Part three
She took the Wilson driveway just a little faster than she should have, but screeched to a halt as she caught sight of the front door. The same design that she had seen in the hidden camp had been scratched into the dark brown paint, revealing the pale blue of some earlier colour scheme. The door opened and Jim walked out carrying a couple of bags. Trixie jumped out and jogged across to him.
“When did that happen?” she demanded. “The scratching on the door, I mean.”
Jim shrugged. “Not sure. But there’s another one on the back door and a few in other places around, too. Mr. Wilson’s really upset by them.”
“I saw that same sign scratched into a tree at the camp I found,” she blurted, then wished she could take the words back as Jim glanced in that direction with a calculating look.
“Well, you’d better tell that to the police officer over there,” he directed. “And, by the way, I found the camp easily enough. You must have been walking in circles; it’s a stone’s throw from where I found you.”
By this time, they had returned to her car and Jim stowed the bags.
“Can you move your car?” he added. “We need to get the van out to take Mr. Wilson and there’s not enough room just here to pass.”
“Oh, I guess so,” she answered, while thinking about how much she wanted to stay right where she was. “What’s the matter with him anyway?”
Jim’s expression clouded. “He keeps saying, ‘Maggie’s dead and it’s all my fault.’ And when we talk to him, it’s like he doesn’t hear. Diana’s really worried that there’s something seriously wrong.”
“Who’s Maggie?”
“Her mother, apparently. Though, she’s wondering if it was her grandmother’s name, too.”
“Doesn’t she know?”
Jim shook his head. “No one ever talks about her grandmother. She died when Diana’s mother was only a baby. Diana doesn’t even know what happened to her.”
Trixie frowned at this as she got into the driver’s seat and reversed back onto the road to park there. The thought of such secrecy in her own family just didn’t make sense to her. She continued to frown as she walked back to the house. Diana pulled the van up as close as she could to the front door. Jim had disappeared, presumably into the house.
“Can I help at all?” Trixie asked her, as she got out of the van.
Diana shook her head. “No. We’re fine. You can leave.”
The rudeness of the reply shocked Trixie into motionlessness, but only for a few moments. She followed Diana to the front door, but lingered just outside. She could hear Jim encouraging Mr. Wilson to take a few more steps.
A short time later, he came into her view and Trixie could not help but gasp at the sight of him. He seemed, somehow, to have shrunk – his stooped posture and bowed head made him appear smaller and more vulnerable. As he walked, he muttered something under his breath that Trixie could not quite make out. He did not seem to notice Trixie’s presence, but Jim gave her a sharp look and shook his head. She retreated around the corner of the house, on the opposite side to the drive and watched from there.
Jim helped the old man into the van while Diana locked up the house. In another minute, they were gone and Trixie was left to her own devices. She glanced at her watch. She had, perhaps, ten minutes to look around before Moms started missing her. With that in mind, she walked quickly to the back of the house.
She had never been into the back yard before and looked around curiously. Aside from the scratched marks on the back door, everything seemed neat and tidy. A potting shed, close to the back of the house, held every tool in its own place. The chickens, in their old but serviceable run, cheeped at her. She checked their food and water and saw they had plenty. The garage was empty, save for a collection of garden tools, but that was no surprise. Mr. Wilson’s eyesight had not been good enough for him to drive for nearly ten years, now, and he had sold his own car long ago.
She followed the drive all the way to the road without noticing anything else of interest. With another glance at the time, she decided she could look around for just a minute or two longer, so she walked along the road towards the path that led through the Preserve. Hearing voices, she stopped short, still out of sight of the path.
“I’m sorry, officer. I had no idea,” a male voice said.
“There are plenty of signs posted,” another voice, presumably belonging to the police officer, answered. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. But first, do you have some identification?”
“Ah, no. Not on me at the moment. My wallet got stolen a few weeks back and I haven’t been able to replace any of my ID yet. But my name is Anthony Simmonds – S-I-double-M-O-N-D-S. Middle names Lionel Patrick, if that makes a difference.”
