Borderline: A Zak Taggart Mystery

By Jim Vander May

Loaded with fun and excitement, Borderline tells the story of how teenager Zak Taggart adjusts to life in a small border town. After facing a bully at school, Zak discovers a drug smuggling operation that sends him and his friends on an ultimate adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483642246

Jim Vander May

Jim Vander May is a licensed clinical social worker with many years of experience working in the mental health field with children, teens, and adults. He is married and has three children and eight grandchildren. The small town of Lynden in the story is his childhood home and home to the original Chamber of Farts.

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Copyright © 2013 by Jim Vander May.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 05/30/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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CONTENTS

Chapter 1    My Heart Is Broke

Chapter 2    Open Gates

Chapter 3    Meeting Arnold

Chapter 4    A Flat and a Spat

Chapter 5    A New Friend

Chapter 6    A Hole in the Wall

Chapter 7    Payback

Chapter 8    Driving Lessons

Chapter 9    Family Secrets

Chapter 10   The Ghost House

Chapter 11   The Ripped Backpack

Chapter 12   Robert’s Kiss

Chapter 13   Cliffhanger at Maple Falls

Chapter 14   Mountain View School

Chapter 15   Dan

Chapter 16   The Fight

Chapter 17   Bad News

Chapter 18   Dirty Bomb

Chapter 19   Gramps

Chapter 20   The Witnesses

Chapter 21   Dirt Piles

Chapter 22   Uncle Les

Chapter 23   The Stakeout

Chapter 24   Telling Mr. Crane

Chapter 25   Standing Up

Chapter 26   Ambush

Chapter 27   Crossing the Line

Chapter 28   Killer Air

Chapter 29   The Chase

Chapter 30   Thwarted

Chapter Questions

Thank you to Mrs. Leerar’s SOAR class at Hudsonville Christian Middle School, who plowed through every page of Borderline and gave valuable suggestions. I’m indebted to all my family members and friends whose ongoing question, How’s that book coming? spurred me on. Thank you, Dave and Mary Hanley. Thank you to my pastor, David Den Haan, who read my draft and offered ideas and affirmation. Thank you to Officer Scholma of the Ottawa County Sheriff’s Department for information about reporting bullying. Also, I’m grateful for a special friend, Bill De Jonge, (1926-2013) who experienced being a kid again, listening through all 30 chapters and laughing in all the right places while keenly anticipating what was coming on the next page. I am grateful too for the coaching and nitz picking of author Kristin Wolden Nitz and the Institute for Children’s Literature. Finally, a big thanks to my wife, Judy, who instilled in me a huge passion for reading.

For my brother Dan

1944-2012

CHAPTER 1

My Heart Is Broke

This was bad, I thought, pressing my face against the cool glass of the backseat car window. Really bad! Six days of traveling in the van with my family. Could this be a new form of torture? Worse than water boarding? I popped my earbuds in to keep me from saying one more time, Are we there yet? My Snake Eyes CD pounded out a rock beat on my iPod: Gotta go, gotta go, gotta leave it all behind…

Zak, turn that thing down, Mom said from the front. I can hear that screaming all the way up here. She glanced back at me and added, Grandpa’s house is only a few minutes away.

Dad looked into the rearview mirror and caught my eye. How can y’all stand that racket anyway? He made a left turn. All I could see were cornfields and pastures.

I turned the music down a click but decided not to answer his question. It wasn’t a real question anyway, just a way to yell at me about my music. The song I’d been listening to still played in my head. I gotta leave it all behind, but I don’t know what I’ll find.

We’d been crammed together all the way from Savannah, Georgia, to the northwest corner of Washington State. I hadn’t been here in three years, and now I was going to be stuck living here.

You were sleeping when we went through Bellingham, Dad continued. That’s where I’ll start my new job next week.

I already knew that! And I wasn’t sleeping. I was just pretending to be asleep so I wouldn’t have to be a part of their pretend happy talk.

I cranked the music back up. My heart is broke, I’m gonna choke… I’d lived all thirteen years of my life in Savannah. Now all my friends were gone—just like that.

Last week, when I’d whined about having to leave Savannah, Mom had said, I don’t want to hear one more word from you about this move. The decision has been made. We’re going!

So I didn’t say another word. I just leaked out my mad feelings by giving Mom and Dad the silent treatment or telling lies.

My sister Lauren punched my arm. She looked at me cross-eyed and mouthed, Turn it down.

I crossed my eyes back at her. She shook her head like I was the stupidest brother ever. It made her ponytail whip around.

Macaroni, my pet rat, was in the backseat between us. His cage helped to keep Lauren and me from scratching each other’s eyes out during the trip. The cage was in a cardboard box to keep Macaroni’s bedding from getting all over the seat. Macaroni was an exotic Russian Blue rat. His soft white fur had a blue tint that made him almost glow. He had a pink tail like his wild rat cousins. It made some people jump up on chairs and scream. The best thing he did was listen, and he did it better than anyone else in my family. He looked cool too when he wiggled his whiskers.

