A Quill Ladder (42 page)

Caleb gave the test tube a cautious sniff.
“
Didn
’
t Mom used to use that in the laundry?
”

“
Yes.
”

“
Is it poisonous?
”

“
Yes, but I don
’
t know if it would cause prolonged morbidity.
”

“
Can you speak in English?
”

“
It would either kill the victim or they would be better by now.
”

“
Hmm.
”
Caleb withdrew a piece of paper and a stubby pencil and made a note.

“
Keeping a list again?
”

“
Someone
’
s got to. For a brainiac, Ab, sometimes you
’
re a little disorganized. Now, either focus on the card, or you
’
re going to have to tell me about the folks in the animal skins
…”

*****

“
So, if there were more dots farther out, where do you think they would be, based on the patterns of the dots you already know about? If you were to extend the pattern, say?
”
Sandy said this with a trill and a little uplift at the end of her sentence, as if she was just making small talk to pass the time. It was kind of the same tone used by adults who thought they were very accomplished at dealing with children and people with disorders.

Mark sensed that this conversation was not idle.

Sandy had accepted his explanation that Kasey had told him about a fourth map, and then his immediate shift to start talking about the museum fire. Sandy had assumed that this was Mark
’
s way of talking, that he just got confused and didn
’
t explain himself well, but that what he meant was that the two items were related, and the fourth map had burned in the museum fire. This was good, because he was very bad at lying. He supposed that sometimes his disorder came in handy. But Sandy had persisted in asking questions about the original maps, and they were now very deep within the tunnel. If he had to run, Mark was uncertain which direction to head. Back the way they came, or deeper into the tunnel.

The possibility that there were more dots farther out was not one that Mark had considered. He was used to examining what
was
, looking for patterns, but he almost never imagined what
could be
. He tried to bring the location of the four dots on the map to mind, to picture where he would add more dots farther out. But this was very challenging, requiring almost a paradigm shift in his construction of reality. Finally, realizing that Sandy was waiting for him to say something, he replied.
“
I would guess that because some of them are equidistant, there might be more that are equidistant around them, on the same angle.
”
But this sounded lame, and was inconsistent with the degree of certainty with which he was accustomed to speaking. He decided he much preferred speaking in facts.

“
What if you had to imagine that the stones were a dot; would you see a pattern then?
”
She had slowed her pace somewhat so she could look up at him while she talked (which was good, because in Mark
’
s opinion their original walking speed had been a bit hasty).
The stones a dot?
This would add another data point. A potentially useful data point. Mark wanted to get out his maps at that very moment and measure the distance between the stones and the dots. He touched the clasp of his satchel with his right hand.

As if sensing his twitching, Sandy offered him a dazzling smile.
“
We could go to my dad
’
s place. He found another set of the maps that he gave you. You could take a look at them and do some measurements. He might also have some other maps of Coventry Hill that would interest you.
”

Was she talking about the larger map with the contour line that he wanted to examine? Even if she wasn
’
t, he needed those original maps with the dots to ground-truth his sketches.

“
Sound like a plan?
”
Sandy said.

Mark nodded uncertainly. For some reason, it sounded more like a trap than a plan. But he really did need to check those maps.

“
Great!
”
Sandy said. Then she started down the tunnel again, speed-walking this time. Mark trotted to keep up, unclear as to why they continued to head deeper into the tunnel instead of turning back.

And he wondered about her car sitting there in the orchard.

*****

“
Maybe if I say the names of the elements to you in a kind of a monotone, it
’
ll make you sleepy and relaxed, and then you
’
ll be able to read the card,
”
Caleb said.

“
Or you
’
ll totally irritate me,
”
Abbey replied.
“
I
’
m going to try music again.
My
music this time. She plugged her earbuds into her iPhone and selected the Rohan Theme from
The Lord of the Rings
.

She closed her eyes and tried to shut out Caleb
’
s attentive face. She pictured, as she always did, riding across the plains of New Zealand, preferably with Orlando Bloom, but she decided Jake would be fine. She was mad at Sam. They needed to get to Jake somehow, to stop him from helping Selena, Nate, and Damian, and who knew who else. In fact, she should email Jake to see if he could meet her the next day at school. The fiddle at the end of the Rohan Theme cut through her thoughts, and she was again on horseback in her mind, sailing across the plains above pounding hooves, and she could feel some sort of power of the music, or imagination, or something, pulse through her.

There.

She opened her eyes. A row of two-digit numbers ran across the page. They seemed to be in pairs, and the pairs were in pairs, so there were ten groups of four, and five groups of eight. Abbey pulled out her earbuds, snatched up a pencil, and managed to furiously record all ten sets before the numbers again faded.