“Address?” asked the officer.
“None, at the moment. I’m originally from around here, but I haven’t lived here since I was a kid. Say, is this land owned by the Nesbitts still? Cause I’m sure they’d let me stay. I was friends with Jake when we were at school together.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Shame. I’d have liked to have caught up with Jake.”
“I need to ask you a few questions, Mr. Simmonds.”
“Sure. Anything you like.”
“Have you see this woman this morning?”
“No. Until you came, I haven’t seen a soul in days.”
“Have you ever seen her?”
“No.”
“Actually take a look, Mr. Simmonds.”
“I did. But I haven’t seen her.”
“How long have you been camping in the woods here?”
“A few days. A week, maybe. I don’t keep track of time. No point, really. I have nowhere to be.”
“You sure it’s not longer than that?”
“Could be. Like I said, I don’t keep track.”
“And what does the symbol mean that you’ve carved into the tree?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t carve it.”
“Are you suggesting, Mr. Simmonds, that that mark appeared by itself?”
The man laughed. “Of course not. Look, it puzzles me too. It looks kind of familiar, but I’m not really sure what it is. And it made me wonder who it was who took the trouble of sneaking into my camp while I was asleep and carving it, but who didn’t take or damage anything – or anyone – else.”
“It appeared in the night.” The voice of the police officer was flat and disbelieving.
“It did.”
“And have you seen anyone else around here, anyone at all?”
“Hmm. There was an old man. I saw him once or twice. I thought he was Mr. Nesbitt, but now I’m not so sure. He didn’t see me. Then there was a young bloke. Early twenties. Dark hair. I thought he looked suspicious.”
“No one else?”
“Not a one.”
“I will need to know where to find you.”
With a jolt, Trixie realised that not only had she overstayed the time limit she had given herself, but the conversation was almost over and in moments she would probably be discovered eavesdropping. She turned and jogged back to her car. Just as she was about to start the engine, she saw a solidly-built police officer emerge from the path. He waved at her to stop and strode up to the driver’s side window.
“Yes, officer?” Trixie asked, through her rolled-down window.
“What are you doing here?” the man asked.
Trixie looked at his name badge, which read ‘Sergeant W. Molinson’. “Well, I came to pick something up from Mr. Wilson’s and now I’m taking it home again.”
The sergeant glanced at the house and frowned. “There’s no one home.”
Trixie nodded. “But there was until just before. Diana packed overnight bags for her brothers and sisters before she left and my mother got me to come and pick them up.”
He looked in at the back windows, where she had pointed.
“Name?”
“Trixie Belden,” she answered.
“Licence?”
She pulled it out and handed it to him. He examined it carefully, wrote down the details in his notebook, then handed it back.
“I’ll be at home if you need anything else,” she offered. “We’re just around the corner on Glen Road.”
He nodded and waved her on.
By the time she arrived home, she had her excuses for how long she had been all ready, but the effort of composing them was wasted. She drove up the drive into a scene of chaos. Brian and Mart stood, one on either side of Honey, and both of them seemed to be shouting at her. Honey, for her part, had both hands covering her face and her shoulders hitched with sobs.
“What’s going on?” Trixie demanded, after jumping out of the car and leaving the door open and engine running.
“I lost them!” Honey wailed. “One minute they were here; the next minute, we can’t find them anywhere!”
“The boys?” Trixie asked. “Well, I told you they were up to something.”
“I know, but–”
“It’s his fault,” Mart accused, pointing at Brian. “He distracted her.”
“If you–” began Brian, but Trixie cut him off.
“Who cares whose fault it is. Start looking! Brian, you go towards Ten Acres. Mart, you go towards the lake. Honey, you go towards the stables. I’ll go towards Maypenny’s. If you don’t find them, come back here.”
“That sounds like a good plan, Trixie,” her father commended, from right behind her. “If you don’t mind, I’ll take your car and drive along Glen Road. Your mother is keeping the girls quiet inside.”
She nodded her approval. “Okay. Let’s go, everyone!”
