Case File 13 #3 Read Online Free

unpacked.”
    Mom turned around, her lips pressed tightly together. But Dad laughed it off. “Sure we will. And a dragon too. And brownies riding unicorns.”
    â€œYou brought brownies?” Carter asked, rubbing his stomach.
    Angelo elbowed him. “He’s talking about the little people, not the snack. And, from what I’ve read, most of them live in Scotland. So the idea of seeing one of them here—especially riding a unicorn—is rather preposterous.”
    â€œNot any more preposterous than running into a large, hairy creature that doesn’t exist,” Dad said.
    Angelo shook his head and clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, but didn’t say anything more.
    â€œLook!” Dad hooted as he drove the car off the road into a small gravel lot. “We made it!” He pulled forward and the car’s headlights illuminated a dirt clearing with a rock fire pit and a few logs dragged up beside it.
    Nick leaned over the seat to get a closer look. “This is it?”
    Dad pulled the car a little farther in and bumped against a wooden sign. He waved his hands at the tall redwoods surrounding them. “It’s magnificent. Look at those trees. They’ve got to be five hundred years old at least.”
    Mom frowned. “There are no picnic tables. No bathrooms. I don’t even see a water spigot. What kind of campground is this?”
    â€œThe best kind.” Dad opened his door and drew in a deep breath. “Smell that fresh air? No crowds. No RVs. No blasting stereos. Makes you wonder why we even considered being packed in like sardines with those ancient butterfly watchers.”
    Nick stepped out of the car and looked around. The air did smell good—sort of like Christmas trees. And it definitely wasn’t crowded. In fact, as far as he could tell they were the only ones there. “Are you sure this place is open?” he asked, staring into the darkness. Beyond the car, there wasn’t another light anywhere. What kind of campground had no lights, no tables, and no people?
    â€œDude, this is sweet!” Carter said, bounding out of the car. “Let’s go see if we can find Bigfoot tracks.”
    â€œHold on now,” Dad said. “You don’t want to go running off in a place like this. These woods go for miles. You could get lost.”
    â€œOr eaten,” Angelo said under his breath.
    â€œShouldn’t there be a ranger or something?” Mom asked as she stretched her legs. “Where do you check in and pay your fees?”
    â€œI imagine a ranger will come around at some point.” Dad grabbed a flashlight out of the car and pointed it at the weathered sign that was now tilted into a pine tree from where he’d bumped it with the car.
    Nick walked up beside his dad and stared at the words painted on the dark wood. Gefahr! Bleiben Sie weg! Kein Campingplatz! Wandern, angeln und jagen verboten!
    â€œI think it’s German,” Angelo said.
    â€œWhat does it say?” Carter asked. “If it mentions anything about sausages and sauerkraut, I’m there.”
    â€œDon’t ask me,” Mom said. “I took four years of French.”
    Dad scratched the back of his neck. “I took a year of German in high school. But mostly so I could sit by Hannah Holmes. What a cutie she was. The only thing I memorized was ‘ Möchten Sie ins Kino gehen Samstagabend? ’ ‘Would you like to go to the movies Saturday night?’ Unfortunately every time I asked her, she said nicht .”
    Mom glared at him.
    â€œLet me try translating it,” Angelo said. He typed the phrase into his iPad before shaking his head. “Darn. No service.”
    â€œLook,” Carter said, pointing to one of the words. “ Campingplatz. Could that mean camping?”
    â€œSure,” Dad said. “I think that’s right. Maybe I got more out of that German class than I thought. I’m