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but to turn around and come back down, I thought. But fifteen minutes later when the bluestation wagon still hadn’t returned, I began to wonder if something had happened.
    I hadn’t bothered to get dressed yet that day, but I didn’t feel like taking the time to go inside and change. Besides, I didn’t want to risk another argument with my mother. I looked down at my nightgown, which was sleeveless and white, and decided that if you didn’t know any better, you might mistake it for a sundress.
    â€œCome on, Jackie boy,” I said, “Let’s go.” Then I wheeled my bike out of the garage and, with Jack trotting along beside me, pedaled off up the road.

CHAPTER SIX
Hide and Seek
    It didn’t take long to find the blue station wagon. It was parked in the driveway of the Allen house. To my surprise the woman in the big hat was unloading suitcases and boxes from the back. Curious, I got off my bike, stashed it in the weeds, and quietly crept closer to get a better look at her. Flatlander, I said to myself as soon as I saw her tight black clothes and the shiny gold bracelets decorating her arms halfway up to her elbows. Her hair was blond, a brassy shade of yellow I was sure had come from a bottle, and she was thin as a pencil. She wore very high heels with leather straps that crisscrossed around her ankles like ribbons on a Christmas package. I would have been willing to bet there wasn’t a person in all of Sullivan County who owned a pair of shoes like that.
    As the woman pulled the last of the suitcases out ofthe car, she must have tugged too hard on the handle, because it broke off, sending the heavy bag crashing down onto the toe of one of her fancy shoes. She grabbed her foot and started hopping up and down, cursing a blue streak. When the worst of the pain had passed, she stopped hopping, lifted her head, and yelled at the top of her lungs.
    â€œPooch!”
    One of the second-floor windows of the Allen house flew open and a boy stuck his head out. I recognized the face as the one I’d seen earlier, pressed up against the car window.
    â€œComing!” he called down, then ducked his head back inside and disappeared.
    A faded FOR RENT sign was nailed to a large tree in the yard, but nobody had lived in the Allen house for years. The real estate office that handled it hired my father’s company to keep the lawn mowed, but other than that, the house was in poor condition. It was badly in need of a fresh coat of paint, and I noticed that several of the shutters had fallen off.
    â€œMountain retreat, my butt,” the woman grumbled as she pushed the suitcase with the broken handle over to the edge of the lawn and left it there along with the rest of the stuff she’d already unloaded. When she closed the rearhatch of the car, she slammed it so hard that Jack, who was standing near the bottom of the driveway, barked.
    â€œWhat the—”
    Startled, the woman turned and seemed to look right at me, but I must have been well hidden by the weeds, because slowly she shifted her gaze to the left until she spotted Jack. Without taking her eyes off him, she yelled again.
    â€œPooch!”
    â€œI’m right here, Mom.”
    The redheaded boy had come out onto the porch and was standing on the top step with his hands on his hips. Despite the summer heat he was wearing long pants—the baggy kind with lots of pockets—and a long-sleeved shirt.
    â€œWhere’s Dixie?” the woman asked anxiously.
    â€œUpstairs,” answered the boy.
    She turned and looked at him with narrowed eyes.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    He nodded, and the woman went back to staring down the driveway at Jack.
    â€œBring me a stick,” she called over her shoulder.
    The boy obeyed, running down the steps and quickly picking up a couple of small twigs, which he brought to her.
    â€œWhat am I supposed to do with these?” she asked, dropping the twigs on the ground,