As her path, at the beginning at least, was shared with Honey’s and Mart’s, Trixie set off at a jog. Once she branched off onto her own path, she slowed to a walk, calling the boys’ names every so often. She had to wonder whether that would be a help or a hindrance. She was certain they had disappeared on purpose and would probably hide if they thought someone was looking for them. She called Larry and Terry’s names more often, in the hope that they would at least feel guilty and show themselves. Bobby would not have the same consideration for his own sister.
Eventually, she reached Maypenny’s. She stopped and helped herself to a drink of water, but did not see the elderly gamekeeper or anyone else. She looked around the clearing at the surrounding woods. She didn’t think the boys could have wandered this far, but you never knew. And, while the man from the camp couldn’t possibly have gotten back on foot before she got back in the car, he’d had plenty of time to walk somewhere else by now. Further, Trixie knew better than to leave the path alone, especially when she wasn’t carrying any supplies. With a heavy sigh, she retraced her steps.
Near the bottom of the trail, a figure stepped out from between the trees, into her path. Startled, Trixie stopped short. Only a moment later, she breathed a soft sigh of relief: it was only Dan.
“You should go home,” he told her.
At once, Trixie bristled. “Why? Aren’t I capable of finding my way around by myself?”
Dan shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. But that sounds a lot like an admission that you can’t.”
She felt a blush stain her cheeks and tried to step past him, only to find her way blocked.
“Let me through!”
He shifted his weight, standing far too close to her, but Trixie’s annoyance did not let her step back.
“Just wait and listen for a minute,” he chided.
Trixie gritted her teeth. “I said, let me through!”
Dan grinned down at her. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
Her temper snapped and she punched him in the arm, hard. He did not flinch.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he told her, turning and walking away. “But I could have told you a thing or two; things you want to know.”
“You’re infuriating.”
He shrugged, still walking away. “The feeling’s mutual.”
Before she could think of any response, Jim arrived, at a jog. He stopped running when he saw Dan, but looked at Trixie.
“Oh. I guess you’ve already heard.”
Trixie knew that her confusion probably showed on her face. “Heard what?”
Jim cast Dan a funny look. “That Dan found the boys and brought them back.”
“No, he didn’t tell me. He was too busy insulting me.”
“You make it so easy,” Dan quipped.
Trixie rolled her eyes at his back.
“Well, come back with me, both of you,” Jim requested. “There’s something strange going on and I think we need to compare notes.”
Dan hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
They walked the return journey in silence. As they neared, it became clear that Brian, Mart and Peter had resumed their work on the house. The outside repairs were almost finished and Trixie knew that her father wanted the first coat of paint applied that day. She followed Jim into the kitchen, but noticed Dan hanging back.
“You are allowed inside,” she told him.
He eyed her for a moment, then nodded and stepped into the house.
“I’m so, so sorry, Mrs. Belden,” they heard Honey saying as they entered the living room. “I didn’t mean to let them out of my sight and it can’t have been for even a minute.”
“It’s not your fault, Honey,” Helen answered, sounding as if she had repeated the assurance a few times already. “But Bobby has some explaining to do and I will be speaking to him about this later.”
“Can we please talk about that now, Mrs. Belden?” Jim asked. “I want to know where the boys were going.”
“Just around,” Bobby answered, looking sullen. “Nowhere special.”
Trixie, who had still been watching Dan, narrowed her eyes. “You know, don’t you Dan?”
“What makes you say that?” Dan replied.
Bobby, on the other hand, snorted. “He doesn’t know anything!” A moment later, he realised his mistake and hastily added, “Because there isn’t anything to know.”
“Spill,” Trixie ordered. “I don’t care which of you does it, just tell me.”
“We weren’t going anywhere!” Bobby almost squealed. “We just wanted to go for a walk.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“It’s true! Really. Isn’t it, guys?” He turned an appealing look on Larry and Terry, both of whom shifted uncomfortably. “Isn’t it?”
Again, Trixie shook her head.