Then she stared at the numbers.

“
You did it,
”
Caleb breathed. She had forgotten he was even there.
“
What do they mean?
”

Abbey stared at the numbers. She had no idea. The first two-digit number in all ten of the sets was either thirty-seven or ninety-one. The second number varied, but not by much. It generally went up or down by five digits, but sometimes four or six, and there was no pattern that Abbey could see. In the living room, Farley started to bark maniacally. Ocean leapt off Abbey
’
s bed and took refuge at the back of her closet.

“
Uh-oh,
”
Caleb said, peeking out the window.
“
Looks like we have a visitor.
”

Selena swayed down the driveway, wearing a tight black miniskirt and black leather jacket, her lustrous dark hair held back by a thick red headband. Damian and Nate were not with her.

Farley sounded like a raving lunatic as Selena
’
s stilettos tapped on the cement steps that led to the front door.

Her sharp knock echoed through the hallway as Abbey and Caleb skidded around the corner in time to see their father answering the door, his fingers hooked through Farley
’
s collar. The room was instantly filled with the heavy scent of Selena
’
s perfume.

“
Selena,
”
Peter Sinclair said. Abbey detected a faint note of something
—
breathiness, surprise, nervousness; she couldn
’
t tell which
—
in his voice. Farley emitted a low growl.

“
Peter.
”
Selena sashayed in without waiting to be invited. Her smile faltered a bit when she saw Abbey and Caleb peering around the corner. She turned back to Abbey
’
s dad.
“
We need to talk,
”
she said.

“
I
’
m in the middle of making dinner,
”
Abbey
’
s dad said.

“
Hmm, quite domesticated now, aren
’
t you, Peter? It
’
s important. Coventry Hill has already sold.
”

“
What?
”

Selena nodded, looked at Abbey
’
s dad, and then darted a look over her shoulder at Abbey and Caleb. Their father
’
s eyes followed her gaze.

“
We can talk downstairs in the basement,
”
he said.
“
Abbey and Caleb, do you mind taking the potatoes off the stove when they
’
re done?
”

Peter Sinclair closed Farley into the office, where the dog continued to bark and howl wildly, and then led Selena down the stairs, closing the rec room door soundly behind them.

“
What was that all about?
”
Abbey whispered as the potatoes bubbled in front of her. They could hear the low murmur of voices from the rec room.

But Caleb had vanished.

He reappeared a few seconds later waving their mother
’
s yearbook, which he had clearly kept stashed in his room, thus preventing it from getting lost in the sorting and filing odyssey that their mother had embarked on earlier in the month.

“
They used to date,
”
he hissed.

“
What?
”
Abbey said.

“
Selena and Dad. Look.
”
Caleb thrust the open yearbook in her face. Sure enough, there, in a casual photo taken on the lawn of the high school, was a much younger version of their dad. He and Selena, who still looked almost precisely the same, were holding hands.

“
Arghhh!
”
Abbey was almost repulsed by the photo.
“
I can
’
t believe it. I thought Mom and Dad had been together forever.
”
The notion that her parents had a past, and one that didn
’
t involve the each other, was almost unimaginable.
“
Where
’
s Mom?
”
She grabbed the yearbook, expecting to see her mother in the background of the photo looking heartbroken or deserted. Instead what she saw was much worse.

“
Isn
’
t that Mom?
”
She jabbed her finger at the photo.
“
In the background? Holding hands with Ian?
”
The background of the photo was grainy, but the smiling girl with the curly brown hair looked distinctly like their mother.

“
He
’
s still wearing the same beret,
”
Caleb said.
“
And aren
’
t those the two tattooed guys standing with them?
”

“
Frank and Francis,
”
Abbey said. Farley
’
s howls had taken on a rather desperate quality. She shut off the burner and removed the potato pot from the stove.

“
I guess it makes sense,
”
Caleb said.
“
If they each lost their significant other to Nowhere
…
then that
’
s why Mom and Dad got together.
”

“
They were always meant to get together,
”
Abbey snapped.
“
This
”—
she stabbed a finger at the book
—“
this was just a temporary anomaly.
”

All of a sudden Farley
’
s brown body tore through the hall and down the stairs, barking furiously, leaping and scratching at the rec room door. Abbey and Caleb looked at each other.
“
He must have figured out a way to unlatch the office door,
”
Caleb said.

“
We better go retrieve him, or Dad
’
s going to think we let him out.
”