Mosquitoes of Summer by Julianna Kozma Read Free Book Online Page A

darkness, the bright light from the headlight almost blinded her. “I’m OK,” she called out, and then went back to exploring. “I found the spot with the scratches.”
    The scratches were etched into the wood, perhaps 8 centimeters long and not very deep. Right beside the scratches however, was a deep gouge where chunks of wood had been chipped away. It had a square outline. She looked closer at the scene of the crime and noticed a streak of dark reddish brown on the wood, just below the square. It definitely looked like blood. Glancing down she saw the splintered pieces that lay half-buried in the sand around her knees. She missed kneeling on them by inches. Phew!
    Picking up one of the pieces, Hannah used it to idly scrape the sand around her. Nothing. Frustrated, she drove the tip of the splinter deep into the ground between her knees. Thump! She hit something! Digging faster with her hands, Hannah groped in the sand until her hand closed around something. Bringing it closer to her headlight, she brushed off the red sand and beheld a pocketknife.
    The blade was still opened but was broken off close to the base of the knife. There was more of what looked like blood on the end of the broken blade. The pale wood handle felt rough under Hannah’s fingers, and faint shapes could be seen. Carvings! Maybe it’s a name, she thought. Wrapping it in a tissue, she carefully placed it in her jeans pocket. After a bit more unsuccessful digging, Hannah emerged from under the wreck, her hands full of splintered wood.
    “You’ll never believe what I found,” she cried.
    “Wood,” commented her sister.
    “That too,” she agreed. “We’ll piece it together and see what it was before it got broken. Help me open my backpack.”
    After Hannah secured her wood she pulled out the tissue and uncovered her find. In shocked silence, the three girls gaped at the knife.
    “Oh … my… gosh!” Lucy gaped at the knife. “Our pirate must have used the knife to break the wood, and then dropped it in the sand. It must have gotten buried by accident and he couldn’t find it. What a clue! And look, there’s a name carved into the handle. I think it says W. M… n... I can’t make out the rest.”
    The three heads huddled close together and with subdued excitement, they continued discussing the knife. However, they were completely unaware that someone was watching them. A stranger sat far back from the beach, partially hidden by the tall dune grasses. As the girls’ parents made their way back with Meg in tow, the stranger got up and headed into the woods behind the road that led into French River. Within seconds he was out of sight.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    PLANS AND TRAPS
    Back at the Buzzel house later that evening, Hannah carefully cleaned the knife with her archaeology brush (from a fossil kit she had bought in Ottawa’s Museum of Natural History). She then checked for fingerprints using a special black powder which she lightly sprinkled on the handle. No luck. The wooden handle looked like it was whittled by hand and was too rough to hold any prints. With a sigh, Hannah put her kit and the knife back in her bag.
    “We’ll have to ask around and see if anyone lost a knife,” said Hannah. “But we can’t make it obvious. We don’t want anyone to know that we actually found something near the wreck. We might get into trouble for snooping around under there.”
    “Yeah, that’ll be a piece of cake, Sherlock,” Emily quipped, artfully rolling her eyes. She was almost as good as Hannah but needed a bit more practice.
    “I can also look through the phone book and see if there is a listing for W. M.,” added Lucy. “If that doesn’t work, then I’ll talk to Mr. Wayne again and see if he knows anyone by those initials in French River.”
    “And I will keep Meg occupied so she doesn’t get in our way,” added Emily. Personally, she thought that was one of her more brilliant ideas. Emily and Meg had a special relationship. Emily