“Where’s our sister?” Larry asked.
“She’s waiting at the hospital with your grandfather,” Helen explained. “It’s going to take a long time, but she’ll come back as soon as she can.”
“I wish Dad was here,” Terry added. “Nothing like this ever happens when he’s around.”
Trixie frowned. “Stop changing the subject. Where were you going?”
“Doesn’t she ever give up?” Larry muttered to Bobby, but Trixie heard him.
“No. I don’t.”
“We don’t know anywhere around here, so we couldn’t go anywhere,” Terry tried to explain.
“Way to drop me in it!” Bobby grumbled under his breath.
“You were already in it up to your neck,” his sister told him. “So, where were you going?”
Bobby glanced around himself, as if to look for an escape route, then let out a big sigh. “Fine. We were looking for their Mom.”
“You were what?”
“You heard me.” Bobby scowled at her. “None of you were doing anything. And I know this great hiding place.”
“Where is it, Bobby?” Jim asked, his voice gentle. “Can you take me there, please?” He glanced to Trixie’s mother. “If that’s okay, that is.”
Helen considered for a moment. “Just Bobby.”
“And me,” Trixie added. “Honey will stay and help you, Moms.”
“Of course, I will,” Honey agreed. “Though I’ll understand if you don’t trust me, after the last time you trusted me and I wasn’t trustworthy at all.”
“Of course I trust you, Honey. And yes, Trixie, I suppose you can go, too.”
“Thanks, Moms. Come on, Bobby.”
“I didn’t agree to this,” he answered.
“Yes, you did. Now, come on.”
She took him by the arm and led him out the back door, not bothering to check whether Jim followed. It turned out that both he and Dan were behind them.
“Do we really have to do this?” Bobby asked, now that their mother was out of earshot. “It’s a cool place and I don’t want to share it with…”
“Old people,” Trixie finished for him, grinning.
Jim remained serious. “I think it might be important.”
Dan nodded agreement, but did not speak.
“We won’t tell, unless we have to,” his sister wheedled.
Bobby rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll show you. It’s this way.”
They followed him out of the yard and into the surrounding woods, soon turning off the main trail that led between the houses and onto a smaller path. A little further on, they branched off again onto a faint track.
“Quiet, now,” Bobby whispered loudly. “We’re getting close.”
Trixie smirked at her little brother’s attempt at stealth, but followed along nonetheless. Moments later, however, she froze and grabbed Bobby’s shoulder.
“What?” he griped, trying to shake himself free.
“There. On the ground,” Trixie whispered. She gestured over Bobby’s shoulder, trying to get Jim who was behind her to look. “The symbol again.”
Scratched into a bare patch of earth was the same arrangement of circles as on Mr. Wilson’s doors and on the tree at the hidden camp.
“Don’t stand on it,” Jim urged. “Come back here, Bobby, and let one of us take a look.”
“But we aren’t there yet,” Bobby answered, standing his ground. “Who cares about lines in the dirt?”
“Let me take a look,” Dan asked, from the back of the group.
Trixie tugged on Bobby’s arm until he gave up his position and switched with her, then she pushed him past Jim and Dan. At last, they reversed their previous order and Dan got a look at the sign.
“I thought so. It’s a witch mark.”
“We have witches?” Trixie asked, looking all around as if she might spot one.
“Not that sort of mark. It’s supposed to protect you from witches and demons and stuff.”
Trixie peered around Jim to stare at him. “How do you know this?”
“How do you know things that you know?” he snapped back at her.
She rolled her eyes. “Do you have to be defensive about everything?”
“Do you have to be combative about everything?”
Jim held up both hands. “I feel like I’m standing between two yowling cats.”
“Mrrow!” Dan made a fair imitation of an angry cat and surprised a laugh out of Trixie.
“Now, can we just go and take a look at the place Bobby was taking us, please, and get out of here?” Jim wondered. “I’m beginning to feel like this wasn’t the best idea.”
