Andi Unexpected (13 page)

Mr. Finnigan and the paramedics ran
into the room and knelt beside Colin. He was still struggling to breathe. A female paramedic rummaged through her medical bag and pulled out a vial and a syringe. Colin’s eyes went wide, but he was too out-of-breath to object. I turned away when the woman pushed up Colin’s sleeve and stuck the needle into his upper arm. I wanted to run over and make absolutely sure that Colin was all right, but I glanced back down at Dr. Girard. There was no way I was letting him out of my sight.

When two police officers ran in just seconds later, it felt like hours had passed. I was still pointing the monkey wrench at Dr. Girard, who now sat cross-legged on the dusty cement floor and gingerly rubbed the large goose egg on the back of his head.

Dr. Girard was nobody’s fool, and he immediately said, “Officers, thank goodness you’re here. I suggest you take that weapon away from the girl.” Dr. Girard’s voice commanded authority.

The young officer was no match for Dr. Girard’s tone. “Hand me the wrench,” he said, giving me what I suspected was his sternest glower. I gave him the wrench.

Dr. Girard stood up while supporting his head with his left hand. He faltered a bit. The second police officer, a tall middle-aged man, grabbed the professor’s arm to support him. Dr. Girard shook him off. “Take that girl into custody.”

The young officer took hold of my arm. His name tag read,
Officer Harrison.

I pulled away from him. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Mr. Finnigan jumped up and joined us. “Let go of her.” But Mr. Finnigan’s voice wasn’t half as intimidating as Dr. Girard’s. So Officer Harrison didn’t release me. Mr. Finnigan stood beside me, but I stepped as far away from him as I could while the officer still restrained me. I felt him watching me, but I refused to meet his eyes. Then Mr. Finnigan swallowed and said, “Andi didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one you want.”

Dr. Girard arrogantly tossed his head back and then winced with pain. He pointed at Mr. Finnigan. “He’s the one who struck me. I want him arrested for assault.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mr. Finnigan’s lower lip quiver, and I felt a twinge of sympathy in my
chest. But then I remembered how he’d used Colin and me. And how he’d used Andora.

The officers looked from Mr. Finnigan to Dr. Girard and back again. “Is that true?”

“Yes,” Mr. Finnigan whispered. Officer Harrison released his hold on my arm and grasped the curator’s arm instead. In one fluid movement, he pulled a pair of handcuffs from his utility belt and snapped them onto Mr. Finnigan’s wrists with a clack.

“Wait!” I cried.

The officers gave me their full attention again.

I searched for the right words. “Yes, Mr. Finnigan hit Dr. Girard on the head. But he only did it to save us. Dr. Girard trapped Colin and me under that conveyor belt and wouldn’t let us out.” I pointed toward the sheet of metal and then held up my injured hand as evidence. The cut was now a clotted dark crease across my palm. Seeing it for the first time, I felt the pain of it shoot up my arm.

Dr. Girard rolled his eyes. “Nonsense.”

“You trapped us under there while Colin was having an asthma attack.”

Officer Harrison raised an eyebrow dubiously. “Why would he do that?”

I took a deep breath. “He wanted Andora’s story. I learned about her when I found a trunk in my attic, but Dr. Girard was already writing a book about her. When he learned that Colin and I were searching for her too, he tried to trick us into helping him. When we wouldn’t do it, he convinced Mr. Finnigan to steal Miss Addy’s journal from us.”

Dr. Girard shook his head and smiled at the officers, as if to say, “What an imagination this girl has!”

The officers didn’t smile back.

Dr. Girard paled. “You’re going to believe her story?”

“I have proof!” I cried. “Where’s the briefcase?” I’d forgotten all about it during the commotion.

“What briefcase?” Dr. Girard asked.

“You know what I’m talking about.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement. I looked over at Colin, who couldn’t speak because an oxygen mask covered his face, and I saw he was waving at me. He pointed where the corner of the briefcase was sticking out from behind the conveyor belt.

“It’s there …”

The officer holding Dr. Girard’s arm looked behind him. “I see it.”

I ran over and grabbed the case. I released the clasp and riffled through the contents until I found Miss Addy’s journal. It was still there wrapped in brown paper. Lovingly, I opened the journal and flipped through the pages. It was undisturbed. I rose and held up the book for the policemen to see. “This is the journal.” Then I looked Mr. Finnigan in the eye. “And Mr. Finnigan stole it from my house.”

“You see,” Dr. Girard said, “I’m not to blame. It’s him.”

