“What if they don’t want people to know they’re here?” Taggart said. “They’ve got a little girl they’ve kidnapped and God knows what else. They don’t want to be noticed.”
He had a point.
On the theory that Hal was the recognizable one, he got out and pushed open the gate. It swung easily and silently open. Beyond them was the massive parking lot, cracked and weed-choked. The tall waterslides towered on the other side like twisted dreams.
Everyone but Nigel cautiously got out of the truck. Silence reigned, broken only by the calls of crows.
Jane shouldered a backpack stuffed with every tool she imagined she might need for a jail breakout. She hefted the big light reflector like a shield while her heart hammered in her chest. There was a tiny little voice deep inside her that she currently was ignoring. It whispered that the only reason she was letting the men talk her into this was because she was being selfish. She was supposed to be the smart, level-headed one who knew when it was time to ditch and run.
Taggart glanced at her and read her face. “Oh, you can’t back out now.” Taggart brandished his camera like a weapon. “You promised us.”
She didn’t remember making any promises. In fact, that was so unlikely that she knew he was lying. It felt weirdly better, though, to know control had slipped from her hands, and with it, responsibility.
Hal took his place out in front, his pith helmet on, and his grab-stick tucked under his arm like a riding crop. He was grinning hugely like he did just before he got to blow things up. Probably because explosives were well in the realm of likely outcomes of their rescue attempt.
Chesty stood at her side in heel. The elfhound scanned the lot with open suspicion, which meant they weren’t as alone as they seemed.
They went through an over-the-top mime of setting up to shoot. Don’t mind us, we’re harmless.
Hal, however, seemed slightly confused what their real mission was. “Should I intro as PB&G or Chased by Monsters?”
Jane bit down on the automatic “We’re not actually filming!” No need to announce that to anyone who might have very sharp ears. Besides, she was fairly certain that Taggart was filming—in fact probably would keep filming even if gunshots and explosions occurred. “Do both. Depending on what we get, we’ll use the video for one show or other.”
“Welcome to Pittsburgh Backyard and Garden. I’m your host, Hal Rogers.” Hal paused and straightened nervously. “Welcome to Chased by Monsters. I’m Hal Rogers.” He half-turned, giving the camera his handsome profile, the raccoon mask of bruising covered up with half a bottle of concealer. “And this”—he waved a hand at the twin square towers that made up the front entrance; the landlocked builders had tried to combine Cape Cod, lighthouse and castle themes for the gatehouse and utterly failed—“is Sandcastle: an eighty-seven-acre water park with fourteen water slides and multiple swimming pools located on the banks of the Monongahela River. Opened in 1989, it bravely continued operating even after it found itself on Elfhome. It closed its doors…” Hal paused to shove open the accordion steel gate stretched between the two towers. “…in 2020 after a sudden outbreak of deadly Elfhome water creatures in its water supply. Despite heavy chlorination and an extensive filtering system, creatures such as river plankton, elf shrimp, and water fairies took over.”
And in they went.
No one came forward to stop them. The place looked completely deserted. Jagger bushes grew waist high in every inch of lawn. Weeds choked the cracks in the cement sidewalks. Chesty nearly quivered at her side, nostrils flared, jerking his head from one target to another. They were being watched by half a dozen things that Chesty considered dangerous.
So Boo’s kidnappers wanted to pretend that Sandcastle was deserted? Fine. Jane and her crew would play ignorant.
Hal marched forward a dozen feet, pointing out the park’s three large pools and the fact that the river lay just feet beyond. The pools had been covered by some kind of odd-looking tarps.
“Camo netting,” Taggart murmured.
More evidence that someone was hiding something. Behind the buildings that lined the boardwalk, Dragon’s Den lay dismantled by Grandma Gertie, the massive statue at the slide’s heart missing. All that remained was the two stories of open wooden stairs leading to the now-vanished launch point. Considering how big the dragon was, Gertie must have had dozens of people with her. It was little wonder they could come in and go without a fight. But why hadn’t Boo just gone with them? Hidden herself in the truck instead of the doll?
Eighty-seven acres of possible hiding spaces.
“What monster do we track today?” Hal said as he paused at the decision point. Go into the gift shop? The park offices? Head for the buildings closer to the river or go on to the boardwalk? “Indeed, that is the question: what is out there?”
Hal pointed out at the open river on the other side of the mushroom pool. Hopefully he could keep attention away from what Jane was doing. “The other day we spotted a creature never seen before in Pittsburgh, a massive river reptile generating a storm of electrical discharge. It had been described by one of our viewers as a Loch Ness monster.”
While Hal gestured and info-dumped about the river monster, Jane leaned the reflector against the wall and pulled out a Ziploc baggie. The first things that had gone into their new freezer were several pieces of Boo’s clothing to be used by scent dogs. They’d used most that first summer, but she’d found one still buried at the bottom. One last chance to find her baby sister.
“A long-standing theory has been that the Loch Ness is a plesiosauria, which is a marine reptile that first appeared during the early Jurassic period and is thought to be now extinct. These massive predators reached lengths of forty to fifty feet in length. What we witnessed the other night, though, seems to classify the Pittsburgh Nessie as a type of electric eel.”
She pressed the cloth to Chesty’s nose. “Seek. Seek.”
Chesty whuffed in the scent. Dropping his head, he started to track.
“Electric eels get their names because they can generate up to six hundred volts of electricity.” Hal managed to make his stroll forward, matching Chesty’s progress, seem totally natural without losing track of the information he was presenting. “This powerful amount of voltage is five times the normal output of a household outlet. Those, however, are Earth’s electric eels. The largest of these only reach about seven feet in length. How much voltage could a creature that is fifty feet long generate? The possibilities are staggering!”
Chesty headed to the boardwalk that once was lined with food stands with names that made it clear what they sold: Potato Patch, Uncle Tony’s Pizza, Philly, Healthy Hut. The eateries had steel grates rolled down to cover their storefronts. Chesty passed the rows of locker rentals and went still at the first steel grate cover. Jane knelt beside the grate and gave it an experimental tug. It rose up an inch on well-oiled tracks. There was a large room beyond, dimly lit by celestial windows.
“We’re going in.” Jane lifted the grate two feet. Chesty crawled under and she wriggled in after him and let the door close behind her.
At one time, the place had been a café. Chesty beelined through overturned tables and broken chairs to the swinging doors into the kitchen full of large stainless steel appliances.
There was a startled squeak and someone ducked around one of the counters. The move, however, had backed them into a corner. They stared at Jane and Chesty with eyes wide, hair a wild tangled bloom of unruly white-blond curls.