The footsteps came closer, reached the third floor and crossed the hall to the study. Through the crack, Jessie could tell it was a man, but couldn’t see his face. The door to the study opened and closed.
Then she remembered the step stool. I didn’t put it back! It’s still in front of the map, she thought. When he sees that, he’ll know someone’s been in there! I’m getting out of here!
She ran from her hiding place and back into the hall. The study door opened. A hand grabbed at her windbreaker. With a lunge forward, she pulled away and raced to the stairs.
Jessie heard the man right behind her. She saw the banister, threw her leg over the polished rail and started to slide down. Desperately, she tried to balance herself as she gathered speed and whirled around the corner of the second floor.
Now she was headed for the landing above the main entry. She wobbled wildly and fell to the stairs. Using her momentum, Jessie sprang to her feet and kept going—around a corner and down a long hall. She could hear the man still pounding heavily down the staircase. She opened the nearest door, slipped inside and pulled it shut behind her.
Jessie stood in a large parlor. Blue velvet draperies hung at French windows that opened out onto tiny balconies. She ran to a window facing Willow Lane and hid behind one of the drapery panels, waiting.
Footsteps echoed in the hall outside the parlor. The door swung open. Someone was in the room. Does he see me? Jessie wondered. In fear, she stepped backward against the glass door. Something poked her in the back. She reached behind and grasped a door handle. She pushed down and out. The French doors flew open and a gust of wind and rain blew into the room.
The footsteps rushed in her direction. Jessie leaped outside to the balcony and slammed the French doors behind her. Rain pelted her face and beat on her hat.
A car was coming up Willow Lane. The French doors were opening behind her. Jessie looked over the balcony rail. Below her was a striped canvas awning. The car turned into her driveway and drove into the garage. Her father stepped out of the car.
“DADDY!” Jessie screamed. “DADDY!”
She could feel the man behind her at the French doors. She swung her leg over the balcony rail, let go and slid on her back down the awning and into a huge prickly hedge. As she landed, she heard her dad shout, “HANG ON, JESS! I’M COMING!”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jessie was buried in the green hedge. She struggled to stand up. Suddenly a shadow loomed over her. The Man! He’s going to grab me! But the face was familiar. “Daddy!”
“Jessie! What in the world! Are you all right?” He reached down into the bushes, gripped her hand and eased her up out of the shrubbery. Gently, he manipulated her wrists and felt her ankles. “It looks like you’re still in one piece.”
“I’m all right. Nothing’s broken. But listen, Daddy…”
“You can tell me all about it at home. Now we’re getting out of the rain.” He was inspecting her face. “You’ve got scratches all over your face. We need to put something on…”
Tears filled Jessie’s eyes, spilled down her cheeks and mingled with the rain. “Daddy! Please! Listen to me!”
Her father focused all his attention on Jessie. He took her hand and led her up the steps to the Johnsons’ porch. Taking off his suit coat, he said, “Here. Put this on.” He settled it around her shoulders. They sat on the top step—dry under the eaves. In a calm voice he said, “Okay, Jess. Tell me what happened.”
“There isn’t time to tell you. We have to go back into the house. There’s a man in there…”
“What man?” he asked. “Was that why you jumped? Was he chasing you?”
Jessie’s ankle was starting to throb with pain. “Yeah, he was chasing me. Oh, Daddy. I was so scared.”
“We’re going home and calling the police.” His face was an angry red.
“NO! Please, Daddy!” she pleaded. “We have to go back inside because I think I found Mr. Johnson’s Will. But the man in there might get it first if we waste time.”
“What! Jess, you’ve really gone too far this time. What are we going to do with you?”
“I know you’re mad at me. But please just go in with me now.”
A car drove up the street, parting huge sheets of water as it traveled. Jessie’s dad ran down the steps and waved to the driver. Emil Sorenson, who lived on the block, stopped and rolled down his window. Jessie saw her dad say something to him, then run back to the porch. The neighbor’s car sped away.
“I told Emil to call the police,” her dad said. “I presume you managed to get a key to this place.”
“Yes,” said Jessie in a subdued voice. “I took it off Mom’s key ring.”
He frowned at her. “We’ll discuss it later. Open the door.”
Once inside the house, they started up the wide staircase. Pain shot through her foot and leg. A door slammed upstairs.