“He stole it
for
you,” I snapped.

Mr. Finnigan, who so far had remained quiet during my tale, said, “Everything she said is true. Dr. Girard is obsessed with the connection between the Pike and Boggs families. He used me—no, I
let him
use me to
get close to the children, to find out what they knew. I didn’t think he would hurt them. I never thought they’d be in danger.”

The tall officer roughly pulled Dr. Girard’s arms behind him and yanked his handcuffs out of his utility belt. “Let’s take them both to the station and sort this out.”

Officer Harrison held out his hand toward me. “You’re going to have to give us the briefcase and journal for evidence.” At my anxious look, he smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure the journal is returned to Miss Addy unharmed.”

I rewrapped the journal in its paper cover and slipped it back into the briefcase. Reluctantly, I handed the case to Officer Harrison.

Dr. Girard jerked his arms away, but the officer held fast and clamped the cuffs on his wrists in a practiced motion.

“I didn’t know the boy was sick.”

That could be true
, I thought. But lies slipped so easily off of Dr. Girard’s tongue, I would never know for sure.

“So you admit you trapped the children under there?” The tall officer asked, gesturing toward the conveyor belt.

Dr. Girard’s eyes widened as he realized his mistake. “These kids don’t appreciate history like I do. They can’t make it come alive and make people care about it like I can.”

“But I do appreciate it because it’s
my history
. Not yours,” I said.

“I still want to press assault charges,” Dr. Girard growled.

“We’ll talk about it at the station, sir.” The tall officer pulled him toward the exit.

Dr. Girard dragged his heels on the cement floor, but there was no friction on the smooth surface to slow his progress. Panic filled his voice, “I didn’t know the boy was sick. I thought the girl was joking. I tell you, I didn’t know!”

Unfazed, the tall officer said, “See you at the station, Pete.”

Officer Harrison nodded, and after Dr. Girard was out of sight, he pulled Mr. Finnigan in the direction of the exit as well. “Can I make sure Colin is all right before we leave?” Mr. Finnigan asked.

Officer Harrison nodded.

One of the paramedics packed up their gear, and the other one helped Colin into a wheelchair. The female paramedic smiled when she saw my worried look. “It’s just a precaution. He should be fine. We’re taking him to the clinic for a full checkup. We’ve already called his grandma and your aunt. They’ll meet us at the clinic. Want to ride along in the ambulance?”

“Sure,” I said. I grinned at Colin. He grinned back, pale-faced, but eyes gleaming.

Colin pulled the oxygen mask from his face and rasped, “We saved the journal.”

“We did,” I agreed. “We make a good team.”

Colin beamed but then started coughing dry, hoarse coughs in rapid succession.

“You’re sure he’s all right?” Mr. Finnigan looked forlorn with his hands cuffed behind his back.

“He’ll be fine. The coffee you gave him really made the difference. That shot of caffeine was enough to slow down the attack. It saved his life.”

Colin gave Mr. Finnigan a weak smile from behind the oxygen mask.

The paramedics wheeled Colin toward the exit, and I moved to follow. I stole a glance at Mr. Finnigan as he watched them go. He swallowed hard and seemed to sense my gaze. I looked away and started to follow the paramedics.

Mr. Finnigan made a choking sound. “Andi! Wait! I’m—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I said automatically, not because I forgave him, but because it seemed like the polite thing to do.

“No, it’s not. Dr. Girard didn’t care about this museum, the historical society, or about anyone other than himself. He cared only for his career. I should have known this before. Deep down, I did know. But with the museum failing, I wanted to believe his lies.

“When you kids were under the conveyor belt, it felt as if someone slapped me awake and made me realize the truth about Dr. Girard all at once. So I grabbed the wrench out of the box and hit him with it.”

I put my hand on his arm. “It’s okay, Mr. Finnigan,” I said, really meaning it this time. “You saved Colin’s life. That’s all that matters now.”

“It’s time to go,” Officer Harrison said.

Colin and I beat Amelie and Bergita to the clinic, thanks to the ambulance’s siren and flashing lights, but only by a few seconds. Amelie reached us first. Her face was pale under her deep summer tan.

“Andi!” she cried and grabbed me into a bear hug, not unlike the one she’d given me on the day Bethany and I moved to Killdeer.

Underneath her hug, I felt my aunt trembling. With my face smushed into her side, I couldn’t answer her. Her hold on me made my lips press painfully against my braces.

“Oh, for crying out loud, let the girl breathe,” Bergita said.

Amelie released me. “I’m sorry. Are you hurt?”

