Bones by John Wilson

Author:John Wilson [Wilson, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Juvenile Fiction, Mysteries & Detective Stories, Historical, Prehistory, Animals, Dinosaurs & Prehistoric Creatures, JUV028000, JUV002060, JUV016090
ISBN: 9781459807105
Google: rQc6AwAAQBAJ
Amazon: 1459806980
Barnesnoble: 1459806980
Goodreads: 18851410
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2014-04-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

“I hope you brought swimsuits,” Dr. Bob says. “It’s a tradition to go for a midnight dip in the river.”

“It’ll certainly feel good,” Annabel says, and she’s right. It’s ten at night, and it’s still hot. We’re on the riverbank close enough to Mom’s farm that we could cycle down. The sun has disappeared below the horizon, but the twilight is still bright enough to see the smoking barbecue pits and the inviting cool water winding its way between sandbars.

“Those ribs were great,” I say, remembering how the delicious meat fell off the bones.

“A secret recipe,” Dr. Bob says with a smile. “Although I think anything would taste good beside the river on a night like this.”

“The forecast mentioned thunderstorms,” Annabel comments.

Dr. Bob scans the sky. “It’s possible. There are some thunderheads off to the west. Might develop, might not.”

“Will Greg be all right at the dig?” I cringe at Annabel’s mention of the pirate guy. It seems I can’t escape him.

“He’ll be fine,” Dr. Bob says. “His tent is set up on the prairie, so he won’t get washed away if it rains. It was decent of him to volunteer to keep an eye on things. I don’t think anything will happen, but it can’t hurt.”

“He volunteered?” I ask.

“Yes,” Dr. Bob says. “After Annabel phoned me and suggested it might be a good idea, I mentioned it. Greg volunteered straight away.”

“You phoned Dr. Bob?” I say, turning to Annabel. “You never told me.”

“It wasn’t a secret,” Annabel says. “After we talked about the possibility of the bones being stolen, I phoned Dr. Bob with the idea. I guess I forgot to mention it. Anyway, how about we ride up while there’s still some light and see how Greg’s doing? He must be lonely while we’re all enjoying ourselves down here.”

“I thought Dr. Bob was going to play us some classic rock,” I say, in a panic over Annabel’s suggestion.

“That is indeed true,” Dr. Bob says. “I brought the guitar, and I play a mean ‘Stairway to Heaven.’”

I look at Annabel with what I hope is a pleading expression. It doesn’t work. Annabel becomes all businesslike. “Okay,” she says. “Look, I’ll pack up some ribs, pedal up the coulee and see how he’s doing. I’ll be back in half an hour. Don’t play ‘Stairway’ until then.”

“Deal,” Dr. Bob says.

Annabel leans over, gives me a quick peck on the cheek and is gone.

“Quite the girl you’ve got there,” Dr. Bob says.

I mumble “Yeah” and head along the riverbank into the deepening shadows. I need to be alone. What’s going on? I can’t escape Greg. Annabel and I will have a wonderful couple of hours and then, wham, there’s Greg again—either in person or sneaking into the conversation. Is he taking Annabel away from me? If so, what can I do about it?

A black thought begins to take shape in my mind. What if Annabel and Greg planned this? What if the suggestion to Dr. Bob that someone camp out at

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