“That’s him! We have to hurry!” cried Jessie.
“Do not move off this step,” her father ordered. He looked her straight in the eyes. “Understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” she whispered.
Her dad ran up the stairs.
With relief, Jessie eased down and sat on the step. She ran her hand over her right ankle. It hurt! She looked at it. It was twice its normal size. RATS! she thought. Oh, where’s Daddy now?
Jessie heard footsteps racing down the stairs. She leaned back against the banister and looked up the stairwell. It was the man with the mean voice who ran from the study while Jessie hid behind the door. He was bolting down the stairs and her dad was right behind him.
When Jessie jumped up, her dad’s coat fell from her shoulders onto the stairs. She ignored it and half-slid, half-hopped down the steps to the front hall, gripping the banister to keep the weight off her foot. At the bottom, she turned the corner and ducked into the slanting space under the staircase.
From her hiding place, the running feet sounded like thunder. There was a tremendous crash followed by the sound of someone bouncing down the stairs. Oh, Daddy! Are you falling?
She heard a terrified cry and a loud THUNK as the falling person landed at the foot of the stairway.
Jessie peeked out from under the steps. The mean man was lying very still, his feet hopelessly entwined in her father’s suit coat. Well, I’ll be! thought Jessie. This
is
my lucky day!
Jessie’s dad bounded down the staircase. The doorbell rang. Loud pounding followed. “POLICE! OPEN UP!”
Her dad stepped over the fallen stranger and opened the door to the policemen. “Boy am I glad to see you!” he said.
“Evening, Mr. Hanson,” said one of the officers. “Emil Sorenson called. Said you had some trouble here.”
“Right!” said her dad. “I’m handling this house in an estate and this guy broke in.” He pointed to the intruder. “Wait! Where’s my daughter? JESSICA?”
“Here, Daddy.” Jessie came out of her hiding place and limped into his arms.
Father and daughter waited as the policemen picked up the stranger, handcuffed him and led him to the patrol car. “Okay, Jess,” said her dad. “We might as well finish this. Show me the Will.”
Somehow, Jessie made it to the third floor study with the wall map. Her dad still hadn’t noticed that she was limping. She dropped into a leather chair, unzipped her windbreaker pocket, handed the gold bookmark key to him and said, “You’ll need this.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“I’m sorry to say, I took it from your office. It’s a bookmark that was in the Atlas Mr. Johnson gave you.”
Jessie’s dad looked at her and shook his head. “I see. All right, now what?”
“You put the bookmark key into an opening on the map between Sweden and Finland. Then, turn it to the right.”
Her dad did as directed and in a moment was pulling the envelope from the little map door. He inspected the document. “It looks like you found the real thing, Jess. I don’t know whether to congratulate you or ground you.”
He leafed through the pages until he reached the end. “Hmm,” he said. “C.G.’s signature was witnessed by Mr. Simms and his wife. And there’s a letter in here too. Addressed to me.”
“I’ll bet that’s how his son knew there was a Will!” Jessie said. “His son’s been here snooping around this house. He even lied to Mrs. Winter and got into
our
house!”
“What?” said her dad. “What did he want in our house?”
“He saw me take his picture with my new detective kit camera,” she explained.
“So—he got into our house to…?” asked her dad.
“To steal the film!” said Jessie.
“Did he get it?” Now he was thoroughly intrigued.
“No!” said Jessie. It was wonderful to finally be able to tell someone. “Tina and I were downtown getting the film developed when he got into our house. But…” her voice trailed off.
“But—what?” her dad asked suspiciously.
“Well, Tina took the negative home and someone knocked her off her bike and stole it. The negative, I mean. She’s in bed—with a concussion,” said Jessie, hanging her head. “But she’s going to be okay.” She couldn’t look at her father.
He folded the documents, returned them to the envelope and shoved them into his back pocket. He closed the map door, removed the gold bookmark key and slipped it into his shirt pocket. Then he walked to Jessie and said, “Let’s go home, Jess. Your mom’s going to be worried sick.”
“There’s just one thing,” said Jessie. “I think you’ll have to carry me. My ankle’s pretty swollen.”
Her father knelt and checked her ankle. “Looks like we go to the emergency room before we go home,” he said.