Behind her, I was surprised to see my sister standing there. Bethany’s eye makeup was smudged as if she’d been crying. She ran up to me. “How could you be so stupid? You could have gotten hurt!” Tears sprung to her eyes.

“I … I’m sorry, Bethany.”

She folded her arms. “Don’t do it again.” Then she crushed me in a hug that was brief but twice as strong as Amelie’s.

Bergita scowled down at Colin. “Am I to understand that you left the house without your inhaler, young man?”

Colin’s grin vanished. “I … I forgot.”

Bergita stiffened. “You give me another scare like that, and you’re not leaving the house for a month. You understand me?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

It was the first time I’d heard Colin call Bergita by that name.

Bergita gave him a crooked smile, leaned over, and gave her grandson a huge hug to rival any that Amelie could dish out.

Amelie put her hands on her hips and tried to look stern. “Andi, you are double grounded now.”

“What does double grounded mean?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” Amelie wrapped her arms around Bethany and me. “So, are you going to tell me what you discovered?”

I happily obliged, and Colin jumped in every so often with any details I’d forgotten.

The night before we were to meet Andora
in person, Amelie asked if she could invite Mr. Finnigan to come along. “Mr. Finnigan is a good man, Andi,” she said. “I want to you to remember that. He just wanted so badly to save the museum. But he learned his lesson—the hard way. Adults still have a lot to learn, too.” Her eyebrows dipped in concern. “I’m sure your dad would have explained this to you better.”

I gently bumped my shoulder against hers. “You’re doing all right. Mr. Finnigan could have found another way to save the museum.” I paused. “But he should still come. He knows Andora’s story better than anyone.”

Amelie smiled. “That’s a very mature decision. Your mom and dad would be proud of you—even if you are double grounded.”

The next day, I sat between Bethany and Colin in the backseat of Amelie’s Jeep, heading north up Interstate 77 toward Akron.

Back in Killdeer, I knew Dr. Girard would be cleaning out his office in the History Department under Wally’s watchful eyes. Amelie told me Michael Pike University had fired him. But he wouldn’t go to jail even though the police originally charged him with child endangerment. They dropped the charges when Dr. Girard dropped his assault charges against Mr. Finnigan.

Amelie said Dr. Girard’s loss of tenure was the worst punishment they could have given him anyway.

Mr. Finnigan sat in the passenger seat next to my aunt, chatting with her about the book she was writing about the Boggs and Pike family histories. Mr. Finnigan wanted to help her with the research. And he was also helping Miss Addy publish her journals. I’d told her I wanted the first signed copy.

“How much longer?” Bethany whined.

Amelie glanced at us in the rearview mirror and made eye contact with me. I rolled my eyes and she smiled. “It will be another hour at least.”

We were on our way to the small city of Hudson, which is just north of Akron, to visit Mrs. Peggy Pike Matthews—also known as known as Andora Felicity Boggs. She knew the whole story—her story—by now. After the initial shock had subsided, she’d invited us to her home to have lunch with her. Her two children (Amelie’s cousins) and their children—my second cousins—would be there as well. I had cousins!

I rubbed my sweaty hands up and down my shorts. Colin glanced over at me. “So this one’s in the bag? The case, I mean.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“So I guess Boggs and Carter Investigations is now out of business,” he said glumly.

I looked over and grinned. “No way. We’re just on hiatus until another mystery comes along.”

Colin grinned back. “And that could happen any day.”

When I was a little girl
, my Irish grandfather, Albert Martin, used to entertain my brother and me with stories about his life during the Great Depression and the Second World War. That’s where my fascination with the time period began. And when I was an adult, those stories sparked the idea for
Andi Unexpected
, a novel I wrote simply because I loved the story. I never expected it to be published.

However, when I told my agent, Nicole Resciniti, that I had a children’s book saved on my computer, she asked to see it and said with certainty that it would be published. As always, she was right. I thank her for constantly believing in my work and in me—even when I don’t.

I’m also grateful to Zondervan and my wonderful editor, Kim Childress, who saw a place for Andi and me on their bookshelves. I’m honored to work with you.

Thanks also to dear friends Mariellyn Grace and Melody Steiner who read this manuscript so many years ago.

Love to my parents Thomas Flower, who is in heaven, and Reverend Pamela Flower, who read this manuscript countless times. You gave my brother and me a childhood full of laughter and adventure. Without that, I would not have been able to write this novel.

And finally, I thank God in heaven because every dream that comes true is larger than I expected it to be.