Missing on Superstition Mountain (5 page)

CHAPTER 7

A GLIMPSE OF SOMETHING

A
FTER ALMOST TWO HOURS
of putting flyers on telephone poles in the broiling heat, all three boys were exhausted. They'd ridden down every street in the neighborhood. The sun was high in the cloudless sky, hot on their backs, flashing off cars, leaving them sweaty and thirsty.

They'd just turned off Coronado Road to head home when Henry saw something out of the corner of his eye that made him slam on his brakes. It was a cat, crossing a front yard. A black cat.

He jumped off the side of his bike, letting it clatter against the curb.

“Hey! Josie?” he cried. Before he could be sure, a girl—who looked about his age and had been sitting on the front porch of the house—leapt to her feet, grabbed the cat, and ran inside.

Simon and Jack circled back to where Henry's bike lay in the gutter. “What happened?” Simon asked. “Did you fall off?”

“No—I think I just saw Josie!”

“You did?” Jack jumped off his bike. “Where?”

Henry stared at the house in bafflement. “Maybe it wasn't, but it sure looked like Josie. A girl just took her inside that house.” He pointed at the two-story gray house directly in front of them. It had narrow flower beds on either side of the front stoop, overflowing with spiky plants and pink and orange flowers. A green hose coiled nearby.

Simon lifted his bike onto the sidewalk and pushed down the kickstand. “Let's go see.”

They climbed the steps to the porch. “Knock on the door,” Simon told Jack.

Jack frowned. “You do it.”

“I'll do it,” said Henry, but not before Jack stomped on Simon's foot and knocked on the door himself—a
bang
,
bang
,
bang
that echoed inside the house. The boys waited.

Jack rang the bell.
Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
The boys waited some more.

“I know she's in there,” Henry said. He pressed his face against the window next to the door. “Hey, I can see the living room.” He saw a flowery sofa, a glossy coffee table stacked with magazines, end tables cluttered with framed pictures, and a big, fancy-looking green armchair with gold braiding. “It's very …
opulent
.”

Simon and Jack crowded behind him. “Does that mean there's a cat in there?” Jack wanted to know.

“Nope,” Henry said, disappointed.

“Let me see!” Jack pushed in front of him. “Hey, there
is
a black cat. It's walking down the hall,” he said. Then he cried excitedly, “Look! It's Josie!”

“Really?” Simon elbowed between the two of them.

Breathlessly, they watched a black cat wander into the living room and sit down, calmly licking her paws. There was a white patch on her neck shaped like Florida.

“It is Josie!” Simon said. “What's she doing in there?”

Josie was safe! She hadn't been eaten by mountain lions! She hadn't been bitten by a rattlesnake! She'd come down from the mountain all by herself, and she really didn't look any different at all. But what was she doing in this strange house?

Henry pointed. “Look, there's the girl. She's hiding behind that chair.”

Behind one side of the green satiny armchair, they could see pink sneakers, a striped sleeve, and a long, brown braid.

Jack pounded on the door again. “We see you!” he yelled. “Give us back our cat!”

The sneakers didn't move, but the braid swung sideways and half a face appeared. It was a mad face.

“Open the door!” Henry shouted.

“Go away!” yelled the girl. She hid behind the chair again.

Jack tried the handle of the front door but it wouldn't open. “We have to save Josie,” he said. “Josie! Josie, come here!”

Josie looked up, gazing at them with her golden eyes. Henry thought she seemed unimpressed.

“Josie!” he yelled.

She started licking her paws again.

The braid moved and the whole face appeared this time. Henry could see a scattering of freckles. “Go away,” the girl said loudly, glowering at them. “If you don't, I'll call the police.”

Simon was mad now too. “No, we'll call the police! You stole our cat.”

“You'll go to
JAIL
,” Jack cried. He made a horrible face and pressed it against the window.

The girl came out from behind the chair and sat down next to Josie, stroking her back. “Leave us alone! You're the ones trespassing.
You'll
go to jail.” She stuck out her tongue at Jack.

The three boys looked at one another.

“Who is she?” Henry asked. Since they had moved into Uncle Hank's house right as school was ending, they hadn't met many of the kids in the neighborhood. And now it seemed like everyone was on vacation or away at summer camp. Except this girl, apparently. This horrible, cat-stealing girl.

“I recognize her,” Simon said. “She rode her bike in that Pioneer Days parade a couple of weeks ago, remember? It was covered with all those dumb ribbons.”

“They weren't dumb!” came from inside the house.

“She can hear you,” Henry whispered. “We have to do something. Let's go tell Mom.”

“No!” Jack said. “We can't leave Josie. We have to rescue her.”

Simon scanned the side of the house. “Let's see if there's another way in,” he whispered.

“You go away,” the girl said again. She put her arm around Josie, still petting her. Even through the window, the boys could tell that Josie was arching her back and purring.

“Okay, we're leaving,” Henry said loudly. The three boys stomped down the porch steps and walked toward the driveway.

“Is she watching us?” Simon asked.

Henry glanced back and shook his head.

“Quick!”

They raced around the side of the house to the backyard, then up the deck stairs to the sliding glass door. Simon grabbed the handle and pulled, but the door wouldn't budge.

The girl walked into the kitchen, holding Josie in her arms. “Ha!” she said. “It's locked.”

Jack pounded on the glass.

“Cut it out,” the girl said. “My mom is
napping
. You'll wake her up.”

Something about the way she said this made Henry think it wasn't true. He suddenly felt certain she was in the house alone.

“Listen,” Simon told her, jabbing his finger against the glass. “That's our cat. She's been missing for three whole days! You can't take somebody else's cat.”

The girl held Josie tighter and glared. “It's not your cat. She's a stray. I found her.”

