The Secret (Seacliff High Mystery Book 1) (11 page)

“He’s trained really well. He should make a great guard dog once he matures a little,” Trevor observed.

“Thank you for finding him for me. I’m enjoying him so much. It’s a whole new experience to wake up to a dog staring you in the face.”

“He stares you in the face?” Trevor asked.

“He sleeps next to the bed, and he’s a really quiet sleeper, but once he wakes up and needs to go out, he’ll put his head next to mine on the bed and wait for me to acknowledge him. I usually feel him breathing on me. But I don’t mind. He gets so happy when I finally open my eyes. I can’t tell you how great it is to wake up each morning to someone who’s so thrilled to see me.”

“My fish pretty much ignores me,” Mac grumbled.

“Here we are,” Trevor announced. “I’ll go in first, in case there are any creepy crawlies. Once I get in, I’ll check around, and if everything looks okay I’ll give you a yell.”

“Sounds good,” the girls agreed.

Trevor got down on his stomach and squeezed through the small opening. After a couple of minutes they heard him yell for them to follow him.

“After you.” Mac motioned to Alyson.

She took a deep breath and slithered through. The tiny entrance gave way to a huge room with two tunnels leading off into the dark cave.

The first thing Alyson noticed was the rest of the body they’d first stumbled across outside. “Who do you think it is?” Alyson looked toward the disheveled pile of bones.

“Ew,” Mac said as she joined them. “It looks like he was torn apart.”

The trio walked over to get a closer look. “What’s that?” Alyson asked, pointing her flashlight at something shiny near the skeleton’s chest.

Trevor bent down to get a better look. “Some sort of medallion.” He gently lifted it from the skeleton, trying not to disturb the remains any more than they already were. “Looks old.” He wiped his thumb across the dirt covering it to get a better look. “There’s the image of a ship with the words
Santa Inez
stamped on the bottom. Wait. There’s a date.” He spit on the medallion and wiped it on the leg of his pants. “Eighteen twenty-six. Wow, that’s old. And it looks like real gold.”

“Who do you think he was?” Alyson queried.

“Maybe a pirate. Or a smuggler,” Mac guessed. “If the rumors are true about Jedediah Cutter’s illegal activities, this guy might have been one of the smugglers.”

“But why was he just left here in the cave?” Alyson shivered. “Why didn’t someone bury him?”

“Who knows?” Mac shrugged. “Maybe he tried to double-cross old Jedediah, so he killed him and left him here as a warning to anyone else who might have similar ideas.”

“Okay,” Trevor interrupted. “Now we’re just making stuff up. Anything could have happened to this guy. We have no way of knowing, so let’s just stick to what we do know.”

“Which is?” Alyson asked.

“That we found a cave in the side of the cliff face, and it contains a dead guy who probably was a sailor and probably lived in the eighteen hundreds. There may or may not be something in here from Barkley’s time. I suggest we look around, but for now stay in this large area. I don’t think we should wander back into the tunnels until we’re prepared, with better equipment.”

The trio spent the next twenty minutes searching the floor and walls of the dark, damp cave. The main room was large enough to walk around in comfortably, but it was obvious that many of the arms that sectioned off from the main room were much smaller.

“What’s that dripping sound?” Mac asked.

Everyone stopped to listen.

“It sounds like water dripping,” Alyson observed. “I think it’s coming from the tunnel to the left.”

“We’ll have to check it out another time,” Trevor said. “I really don’t feel prepared to go back into those tunnels now. Who knows what’s back there?”

“I found something.” Alyson held up a box about the size of a small toolbox. “Of course it’s locked.”

“It doesn’t look particularly old or valuable, so I vote we break the lock,” Mac said.

“Let’s take it back to my house. I’m sure I can find some tools to open it with.”

“What should we do with him?” Mac asked, gesturing toward the skeleton in the corner.

“Nothing for now,” Trevor said. “He’s most likely been here for over a hundred years. A few more days while we decide what to do won’t hurt. Maybe we should bring the arm in here, though.”

They crawled back through the opening, and then Trevor went back through with the arm. Once the site was camouflaged with nearby brush, they headed back toward the house.

“I think there are some tools out in the old carriage house.” Alyson walked toward the crumbling building to the right of the main house and muscled open the large barn-style door. She walked toward the back, where a dilapidated toolbox was sitting atop an equally dilapidated metal counter. “There should be something in here.” She rummaged through the box. “These should do.” She held up a rusty pair of bolt cutters.

Trevor set the metal lockbox on the counter and, taking the bolt cutters from Alyson, squeezed down tightly until the lock popped. Trevor slowly opened the box, with Alyson and Mac looking on expectantly. Sitting right on the top was a large brass key.

“The key to the chest,” Alyson whispered. She lifted it out and examined it.

Directly under the key was a small black leather journal. Mac took it out and opened it. “The pages are all written on, but this definitely isn’t English.”

Beneath the journal were a couple dozen coins. “It seems our smuggling theory is starting to get some teeth after all,” Alyson said.

“What’s under the coins?” Mac asked.

Trevor set them on the counter next to the box and took out the old hand-embroidered handkerchief, folded into quarters, which had been beneath it. Cradled inside was a photograph of a woman with dark hair and eyes leaning against the railing in front of the house. She was smiling in a way that seemed to indicate she shared a joke with the photographer. The house was in much better repair in the picture, so it must be fairly old.

“Is there any writing on the back?” Alyson asked hopefully.

Trevor turned the picture over. “No.”

“Who do you think she is?” Mac wondered.

“Maybe it’s Mary,” Alyson ventured.

“We don’t even know for sure this box belonged to Barkley,” Trevor reminded them.

“Maybe there’s a clue in the journal.” Alyson opened the book to the front cover, but the owner’s identity wasn’t clearly evident. “If we can figure out what language this is, maybe we can have it translated. It might give us some clues.”