They walked carefully around the mark and entered a small clearing. In the hillside, which rose sharply on one side of the clearing, the mouth of a small cave gaped. Right outside the cave, someone had constructed a firepit, which still held the ashes of a fire.
The youngest member of the group looked around in disappointment. “There’s no one here.”
“You haven’t been burning things here, have you Bobby?” his sister asked sharply.
Bobby shook his head. “But it would be cool to.”
“Whoever’s been here, they haven’t made much effort to put this out,” Jim noted, poking at the cold ashes. “It’s just been allowed to die down on its own.”
Trixie stared at the same spot. “It looks just like the one at the other camp.”
Jim nodded. “This isn’t the place I’d choose to camp. That cave would be an ideal home for wild animals.”
“I think it has been.” Trixie leaned closer, frowning. “What kind of tracks are these, Jim? Hey! Could this be Honey’s pig?”
Dan stared at her as if she was mad. “Honey has a pig?”
She shook her head. “No, of course not. She saw something that she thought was a pig, but we’re pretty sure it wasn’t. Did you ever identify it, Jim?”
“Not definitely,” he answered. “And this looks like the same tracks we saw over by the Wilson property. Whatever it is, it has different numbers of toes on different feet.”
“What?” Trixie shook her head. “That’s impossible! It must be two different animals.”
“No. In fact, it supports my theory that it’s a tapir. They have four toes on their front feet and three on their back feet. But I think it’s a calf, which would explain why it’s so small – an adult would be about three feet high at the shoulder – and also why both you and Honey described it as being striped. And there’s a zoo that’s missing an eight-month-old tapir calf, after its handler disappeared. I think it would still be young enough to be striped.”
“A striped pig.” Dan looked from one to the other. “Why would anyone think a striped animal was a pig?”
Trixie shook her head. “It’s not striped like a zebra or a tiger. It’s just got kind of streaky marks along its body. Haven’t you ever seen a piglet with patches of different colours?”
Dan thought for a moment. “No.”
“Well, they do, sometimes.” She turned sharply. “Robert Belden, where do you think you are going?”
Her brother at once tried to look innocent, but failed miserably. “Just over here. Nowhere at all, really.”
“Have you seen everything you want to see?” Trixie asked, looking at Jim. “Because I think we’d better take Mr. Not-doing-anything-at-all back to Moms before he gets any more smart ideas.”
Jim nodded agreement and they set off.
Honey met them at the door when they arrived back at the farm.
“Did you find anything?” she asked, after Bobby went inside to talk to the other boys.
Jim shook his head. “There’s a disused campsite, and some tracks of the animal, but nothing much else.”
“Except for the guy who was watching us,” Dan corrected.
Trixie and Jim both turned on him in alarm.
“What! Why didn’t you say something while we were there?” Trixie looked wildly over her shoulder, debating whether to go back. “What was he wearing? It might have been the same guy who was watching here earlier.”
“Someone was watching here?” Jim demanded. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Trixie waved the matter away. “He left. And he wasn’t close by. But I still want to know why Dan didn’t say. And what the guy was wearing.”
Dan shrugged. “I didn’t see him. I just knew he was there.”
“Oh, this is just great,” Trixie grumbled. “There’s all these clues almost right on top of us and you don’t say anything until it’s too late.”
“I thought you’d rather not be kidnapped or murdered or something,” Dan answered, “but next time, I’ll know better and just leave you to your fate.”
Trixie rolled her eyes. “Very funny.”
“But if the same animal had been there, does that mean it’s somehow connected to the other camp?” Honey wanted to know.
“I’m sure it is,” Trixie answered. “It even had the same witch sign.”
Honey’s eyes widened. “It had what?”
“I guess you’d call it an anti-witch sign, actually,” Trixie decided. “It was scratched in the path here, but I saw it on a tree in the other camp. And, of course, on Mr. Wilson’s doors.”
“What!”
“Sorry, Hon. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that part, yet.” She described the mark, adding, “Dan says it’s a thing to keep away witches and evil spirits.”
Honey turned to Dan. “You’ve seen these somewhere before?”
