Wild Rescue
Jerry B. Jenkins
Thanks to the Tasty Kreme Donut Shoppe for its help in the outcome of this story.
Ashley and Bryce Timberline
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Wild Rescue
Copyright © 2005 by Jerry B. Jenkins. All rights reserved.
Cover and interior photographs copyright © 2004 by Brian MacDonald. All rights reserved.
Authors’ photograph © 2004 by Brian MacDonald. All rights reserved.
Designed by Jacqueline L. Nuñez
Edited by Lorie Popp
Published in association with the literary agency of Alive Communications, Inc., 7680 Goddard Street, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80920.
Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the authors or publisher.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Jenkins, Jerry B.
Wild rescue / Jerry B. Jenkins ; Chris Fabry.
p. cm. — (Red Rock mysteries)
Summary: When twins Ashley and Bryce Timberline investigate the burglary of a neighbor’s house, they become involved with some alpacas and a guard dog as well.
ISBN 978-1-4143-0143-3 (sc)
[1. Robbers and outlaws—Fiction. 2. Animals—Fiction. 3. Christian life—Fiction. 4. Twins—Fiction. 5. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Fabry, Chris, 1961– II. Title.
PZ7.J4138Wil 2005
[Fic]—dc22 2005000415
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
About the Authors
Chapter 1
I wasn’t trying to save anyone’s life or catch thieves that lazy Sunday afternoon. I wasn’t even thinking about the stuff Bryce and I would do after the last day of school. I was just trying to read a book and not doing a very good job because I kept nodding off. Do you ever do that? Try to read in bed, then drop the book and scare yourself and have to hunt for the page you were on?
I finally gave up and went to sleep. The phone woke me, and I tried to put on my best nongroggy voice. No idea why I do that either, as if there’s something wrong with someone catching me asleep.
“Kathryn?” an older woman said. She sounded out of breath.
“No, she’s not here right now. Can I take—?”
“Ashley, it’s me. . . .”
“Mrs. Watson?”
Peanuts, her dog, barked in the background. He’s a Chihuahua, so his bark sounds like someone breaking glass in your ear—shrill squared.
“Is your father home?” Mrs. Watson said.
Interesting question. Not a good one when your mind is filled with Sunday-nap cobwebs. My real dad had been dead for years. But she knew that. Sam’s my stepfather.
“No, he took Mom and Dylan out to the cheapo theater to see some—”
“I just got back from my trip,” she said. “Will you have him call me?”
Trip? Mrs. Watson hadn’t told us about any trip. “What’s up?” I said.
She tried to quiet Peanuts, but the dog was yipping his head off. “Something’s wrong,” she said. “Something’s terribly wrong.”
“You want Bryce and me to come over?” I heard the thud, thud, thud of his basketball behind our house.
“Would you?” She sounded like me on my first night of algebra homework.
Chapter 2
I had to go top speed to keep up with Ashley on the way to Mrs. Watson’s. I couldn’t imagine what the problem was. She’s a good friend. She lets us park our ATVs in her barn during school, and she always offers us snacks and stuff.
Fashion is not really my thing, but I couldn’t help but notice Mrs. Watson’s bright yellow pantsuit that made her look like the sun on its way to a picnic. She calls it her driving uniform. Ashley gave me her no-smart-remarks look.
Peanuts was barking, so I tried to pick him up, but he scampered away when we walked inside. He’d left specks of yellow on the linoleum, so I knew he was scared.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Mrs. Watson said, wringing her hands. “Someone’s been in the house.” Then she started talking a thousand miles an hour, and all Ashley and I could do was stand there with our mouths hanging open. “I drove to my brother’s in Wyoming Friday. He lives in Laramie. . . .” She told us about her brother, what they ate, what kind of house he has, how the grass looked.
I wanted to scream, Get on with it already!
Finally she said, “An
yway, when I got home, Peanuts sniffed and barked as soon as we got in the house. I couldn’t get him to stop.”
“He wasn’t just happy to be home?” Ashley said. That’s what I’d been thinking too.
“No, he usually comes in, I get him a bowl of food, and he curls up on his chair. The first thing I noticed was that stain on the stairs.”
