Missing on Superstition Mountain (8 page)

She turned to leave, but then looked back at them thoughtfully. “I'm Mrs. Thomas, the library director. What are your names?”

“Simon,” Simon answered quickly. “This is Henry, and he's Jack.”

“It's very nice to meet you.” She extended her hand to each of them in turn. Henry took it awkwardly, noticing that it was cool and bony, and her fingertip was smudged black with ink. “What grades are you in?” Henry felt the familiar flood of panic that overcame him whenever a stranger was about to make a wrong assumption about his size or his age.

Simon jumped in quickly, “I'm going into sixth, Henry's going into fifth, and Jack will be in first.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Thomas said, her skinny eyebrows arching in surprise. “I thought—”

“And this is Delilah,” Simon continued smoothly. Henry glanced at him gratefully.

“Your sister?” the librarian asked, turning to Delilah.

“No!” the boys chorused.

Delilah only smiled sweetly at Mrs. Thomas. “I'm Delilah Dunworthy.”

“What a pretty name,” Mrs. Thomas said. “Why don't you tell me what you're looking for? Perhaps I can help.”

Henry wasn't sure. What if she reacted like their parents had? Maybe there was some big grown-up conspiracy to keep quiet about Superstition Mountain, the way grown-ups would never tell you all the bad stuff they did as kids because they were afraid you'd try it yourself. On the other hand, she did work here in the library, and it was her job to help people find out what they needed to know. Simon seemed to be making the same mental calculation.

Henry cleared his throat. “We … we wanted to know more about the mountain. If anything interesting has happened up there.”

Mrs. Thomas's keen eyes fixed on his. “Things have been happening on that mountain for hundreds of years,” she said. “It is not a place for children.”

“Why not?” Jack piped up. “What kinds of things?”

Mrs. Thomas continued smiling, but her eyes hardened.

“Bad things,” she said.

When she said nothing more, the silence seemed to expand uncomfortably. Finally, Delilah asked, “Are there other books besides this one that we could check out?”

The librarian's forehead furrowed. “None of the books on this bottom shelf circulate. But you can check out anything from the upper shelves … that volume of legends, for instance.” She motioned to the one Delilah had been reading earlier. “Just bring them to the circulation desk when you're ready.” She gave them a final piercing look of appraisal, then walked away.

Henry eyed the booklet tucked under her arm longingly. He chose a book on the history of Arizona from the top shelf. Delilah picked up the book of legends.

“That was weird, huh?” Delilah said. “She wouldn't tell us anything.”

“Probably because those people died in a really gross, bloody way,” Simon speculated. “Grown-ups never want to talk about that.”

This was particularly true of Mr. Barker, Henry thought. It was well-known family lore that he had fainted when Simon was born and was barred from the labor and delivery room ever after. He looked sick to his stomach whenever the boys mentioned any number of fascinating topics, like the size of a hairball Josie threw up or the way their cousin Brendan's finger bent sideways when he fell off his scooter. Mrs. Barker, on the other hand, could be counted on to show the appropriate level of curiosity about even the most grotesque physical condition or injury, because she usually had had to illustrate something similar at some point in her career.

“Yeah,” Henry agreed. “And it sounds like a lot of people are still missing. Superstition Mountain is kind of like the Bermuda Triangle, except on land.”

“What triangle?” Jack asked.

“It's a place in the ocean where planes and ships disappear,” Henry told him. “They fly through this one area, and then, nobody knows why, but they lose all radio contact and are never heard from again. The other name for it is the Devil's Triangle.”

“Well,” Simon amended, “not
all
the planes and ships that pass through there disappear … just a few of them. And lots of people think there's a normal explanation. Like whirlpools or storms. Things like that.”

“Probably there are a bunch of wrecks at the bottom of the ocean in that exact spot,” Delilah said.

“Nope,” Henry told her. “Whole entire ships and planes have disappeared without a trace.”

“Well, that's freaky.” Delilah twisted one braid. “But everyone's heard of the Bermuda Triangle, and nobody talks about Superstition Mountain that way. If people disappear up there all the time, why haven't we heard about it?”

Henry couldn't think of a good answer for this, but Simon said, “Maybe it does happen all the time, or at least a lot, but the grown-ups are keeping it quiet because they don't want to scare us.”

They carried their two books to the circulation desk, where Mrs. Thomas was waiting for them.

“Now, who has a library card?” she asked.

The boys looked at one another in surprise—they'd been to the library several times, but their mother had always been the one to check things out—when Delilah pulled a small plastic card from her pocket.

“I do,” she said, sliding it across the counter, to the boys' relief.

Mrs. Thomas pushed the two books toward Henry. “It was nice to meet all of you. Delilah Dunworthy … Simon, Jack, and … Henry, was it? Henry what? What's your last name, dear?”

Henry felt oddly hesitant to tell her, but there didn't seem to be a good reason not to. “Barker,” he answered, reaching for the books.

Her eyes widened, and her hand tightened over the books so that Henry couldn't budge them. “Barker? Didn't you move into Hank Cormody's house?”

“How do you know that?” Jack exclaimed. “He's our great-uncle!”

“Was he?” Mrs. Thomas gazed at them so intently it made Henry squirm. He wanted to pick up the books, but with her hand resting on them like that, he thought it might seem like he was trying to snatch them away. He briefly imagined wrestling her for them.

“I should have known that's who you were,” the librarian said, almost to herself. “Barker.”

“We really need to go,” Simon interrupted. “Our mom will wonder what's taking us so long.”

“Of course.” She reluctantly released the books, and Henry hugged them to his chest. “Welcome to Superstition! I hope you'll use the library often. And about the mountain … remember what I said.”

