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the next morning, past the red rocks that rose behind our house, and around a couple of small ponds. Summer vacation, which had seemed so far away, was almost here. Just a few more days of school.
    The farm looked peaceful in the morning light, with dew glistening on the grass. I could see why Mr. Morris would move from the city to a place like this.
    Up on the ridge the sun glared orange off the front windows of Denise’s house and made it look like a huge jack-o’-lantern. I had to wonder if Mr. Morris had asked her to watch the alpacas. She probably laughed in his face.
    I punched the access number on the keypad, and the gate opened. Buck barked and met us halfway up the driveway. It wasn’t until we took off our helmets and got off our ATVs that he smelled our clothes and calmed down.
    Mr. Morris met us at the barn with his wife and three boys.
    “We’re going to an island!” the youngest said.
    His mother drew him in. “Tell Ashley what you’re going to do there.”
    “Fish and cook out and hi-bear-nate,” he said.
    “Hibernate,” another boy snarled.
    “Whatever.”
    “What island?” Bryce said.
    “It’s off the coast of Washington state,” Mrs. Morris said. “No phones, no electricity, just the cabin, the coast, and a week of relaxing.”
    “Sounds like heaven,” I said.
    Mrs. Morris nudged her husband, as if reminding him of something. “Uh, yeah, listen, I know you’re going to do fine. I do need to tell you—not to worry you or anything—that these animals are purebred, so they’re pretty expensive.”
    “How expensive?” Bryce said.
    “Well, Whitney in there is probably worth about $25,000 because she’s pregnant.”
    My jaw fell. “That’s as much as a new car. A nice new car.”
    “The others are worth anywhere from $10 to maybe $20,000.” He nodded toward one of the males. “I’m not sure I should tell you how much Max is worth.”
    “Please?” Bryce said.
    “One of his brothers—and he doesn’t have as nice a coat as Max—sold at auction a few weeks ago for $375,000.”
    Bryce and I just stood there with our mouths hanging open. Finally Bryce snickered. “Proves guys are a lot more valuable than girls.”
    Mr. Morris said they were so valuable because there weren’t that many in America. “Ours come from Bolivia. They’re some of the finest in the world, so it pays to have a pure bloodline.”
    Mr. Morris showed us how to lead the alpacas out of the barn, clean the stalls, put fresh water in the troughs, and prepare their food. Then he showed us how to bring them back in at night, which he said they’d pretty much do themselves. Whitney stood in the corner of her stall, pacing as she watched.
    “I need to go get ready for church,” Mr. Morris said. “Stay as long as you like.”
    I wandered into the field while Bryce poked around in the barn. Samson stuck his head across the top of the fence, sniffed, and grunted. The females didn’t seem to notice.
    Buck loped up beside me and sat, his tongue lolling. I patted his head. He bristled and growled as a rattletrap car passed the driveway. It slowed and I tried to see inside, but I couldn’t.

Chapter 28

    Most of the houses that had been burgled were different. Only one had an electronic alarm. Some had kids living there (who could have talked with friends about going away), but Mrs. Watson and the other elderly lady who lost jewelry hadn’t.
    How had anyone found out that Mrs. Watson was going away? She was such a loner. If I was going to find Mrs. Watson’s jewelry, I had to figure that out—and fast.
    I wrote:
    Delivery people
    Police
    Church people
    Neighbors/acquaintances
    Mr. Krenshaw
    I called Mrs. Watson. She sounded weak. Before I could even ask anything, she told me Mr. Krenshaw had come to her house.
    “His son told him what had happened—I guess he heard from you, Bryce. I think he feels worse about the stolen items than I do. He said he’d do anything to help get them back and that he was sorry