“She is not!” Henry cried. “Look at her collar.”

The girl didn't move.

“Can't we come in?” Henry asked. “Then we can show you.”

Josie continued to gaze at them impassively … almost as if they were strangers, Henry had to admit. But then she never was the kind of cat who acted excited to see anybody.

“She's not your cat,” the girl repeated stubbornly. She lowered Josie to the kitchen floor, and Josie darted back to the living room.

“Let's go,” Simon said to Henry and Jack. “She's not going to give us Josie, and I don't think there's anyone else home.” He called over his shoulder. “You'll be sorry. Our mom is going to call your mom, and then you'll be in big trouble.”

As they walked across the yard, they heard the door slide open.

“Wait,” the girl said.

The boys turned around. “Are you going to give Josie back?” Henry asked.

The girl frowned at him. “Her name is Princess,” she said.

Princess! The boys looked at one another in disgust.

Jack balled his fists and started back toward the deck, but Simon grabbed his shoulder.

“Forget it,” he said. “Mom will know what to do.”

CHAPTER 8

DELILAH

S
IMON,
H
ENRY, AND
J
ACK
rode their bikes as fast as they could all the way home. They burst through the kitchen door.

“Mom!” Simon shouted.

“Mom, where are you?” Henry called.

“Mom, we need you!” Jack yelled.

They heard their mother's exasperated sigh from the study. After a minute she emerged, pushing her glasses to the bridge of her nose. “All right, all right, here I am,” she said. “What's the matter?”

They all began talking at once.

“Mom, somebody took Josie!”

“This girl down the street has her—”

“Josie is
TRAPPED
—”

“You have to do something!”

Mrs. Barker held up a hand. “Boys, you have to calm down. I can't understand a thing you're saying. One at a time, please.”

“Mom!” Henry cried. “A girl has Josie and she's holding her
hostage
.”

Just then the doorbell rang. Their mother brushed past them. “Wait a sec. Someone's at the door.”

The boys charged after her. When she swung open the front door, there on the stoop was the girl, carrying Josie.

She smiled at Mrs. Barker. “I think I found your cat,” she said politely.

“Josie! Are we ever glad to see you!” Mrs. Barker swept Josie into her arms and cuddled her, smiling warmly. “And weren't you sweet to bring her back.”

“Hey!” Jack protested. “She's the one who stole her!”

“Now, Jack,” Mrs. Barker said quickly, “that's not nice.”

“But, Mom—” Jack spluttered. Mrs. Barker rested a hand firmly on his shoulder—the “hand of doom,” their father called it, because it meant that she didn't intend to say something sharp in front of guests, but nonetheless, you were to stop whatever you were doing immediately—and continued to smile at the girl. “Josie likes to wander around the neighborhood. I hope she wasn't bothering you.”

“Oh, no,” said the girl. “She comes over to my house a lot. I like her.”

“And where do you live?” Mrs. Barker asked.

The girl pointed down the street. “It's a gray house. On Waltz Street.”

“Well, it's very nice to meet you. I'm Ellen Barker, and these are my sons … Jack, Simon, and Henry. What's your name?”

The girl hesitated, looking at Josie. “Delilah Dunworthy,” she said, a little shyly.

Henry exchanged a skeptical glance with Simon. What kind of name was that?

“Would you like to come inside?” Mrs. Barker asked. “Do you want something to drink? It's so hot here—that's the thing I can't seem to get used to. Oh, and before I forget, let me get your reward.”

“Reward!” Simon cried. “That's ridiculous. She took Josie.”

“Yeah,” Henry complained. “She wouldn't give her back.”

“I don't know what you boys are talking about,” Mrs. Barker said sharply, and she looked at Henry the way she did whenever she said he was on thin ice, which was the verbal equivalent of the hand of doom.

She beckoned Delilah into the kitchen. “Is twenty dollars all right?” she asked, unsnapping her billfold. “Does that sound like a good reward?”

Twenty dollars! Henry smacked his forehead. This was unbelievable.

Delilah nodded. “Oh, yes! That's a lot.”

Jack looked ready to explode. “Mom, you can't—”

But Mrs. Barker hushed him with another disapproving glance while she poured a glass of lemonade. “Here, Delilah, and how about a chocolate chip cookie?” She filled a plate and set it on the table.

Henry looked at Simon and Jack in disbelief. How could their mother give twenty dollars
AND
chocolate chip cookies to the girl who kidnapped Josie? It was outrageous.

Mrs. Barker continued talking to Delilah. “What grade are you going into?”

“Fifth,” she said, smiling at the boys smugly. She sat down at the table and took a swig of lemonade, smacking her lips.

“Henry's in the same grade!” Mrs. Barker said.

Delilah turned to Henry. “Really? I thought you were younger than me.”

Henry scowled at her.

“Maybe you'll be in the same class,” Mrs. Barker continued.

“Maybe,” Delilah said neutrally.

Mrs. Barker pushed the cookie plate in front of her and gave her a paper napkin. “Now, how long have you and your family lived in this area?”

“We're new,” Delilah said. “We moved here in March.”

“You did?” Mrs. Barker exclaimed. “We just moved here too!” She turned to the boys and widened her eyes slightly, a look that appeared to mean “see, you have so much in common” or “stop the nonsense about the cat right now and make friends with this girl.”

Henry, Simon, and Jack huddled at one end of the table, fuming.

“Have you met other children in the neighborhood?” Mrs. Barker kept on talking.

“Some,” Delilah said, “but lots of people are away on vacation.”

She bit into a cookie. When Mrs. Barker turned away to refill her glass of lemonade, Delilah made a face at the boys. “Yum! These cookies are dee-licious.”