“We will,” Simon answered. He led the way through the double doors into the library parking lot, which blazed in the afternoon sun.

CHAPTER 12

THE SUPERSTITION HISTORICAL SOCIETY

“W
HY WAS SHE
so interested in your uncle?” Delilah asked, as soon as they had pedaled a short distance down the street.

She had both library books balanced in the wicker basket of her bike. It looked like the same goofy bike she'd ridden in that parade, Henry thought. But at least it didn't have all the ribbons tied to it.

“Well,” Henry began, “Uncle Hank was
eccentric.
He was a scout for the U.S. Cavalry and a cowboy and got into fistfights—”

“And he even killed a rattlesnake with a screwdriver once!” Jack interrupted.

Henry paused. “I'm named after him,” he finished modestly.

“You are?” Delilah seemed impressed.

“Yeah,” Henry said, pleased.

“But your name is Henry.”

“Henry was his real name. Hank is the nickname for Henry,” Henry told her, but it didn't seem very plausible even to him.

“That doesn't sound right,” Delilah said.

Henry sighed and rode up alongside Simon. “It was weird that librarian knew who we were as soon as she heard our last name, didn't you think?” he asked.

Simon considered. “Yeah. But it's a small town. It seems like everybody knows everybody else. And Dad always said Uncle Hank was a character, so people would remember him.”

“I wish we could have checked out that little book,” Henry said.

“Me too!” Jack yelled, speeding past them. “That had all the good stuff in it.”

Simon turned his wheel abruptly toward the curb and stopped, while they all squealed to a halt around him. “Wait a second—it was something that the historical society did, right? Maybe we can get a copy straight from them.”

“That's a great idea!” Henry exclaimed.

“We just need an address. Let's ride over to Dad's and see if he has a phone book.”

“I'll go first,” Jack said, zooming off.

“Hold on!” Simon pedaled furiously after him. “Mom doesn't want you crossing the streets without me.”

Henry started to follow, but then realized Delilah was still at the curb, awkwardly rotating her bike in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Going home,” she said. Her cheeks were pink, which made the freckles stand out even more. Henry thought she seemed upset.

“Why?”

“Well, you're going to your dad's,” Delilah said.

“Aren't you coming?”

She looked at him. “Can I?”

Henry blinked. Girls were so weird. “Don't you want to?”

“Yes,” she said.

Henry rode off, calling to her, “Then come on!”

*   *   *

When they reached their father's masonry shop, he was standing outside talking to a customer. He smiled when he saw them. “What's up, guys?”

“Do you have a phone book?” Simon asked. “We need an address.”

“Sure, in the office,” Mr. Barker replied. “Who's your friend?”

“She's just following us around,” Jack said promptly.

Henry glanced at Delilah, who shifted on her bike. “This is Delilah,” he said to his father. “She lives by us.”

“Oh!” Mr. Barker said, his grin broadening. “The girl who found our long-lost cat! It's a pleasure to meet you. We certainly appreciate your help getting Josie back.”

The boys groaned, but their father stretched out his hand. Delilah shook it, glancing at the boys smugly. “That's okay,” she said politely. “I'm glad I found her.”

Henry rolled his eyes at Simon, then led the way into the reception area. A yellow phone book sat on the desk. He thumbed through the pages, looking for a Superstition Historical Society listing.

“There's nothing here,” he said finally. “Do you think it could be called something else?”

Simon thought. “Maybe just ‘historical society'?”

Henry flipped backward to the
H
's. Simon, Delilah, and Jack huddled over the page, scanning the columns of names.

“Is it there?” Jack demanded.

The names went from someone named Hipley to someone named Hiverton. Henry closed the book dejectedly.

“So now what?” he asked.

“I have an idea,” Delilah said, twirling one braid.

Simon shot her a skeptical look. “What?”

“Why don't we look for that guy who was the president. Emmett something. Remember? You said his name, Henry. He'd probably have a copy of the book.”

“Emmett Trask!” Henry exclaimed. He flipped quickly to the last chunk of pages, running his index finger down the list of
T
last names. “Trask! Here it is. And it has his address—44 Black Top Mesa.”

“Dad!” Simon yelled. “Do you have a map?”

“A map of what?” Mr. Barker answered.

“Superstition! Superstition! Superstition!” Jack shouted. “We're trying to find someplace. It's important!”

“In the top desk drawer,” came their father's faint reply.

Simon spread the map across the desk and checked the index. “Okay, here it is,” he said finally, tracing his finger along a thin, curving black line. “This little crooked road past the cemetery.”

“That's almost out of town,” Delilah said. “Can we ride there on our bikes?”

“Sure,” Simon scoffed. “This town is tiny. It's not far.”

Henry thought their mom might have a different opinion about the distance to the edge of town, but he said nothing. He wanted so badly to know what was on the missing page.

They clambered back onto their bikes. Their father, still immersed in conversation, glanced their way. “Where are you off to now?” he asked.

“We're—” Jack began.

“Just riding around,” Simon interrupted. They raced off down the street before Mr. Barker could ask any more questions.

*   *   *

It took them almost half an hour to ride all the way to Black Top Mesa. Simon was right, the town was small, and it wasn't long before they reached the outskirts. But Black Top Mesa, as it happened, was not a paved road. It was dirt and gravel, full of ruts, and it threw up clouds of brown dust as they rode. Jack's front wheel kept twisting in potholes, causing him to tumble. Finally Henry hung back, riding in front of him to lead him safely around the worst ones. Superstition Mountain loomed ahead. Even in the daylight, it seemed menacing and full of shadows.