Over my music, I heard Mom say, Grandpa will be so glad to see you two.

Gramps was the only good part of this move. The last time I saw him was when Gram died. I was only ten. Just thinking about her made tears leak into my eyes, but I blinked them back. Getting a hug from Gram always made me feel like I was the most special person in the world.

Outside, blue mountains rose in the distance, their tops covered with a curtain of clingy gray clouds. This place was so different from the flatlands of Savannah.

Dad turned the car onto Boundary Road for a short time and then into Gramps’s driveway. Boy, this old place of his needs some work, he said. Look at the weeds in the flower beds. The house could use a coat of paint too.

I looked up at the sad-looking two-story house with the cupola on top that popped out of the roof like an airport control tower. The cupola was my favorite part of the house. Up there, I could see all over. But I was too mad to care right now.

Gramps sat on the large porch in his old wood rocker. His red flannel shirt was tucked neatly into his bib overalls, and his gray hair peeked out from under a Seattle Seahawks cap. I put my iPod away and got out of the car. The cool air met me like a stranger. This was like winter in Savannah.

Hey there, travelers, he said, getting up from the chair.

Hi, Gramps! yelled Lauren, running to him.

I hung back, not knowing what to say. It was hard to hide my feelings about moving here, but I didn’t want Gramps to think I was mad at him.

Gramps stepped off the porch after letting Lauren out of his hug. The movers got here two days ago. They put everything in the barn. It’s quite a pile.

I finally walked up to Gramps and, forcing a fake smile, hugged him. He smelled like fresh hay.

Glad you’re here, son, but you don’t look too happy about it, he said to me. Then he saw my T-shirt. Above a picture of two angry green eyes was written Snake Eyes. He smiled. Interesting shirt. So why the glum face, my boy?

A jumble of feelings was hanging around in my throat, but I quickly swallowed them. I liked it when Gramps noticed things about me, like my shirt. I’d bought it along with the Snake Eyes CD. Just tired, I guess, I said quietly. I didn’t want to start a big scene with Mom.

Gus, at first, I wasn’t sure about taking a transfer out here, said Dad. He put his arm on Gramps’s shoulder. But when I remembered how beautiful it was, I finally went for it. My dad was a Southerner. When he said I, it came out ah. About sounded like abaowt. Even though I was really mad at him, I still talked like mah dayid. Mom talked like a Northerner because she grew up here.

At first, this move seemed to be Dad’s idea, but it didn’t take long before I found out Mom wanted to move back here too. She’d been told by my uncle Les that Gramps was having a hard time keeping the farm going. I thought it was all just talk until Mom told me we really were moving.

I grabbed my backpack and duffel bag out of the van and headed for the house. The squeaky screen door sounded just like it did three years ago. Back then, Gram would have been baking her cinnamon rolls. I remembered the smell. I could almost hear her saying, Come in, darlings.

Goldie, Gramps’s cat, was curled on a pillow in the corner of the living room. Her orange-striped fur was thick and soft. He’d named her after Goldie Hawn, some actress I’d never heard of. Goldie’s sleepy eyes opened slowly, and an ear twitched in my direction as if she were trying to figure out where all these new sounds were coming from. I walked over and petted her gently. She purred like a bus.

Zak and Lauren, do you remember which rooms to take? asked Mom.

I get Uncle Les’s room, I answered glumly.

I’m getting your old room, Mom, Lauren added.

Okay. Get settled, Mom said.

After dumping my backpack and duffel bag in my room, I went back to the car for Macaroni. Mom was waiting for me on the driveway.

Could you please work on your attitude? she demanded.

Whatever, I snapped back.

Don’t give me that!

You always say I have to tell the truth, and now you want me to pretend everything is okay, I said, defending myself.

Enough! she spat, pointing to the door.

I turned and walked toward the house. With Macaroni’s box in my arms, I pushed through the screen door and stomped inside. Glancing back, I saw Mom still standing on the driveway; her brown eyes were burning mad. A splotch of light brown hair slid over her frown. Because I had to improve my attitude and keep my mouth shut, it was completely impossible for me to make her understand how much I hated this move.

I climbed the stairs to my room and put Macaroni and his cage on the dresser. Furious, I threw the cardboard box out in the hallway. Some of Macaroni’s bedding spilled out. Good! I thought.

The room had a stuffy, musty, old-house smell like no one had lived there in a long time. The walls were a blah gray. A small twin bed sat next to a beat-up nightstand. Near a corner by the window was an old brown dresser with a lamp. A tiny closet was tucked into the wall.

Boring.

I walked to the window and looked out at the cheerless clouds stretching endlessly to the north. My thoughts wandered back to Savannah. Dad said it might take a long time to sell our house, and since we couldn’t pay for two of them, this farmhouse would be our home for a while. I thought about my friend Robert in Savannah and wondered what he was doing right now.