Dan nodded. “My mother was pretty superstitious. They’d been passed down in her family, somehow. There were others, as well, but that’s the one I remember the best. You’re supposed to put them on the doorways and near the chimney to confuse the spirits and keep them out, but Mom used them more for luck.” His brows drew down. “Didn’t work.”
Trixie opened her mouth to remark about how easily he told Honey when he’d refused to tell her the answer to almost the same question, but decided not to at the last moment.
“So, whoever is camping in the woods must have taken Mrs. Lynch,” Honey deduced, “since the same sign is appearing everywhere they’ve been. Maybe the police have been out to his camp already and found him. Maybe it’s all over and we just haven’t heard.”
Trixie shook her head. “I talked to the police officer… uh, Sergeant Molinson, I think his name was. He talked to the guy but just let him go. Anthony Simmonds is behind all this. I just know it.”
The other three shared a confused look.
“Who?” Honey asked, at last.
“The guy at the campsite. That’s his name.”
“And how did you find this out?”
“Oh, I overheard him talking to the police officer,” Trixie airily admitted.
“Not going to ask,” Dan muttered.
“And it’s all completely obvious what’s happened here,” Trixie continued. “Anthony Simmonds has come back from South America after being away from Sleepyside for years and years and thought he’d camp out at the Nesbitt’s. But he’s really superstitious and so when he saw Diana’s mother, he thought she was Jake’s sister and that she was the witch and so he kidnapped her and is holding her hostage in the woods.”
For a long moment, none of them answered. When they did speak, it was all at once and no one could understand what anyone else said.
“Please can you explain that so that we can understand,” Honey urged, when a silence fell. “I don’t know any Nesbitts or people called Jake, or their sister, or anything about South America!”
“Well, that’s where tapirs come from,” Trixie answered, as if it was completely obvious.
“Or Malaysia,” Jim added.
Trixie screwed up her nose. “Well, maybe he came from there instead. When you see the tapir, you can tell us what kind it is.”
“But all that other stuff?” Honey prompted.
“When I heard Anthony Simmonds talking to the police officer, he said that he thought he was on the Nesbitt land and that Jake had been his friend and the family would let him stay. And there’s no other houses nearby, so Mr. Wilson’s house must have been it. And he said that someone scratched the sign on the tree while he was sleeping, but that’s just ridiculous. So I’m sure it was Anthony Simmonds who’s responsible for everything that’s happened lately. There just aren’t any other strangers around.”
“Except the Lynch family,” Dan corrected. “And me, of course. And the guy who was watching us.”
Trixie frowned. “I forgot about him. Oh! But it was probably Anthony Simmonds himself. He’d have had time to get over here.”
“But he wouldn’t have had time to get there and back between when Diana’s mother went missing and when the police officer talked to him,” Jim pointed out.
“Which is okay, because she wasn’t there.” Trixie glanced out at the surrounding trees. “He must have another camp somewhere, closer to the Wilson place.”
Jim considered this for a moment. “You think she’s all right, then? That she’s still alive?”
Honey shuddered. “I sure hope she is.”
But Trixie just nodded. “I’m sure she is. Mr. Wilson’s just feeling bad about something else. Maybe his wife died in an accident and it was his fault and their daughter was named after her and that’s why he kept saying she’s dead – because he’s talking about his wife and not his daughter and we already know that she’s dead; or, at least, I guess we know that, because everyone always talks about how unfortunate he is, in a way that makes you think that she is. So, who’s coming to the library with me?”
“What?” asked Jim, surprised at the sudden change of subject. “Why do you want to go to the library?”
“To look up the high school year books, of course. I didn’t get a look at him and I need to know what Anthony Simmonds looks like. Or, at least, what he did look like, when he was in high school. And we can look for Jake Nesbitt’s sister while we’re there, to see if she looks like Mrs. Lynch.”
“I need to stay here and help your mother,” Honey reminded her. “And maybe you should ask her if it’s okay to go before you make plans.”
Trixie wrinkled her nose, but bounded inside to ask.
