building prevented her from hearing it. Ellen wondered how she heard the chattering earlier when she couldn’t hear it now. Were there monkeys elsewhere in the zoo?
The monkeys in the other cages moved about restlessly while Sunshine leaped hysterically from the tree to the ground and back again.
Ellen heard the chattering again, fainter now. It came from behind the building. From outside. Maybe it was Corey, pretending to be a monkey. She hurried in that direction, flashing her light around. “Corey?” she called. “Are you here?”
“Chit-chit-chit-chit.”
The excited chattering retreated.
Ellen waved her light back and forth across the back of the building. A door marked “Employees Only” stood slightly ajar. The wood around the lock was splintered; someone had broken in.
Oh, Corey, she thought. Surely you wouldn’t have done this. You said you wanted to sleep with the monkeys but you wouldn’t do a stupid thing like this. Would you?
Of course not. She answered her own question. Corey was no hoodlum. He didn’t go around vandalizing public property and he definitely would not do anything to scare the monkeys. Grandma and Grandpa had taught them that animals have feelings, much like people have. Grandma even carried a list in her purse, of companies that don’t test their products on animals. She wouldn’t buy soap or shampoo or perfume unless the manufacturer was on her list. Grandma said she didn’t want some poor rabbit blinded just so she could smell good.
Ellen continued around the outside of the building, aiming the light toward the ground. Something crunched under her shoe. Looking down, she saw peanuts spilled on the path. Then she noticed red drops on the path near the peanuts. She leaned down to look more closely.
Blood. There were drops of blood on the path behind the monkey house.
Ellen’s breath came faster. Had someone hurt the baby monkey? Is that why the mother was so upset?
The man she had seen carried a knife. After he broke into the food stand, he must have broken into the monkey house, too. But why? Who was he? Not an employee of the zoo. She was convinced of that.
But if the man they had seen did not work at the zoo, how did he get in? Where was the security guard? Had they just missed him, or had something happened to him? The questions bounced in her brain like the bumper cars at the county fair.
She stared down at the path. Corey had brought peanuts with him. Were these some of his? How did they get spilled?
Don’t jump to conclusions, she told herself. Anyone could have spilled peanuts on the ground. She swung the flashlight in a wider circle, and froze. There, lying on the path a few feet in front of her, was a camera. She picked it up and turned it over. Her hand began to shake.
Mom had taped the small identification tag on the camera before Corey went to camp last July. Corey Streater, it said, and gave the telephone number. Corey treasured his camera. He would never be careless with it.
Ellen aimed the light at the path again and found Corey’s flashlight.
Something terrible had happened to her brother. She knew it. He would never leave his flashlight and his camera like this.
Why was blood on the ground? Was it monkey blood—or human?
Where was Corey?
I have to find him, Ellen thought. First, I’ll go back to the tent. He’s had plenty of time to explore the zoo and if nothing has happened to him he might be back at the tent by now. If he’s there, we’ll stay inside the tent until morning if I have to sit on him the rest of the night.
If he isn’t there . . .
She didn’t want to think about what she would do if he wasn’t there.
She headed back toward the tent. Please be there, Corey, she thought. Please, please be there.
She never made it back to the tent.
9
A S ELLEN passed the Nocturnal House, she heard voices inside.
Her first instinct was to rush in, to see who it was, but she forced herself not to. Instead, she eased cautiously
The monkeys in the other cages moved about restlessly while Sunshine leaped hysterically from the tree to the ground and back again.
Ellen heard the chattering again, fainter now. It came from behind the building. From outside. Maybe it was Corey, pretending to be a monkey. She hurried in that direction, flashing her light around. “Corey?” she called. “Are you here?”
“Chit-chit-chit-chit.”
The excited chattering retreated.
Ellen waved her light back and forth across the back of the building. A door marked “Employees Only” stood slightly ajar. The wood around the lock was splintered; someone had broken in.
Oh, Corey, she thought. Surely you wouldn’t have done this. You said you wanted to sleep with the monkeys but you wouldn’t do a stupid thing like this. Would you?
Of course not. She answered her own question. Corey was no hoodlum. He didn’t go around vandalizing public property and he definitely would not do anything to scare the monkeys. Grandma and Grandpa had taught them that animals have feelings, much like people have. Grandma even carried a list in her purse, of companies that don’t test their products on animals. She wouldn’t buy soap or shampoo or perfume unless the manufacturer was on her list. Grandma said she didn’t want some poor rabbit blinded just so she could smell good.
Ellen continued around the outside of the building, aiming the light toward the ground. Something crunched under her shoe. Looking down, she saw peanuts spilled on the path. Then she noticed red drops on the path near the peanuts. She leaned down to look more closely.
Blood. There were drops of blood on the path behind the monkey house.
Ellen’s breath came faster. Had someone hurt the baby monkey? Is that why the mother was so upset?
The man she had seen carried a knife. After he broke into the food stand, he must have broken into the monkey house, too. But why? Who was he? Not an employee of the zoo. She was convinced of that.
But if the man they had seen did not work at the zoo, how did he get in? Where was the security guard? Had they just missed him, or had something happened to him? The questions bounced in her brain like the bumper cars at the county fair.
She stared down at the path. Corey had brought peanuts with him. Were these some of his? How did they get spilled?
Don’t jump to conclusions, she told herself. Anyone could have spilled peanuts on the ground. She swung the flashlight in a wider circle, and froze. There, lying on the path a few feet in front of her, was a camera. She picked it up and turned it over. Her hand began to shake.
Mom had taped the small identification tag on the camera before Corey went to camp last July. Corey Streater, it said, and gave the telephone number. Corey treasured his camera. He would never be careless with it.
Ellen aimed the light at the path again and found Corey’s flashlight.
Something terrible had happened to her brother. She knew it. He would never leave his flashlight and his camera like this.
Why was blood on the ground? Was it monkey blood—or human?
Where was Corey?
I have to find him, Ellen thought. First, I’ll go back to the tent. He’s had plenty of time to explore the zoo and if nothing has happened to him he might be back at the tent by now. If he’s there, we’ll stay inside the tent until morning if I have to sit on him the rest of the night.
If he isn’t there . . .
She didn’t want to think about what she would do if he wasn’t there.
She headed back toward the tent. Please be there, Corey, she thought. Please, please be there.
She never made it back to the tent.
9
A S ELLEN passed the Nocturnal House, she heard voices inside.
Her first instinct was to rush in, to see who it was, but she forced herself not to. Instead, she eased cautiously
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