Missing on Superstition Mountain (6 page)

Henry couldn't stand it anymore. He grabbed his mother's arm. “You can't feed her! That's not fair! She took Josie and tried to pretend she was hers. She called her
Princess
!”

As if any normal person would name a cat Princess, Henry thought. Surely now their mother would understand.

“Henry, hush,” Mrs. Barker said firmly. “You saw for yourself, Delilah brought Josie back home. You boys should thank her.”

Henry, Jack, and Simon gaped in astonishment.

“That's it,” Simon said. “We're going outside.” He beckoned for Henry and Jack to follow him onto the deck before their mother could stop them.

They ran over to the swing set, as far away from the house as possible. It was their swing set from Chicago, painstakingly reconstructed here in Arizona by their father during the first two weekends after the move. Mrs. Barker had complained that he was doing that instead of helping her unpack, but Mr. Barker pointed out that there was nothing about Uncle Hank's house that made it seem like a place for kids, so the swing set was important.

Henry was grateful for it—in this strange desert place, it was the one thing that reminded him of their yard back home. Simon sat on a rung of the ladder that led to the fort, and Jack lay on his stomach on the slide. Henry plopped down on a swing and twisted around several times. “Mom is crazy.”

The other two nodded glumly.

“How come she believed her?” Jack demanded.

“That girl is a tricky one,” Henry observed.

The sliding door squeaked open, and Mrs. Barker came out with the plate of cookies. “What on earth is the matter with you boys?” she said.

“Where is she?” Henry asked suspiciously.

“Delilah? She went home. You didn't exactly make her feel welcome. What a nice girl. And you know how hard it is to be new in town. Especially a small town like Superstition, where everyone knows everyone else. You could have made a new friend.”

“Mom,” Simon said, rolling his eyes, “we don't need friends like that.”

“Yeah,” Jack boomed. “She stole Josie and locked her up—”

Mrs. Barker sighed. “I know it seemed that way to you, but it was just a misunderstanding. Delilah thought Josie was lost. And she brought her back home. It was very responsible of her. Besides, aren't you glad we have Josie back safe and sound? I was so worried she was lost on the mountain.”

Henry peered up at her. “You were? But you kept saying she was fine.”

“Well,” Mrs. Barker allowed, “I was pretty sure she'd be okay. But I was still worried. I just didn't want to alarm you boys.”

“Why
were
you so worried?” Simon asked. Henry knew he was thinking of the strange glances between their parents and the policeman the night Josie went missing.

“Yeah,” Jack chimed in, pushing up on his arms to stare at Mrs. Barker. “Did you think she would get eaten?”

Mrs. Barker paused. “No, not really. But you remember what Officer Myers said. Superstition Mountain is dangerous.”

“That's what he said,” Simon persisted, “but he didn't tell us why.”

Mrs. Barker pursed her lips, abruptly finished with the conversation. “You could get lost or hurt. It's no place for children. I don't want you three going anywhere near the mountain. Do you understand?”

“But—” Henry began.

“Henry! I mean it.” She turned back toward the house. “Let's just be grateful Josie is home again. And I hope you'll be nicer to Delilah in the future.”

Henry groaned inwardly, but only inwardly because he didn't want another rebuke from his mother.

As soon as she was safely out of earshot, Simon stood up. “She's definitely keeping something from us,” he said. “They all are. Something happened on the mountain they don't want to talk about.”

“I know,” Henry mumbled. “Do you think it has anything to do with”—he lowered his voice—“the skulls we found?”

“Those old bones?” Jack asked.

“Shhh,” Simon hushed him. “Keep your voice down.”

“But who do you think they belonged to? When they were alive, I mean,” Jack asked. He swiveled around on the slide, and shot to the bottom, landing on the dry grass with a bump. “Ow!” He rubbed his backside.

This yard was nothing like the one at their old house in Illinois, which had been lush and green, soft as a carpet. Henry spun slowly on the swing, stirring up clouds of dust with his sneakers. He thought of the strange white skulls and the feeling in the canyon … tense and quiet, as if something bad were about to happen. “How can we find out what the
real
story is?” he wondered.

Simon rubbed his hand over his hair, making the spikes stand on alert, ready for action. “Let's go to the library,” he said finally.

“The library?” Jack complained. “It's too quiet there.”

“Well, we can't use the computer,” Simon pointed out. “Mom won't let us be on it for that long, and if she catches us snooping around for stuff about the mountain, we'll get in trouble.”

Henry nodded. Their mother had very strict rules about computer use. Simon continued, “The library should have old newspapers. And if something really bad happened on Superstition Mountain, somebody must have written about it.”

Henry jumped off the swing. Simon was brilliant. “That's a great idea!” he said, grabbing Jack's hand and pulling him up from the ground.

“But don't tell Mom,” Simon insisted, looking at Jack. “Really, Jack, don't mess up, okay? If you want to come with us, you have to show us we can trust you.”

Jack's face scrunched indignantly. “I don't ever tell them anything!”

“Oh, yeah? What about on Mother's Day, when we got Mom the surprise—”

Henry intervened. “Come on, he won't tell. Let's just go before Mom says it's too close to dinner.”

