Mysteries in Our National Parks: Valley of Death: A Mystery in Death Valley National Park

Text copyright © 2002

Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

Cover illustration copyright © 2008 Jeffrey Mangiat

All rights reserved.

Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

For rights or permissions inquires, please contact National Geographic Books Subsidiary Rights: [email protected]

Map by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps

Map research and production by Matt Chwastyk and Thomas L. Gray

Desert bighorn sheep art by Joan Wolbier

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Skurzynski, Gloria.

Valley of death / by Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson. p. cm.—(Mysteries in our national parks; #8)

Summary: The Landon family makes a trip to Death Valley National Park accompanied by a mysterious new foster child, fourteen-year-old Leesa Sherman.

ISBN: 978-1-4263-0971-7

[1. Death Valley National Park (Calif. and Nev.) 2. National parks and reserves. 3. Foster home care—Fiction. 4. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.

PZ7.S6287 Val 2002

[Fic]—dc21

2001003618

Version: 2017-07-07

For Suzanne Patrick Fonda,

a great editor and a cherished friend

The authors are grateful for the

valuable information provided so generously

by the staff at Death Valley National Park,

especially Linda W. Greene,

Chief, Division of Resources Management;

Tim Stone, Management Assistant;

Hank Kodele, Law Enforcement Ranger;

Nancy R. Wizner, Assistant Chief Ranger;

Alan Van Walkenburg, Interpretive Ranger;

and Dick Anderson, Naturalist.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

He’d been hiding in an abandoned mine shaft, but now it was time for action. The sand whipped his eyes, almost blinding him, but in the distance he could see the girl. She seemed to be searching for something. Good. That meant her guard would be down. If he were careful, she wouldn’t see him until it was too late.

Circling so that he approached from behind, he poised to strike. In his camouflage fatigues he blended into his surroundings as if he were a ghost. But he was a ghost who could kill. With a .45-caliber Magnum strapped beneath his fatigue jacket and an eight-inch army knife hidden in his boot, no one had better try to stop him.

Dropping onto the sand, he radioed to his commander, “I see the subject at oh-two-hundred hours. She appears to be alone. What are my orders?”

“Get her. Now.”

Eerie organ music filled the room, floating up to the carved wooden rafters. The music rose and fell, chords crashed and thundered, notes soared to trembling trebles and descended to rumbling bass. No human created the music; no fingers struck the ivory keys. With not a soul near the keyboard, the organ played itself. Ghostly! Jack thought. Like so much else in Death Valley.

Like the girl Leesa, who looked ghostly, with her pale face and shadowed eyes. She was the latest of the foster children sheltered by the Landon family, and for the first time, Jack knew nothing about her. Always before, his mother and father had told Jack and his sister, Ashley, just why each foster child had come to them, why the child required temporary care, and how long he or she would be likely to stay. But not this time. For some reason, Jack’s parents wouldn’t say anything about Leesa Sherman, except that she was 14 years old and she needed a safe haven.

Abruptly, the organ recital ended. It seemed strange to applaud a mechanical organ that no one had actually played, but everyone did it anyway. “Wasn’t that cool, Jack?” Ashley asked. “It was so spooky—I mean, seeing those keys go up and down all by themselves.”

Before Jack had a chance to answer, the tour guide announced, “This was the final stop on our tour of Scotty’s Castle, or Death Valley Ranch, as the real owner called it. You may exit through this door. Be careful going down the stairs.”

The four Landons—mother Olivia, father Steven, Jack, and Ashley—held open the heavy door for one another and for Leesa. Just as they reached the staircase that descended to the courtyard of this unlikely desert castle, chimes began to ring in the clock tower.

“Bong, bong, bong,” Ashley intoned with the chimes. “Three o’clock, Mom. I’m hungry, and there’s a refreshment stand right over there. Can I buy a smoothie?”

“Not now, honey,” Olivia answered. “We need to get to Furnace Creek Ranch, and that’s another hour’s drive, or maybe even longer on these two-lane roads. After we’re registered and settled in our rooms, we’ll have dinner.”

The Landons, plus Leesa, had flown from Jackson Hole, Wyoming, to Las Vegas, Nevada, where they’d rented a Toyota Land Cruiser for the two-and-a-half hour drive to Death Valley National Park. Entering the park right at the California-Nevada state line, they’d come upon Scotty’s Castle, an architectural marvel sprouting so unexpectedly in the bleak desert that they just had to stop for a tour. Designed by a millionaire in the 1930s, the buildings were amazing enough—stucco walls, red-tile roofs, the clock tower, and a Moorish-style minaret. Inside, the castle held even more surprises: Expensively furnished rooms with hollow walls cooled by flowing water, so that in the summer, when the temperature in Death Valley itself reached 120 degrees, Scotty’s Castle was a bearable 85 degrees.