What I saw made my stomach drop. Matches. As in, something that might have been used to light the message on the grass last night—GO HOME—aflame.
I took in a breath, trying not to get ahead of myself. We weren’t supposed to keep matches in the bunks, but realistically, there were lots of reasons a person might have them. Then I remembered Bella’s séance attempt. She had had matches then, and she’d put them back in her bag after I’d taken her Ouija board and candle. I picked up the matchbook, examining its surface. The striking strip seemed scratched, like it had been used.
I threw the matches on top of the dresser and pulled open the next drawer. Maybe I’ll find something in this drawer that will make everything clearer.
But that drawer just seemed to be filled with tank tops and T-shirts. The next drawer held shorts and jeans. And the next one . . . two bathing suits, a sparkly minidress, and a beach towel. But again, just as I was about to close the drawer, I saw something else.
And gasped.
There was something crammed way in back—something hidden from plain view when you opened the drawer.
Is Bella trying to hide something?
I reached in and nearly recoiled. Hair! The silky strands tangled between my fingers as I grasped the thing and pulled it out. . . .
Only to find myself holding a long silver wig.
I was so surprised, I dropped it.
I remembered what Kiki had said when she got pulled under. She claimed the person doing the pulling had long, silvery-blond hair. Just like Lila had . . . and Bella certainly seemed interested in the incident with Lila.
I picked up the wig with shaking hands. Why would Bella do this? Trying to scare campers and counselors in the water, stealing sleeping bags, setting the clearing on fire? What did Bella have to gain if Camp Cedarbark failed? She was a counselor here, after all. She was a Camp Larksong alum, who claimed to love the camp.
I didn’t have any answers. But gathering the matches and the wig, I moved toward the door.
And tripped over a pair of black Chuck Taylors. I picked one up—the tracks matched the ones I’d seen the night the sleeping bags were stolen. And they were too big to belong to the campers.
I headed out of the cabin.
I definitely had enough to share my suspicions with Deborah.
“I think I may have our culprit.”
Deborah looked up in surprise as I made my announcement while opening the door to her office.
“Just like that?” she asked.
“Just like that,” I replied. “Well, I haven’t figured out her motive yet. But I’m pretty sure the person trying to sabotage Camp Cedarbark is”—I paused, and Deborah’s eyes lit with excitement—“Bella.”
I went over everything I knew: Bella’s strange behavior when we’d arrived at camp, her concern with the “ghost” story and wanting to hold the séance. I explained how Bella didn’t have an alibi for any of the strange happenings—she’d excused herself before the swim tests, could have easily snuck away from the campfire when the sleeping bags were stolen, could have snuck away from whatever she was doing when two of my campers were pulled under during their swim time, and I saw her sneak out of the mess hall when the fire was lit in the clearing. Plus, I added, she reeked of smoke later that evening, and I’d found the matches and wig in her bunk. It felt pretty clear that she was the Camp Cedarbark saboteur.
I was expecting the camp owner to look surprised. But instead she looked away, thoughtful, and then gave a rueful little laugh. “Bella. Oh, of course.”
“Of course what?” I asked. What does Deborah know that I don’t?
Deborah shook her head and sighed. “I should have known not to hire someone who had ties to this camp! It was silly of me.”
I was getting frustrated now. I could feel my eyes bugging out. “Ties to this camp? What ties to this camp?”
Deborah looked at me, her eyes apologetic. “Nancy, I should have told you. I’m sorry. It just never occurred to me that there could be a connection.” She paused, leaning her elbows on her desk. “Bella’s family tried to buy Camp Larksong a couple of years before we did. Her family wanted to renovate it and reopen it too. But their financing fell through.”
I stared at Deborah, putting all that together in my head. Bella’s family wanted to buy Camp Larksong? That could explain why she seemed to know so much about the Lila incident. And if she succeeded in scaring everyone away . . . ruining Camp Cedarbark’s first year . . . maybe she thought the camp would go back on the market for a cheaper price? Or maybe her goal didn’t even go that far. Maybe she just wanted to get revenge on the people who’d succeeded where her family had failed.
“Bella was a Camp Larksong alum too,” Deborah said. “Maybe she decided that if her family couldn’t have the camp, no one could.”
I let out a sigh. Even though it all lined up, there was something unsatisfying about this conclusion. It was all about money? Or revenge?