The final object in the box was a legal document, folded in half. Alyson took it out and unfolded it. “I think we have our proof.”

The document was a handwritten birth certificate, dated September 12, 1955. On the line indicating the name of the baby, it just said Jonathan, no last name. The line next to the father’s name had been left blank, and the one next to the mother said Mary Swanson. Toward the bottom of the certificate was a place for the name of the attending physician. The name Stella Townsend had been printed neatly.

“Why do you think the father’s name and the child’s last name were omitted?” Mac asked.

“Maybe that was part of the deal Barkley made with Mary,” Alyson suggested. “Or maybe in exchange for the monthly support check he was to have nothing to do with the child.”

“Then why does he have the birth certificate?” Mac retorted. “If he truly wanted to wash his hands of the whole thing, why hang on to this rather incriminating piece of evidence?”

“I suppose we may never know,” Alyson said.

Trevor began carefully placing the contents back into the box. “Let’s go see if this key opens that big trunk in the attic. Maybe we’ll find some answers there.”

They walked quietly back to the house and up the stairs, each deep in their own thoughts.

“I thought I heard you guys come back,” Alyson’s mom greeted them as they filed in.

“I think we found the key to the trunk.” Alyson held up the shiny brass object

“Where did you find it?” her mom asked.

They looked silently at one another, and Alyson decided it was time to come clean. Her mom had supported her to this point, and she deserved to know. Alyson filled her in on all the details she was missing. To her mom’s credit, she didn’t blink an eye when they told her about the cave and its current resident. Then the four of them went up to the attic and gathered around the trunk. Alyson slowly slipped the key into the heavy lock and gave it a hard clockwise turn. The lock popped open.

“Wow,” Alyson said when she’d opened the trunk. “I had a lot of ideas about what might be in here, but never in my wildest dreams did I picture this.”

She lifted out a long white christening gown. The entire trunk was filled with baby clothes, baby blankets, even baby toys.

“Do you think Mary brought Jonathan here to live after he was born?” she whispered.

“Looks like.” Her mother lifted out a well-preserved brown teddy bear with a bright red ribbon around its neck.

“But if Barkley acknowledged his son, why isn’t the birth certificate fully filled out, and why doesn’t anyone know about Jonathan?” Mac wondered.

“We know Mary moved up to Washington about a year after Jonathan was born. Maybe they just agreed to a trial run, and the birth certificate would be completed and Jonathan acknowledged if things worked out,” Trevor guessed.

“Now who’s creating stories to match the evidence?” Alyson teased.

“Maybe the Stella Townsend is still around,” Mac speculated. “If we could find her, she could probably fill in the missing pieces to the puzzle.”

“We could check the telephone directory. Or ask around in town if that doesn’t pan out,” Mac suggested.

They carefully folded and replaced the contents from the trunk, then filed downstairs in search of a phone book.

“There isn’t a listing for a Townsend.” Alyson closed the book in frustration.

“Maybe someone in town remembers her and knows what happened to her,” Mac said.

“Ben.” Alyson opened the book, searched for the
W
s, and started dialing. “Mr. Wilson,” Alyson began when he answered, “this is Alyson Prescott. I came by with my friend Trevor the other day.” She stopped to listen. “Yes, it was fun. I have another question for you, if you have a moment.” She paused. “I’m sure you are. Hey, listen, do you remember someone from about the time we were talking with you about named Stella Townsend?” Alyson wrapped the phone cord around her finger as she listened. “You don’t say. Do you know where we might find her now?” Alyson picked up the message pad by the phone and started to write. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.” She stared at the clock over the kitchen sink. “Yes, we’ll have to do that. . . . Yes, I promise. . . . Okay, good-bye now.”

Alyson hung up the phone and turned toward the others. “It seems Stella Townsend was a midwife. Unfortunately, she moved out of town quite a few years back, and Ben isn’t sure where she went. He did say that Stella has a daughter who still lives in town. Her name is Ashley Kent.” Alyson opened the phone book to the
K
s. “There’s only one Kent listed, so that must be her. I’m not sure this is a phone call type of conversation, though. Maybe we should wait until tomorrow to see if we can talk to her in person.”

“We have a half day at school tomorrow,” Mac reminded her. “Should give us plenty of time to try to talk to her before the game.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Mac looked at her watch. “I’d better get going. My mom’s not much of a cook, but she likes us there to eat what she makes.”

Alyson saw Trevor and Mac off, then returned to the house to see if her mom was ready to go into town for dinner.

After several hours and four test-drives, Alyson decided on a four-door Jeep Wrangler. The four-wheel-drive vehicle had enough room for all of her new friends and Tucker in the back. It was white with a soft top, so she could go topless in the summer. Thanks to her very generous mom, she also had a top-of-the-line stereo installed, as well as a GPS navigation system.

After a celebratory dinner with her mom, Alyson called her new friends to tell them about the newest addition to her family as soon as they got home.

“Wow, that’s great,” Mac congratulated her. “My car is a hand-me-down from my hippie grandmother. I love my car for its sentimental value, but it’s kind of small and tends to be temperamental.”

“Your car has character,” Alyson commented. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my new car, but if I had the chance to own a hand-me-down from a grandmother I’d take it.”

“Is your grandmother still alive?” Mac asked.

Alyson hesitated. While her grandmother was alive, she believed that
Alyson
was dead.

“She’s alive, but we aren’t close,” Alyson compromised.

“That’s too bad. Is there any family you are close to? Other than your mother?”

“No. Not really. Did you hear from Eli?” Alyson decided it was best to change the subject.

“I did. He talked to his brother and he’s agreed to do a little snooping for us tomorrow. He said he’ll introduce us to him after the game.”