Midnight Jewels

protest the scarred, uneven road surface. The towering bees seemed to press in on the thin road as if trying to push it off the mountain altogether.
    "I get the feeling this isn't the route to any of the major ski resorts," Mercy remarked.
    "You were right when you said you thought Gladstone liked his privacy. This road is definitely one way to keep visitors at bay."
    They rounded a hairpin turn and without any warning found themselves confronting a desolate assortment of grayed and weatherbeaten shacks that occupied a small clearing.
    "A ghost town," Mercy exclaimed in delight. "A real, live ghost town."
    "I mink that may be a contradiction in terms." Croft slowed tine car even more as he drove through the crumbling remains of what had probably once been a thriving mining town.
    Mercy avidly examined the ruined buildings, sagging doors, and empty windows. The remains of a planked, wooden sidewalk that had once connected a row of shops stretched along one side of the road. A partially decayed wooden wagon was overturned beside a building that still bore the faded legend Drifter's Creek General Store.
    Some of Mercy's initial delight began to fade as she examined the scene. The tumbledown buildings didn't look quite real. There was an overall pall of eerie isolation to the place, as if it existed in another time or another dimension. Mercy had the feeling that if she actually got out of the car and tried to touch one of the crumbling boards on a nearby structure it would vanish beneath her hand. The soft sighing of the pines had an unnatural whine to it. It was nearly midday, but Mercy felt chilled. She rolled up her window.
    "I dunk I see why they call them ghost towns, Croft."
    "Yes." He said nothing more.
    "But it's fascinating, isn't it? When we leave Gladstone's place, let's stop here and spend some time looking around. I've never had an opportunity to explore a ghost town."
    "It's a deal."
    He sounded unexpectedly pleased. Belatedly Mercy realized he probably saw the suggestion as an excuse to pursue the personal side of this trip. She wasn't quite sure how to take that. Croft guided the car around another sharp bend and Drifter's Creek disappeared behind them. Mercy felt wanner almost at once. She rolled the window back down.
    A couple of miles beyond what was left of Drifter's Creek the roadway disintegrated further.
    "I have a hunch the car rental agency would take a dim view of this," Mercy said.
    "I think you're right." Croft slowed to a halt and switched off the engine. He folded his arms on the wheel and leaned forward to study the terrain in front of him.
    "What's wrong? Why are we stopping?"
    "Take a look. There's a fence up ahead."
    Mercy peered toward the trees. Loosely connected logs emerged from the forest on either side of the road and met in the middle of the path. "Doesn't look like much of a fence. Just a wooden gate. There's something in the instructions Gladstone gave us about calling the house for access when we reach the wooden barrier. This must be it. See a call box?"
    "Over there in the trees." Croft was already opening the car door. His expression was becoming remote, his hazel eyes alert and unreadable.
    "What's wrong?" Mercy demanded, climbing hastily out of the car.
    "I just want to see how rickety that fence really is." He strode toward the barrier and then, not touching it, turned to follow its path a short distance into the woods.
    Mercy watched in curiosity. When he returned a few minutes later he looked satisfied.
    "There are alarms every ten feet along the fence. It may look rustic and picturesque, but, believe me, you couldn't drive through that gate without someone knowing you were here. Better make the call to the house."
    Mercy nodded and went to the call box that was half hidden by a sweep of fir. The moment she lifted the receiver it was answered at the other end.
    "Yes, Miss Pennington. We've been expecting you. Stay right where you are. Someone will be down in a few minutes to guide you to the main house."
    Mercy glanced at Croft. "I've brought a friend with me. I hope that's all right? I don't like to impose, but—"
    "Just a minute, Miss Pennington."
    There was silence on the line and then the voice returned. "Mr. Gladstone is quite happy to entertain your friend as well as yourself, Miss Pennington."
    Mercy hung up the phone. "No one seems to mind that you're with me," she said slowly. "I didn't even detect much surprise. Whoever it was sounded very friendly and