I knelt by the first stair, and sure enough, there was a smudge on the white carpet. Mrs. Watson is always neat and tidy, but this was hardly real evidence of a prowler. It could have been made by Peanuts—or Mrs. Watson for that matter.
I inspected the front and back doors. Neither looked like anyone had pried it open, and the windows on the first floor were all locked tight.
“Anything missing?” I said.
She looked around. “TV’s still here and my video player. I haven’t looked through the whole house yet.”
“Did you call the police?”
She shook her head. “I thought your father would help. Besides, what would I tell them? They’d think I had a screw loose in my head.”
Can’t argue with that.
“Let’s check the whole house,” Ashley said.
I started downstairs and planned to work my way up, looking for any sign of missing stuff. I wasn’t down there three minutes when I heard a scream from upstairs. Peanuts had calmed down, but now he started barking again.
I ran up and found Mrs. Watson sitting on her bed, cradling an old wooden jewelry box, Ashley standing beside her.
“My mother’s brooch,” Mrs. Watson whispered. “She gave it to me when I was young, just before she died.” She looked up with little-girl eyes. “Why would anyone want to steal that?”
“Any way you could have misplaced it?” I said.
“I’ve kept it in here for years.”
“Is anything else missing?” Ashley said, putting a hand on her arm.
The old woman nodded. “The diamond necklace my late husband gave me on our 25th anniversary.” She put a hand to her mouth. “His ring! Oh, they’ve taken Carl’s wedding ring!” She broke down, and Ashley tried to comfort her.
Any fingerprints on the box were gone now because Mrs. Watson had handled it.
I looked around the room and spotted a black smudge on the bedroom door. “What could have made this?”
Mrs. Watson’s eyes were vacant. She just shook her head.
“Guess we have something to tell the police now,” I said, reaching for the phone.
Chapter 3
Bryce finally rounded up Peanuts and took him to the backyard. I stayed with Mrs. Watson while the police asked questions. She told them the only person who had a key to the house (other than Sam), was the paper delivery guy, Hank Krenshaw.
“Did he know you were gone?” the officer said.
“Sure. I told him not to deliver Friday or Saturday. I like to look at the ads from Sunday’s paper, so it was on my front porch when I got back.”
“Would you have any reason to suspect—?”
“Hank? No. I know he’s a little weird, but he would never take anything. He watches my place from time to time.”
“Does he live around here?”
“Up the mountain a ways. My husband knew him—he’s a veteran, fought in Vietnam, I think. It can’t be him.”
The officer wrote on a pad of paper and walked around the house. Bryce showed him the smudges on the door and the carpet.
“No sign of forced entry,” the officer said. “But we’ll do our best, ma’am.” He handed her a copy of the theft report. “This is for your insurance.”
Mrs. Watson’s eyes rimmed with tears. “I don’t want money. I want my things back.”
After the police left, Bryce met me in Mrs. Watson’s kitchen and I filled him in.
“I know a Krenshaw,” he said. “He’s in band with us.”
“The little guy who plays the tuba?”
Bryce nodded. “Toby.” He flipped through the phone book.
Chapter 4
Toby mostly kept to himself. I guess tuba players are loners.
His house sat at the base of one of the mountains in Red Rock, and Ashley and I easily navigated a route through pastures and back roads on our ATVs. The Krenshaw place was near a formation we called “Pride Rock,” because it looks like the one in The Lion King. When Ashley wants to get me to laugh, all she has to do is grab our little brother, Dylan, under his arms, hold him high, and sing “Circle of Life.”
The Krenshaw driveway was falling apart, and an old basketball hoop stood with pieces of net dangling from the dented rim. The house looked like it had been built by people late for a party. Windows weren’t level, and the whole thing leaned to one side. Patches of grass grew between weeds and thistles.
Mr. Krenshaw’s truck was in the driveway. A large tarp stretched across the back with blue newspaper bags sticking out.
The front door was open, and I heard the TV. I tapped on the screen door and a dog barked.
Toby told the dog to be quiet and looked surprised to see Ashley and me. “Timberline? What are you doing here?”
“Came to talk to your dad,” I said.
“Hi, Toby,” Ashley said.
Toby blushed. “Hi. He’s sleeping. He gets up really early on Sundays. He has a regular job too, and Sunday is his day to sleep.”
