barn, and she knew that with the fading daylight she would be almost invisible if the boys looked up.
She peeked her head around to look in the barn, but all she could see was the usual stuff: a tractor, old tools hanging on the wall, a workbench with piles of magazines all over it, baled hay. It looked like her grandma's barn. Jessie couldn't see the boys anywhere. But she could hear hammering.
She crouched down again and scuttled over to the second window, but she still couldn't see the boys. The hammering stopped, and then it started up again.
Jessie continued to walk around the outside of the barn. She was starting to think she might need to sneak inside the barn itself, when she popped her head up at the single small window on the back of the barn and came practically face-to-face with the older of the two boys. It was as if she was standing just three feet away from him and he was looking right at her.
Jessie was so surprised, she immediately ducked her head back down and waited to hear a shout from the boy. But the hammering continued, and Jessie realized that the bright light inside and the growing darkness outside had turned the window into a one-way mirror. She could peek in without being seen.
Slowly, she inched her head up.
Jeff and Mike were in one of the stalls that ran along the back of the barn. The ceiling here was low, the floor covered in rough wood. Jessie looked around and realized the compartment was used for storing firewood. The split firewood was stacked in racks that jutted out of one of the side walls of the small room. The racks were made of long two-by-fours nailed into the floor and the ceiling. The room looked dirty and creepy to Jessie, but it was a perfect place to hide something.
Both boys were standing in front of the middle rack. Jessie could see that they had pounded a couple of nails into the two-by-fours along with some thin splints of wood that formed an X. Two strings dangled from the nails. The boys were pounding something else onto the two-by-fours, but Jessie couldn't see what it was. The younger one—Mike—held the nail steady, while the older one—Jeff—hammered it in. She reached into her backpack and took out her notebook to make a quick diagram. This might be important information she was gathering, and she wanted to get it right.
As she watched, Jessie figured out what the boys were nailing to the board: two large spools of thread, each one set on a nail so that it could turn easily. She added the spools to her diagram.
"What are they doing?" a voice whispered nearby.
Jessie nearly dropped her pencil, she was so startled. In the dim light, she could just see Maxwell peeking around the corner of the barn. He'd snuck up close to her without her even hearing him! He really did have all the skills of a good spy.
She motioned for him to come over, and Maxwell glided noiselessly
over the snow. She pointed to her diagram and then pointed at the window and shrugged her shoulders to show that she didn't know what was going on inside. Maxwell poked his head up and looked through the window.
"What's in the box?" Maxwell whispered to Jessie. Jessie had forgotten all about the shoebox that Jeff had been carrying before. It sat on the floor a few feet away from the boys with a rock resting on its lid. Jessie shook her head.
The boys tested the spools by spinning them on their nails. The spools spun wildly, making a whirring, clacking noise that made Jeff and Mike laugh. Jessie was intrigued. The boys didn't seem mean at all! They were building something new, and Jessie liked to do that, too—whether it was making a complicated track for racing marbles or a lemonade stand with hand-painted signs and a canopy.
Next to her, Maxwell started to make his puffing sound. Jessie looked over at him and shook her head sharply. If they blew this stakeout, they weren't going to get a second chance to find the bell before tonight. Maxwell put a hand over his own mouth and started to rock back and forth. His eyes were glued to the window like he was watching a horror movie.
Jessie turned back in time to see Mike pick up the shoebox and reach a hand under the lid. Jeff crowded close to Mike, and for a minute, Jessie couldn't see what they were doing.
Then Mike held up his hands, and Jessie could see that he was holding a frog—a live frog! Its back legs kicked a couple of times, dangling below Mike's hands. Mike held the frog up while Jeff tied one of the strings attached to the nail to one of the frog's front legs. Then he tied the other string to the other front leg. Jessie couldn't figure out what they were planning to do. Maxwell started to make a noise Jessie had never heard from him. It was like a moan, but it came out in short bursts. The hand over his mouth muffled the sound, but Jessie was still worried the boys would hear it. There was nothing she could do, though. She couldn't take her eyes off the scene inside the barn.
Now the frog was dangling by its front legs, its back pressed against the wooden splints the boys had hammered into place, its pale green belly facing out. It tried to kick itself free, but its powerful hind legs had nothing to push against.
The boys set to work on the frog's jumping legs. Jeff grabbed the left leg and started to wrap the thread from one of the spools around it. Mike did the same with the right leg and the other spool. Jessie started to see a picture in her head, a picture of how the spools would turn, how the strings would get tighter, how the legs of the frog would stretch and stretch and stretch until...
Out of the corner of her eye, Jessie saw Maxwell press his other hand over his mouth. The sounds from his mouth were coming out faster and louder. Jessie felt like she was deep underwater—everywhere heaviness pressed on her. Her legs felt heavy. Her arms felt heavy. Her mouth felt sealed shut, as if a big hand had clamped down on it. She couldn't move. She couldn't think.
Jeff began to turn the spool on the left as Mike turned the one on the right. The frog began to kick furiously, but soon the kicks became little quivers as the strings pulled in all directions. And then the quivering stopped. The frog couldn't move. All four legs were stretched as far as they could go. Only the soft green belly of the frog moved, vibrating in and out, as if its heart would beat right out of its chest. And the frog's mouth opened and closed, in what looked to Jessie like a silent scream.