“Moms, do you need me to pick anything up? I just need to go to the library for a few minutes.”
She watched as her mother considered the request.
“I suppose you can go. But only if Honey is willing to stay.”
“Oh, she is. And maybe Jim will stay, too. He’d be good at keeping the boys occupied. So, is there anything you need?”
Helen wrote a short list. “Be back as soon as you can.”
“Thanks, Moms. I will.”
She raced outside, to where the other three were deep in discussion.
“Honey and Jim, you’re on babysitting duty. Dan, I guess you can come with me, if you want.”
He considered for a long moment, then nodded once.
They got into the car and headed into town. Trixie tried to fill the slightly awkward silence with chatter, but Dan did little to keep up the conversation and it eventually fizzled out. They walked into the library together in silence and found the right place.
“I wonder what year it would have been?” Trixie wondered, running her fingers along the row of books. “That’s my Dad’s year, I think. Would it be before, or after?”
“You start here and work backwards. I’ll work forwards,” Dan directed, pointing to one book.
She did as he told her. For several minutes, they worked together in silence. Dan spoke first.
“I found a Nesbitt.”
“What’s her name?”
“Howard.”
Trixie sighed in disappointment and went back to what she was doing.
“Oh! Here’s my Uncle Harold.”
“Does that help?”
“No. Not really.”
“Jacob Nesbitt.”
“You’ve found him?” she asked, peering over his shoulder. “Oh, and there’s Anthony Simmonds.”
“And Maggie Wilson,” Dan added, pointing.
The small photograph showed a beautiful, smiling young woman who bore a strong resemblance to Diana.
“Let’s take photocopies,” Trixie decided.
She flicked through the rest of the book, but found nothing else that interested her. After taking copies of the pictures of the whole graduating class, she raced out the door.
“I just need to pick these things up for Moms and we can get back,” she told him.
They hurried through the errand and drove back to Crabapple Farm, arriving just in time to see Diana pulling into the driveway.
“Here are your groceries,” Trixie called, as she walked into the kitchen.
“Thank you, Trixie,” she heard her mother call from elsewhere in the house. “Put them away for me, please.”
Trixie did so, taking only a few minutes. She noticed, with a tiny hint of annoyance, that Dan had not followed her into the house and was now nowhere to be seen. Then she entered the living room to find out what was going on.
“I really think you should all stay,” her mother was telling Diana. “I’m sure we can make room for all of you and it would be much better to keep all of the kids together.”
Diana seemed uncertain. “If you’re sure it’s not a bother.”
“Not at all,” Helen assured her, then turned to Trixie. “Diana’s grandfather is staying in the hospital for tests and her father won’t arrive until morning, so I’ve invited them all to stay, at least until then.”
At that point it was inevitable that Trixie would be put to work getting ready for the large number of overnight visitors when the guest bedroom was not fully functional. She barely had time to thrust the small pile of copies into Honey’s hands, let alone discuss with her in detail the happenings of the day. Before she knew it, Honey and Jim returned to their own home and her brothers and father came in from their work, tired and hungry.
The subject of the disappearance was strictly off-limits in the presence of the children, so Trixie had no chance to talk about it and no one to talk with. Diana would be sharing Trixie’s room and the two eventually went upstairs together to get ready for bed, but not until Jessie and Tillie had been coaxed off to sleep, cuddled together on two pushed-together sofas. Mindful of the sensitivity of the subject, Trixie tried to keep to neutral topics, but Diana herself brought the matter up just after the lights went out.
“Do you think I’ll ever see my mother again?” her small voice asked, from the darkness on the other side of the room.
“Yes, I’m sure you will,” Trixie answered, fervently hoping that was true. “She’s not far away; I can just feel it.”
“I hope so.” Diana sniffed. “I want to tell her I’m sorry for how angry I was with her. If she ever comes back, I’ll do whatever she wants and I won’t ever complain again.”
“I’m sure it will be okay,” Trixie answered, as her own tears fell.
Continue to Part four.
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