The Nightmarys (22 page)

Wel … that’s probably true.”

Abigail stood up. “Mr. Hesselius …”

Abigail stood up. “Mr. Hesselius …”

Timothy’s nerves suddenly tied themselves up

again. “We’re here because we’re trying to nd

out what happened when your father was …

sent away. We spent the morning at the col ege

library researching as much as possible about

him. Timothy accidental y stumbled upon his

old o ce. Gavin, the librarian, said he’d shown

you around the place a couple of months ago.

Is that true?”

The old man was quiet for several seconds.

T im othy could hear his own heartbeat

drumming in his ears. Way to get right to the

point, Abigail, he thought.

“Now, now,” said Jack, impressed, glancing

at Timothy. “You’ve got yourself a sassy

girlfriend.”

“She’s not my—” Timothy started, but Jack

interrupted.

“It’s true. I read in the papers about the

reappearance of my father’s belongings.” He

paused. “Why are you so interested? What’s so

important that you’d spend your Saturday

important that you’d spend your Saturday

morning at the library?”

“It’s hard to explain,” said Timothy.

“I real y shouldn’t talk about it. My lawyer

…”“Mr. Hesselius—” Abigail said.

“Please, Hesselius was my father,” said the

old man. “I’m Jack.” He sighed and nodded.

“To answer your question, yes, the librarian

was kind enough to al ow me access to the

room.”

Abigail leaned forward. “Did you nd

anything important?” she said slowly, as if her

questions might scare him away. “Anything

your father wouldn’t have wanted anyone to

know about?”

Jack snorted in surprise. “What are you

get ing at?”

Abigail started to reach into her back pocket.

Timothy’s mouth went dry. She pul ed out the

three basebal cards. Timothy clutched at the

kitchen table. “Do these look familiar?” She got

kitchen table. “Do these look familiar?” She got

up and crossed to the oven.

“Where did you get …?” Jack was stunned.

“Did you take those from the o ce?” Without

hesitation, Abigail handed the cards to the old

man.

“Not to keep,” she said. “Just for …

reference.”

Jack’s hands shook as he examined the

players’ faces. “Carlton Quigley. Bucky Jenkins.

Leroy Fromm.” He looked up. “The Diamond

Stars. These guys were Daddy’s favorites. He

used to take me to games in Boston. I actual y

saw them play. These cards were very

important to him. His pride and joy. I could

never forget these,” he said, his voice shaking

with emotion. “Thank you for bringing them

back to me.”

Very quietly, Abigail answered, “You’re

welcome.”

Jack’s reaction to the cards made Timothy

feel safe again. The old man looked truly

happy. Timothy stood up and said, “The cards

happy. Timothy stood up and said, “The cards

were in a frame. The frame blocked a safe built

into a bookshelf. Gavin said the safe was

locked.”

Jack smiled. “Until I got there, it was,” he

said. Abigail glanced at Timothy, confused.

“These cards are more than just cards. They’re a

clue my father left me a long time ago. It took

me forever to gure it out. But the discovery of

that room in the library certainly helped. I

never even knew about it until I read about it.

Pity they kept it sealed up al these years. So

much wasted time.”

“A clue?” said Timothy. “What kind of clue?”

“When I saw the frame, I was able to nal y

gure it out,” said the old man. “Each player

has a number on his jersey. First, second, third

base. Jenkins, Quigley, Fromm. The safe’s

combination.”

Timothy tried to keep his voice even as he

said, “So the safe wasn’t empty?”

“Of course, my lawyer would kil me for

tel ing this to anyone…. But you kids look like

tel ing this to anyone…. But you kids look like

you can keep a secret,” Jack whispered. “Am I

right?” Without hesitation, Timothy and Abigail

both nodded. “It was my father’s journal,” he

added.

“Your father’s journal was in the safe?” said

Abigail.

“I slipped it into my coat pocket when that

librarian wasn’t looking,” said Jack. “No one

ever suspects the old man.” He winked. “We

get away with so much.”

“What was in the journal?” Timothy asked.

“Proof,” said Jack simply. “That my father

was as human as the next. He was no monster.

He loved me. He was distraught about Fred, my

twin brother, who was kil ed in the war. I

didn’t serve. I’m not yel ow or anything. Got

the at feet. It was a di cult time for me back

then. People can be cruel.” He shuddered, then

continued. “The book was l ed with pages

upon pages of how much my brother and I

meant to him, how much he missed Fred, what

he would give if only he could have changed

he would give if only he could have changed

things.” The old man stared at the oor. “I

would have done anything to make him happy

again. I’ve spent most of my life fol owing in

his footsteps. Studying what he studied.

Learning what he knew. Finding that journal

changed everything….”

“The journal didn’t mention anything else?”

asked Abigail. Timothy knew what she wanted

to ask. But how could they possibly bring up

the Chaos Tribe, the trial, and Delia’s resting

place without seeming crazy themselves, or at

least total y insensitive?

“See it for yourself,” said Jack, grappling his

walker’s handles and shu ing the metal frame

toward the kitchen door. “I think Jenny, my

nurse, put the book in the upstairs of ice. I can’t

make the stairs, but you’re welcome to go nd

it.”“O-Okay,” said Abigail. She glanced at

Timothy. He nodded. Maybe there was

something in the journal that could take them

to the next step.

to the next step.

