Mystery of the Phantom Heist by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

Sanford’s awesome toys,” he said.
    There were three boats roped along the two docks—two luxury cabin cruisers and a smaller powerboat with a sleek V-shaped hull. Not too shabby, to say the least.
    “Frank, Joe,” Sierra’s voice called.
    I smiled when I saw Sierra at the top of the hill, but my good mood quickly faded. She looked upset.
    “What’s up?” I called up to her.
    “My supervisor just called,” Sierra said, her shoulders drooping. “She wants me to order a limo for the band.”
    “So you can’t go boating?” Joe asked.
    “Not right now,” Sierra said. “Why don’t you take the powerboat out in the meantime? I’ll meet you back on the dock in twenty minutes.”
    “It’s okay,” I said. “We’ll wait for you—”
    “No!” Sierra said kind of quickly. “Take the boat out, so I won’t feel so guilty. When was the last time you drove a boat?”
    “Last summer,” I said. “I have my license and everything.”
    “Great,” Sierra said, tossing me the key. “See you in twenty minutes, okay?”
    “Okay!” I called back.
    Sierra ran back to the house.
    “I guess we’re on our own,” I said as I walked up the dock to Joe. “At least for now.”
    Joe was already untying the powerboat. “All right!” he exclaimed. “Joy ride, baby!”
    As I walked up to the boat, I felt a little uneasy. Sure, it was pretty cool to take it for a spin, but I didn’t think Mr. Peyton would feel the same way. When I told Joe my thoughts, he waved me off.
    “He’ll never know,” he assured me as he stepped in.
    Let’s hope he doesn’t, I thought.
    It took us a few minutes to untie the boat. Once it was freed from the dock, we climbed inside.
    “I’ll drive,” I said, taking my place behind the wheel. Joe sat next to me, slipping on a pair of shades.
    Before I started the engine, I did a few safety checks. There was plenty of fuel. Check. Life jackets. Check.
    After a few more checks, I turned on the ignition switch. When I pulled back on the throttle, it felt loose, but it didn’t seem to be an issue as I cast the boat off from the dock. After turning the craft around, I pushed the throttle forward.
    “Full speed ahead!” I exclaimed as the boat cut across the water at an exhilarating pace.
    “Woo-hooo!” Joe cheered.
    I had forgotten what a blast boating could be—especially knowing we’d have another pretty passenger joining us soon.But my thoughts were interrupted by the roar of a Jet Ski engine.
    Turning my head, I saw the Jet Ski in the distance, heading right into our path.
    “Slow down so you don’t hit her,” Joe said.
    “Duh!” I responded as I grabbed the throttle. But as I pulled back on the throttle, something happened that turned my blood to ice.
    The handle came off in my hand!
    “Frank, slow down!” Joe cried, his eyes still on the Jet Ski. “We’re going to crash!”
    “I can’t, Joe!” I shouted, staring at the handle in my hand. “I can’t!”

ROUGH SEAS
12
JOE
    I N A PANIC, FRANK FUMBLED TO POP THE THROTTLE back in, only to watch it pop out again.
    “Turn around!” I started yelling at the jet skier. “Turn around!”
    By now I was standing up in the boat, my head spinning. We were either going to crash into the Jet Ski or into some trees on the opposite bank. Just as I was about to brace for the worst, I remembered another way to stop.
    “The key!” I shouted.
    My hand jutted out and turned the ignition key. The boat sputtering to a stop was like music to my ears. I could hear Frank heave a sigh as he slumped back on the seat.
    The jet skier zoomed past us, just a few feet away. “Whenare you going to learn how to drive?” she shouted above the whirring engine.
    “When you learn how to turn that thing around!” I shouted back angrily.
    “I think I’m going to barf,” Frank groaned slowly.
    Picking up the fallen throttle, I shook my head. “I hope the Peytons get a refund on this hunk of junk.”
    “I don’t get it,” Frank said. “How