Taking Macaroni from his cage, I plopped down on the bed and put him on my chest. His whiskers tickled my chin. He’d had a rough summer because his sister Cheese had died in June.

The talk I had with Mom in the driveway reminded me how my parents had me on truth watch. They seemed to think I was a total liar just because of what happened on River Street.

Macaroni sniffed at my hair. All I did was lie to them about where I was going, I said to Macaroni. Robert had dared me to take my bike down the stone hill to River Street in downtown Savannah. The road is made of rocks from the ballast of old ships, and you bump like crazy when you bike it down to River Street. Well, I wiped out on my bike and hit my head on the rocks. Some tourists saw me all spaced out, lying next to my bike. They found a police officer, who got me to the police station. By that time, I was okay. I’d told my parents I’d be at my friend Parker’s house, so when they heard I was at the Savannah Police Station, they freaked out.

When they picked me up, Mom was really ticked. Couldn’t you at least have the courtesy to tell us the truth, Zak? Plan on the next two weeks in your room, with no TV, phone, or Internet. So now everything I say goes through the truth test.

Most of my clothes were packed in boxes in the barn, so I dumped whatever was in my backpack into the top dresser drawer. My dirty socks stunk like sweat. I lifted the window, and the breeze brought in the scent of wet grass. The old rusty-red barn looked back at me with its sad window eyes. The gray clouds had lifted a little on the mountains to the east.

Since my Snake Eyes T-shirt smelled about as bad as my socks, I ditched it for a fresh blue one that said SIT, for the Savannah Institute of Technology, then put Macaroni in his cage just as Lauren poked her head in my room.

Did you see our bikes in the garage? she asked.

Yeah, why?

Maybe we could go for a bike ride and look around.

No way, I said. I don’t want to be seen with my baby sister. I knew the mean feelings were leaking out again, but I said it and walked past her and went downstairs toward the front door. Feeling hungry, I changed directions and headed for the fridge. Just as I was ready to grab a container of milk, Mom came in.

Hold off on snacking, Zak. We’re having pizza delivered for supper, she said.

I shut the fridge door and muttered a whatever to myself. Fortunately, she didn’t hear me. I’d never get away with two whatevers in one day.

I walked outside onto the driveway. Canada was straight ahead to the north. All I had to do to get there was cross Boundary Road and hop the ditch to Zero Avenue. I worked my way down the gravel driveway, kicking at a dozen or so stones. The late afternoon August sun broke through the clouds. It felt gentle on my skin compared with the summer furnace of Savannah. I’d put up with the heat anytime if we could move back.

A dirty red tractor chugged slowly down the road toward the west. The neighborhood was small, just a few houses and barns on both sides of the border. An old weather-worn barn stood across from me on the Canadian side. To the right of it was a line of fir trees. A blue house sat next to the barn on the left. The tractor I’d seen before on my side of the border drove into a farm just past an old house that looked empty.

I couldn’t believe it. There wasn’t even a fence to keep someone from walking from one country into the other. I wanted to cross over just to say I did it.

On the trip, Mom had warned me for the tenth time, Zak, don’t you even think about crossing into Canada on your own. That made me want to cross it all the more.

I was just turning to go back to the house when I saw a car coming from the west on Boundary Road. As it got closer, I could see it was some kind of police car. It stopped next to me, and the passenger side window slid down.

Hey, the man said, leaning so he could see me. I’m Officer Terpstra. You visiting the Nylanders? The markings on the car read Border Patrol.

Yes, sir. We just moved here from Savannah, I said, feeling a little weird.

Savannah? I took a week’s vacation at Tybee Island. Great place. Listen, son, we’re asking U.S. citizens along the border to keep their eyes open for people sneaking across with drugs. Would you pass that along to your family? We just caught a woman last night a half mile east of here with a backpack full of ecstasy and BC Bud.

What’s BC Bud?

He smiled. Some folks in British Columbia grow a type of marijuana that’s high in demand.

Sure, I’ll let them know, I said, acting like I knew what he was talking about. I’d never tried any drugs and didn’t plan to.

Thanks. You have a great day, son. He reached through the window and handed me his card.

As I stood there watching him drive off, I wondered if this drug thing would make for some excitement. I shoved the card in my pocket.

Then from somewhere behind me, a voice shouted, Zak! Help! Hurry!

CHAPTER 2

Open Gates

Zak! yelled Lauren, pointing in the direction of the barn.

What’s going on?

Gramps’s bull got out, she puffed, running up to me. They’re trying to catch him.

We ran around the side of the house to the barn. The gate to the bull’s feeding area was wide open. Gramps and Dad were trying to make the bull go back into the pasture. Mom came out the backdoor of the house but stayed on the porch.

His name is Sandra, Gramps said. "Someone