Dru Faust and the Devil's Due

Part 19

Monday, July 17, 1922

"Why do I let you talk me into these things?" George asked, cutting the engine on his Ford. The car coasted slowly to a stop on the tree lined road.

The three days since our last adventure in the woods allowed the ground to dry out. Mud puddles no longer created hazards on the roadway, and someone had removed the downed limbs.

"Because you're a gentleman who won't let a lady do dangerous things alone."

"That's not exactly what I meant. I was trying to talk you out of this."

I opened the door and leaped lightly onto the gravel. "Are you coming or not?"

I paused at the edge of the trees, listening closely. I could just see the barn through the branches.

This time I'd come prepared, choosing sturdy shoes, trousers, and a work shirt. In my bag, I carried the folding camera Daddy used to record his experiments.

As noiselessly as possible, we approached the structure. At first, it looked just as it had on our last visit–ramshackle, like another good strong wind would bring it tumbling down.

"I still don't understand why you think this place is connected to what happened to Archie."

"It's just a hunch."

"You know there are lots of people with stills around here, right? And more bringing booze in from Canada. They might be completely unconnected."

"I don't believe in coincidence."

George heaved a massive sigh, which I ignored. We were just at the edge of the clearing around the barn. Now that I took a chance to study it, I could see the incongruities: the thick underbrush stopping suddenly about ten feet from the barn. The fresh tire tracks on the overgrown drive.

It all contrasted sharply with the signs of neglect. Storm debris still littered the ground, and the fallen branch on the half-collapsed roof hadn't been removed.

"George, wait!" I grabbed the back of his shirt just in time. There, stretched along the ground and nearly hidden by tall grass, was a thin wire. It stretched all the way around the edge of the clearing. I followed the line with my eyes to a tree branch where a bundle of empty cans dangled.

That explains the awful noise during the storm! I thought.

"Is that some kind of trap?" George whispered, leaning in close.

A fearful chill ran down my spine. "An alarm. Yes, I think it is. And it's meant for us."

"Dru, we have to get out of here. What do you think is going to happen if we set one of those off?"

"The men we ran into last week will try to use us for target practice again."

"Exactly. Now come on–"

George reached for my arm, but I was already stepping over the tripwire.

"Dru!"

"Shh!" I waved him off, tiptoeing over the thick grass toward the barn. Something was caught on the tall weeds. I wanted to see what it was.

Not so much as a leaf stirred as I closed the distance. Though there was no immediate threat of danger, my heart hammered even faster, harder even than when I hid in Mr. White's office.

The thing which caught my eye was a scrap of paper. I plucked it free, smoothing it out for a better look. The paper was pale yellow, with dark blue ink. Though it was torn and water damaged, I recognized it immediately as the bottom half of a Hudson Castle Whiskey label.