Suddenly, there was a scream, and Jessie had the strange thought that it came from the frog! It was a cry like Jessie had never heard before. She turned and saw Maxwell screaming wildly as he kicked at the snow, looking for something buried underneath. When he found what he wanted—a rock the size of his fist—he picked it up and hurled it through the window. The glass smashed to pieces, and Jessie jumped back. Maxwell continued to scream as if he were being skinned alive.
And then he bolted, running back over the bridge, leaving Jessie in the dark with the two Sinclair boys staring right at her through the hole in the shattered glass.
Chapter 12
A Fair Fight
Evan ran toward the bridge, stumbling in the deepening darkness. On the other side, he could see someone running toward him, but the light was so dim, he couldn't tell who it was. The person was running as if a wild animal were chasing it, arms clawing madly at the air, legs galloping down the hill toward the bridge. Evan had to stop abruptly at the bridge to prevent a collision.
That's when he saw it was Maxwell. But Maxwell was supposed to be with Jessie. Where was Jessie? Who had screamed? What broke the glass?
"Maxwell, what happened?" Evan shouted, but Maxwell wasn't stopping. He barreled over the bridge, running past Evan as if Evan didn't even exist.
"Stop! Stop!" Evan yelled, but it seemed like Maxwell never heard him. He ran up the hill and into the woods, and then he was out of sight.
Evan turned and raced over the bridge and up the hill where Maxwell had come from. There was a house up here, the old Jansen house. He saw that the lights were on, so he headed for the porch but then stopped. He heard voices. Coming from behind the barn. And one of them was Jessie's.
When Evan rounded the back corner of the barn, he practically ran over his little sister. She was standing with her legs apart, buried halfway up to her knees in the deep snow, with both arms crooked at the elbow. In each hand, she held a rock the size of a baseball.
In front of her were two boys. It took Evan just a split second to size them up. The bigger one looked to be just about Evan's size; the other one wasn't much smaller. When Jessie saw Evan, she took three quick steps backwards but kept the rocks held tightly in her fists. She'd been holding her own against the boys—that was Jessie!—but Evan could tell she was scared.
"Hey!" Evan shouted, and took a step toward the boys.
"Is this your brother?" shouted the older boy at Jessie. "He's not so big! We could beat him up with our hands tied behind our backs." The younger boy laughed and said, "Yeah!"
"Come on, then," said Evan. He made a move toward the older boy, pushing his chest out and balling up his fists, but just then a rock landed on the ground right between them.
"Stop it!" said Jessie. "Fighting is for morons!"
"Yeah, like that moron who broke our window!"
"He's not a moron. You're the morons! It's disgusting what you were doing!"
"What is going on?" shouted Evan.
"They were torturing a frog in there, Evan!" Jessie said, and Evan could tell she was on the very edge of crying. "Maxwell and me were spying on them—"
"Yeah, you were spying on us. On our property—"
"So what! You should go to jail for what you did!"
"You're the one who's going to jail! Trespassing. Spying. Breaking windows!"
"Shut up!" Evan yelled, and everyone did. "Jessie, did you break the window?"
"No. Maxwell broke the window. Because they had a frog tied up and were trying to pull its legs off. While it was still alive."
Evan looked at the two boys, and suddenly they didn't seem to have anything to say. The older one looked at the ground. The younger one looked at the older one, and then he looked down at the ground, too.
Evan shook his head. "That is sick. That is really, really sick." Evan was a tough kid who liked guts and gore as much as anyone. But the thought of hurting a real animal made his stomach turn.
"It's our property. We can do whatever we want on it. And you're still trespassing." The older boy made a move toward Evan, and the younger one backed him up from behind.
Evan stepped forward to show he wasn't afraid. But two of them at once. That was going to be hard, and Evan didn't have a lot of experience with fighting. He tightened his fists at his sides, wishing he had one of his friends from home. Paul or Jack or even Scott Spencer. It would be a fair fight if it were two against two.
Wham. Another rock came sailing at them, and this time it hit the older boy in the shoulder.
"Jeez, what are you doing?" he shouted. "You can't throw rocks."
"Who says?" said Jessie. "Show me the rule
book." Her voice sounded funny, and Evan could tell she was shaking. But there she was, standing up to those boys. Just like she'd stood up to Scott Spencer when she put him on trial for stealing the lemonade money. She might be the smallest fourth-grader in the world because she'd skipped a grade, but Jessie had bossed around the whole class. When it came to justice, she was fearless. Maybe this was going to be a fair fight after all.
"Hold her down," said the older boy to the younger boy, and as soon as the smaller one took a step toward Jessie, Evan let loose. He shoved the younger boy so hard, the kid fell to the ground, then he turned on the older boy with both his hands up, ready to swing. The older boy quickly backed away.
"Hey, calm down. It's no big deal," he said. "Jeez, you two are really a pain in the neck. Just take your stupid sister and get out of here."
Evan kept his fists up in front of him, standing his ground. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that the younger brother was crying but had gotten up on his feet. Bullies! It was like his mother said—stand up to them and they always back down.
"Come on, Jess," said Evan, lowering his hands halfway.
"No," said Jessie.
Evan could see that she was holding two more rocks, one in each hand. No? What was she thinking?
"Jess, we're going."
"Not until we get that frog out of there."
The older boy took a step forward. "You are not going inside our barn. There is no way I'm letting you in there."
Evan could tell the boy meant it. You didn't mess with farm families and their property. Evan had spent enough time in these woods to know that. Jessie was pushing their luck, and she was going to get them both in a lot of trouble.