Jack led the kids back into the foyer. He

pointed up the stairs. “Al the way to the top.

Door’s the only one in the hal way. I think the

book is on the desk near the window. Bring it

down, would you? I’d like to look at it again

myself.”

Together, Abigail and Timothy climbed the

wide staircase. Each step creaked. At the rst

landing, an entry led to a short hal lined with

closed doors. Timothy glanced up the next set

of stairs. At the top landing, he could see the

open door Jack had mentioned. It must lead to

the room with the octagonal window over the

porch. Timothy had a strange feeling. Why

would an old man in Jack’s condition purchase

a tal house like this? Sure, Jack had mentioned

that his nurse helped him out, but stil , why not

live in an apartment like Abigail’s

grandmother? He scrambled to fol ow Abigail

up the stairs.

Jack cal ed to them, “You make it?” At the

top, Timothy glanced over the railing. The old

top, Timothy glanced over the railing. The old

man waved from the foyer. “It’s a hike. I stil

haven’t been up there,” he said. “Stupid of me

to buy a three-story house at my age, but I just

fel in love with it. It’s nice and quiet at the end

of this street.”

Timothy’s stomach ut ered. Jack had just

answered his question. Weird …

“Jenny said she put the book on the desk,”

Jack cal ed, his voice growing faint as Timothy

moved away from the railing and fol owed

Abigail into the large empty room. “Do you see

it?”Bare wooden beams held up the violently

pitched roof. The wal s slanted al the way to

the oor—raw, dusty planks. The desk sat

underneath the window. Abigail stopped in

front of it.

“Is it there?” Timothy whispered.

Abigail shook her head. She picked

something up and turned around. In her hands

was a familiar book. Timothy froze when he

saw it; his feet stuck to the oor. It was not the

saw it; his feet stuck to the oor. It was not the

notebook Jack had mentioned. He tried to

reach out and take it from her, to see if his eyes

were playing tricks, but he couldn’t even do

that. His arms went dead.

These cards are more than just cards. They’re

a clue my father left me a long time ago.

Looking at the cover of The Clue of the

Incomplete Corpse, he wanted to start laughing,

or crying, or shouting … anything to rid himself

of this dreadful feeling. But he could barely

breathe.

“That looks like the same copy I found in the

museum,” Timothy whispered. “Flip through it.

Find 102, 149, and 203.” Abigail opened the

book. When she reached those pages, the faint

pencil markings made everything clearer. “He

said his father gave him a clue a long time ago.

This book! Hesselius must have somehow

got en a copy. He wrote the names of his

favorite players in it, expecting that his son

would nd the cards in his o ce. Al Jack

needed was their jersey numbers and eld

needed was their jersey numbers and eld

positions to gure out the combination. The

thing was, Jack never found the o ce. He

never learned what his father wanted him to

know … until a couple of months ago.”

“But then where’s the journal …?” Abigail

asked, her voice trailing o as she glanced past

Timothy’s shoulder, her mouth dropping open.

Timothy spun toward the at ic door. To his

horror, Jack stood there wearing a strange

smile. He was no longer hunched and wobbly;

in fact, at his ful height, he looked tal and

strong. He held on to the doorknob, blocking

the only way out. “Right here,” he said. With

his other hand, he revealed a smal leather-

bound book. “Ful of secrets.” Timothy felt

Abigail grab his hand.

Jack reached into his pocket, pul ing out the

three basebal cards. “Earlier this week, after I

dropped my book at the museum, I told you,

Timothy, that you shouldn’t take things that

don’t belong to you. You don’t listen wel .”

Timothy felt his own skin shrink. It was him.

Timothy felt his own skin shrink. It was him.

The shadow man in the museum, and the

locker room … maybe even the man he’d seen

coming out of the Mayfair apartment building.

This was the man with the jawbone, who had

used Abigail’s fear of the Nightmarys to make

her believe this was al her fault. And he was

no ghost.

“Don’t worry, Abigail,” said the old man. “I

was never going to hurt you—a lesson I learned

from my father. I’m not even going to touch

you. Now that you know the truth, now that

you fear the place where your end wil come,

the journey is inevitable. You’l probably just

walk there yourself. Your fear wil be your

guide. And you won’t have Granny to stop it

from happening this time.”

Keeping rm hold of her hand, Timothy

stepped forward. “She has me,” he said as

loudly as he could manage, which wasn’t very

loudly at al .

“Oh, she has you, does she?” the old man

asked, amused. “Wel then, maybe you can go

asked, amused. “Wel then, maybe you can go

with her.” He paused, considering them. “It’s

funny how things work out, don’t you think?”

He stepped backward into the hal way and

closed the door. The lock turned. His footsteps

creaked down the stairs.

36.

Timothy pounded on the door, and Abigail

kicked at it. For almost a minute, they shouted

for Jack to come back up and let them out,

even as Timothy realized how foolish they

were being. As if the old man would real y

change his mind. They leaned against the door,

exhausted and frightened. Timothy spent

several seconds trying not to say “I told you so.”

Final y, Abigail turned to him and said,

“Wel , at least now we know.”

“Now we know?” said Timothy. “Know

what?” He was shocked that Abigail could

sound so mat er-of-fact.

“Everything, pret y much,” she said. “And

when you know stu , you can use it against

people.”

Abigail laid the puzzle pieces out. Jack had

said the cards were a clue his father had given