“Let’s start with what we know,” said Harper, using a red Sharpie to write THE CASE OF THE MISSING STAR WITNESS in bold across the top of Kat’s watercolor pad. Even she had to agree that scarlet ink on hand-milled cotton board was several steps up from a bloodied quill in a musty cave.
“Our best hope of finding Riley is to do what other detectives haven’t: identify the members of the gang. That’s if they’re the ones who’ve got her. There are other possible motives for a kidnapping—e.g., Riley’s bank chairman father. But for now, let’s assume the Wish Listers have her. Once we’ve done that, we need to figure out where they could be hiding her.”
“That’s what I’m worried about,” said Kat, rubbing flour, oats, and oil between her palms to make the apple crumble topping. Nomad sat at her feet, nibbling the scraps. “American geography is not my strong point.”
“You’re forgetting Storm Mindy.”
Kat raised a floury eyebrow. “Not much chance of that. It’s like a marching band’s playing on the roof. Look out the window. It’s as if nothing exists except snow and ice, you and me, six huskies, a raccoon … and four thousand bears.”
Harper clutched her head. “Don’t mention the bears. Not for a decade or two. Or ever. What I meant was, the weather might work in our favor. If the emergency services are stretched to capacity and some roads are impassable, the kidnappers might have decided to lie low in the Adirondacks till Mindy blows over.”
“I hadn’t thought of that. They might be snowed in and trapped, like us!” said Kat, cheering considerably.
“Yes, but we’re in a race against time. Soon as the roads reopen and the High Peaks region is crawling with cops, they’ll be gone like the wind. They’ll either take Riley with them or they’ll make her disappear in the Adirondacks.”
It was a grim prospect, and when the television popped, they both jumped. On the screen, an image of a tropical island buckled and shrank to a dot before flickering back to normal.
“No!” cried Harper. “That’s all we need. If Mindy knocks out communications, we could be cut off from the outside world. That would be a disaster, especially since no one knows we’re here. Better text your mom and tell her we’re okay while you can.”
Kat didn’t hesitate. Wiping her hands on a squirrel dish towel, she typed:
Hi Mom, hope you’re not too lonely in Lake Placid. Storm Mindy’s arrived but we’re keeping busy. I’m baking the apple crumble you taught me and Harper’s doing something mysterious and artistic with my watercolor pad. K & H xx
Her mother replied in an instant.
Darling, I’m proud of you both. Theo and I like to take credit for raising such resourceful daughters, but the truth is you and Harper are wonderful all on your own. Not a lot to do in snowy Lake Placid except laze around reading, eating, and having the occasional massage. Could be worse! Missing you very much. Keep out of the cold! Love Mum xx
Kat read the message twice. “Why do I get the feeling that she’s secretly enjoying herself?”
“Maybe she is,” said Harper. “That’s okay, isn’t it? We are too.”
It was true. As long as Mirror Lake remained in the grip of Mindy’s glacial jaws, the likelihood of the cabin’s owner returning unexpectedly was minimal. The lane was under half a meter of snow at least. With no safe way of reaching Nightingale Lodge until the worst of the storm had passed, the girls had no choice but to relax. For now, the Dog House was home.
As a consequence, the living room was carpeted in huskies, chew toys, and cushion innards, and a snowdrift of flour coated the kitchen tiles. When Kat lifted the lid on the pot, the heavenly fragrance of stewed apple and cinnamon filled the air.
“What’s this?” asked Harper, prodding a large cardboard box Kat had deposited on the armchair.
“I found it in the cupboard under the stairs. It’s full of games.”
Harper opened it eagerly and was crestfallen to discover they were board games. She’d envisaged something more entertaining. A pinball machine, Ping-Pong, or an indoor bowling setup. “They should be called bored games. Monopoly and Snakes and Ladders have been around since Gerry Meeks was a baby. I do like Scrabble. That can stay. As for the jigsaw puzzles … Wait, what’s this?”
She pulled a package from the bottom of the box. “Kat Wolfe, you’re a legend.”
“Can I have that in writing?” kidded Kat, who was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches to the crumble.
“After the rattlesnake story, I was starting to have doubts about our friendship…”
“Hold on! Two seconds ago, I was a legend.”
Harper grinned. “Now you’re forgiven even that gruesome tale. From this day on, I owe you forever times infinity because somehow, in this cabin at the end of the universe, in the land that time forgot, you’ve uncovered a brand-new, still sealed Raspberry Pi.”
Kat was confused. “There’s a raspberry pie in the game box?”
“Not an edible pie, a Raspberry Pi. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of them. They’re dead-cheap, dead-basic kit computers, but if you’re tech-savvy and add a few components, you can really make them fly.”
“And you can build one?”
“In my sleep. I’ll start right now. Time me. How long does it take to bake an apple crumble?”
“Thirty minutes. You can assemble a Pi as quick as that?”
“Just watch me.”