Penny Warner - A Quiet Undertaking

Many thanks to the following people, who helped me with the details of the mystery:

Bob Durkin, funeral director

Susan C. Eggers, Hardy Boys expert

Robert Evans, police officer and criminology instructor

Althea Katz, shooting instructor

Paige Morgan, Hardy Boys expert

Keith Melton, California Highway Patrolman

Maureen Meyer, school library media generalist

Bob Nelson, Hardy Boys expert

Joseph Paglino, homicide detective

Thanks to everyone who read the manuscript: Jonnie Jacobs, Peggy Lucke, Lynn MacDonald, Camille Minichino, Constance Pike, Edward Pike, Michelle Smythe, Susan Stadelhofer, Vicki Stadelhofer, and Diana Todd.

And a special thanks to Amy Kossow, Stephanie Kip, and Cassie Goddard.

my eye was caught with
the glimpse of something shining
in the bottom of the ditch
It made my heart thump,
for I was certain it was gold.

J AMES M ARSHALL

I wanted the gold and I found it;
Came out with a fortune last fall.
But somehow its not all I hoped for;
Somehow the Gold isnt all.

R OBERT S ERVICE

H ow did I get myself into this?

I wiped a clump of damp bangs from my sweaty forehead with the back of my hand. Hunkered down beside a jagged volcanic rock, I cocked my gun, then low-crawled among the manzanita and Sierra thistle toward the safety of a cluster of trees.

I squatted, waiting; my eyes scanned the underbrush. Nothing moved except a river of perspiration down my chest.

Fear has a way of pushing the senses into overdrive. Suddenly I could see every blade of field grass quake. Feel the relentless pressure of the warm breeze against my overheated body. Smell my floral lotion fighting pungent sweat. Even my saliva tasted differentsticky, salty, sour.

In spite of the density of the blue oaks and needle pines, and the camouflage of the rugged terrain, it was difficult to stay out of the line of fire. And I had lost track of the man who was stalking me with a loaded gun in his hand.

Before I could find new cover, I saw something fly past my head, narrowly missing my ear. Ducking flat, I felt my black T-shirt stick to my sweaty skin like a giant Band-Aid.

Damn! How had he spotted me? Id been careful not to make any noise as I crept through the tangle of shrubs and soft pine needles. Not that I could be certain I hadnt made any sound, being deaf. But it felt like I was quiet. I scanned the overgrown grass, oak trees, and jutting rocks for movement. He was out there. With a gun. Determined to shoot me.

A flicker. I became aware of movement next to one of the big oaks. My heart beat double time as I tried to leap behind a large, spiky bush, praying he didnt see me. The dive onto the rough ground cost me a scraped elbow and knee. My skin burned under my clothes. I rose halfway, panicked, searching for someplace to hide.

Too late.

A sharp sting pierced the back of my thigh as the impact of the shot knocked me back to the ground. I rolled over in the weeds and dirt, then pushed myself up, my leg searing from the pain. Twisting around, I checked the wound and winced at the sight of a bright red starburst.

Shit! Im hit! Im hit! I screamed, as I forced myself to stand. I plugged the neon orange barrel into the nose of the gun and waved it back and forth, high in the air.

And no one told me it was going to hurt this much!

I rubbed the back of my leg where Id been struck, trying to soothe the smarting skin, but I only managed to spread the sticky crimson color over my hands and my black jeans. Frustrated, I started toward the base, but before I could move more than a few steps, another shot hit me in the back. This one didnt hurt as much, but it pissed me off even more.

I said Im hit, you idiot! Knock it off!

A man wearing camouflage fatigues and a fluorescent red armband waved an apology from the safety of his tree. I couldnt make out who it was, since a mask and eye protectors covered half his face, but Id remember him. He had two blue circles on the front of his shirt from a previous battle, and I promised myself Id hunt him down and kill him if it took the rest of the day.

Did they get you? Jeff Pike, the teenaged referee standing on the sidelines, waved me in. He and his younger brother hosted the paint ball events every weekend. They both wore holey camouflage T-shirts and baggy cargo pants, along with the orange vest that was de rigeur for all the paint ball refs. The Day-Glo vests set them apart from the battling teams so they wouldnt be shot inadvertently. I could read Jeffs lips, since he only wore safety goggles, unlike the other players, who sported face masks.

When I reached the base, I removed my face and eye protection. Jeff threw me a towel to wipe off the sweat.

He shot me in the back! I said, using the towel to dab at the red paint on my pants. After Id already been killed. Is that fair?

It was probably an accident. Maybe he didnt know you were shot.

I waved! I yelled! I stood out in plain view. The guys an idiot.

Jeff grinned, revealing a wad of chaw and a pierced tongue. He probably got complaints like this all the time from sore losers like me who were shot early in the game. But I was determined to capture that damn flag sometime todayif I had to take out every last member of the opposing team myself.

While the rest of the troops continued without me, I sat on top of a picnic table that overlooked the battleground. As large as a football field, and surrounded by trees, bushes, and rocks, the area had been a popular spot for paint ball games for the last several years. Simmering in the hot California sun, I pushed up my long sleeves and poured water from my plastic bottle on my skinned elbow, then took a few swallows.

Scanning the field, I spotted my teammate and more-than-a-friend, Dan Smith, hiding behind a tree not far from the other teams flag. Although I couldnt see those clear blue eyes and salt-and-pepper beard behind his mask, I recognized his large muscular arms. Id know those arms anywhere. Gun in hand, he looked ready to make a run for it at the first opportunity.