A train whistled in the distance. It would rumble near the Krenshaw house soon, and I wondered how anybody slept when that thing came by.
“What do you need, anyway?” Toby said.
“Nothin’ really. We’ll come by another time.”
Mom and Sam still weren’t home when we got there.
“You think Mr. Krenshaw did it?” Ashley said.
“Who else knew Mrs. Watson was away?”
She shrugged. “And it looks like it had to be somebody with a key.”
“Maybe her husband gave one to somebody and never told her.”
Chapter 5
Mom and Sam rushed over to see Mrs. Watson as soon as we told them what happened. Sam gritted his teeth and mumbled something about the dirty rats who would steal from someone like her.
The next day in the band room my friend Hayley looked sad, so I asked how her weekend trip to the Mall of America in Minnesota had gone.
“Great,” she said. “We had a lot of fun. But when we got back last night, a bunch of our stuff was gone.”
“Your stuff?”
“Our DVD collection, lots of jewelry, my dad’s new computer.”
I told her about Mrs. Watson.
“No sign of a break-in there either, eh?” she said. “We have a whole-house security system. If anybody tries to get in, the alarm goes off and the police are notified automatically.”
“Does anybody have a key?”
“Only our neighbor.”
A thousand thoughts ran through my mind. The bell rang, and Hayley turned to hurry off.
“Wait,” I said. “Do you guys get the Colorado Springs paper?”
She nodded.
“Delivered?”
“Yeah. Except this weekend. We had it stopped while we were away.”
Chapter 6
Everybody was excited about the band trip coming up Friday, but our final concert of the year was Tuesday night. Our band director, Mr. Scarberry, said first things first. I guess he meant we had to concentrate on the concert before we had fun, but that was hard.
I knew Ashley was nervous because she had moved up two chairs, and the girls she beat for first chair weren’t happy about it. We had only a few days of school left, but these girls could make things pretty uncomfortable.
Toby lugged his tuba toward his chair. He put his mouthpiece into the instrument and got ready to sit down. Usually percussion people don’t mix with the horn section, but I was curious.
“How’s your dad?” I said.
“Okay, I guess. Police came by yesterday. What did you want to talk with him about?”
I shrugged. “Just a question about his route.”
<
br /> “You thinking about throwing papers too?”
“I don’t know. Sounds pretty hard getting up that early.”
“Works okay for Dad. Helped him buy a new scanner.”
“Scanner?”
“Yeah, you know, you can hear police and fire station calls on it. He’s got it in his truck now.”
Chapter 7
Liz and Denise plopped their books onto chairs two and three, where they hadn’t been all year. I kept looking to say hello or just smile at them, but they focused on their music and their stands, obviously pretending they didn’t see me.
My being number three had been fine with them. At least they had recognized that I was alive. I leaned over and waved at Hayley in chair number four. She gave me one of those wary smiles and leaned back.
Finally, Liz spoke. “So, the new first chair, and just in time for the concert. Don’t you feel lucky?”
“Look, I wasn’t trying to beat you guys, I just—”
“Don’t you have to request a challenge?” Liz said to Denise.
“That’s how it works,” Denise said. “But I’m sure it was a flute fluke. We’ll be back.”
The two turned and glared at me.
I stared back. “Don’t blame me. I just did my best, and Mr. Scarberry put me here.”
Liz squinted at my shirt like I had pulled it off a dead raccoon. “I hope you’re not wearing that to the concert.”
Mr. Scarberry passed us with an armload of sheet music, greeting groups by instrument, as usual, in his high-pitched voice. “Morning, percussion. Morning, flutes.”
Normally that amused me, but I was reeling. I wanted to be strong, to tell off the two brats, but I could barely breathe. I had to get out of here, even though the bell was about to ring. I put my flute on the stand and hurried to the bathroom to splash some water on my face—and to pray.
God, I feel like Jonah in the belly of the whale. Show me how to get out or at least how to survive. There must be something you’re trying to teach me.
Mr. Scarberry gave me a look when I came back. He was reminding everyone how much the concert would count toward our final grade. Then he had us pair up for the Friday trip to Happy Canyons, an amusement park near Denver. Liz and Denise quickly chose each other as buddies. I picked Hayley. Two buses would go to the park. I hoped we could get on the one Liz and Denise weren’t on.
