Dillon Hunt And The Desert Oasis Resort - Chad Stewart (best ereader for students TXT) 📗

shook his head in confusion. Again, he had more questions than answers. First the missing stuffed coyote and now this.

When he got to the place where the coyote was he noticed that all of the racks of clothing were neatly placed and there seemed to be no sign of anything. He climbed under one of the racks to look around.

“Dillon, what are you doing?” Dad asked as he approached.

“Oh … nothing Dad,” Dillon responded from under the rack. “I just remembered that I think I might have dropped something around here the last time we were through.” He stuck his head out from behind some T-shirts, “It just sort of hit me when we walked in.”

Dad looked at him quizzically.

His head disappeared behind the shirts again.

“Can I help you with something?”

Dad turned his head and saw a young woman approaching. She was thin, had dark brown hair, olive skin, and a nice smile. “I don’t think so,” Dad replied. “My son here thinks he might have lost something the last time we were here.”

Dillon could hear the conversation and knew that he had to exit the clothing rack so he wouldn’t draw anymore suspicion. Before he did he noticed something on the floor underneath the rack. He quickly pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight in order to get a better look. He rubbed his hand on the surface of the floor and noticed that it had marks that appeared to be burned into the floor. “The acid drool!” He whispered to himself. He knew then that this was an elaborate coverup. He snapped a quick picture.

“No,” he said finally as he pulled himself from the floor. “It’s not here.”

“What’s not there?” Dad asked.

“Oh nothing … nothing important anyway.”

“Well if there’s anything you need just ask,” said the young woman.

“Actually …” Dillon began, “I was just wondering where Tom Tom is today?”

The woman looked at Dillon for a moment. He tried to detect if there was any obvious hesitation or clue in her look that gave him any indication that she knew the truth about Tom Tom. Her look told him nothing. “He’s not here today,” she responded.

“Where is he?” Dillon pressed.

“I believe he called in sick. At least that’s what I gathered from my boss.”

“And who might that be?” Dillon asked.

“Dillon!” Dad reprimanded. “I don’t think that’s any of your business. Now let’s get the book you were looking for and get out of here.” Dad turned to the woman, “I’m sorry,” he said. “My son is sometimes too curious for his own good.” He looked disapprovingly at Dillon.

“It’s okay,” the young woman replied and smiled at the both of them before heading back to the counter.

Dillon sheepishly offered Dad a disarming smile then scurried off to the book section before Dad could say another word to him.

This is weird. He thought to himself. How could they get this place in order and opened again so quickly? They even have a replacement for Tom Tom! These guys (whoever they are) are good.

Dillon was now convinced more than ever that he had to figure out this conspiracy. He knew he had to find out what had happened to Tom Tom, and he knew he had to find out what those creatures were that he escaped from. Maybe there was a clue to that in the book on desert animals that Tom Tom suggested he buy?

He went over to the book section and lingered around for a minute, all-the-while looking around trying to gauge a good opportunity to sneak away for a minute. He knew he had to get to that back room.

He peeked his head up over the shelf and noticed that Dad was at the far end of the center looking at a rack of brochures. He glanced to the left and right quickly and then ducked back down and snuck around the shelf. He weaved through the rows keeping his head lower than the racks, hoping that no one would be able to detect him.

He got to the back wall and creeped along it, stopping twice to quickly dodge behind some shelves in order to avoid another customer. He approached the corner that intersected with the hallway which led to the back room. He was about to slip around it when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He leaped around and made a short cry as the tap startled him! There, looking him in the face, was a small boy about five years of age. He stared at Dillon with his bright blue eyes.

“Whatcha doing?” he asked innocently.

“What am I doing?” Dillon whispered back in an exasperated tone. “Trying not to die of fright because of you!”

The boy was about to say something else but Dillon put up his finger. “Shhhh,” he said quietly. “If you must know I’m a private investigator on a mission to crack a mystery.”

The boy looked at him blankly.

“Like agent Cody Banks … Spy Kids …” Dillon tried to explain.

The boy looked blankly.

“Right … that’s before your time,” he replied. “Anyway … I need to get down this hallway without being seen, and I can’t have anyone know about my mission.”

The boy nodded.

“So … you can’t tell anyone that you met me. Understand?”

The boy nodded again.

“No one,” Dillon reinforced. “Or I’m a dead man,” he said while pulling his finger across his throat dramatically in order to emphasize his point.

The boy’s eyes went wide!

“You don’t want me to die? Do you?”

The boy shook his head vigorously back and forth.

“Great! Now go and play and don’t mention a word of this to anyone,” Dillon said as he turned his head back around the corner in order to take another peek. He quickly looked back and saw the boy standing there. He motioned with his hand for him to leave. The boy, still seemingly in shock about Dillon’s statement of possible death, turned and ran back toward the front of the store. “Kids!” Dillon whispered to himself in exasperation as he shook head.

He did one more quick check to see if the coast was clear and then darted down the hallway. He made it to the end, grasped the door handle, opened it up, and slipped inside. The sight he saw shocked him! This room was in total disarray the last time he was here, merely an hour earlier and yet it was completely put back together. He walked around a little, wearily looking about and readying for an attack from a coyote, but none came. He quickly glanced around a few boxes. Nothing. He noted that the table was in exactly the location it was when he had his talk with Tom Tom and that there were no signs of a struggle. He ran to the back door and noted that it was locked once again.

This is weird! He thought again to himself.

Before turning to leave he did notice more of the burn marks on the floor where the beast had drooled while it attacked him. I’m not crazy! He reaffirmed to himself pulling his phone out and taking a picture of the marred floor.

As he opened the door to leave he ran right into someone who was coming into the room. It was Troy! ‘The Gate Keeper.’

“Hey man,” Troy said, trying to collect himself from the shock of seeing Dillon there. “What are you doing back here?” he asked in amazement, clearly not expecting to see him.

Dillon was stunned for a moment, “I … ah … was just looking for the restroom. I obviously took the wrong way.”

Troy smiled. “No problem,” he said. “It’s just down the hallway to your left.”

Dillon smiled weakly. “What are you doing here?” He dared to asked.

“Me? Oh lots of us at the resort have to do double, triple, quadruple duties around the place. I was asked to come and count inventory today,” he replied with his bright, infectious, smile.

Dillon nodded and slipped by the man.

“Bye Dillon!” he heard Troy call after him. He turned slightly and offered a small wave, trying not to appear too guilty of having snooped around. He knew in his head that he wasn’t very convincing.

As soon as Dillon exited the hallway he grabbed his Dad and told him it was time to go.

“Did you get your book?” Dad asked.

“No … it … ah … wasn’t in. They must have sold all the copies.”

Dad shrugged and headed for the door with his son.

Dillon silently berated himself for not actually going to the restroom after he was caught by Troy. He felt that he really wasn’t good at this whole “thinking on his feet” sort of thing. He knew he would need to get better at it if he wanted to crack the case without drawing suspicion to himself. Sarah’s words of warning rang out again in his mind: “You have to promise me that you won’t do anything stupid like going to look for this entrance.” He just pushed her words aside. There’s too much going on here, he said to himself.

Before leaving the center he glanced back and surveyed the room that he barely escaped merely an hour ago. It was too surreal! He knew he needed to get help, but he also knew that no one would believe him. The only one who would believe him is Sarah, but he really didn’t want to have a verbal reprimand from her right now. No one else around here would be remotely accepting of his circumstance except maybe one person. It was a long shot. A really long shot. But he knew he had to try.