What a mystery!

Grandpa Eddie carefully balanced the big silver tray between his hands as he made his way down the hall.

I have to follow him, I thought. I have to see where he’s going.

I padded down the hallway. I wasn’t too worried about being quiet now. After all, Grandpa didn’t hear too well.

I walked only a few yards behind him.

When I heard the sounds, I froze.

Sniffing. Behind me. Furious sniffing.

Oh, no! Charley!

Charley bounded down the hall toward me. Sniffing. Sniffing furiously. Then the dog spotted me—and stopped.

“Good dog,” I whispered, trying to shoo him away. “Go back. Go back.”

But he broke into a run. Barking his head off.

I grabbed for his collar as he tried to dodge me—to race down the hall to Grandpa.

I grasped the collar tightly. He barked even louder.

“Rose?” Grandpa Eddie called out. “Is that you, Rose?”

“Come on, Charley,” I whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

I dragged Charley around the corner—before Grandpa could catch me spying on him. Tugging the dog, I ducked into my room.

I sat down on the scratchy blanket for a second to catch my breath. Then I quickly rummaged through my suitcase for Grandma and Grandpa’s mystery books.

Where was Grandpa going with those pancakes? I wondered as I hurried down the stairs with the presents.

Why was he creeping along so silently?

It was a mystery I had to solve.

If only I had minded my own business….

“Why don’t you two go out and play while I clean up these dishes?” Grandma suggested after breakfast. “Then you can help me make my sweet-as-sugar rhubarb pie!”

“Play?” Clark grumbled. “Does she think we’re two years old?”

“Let’s go out, Clark.” I pulled him through the back door. Hanging out in a swamp wasn’t exactly my idea of fun. But anything was better than sitting around that creepy old house.

We stepped into the bright sunlight—and I gasped. The hot, steamy air felt like a heavy weight against my skin. I tried to breathe deeply—to shake the smothered feeling I had.

“So what are we going to do?” Clark grumbled, also drawing in a deep breath.

I glanced around and spotted a path. It started at the back of the house and trailed into the swamp.

“Let’s explore a little,” I suggested.

“I am not walking through a swamp,” Clark declared. “No way.”

“What are you afraid of? Comic-book monsters?” I teased him. “Creatures from the muck?” I laughed.

“You’re a riot,” Clark muttered, scowling.

We walked a few steps. The sun filtered through the treetops, casting leafy shadows along the trail.

“Snakes,” Clark admitted. “I’m afraid of snakes.”

“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’ll watch out for snakes. You watch out for gators.”

“Gators?” Clark’s eyes opened wide.

“Yeah, sure,” I replied. “Swamps are filled with man-eating alligators.”

A voice interrupted us. “Gretchen. Clark. Don’t stray too far.”

I turned and saw Grandpa. He stood a few yards behind us.

What was that in his hand?

A huge saw. Its sharp teeth glinted in the sunlight.

Grandpa headed toward a small, unfinished shed. It stood a few feet off the side of the path, tucked between two tall cypress trees.

“Okay!” I shouted to Grandpa. “We won’t go far.”

“Want to help finish the shed?” he yelled, waving the saw. “Building things builds confidence, I always say!”

“Um, maybe later,” I answered.

“Want to help?” Grandpa shouted again.

Clark cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “LA-TER!” Then he turned back toward the path.

And tripped.

Over a dark form that rose up quickly, silently from the muddy grass.