They quickly got permission from Mrs. Barker. “The library? Now that's a good way to spend the afternoon—we live so close to it. But be careful on your bikes and make sure to watch Jack.” After stuffing a few cookies in their pockets for the trip, they rode off to find out what had happened on Superstition Mountain.

CHAPTER 9

AT THE LIBRARY

A
S THEY APPROACHED
Coronado Road, they rode past Delilah's gray house. She was sitting on the front steps, between the bright beds of flowers, looking bored. When she saw them, she immediately bounced to her feet and ran across the yard.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“None of your business,” Simon said, zooming past.

“Yeah,” Henry echoed. Hadn't she interfered with their lives enough?

“Cat stealer!” Jack shouted.

Delilah ran along the sidewalk, following them. “I did not steal your cat!” she yelled. “I told you, she comes over to my house all the time. Maybe she doesn't like you anymore.”

“Josie loves us!” Jack yelled back.

“Well, she likes me better,” Delilah answered, panting.

“Does not!”

“Does too!”

Jack's bike screeched to a halt, and he flung himself at Delilah. She deftly stepped out of the way, while he tumbled onto the grass.

“Jack!” Henry told him. “Cut it out. We don't have time for that.”

“So where are you going?” Delilah cautiously helped Jack up, holding him at arm's length so he couldn't slug her.

“Let me go!” Jack squirmed.

“Just tell me where you're going,” Delilah said.

Henry dragged Jack over to his fallen bike. “The library,” he said curtly. “Now leave us alone.”

Simon was three houses ahead, with his bike turned sideways, waiting for them. “Henry! Jack! Come
ON.
”

They pedaled fast to catch up. Henry glanced over his shoulder, just once, to see what Delilah was doing. She was standing where they'd left her, brown braids hanging on either side of her freckled face, watching them ride away.

The library was a sprawling concrete building on one end of Coronado Road, the main avenue through town. The boys slid their bikes into the rack at the edge of the parking lot and ran up the steps through the double doors. Inside, the building was bright and sunny, thanks to large glass windows across one end. Through them, Henry could see the sharp outline of Superstition Mountain. It filled the room.

At the circulation desk, a dark-haired woman was arranging books on a cart. She looked up when they entered and gave them a tight smile. Her hair was jet-black, which made her look young from a distance, but the skin of her face was leathery brown and wrinkled. Her eyebrows were thin, arched lines, as if they'd been drawn on with ink. Henry thought her mouth seemed as stiff and frozen as a doll's.

“Hello, children,” she said in a syrupy voice. “How are you today?”

“Fine,” Henry answered politely.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Yes.” Simon strode up to the desk. “Could you tell us where the old newspapers are?”

“Of course. I'll show you.” She walked past them, beckoning. “The recent issues are over here, in the periodicals area … going back about six months.”

They trailed behind her to a carpeted area in the corner of the library, surrounded by tall wooden shelves. The upper ones were arrayed with glossy magazines; the lower ones held stacks of newspapers.

“Is there something you're looking for?” The librarian fixed her bright eyes and persistent smile on Henry.

Henry shifted from one foot to the other. “Not really…”

“We want to learn more about the town,” Simon blurted. “We just moved here.”

Henry thought the librarian's gaze sharpened, but her mouth stayed exactly the same. That's what was so strange, he realized. The expression on her mouth didn't match her eyes.

“I thought you must be new. I didn't recognize you. Let me know if I can help you find anything. We have lots of wonderful books for boys your age,” she said pleasantly, and went back to her desk.

“She's creepy,” Jack said.

A man at one of the nearby tables glanced at them. He had round wire-rimmed glasses, and Henry thought he looked smart and serious, like a high school teacher.

“Shhh, Jack,” Simon warned. “The librarian will hear you.” He sat cross-legged in front of the shelves, and Henry and Jack squatted beside him.

Jack asked loudly, “What are we looking for?”

The man at the table sighed and closed his computer.

Simon glared at Jack. “You have to
WHISPER.
It's a library.”

“Okay,” Jack said, but Henry knew Jack's whisper was as loud as most people's regular voices. And the library was so quiet that even small sounds were forcefully distinct—the whirr of the air conditioner, the faint tap of computer keyboards, the creak of shifting chairs.

Simon handed them each a stack of newspapers, which they carried over to an empty table. Henry spread the first one out in front of him. Large black letters blared across the masthead: SUPERSTITION SENTINEL.

“What's a sentinel?” he asked Simon.

Simon shrugged. “Just some goofy name for a newspaper.”

The man began gathering his things, which included large rolls of paper that looked like blueprints. “It means a lookout,” he said. “Or a watchman.”

“Like a guard?” Henry asked.

The man nodded.

“See, Jack,” Simon said softly. “He's leaving because you were too loud.”

Jack frowned, but the man shook his head in their direction. “No, that's not it. The internet's down again.”

“Oh,” Simon said. “That happens all the time at our house.” It was one of the peculiarities of their new home that the internet frequently went out, as did the phone service, as did the electricity. “We might as well be living on the frontier,” Mrs. Barker said, when she tried to e-mail something to one of her editors and it wouldn't go through.