Gently, he picked up Jessie and started down the stairs.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jessie lay in bed with her foot propped up on a pillow. The rain had stopped and the sun was setting. A soft breeze stirred the dolphin mobile.
Her mother came into the room with Jessie’s dinner on a tray. It smelled delicious. Phillip followed. He wore a little sailor suit and white tennis shoes. He shook his head back and forth and chanted, “No, no, no,” as though he liked the sound of it.
“Hungry, Jess?” asked her mom.
“Starving. I don’t remember eating lunch.”
Her mom plumped some pillows behind Jessie and set the tray beside her. Phillip’s blue eyes peeped over the edge of the bed. For once, he was quiet.
“Pizza! Thanks, Mom!” She started to eat.
Her mother pulled a chair from the desk and put it next to the bed. She picked up Phillip and sat down with the baby on her lap. “You know, Jessie. You could have told me about what you were up to.”
Jessie looked at her mom. I think I hurt her feelings, she thought. “Well, sometimes—when you know what I’m doing—you get upset and make me stop. I feel like I can’t do anything.” She thought a moment. “But this time I was wrong. Because Tina got hurt and so did I. I should have told you what was happening.”
Her mom was quiet. Then she said, “I owe you an apology, Jess.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I really haven’t been paying attention lately. I’m too distracted by the baby and the office. I’ve been neglecting my number one child. I promise I’ll do better and try to be more understanding.”
“I was afraid today. That man chasing me—it was so scary.”
“It must’ve been. I’m so glad you’re home safe!”
Someone knocked at the bedroom entrance. “Jessie?”
Tina appeared in the doorway.
“Tina!” cried Jessie. “Come in!’
Jessie’s mom stood up with Phillip under her arm.
“Well, Tina. It’s so good to see you. Just what Jessie needs.”
Tina came into the room looking fresh and rested, as though nothing bad had ever happened to her. She held out her arms to Phillip, took him from his mother and gave him a kiss. “Hi, you cute thing. Did you miss me?”
Phillip leaned back and stuck out his tongue.
“What is this?” asked Tina. “Where’d he learn
that
?”
“I’d like to know,” said Jessie’s mom. “He just started doing it one day. We’re trying to ignore it.”
Jessie ate her pizza and said nothing.
“I’ll leave you two,” said Jessie’s mom, taking the baby from Tina. “I know you have lots of catching up to do.” She left with Phillip looking back over her shoulder. He stuck out his tongue at Jessie and Tina.
When her mom was out of earshot, they dissolved into wild laughter.
“He’s hilarious!” giggled Tina. “Did you teach him that?”
“Not teach. But I stuck my tongue out at him and he imitated me,” laughed Jessie. “Do not tell Mom.”
“Don’t worry. So how’s your ankle?”
“Your dad says to take it easy for two weeks. It’s just a sprain. I should have ordered a first aid kit instead of a detective kit.”
Tina laughed. “I hear you did some pretty good detective work on your own.”
“I think my parents are worn out with me,” said Jessie.
“Oh, I don’t know. They sounded proud of you. You know very well your folks never really get mad at you.”
“Tina, how’d you fall off your bike?”
“I heard a car start and looked behind me. I must have hit the curb. I really don’t remember.”
“I think I made a big discovery,” Jessie said. “Go over to my desk and open the middle drawer.”
Tina walked to the desk, opened the drawer and gave a small gasp. “Whose picture is this? Is this
you
?” She lifted out the copies that Jessie had made of the newspaper photos of Alice Johnson.
“No! That’s Alice Johnson. Miss Tyler found those pictures and I copied them.”
“But…what’s the deal? They look just like you!” said Tina. “Same eyes, same hair, same dimple, same everything!”
Jessie took a deep breath. “Remember the newspaper never mentioned anything about C.G. and Alice’s baby—at Alice’s funeral, I mean?”
“Yes, I remember. So?”
“Well, I think that baby was my dad.”
“WHAT?” Tina cried.
“Shhh!” Jessie put her finger to her lips. “I’ve thought a lot about it and it all fits. The Johnsons’ old friends, the Eric Hansons, are visiting for the holidays. The snowstorm comes and Alice has the baby at home and she dies. But the baby is okay. So C.G. asks the Hansons, who I always thought were my grandparents, to raise the baby.”