Roger still looked reluctant, but nodded. “Well. Fine. I shall take your word of good faith.”
“Right. Now, let’s see what we can find out. Lead on.”
Her admonishment of Roger had distracted Jessalyn from actually taking in what he’d revealed. Behind the tall chair and large painting was indeed, a small door. The lines of the frame blended in nearly perfectly with the wall paneling. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, there was a high chance you’d never find it. She couldn’t think why Ebenezer would need a concealed room like this. Or why a room containing town records needed to be concealed at all.
Roger inserted the key into the lock on the door and turned back the bolt. The door opened inward to reveal a small room, not much bigger than a linen closet. Light streamed in from a high window, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air. To the right, the wall was obscured by a large, green velvet curtain. To the left was a series of shelves that reached from the floor to the ceiling. From this angle, they all looked empty.
The real draw, however, which caught Jessalyn’s attention immediately, was the book that sat open on a table in the center of the room. It was enormous, perhaps close to ten inches thick. The leather of its cover was heavily worn around the edges, and the pages were a gradient of old faded yellow to pale cream. The way the light fell from the window, it seemed like the book was being illuminated from Heaven itself.
“Oh, my Lord,” Jessalyn gasped.
“It is a touch . . . sanctified looking,” said Roger.
Jessalyn looked at the shelves, scanning the few that were at eye level. “Are all these shelves empty?”
“ ‘Records’ room is rather misleading, isn’t it? There’s just the one record, here on the table,” Roger said, gesturing to the book.
“It’s massive,” said Jessalyn, running a finger along the spine. “And it looks like it’s falling apart.”
“You can tell from the binding. They’ve been adding pages to it for a long time.”
Carefully, Jessalyn lifted the front cover of the book, and winced as it creaked and cracked in protest. “These first pages are so old and faded you can’t even read them anymore. How long has this thing existed?”
“Logic would dictate that the most recent entries are at the back,” Roger said. “Shall we flip it over?”
“Let’s.”
Together, they heaved the massive book onto its front cover with the back facing up. It was just as heavy as it looked. Jessalyn opened the back cover and flipped through blank pages until she found some writing.
“You were right, Roger. Here’s an entry for yesterday.” Jessalyn read out the fluid, slanted script she recognized as Ebenezer’s handwriting. “July twenty-fourth, 1862. High sun. Winds from the northeast. Thunder heard by evening. Heavy rainfall by eight. Significant events, births: zero; deaths: zero. Charlie Templeton, injured.”
Roger leaned over her shoulder to read it himself.
Jessalyn turned to some older pages. “It’s been going on for years . . .” The whole thing was quite impressive, really. She wondered if this fastidiousness came with the territory of being the mayor of this town. It certainly suited Ebenezer well. “I suppose we can get what we came for. Weather data. Is there a pen and paper somewhere we could copy down these dates?”
“Ah. Right. Let’s see.” Roger darted back into the main office.
Jessalyn glanced around the records room. There truly were no other books. She stood on tiptoe, trying to see into the upper shelves against the wall. Nothing.
“Here we are, Miss Joy,” Roger said, returning. “One pen, and a notebook—oh.” Roger stood in the doorway, the small notebook open in his hand.
“What is it, Roger?” asked Jessalyn.
He laughed nervously. “This appears to be Mayor Carson’s personal journal. My mistake.”
They held each other’s gaze for a long moment, and Jessalyn knew they were thinking the same thing.
“We’ve already come this far . . .” said Jessalyn.
“This could be a way to clear the suspicions once and for all,” Roger said.
“Go on, then.”
Roger drummed his fingers on the cover of the journal. “In the span of one day, I’ve done so much I must ask forgiveness for. All right.” He opened the notebook and quickly skimmed a few pages. “Hmm. It appears to just be a series of lists for each day. Tasks, meetings, et cetera.”
“What’s on today’s?” asked Jessalyn.
Roger turned to the entry and read aloud. “Meet with Founders in morning. Adjust locks, C seventeen. Twenty-three, nineteen, five. Visit the Templetons. Decide official story. Make announcements around town. Reschedule travel to mountains.”
“Wait, what? Official story? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Roger appeared not to heave heard her, as he flipped through earlier entries. “I didn’t know Mayor Carson was a mountaineering sort. It’s not his first trip either, if these past lists are any indication.”
At this moment, Ebenezer’s lies were more important than his choice in recreation. Jessalyn held out her hand. “Here, get me a blank page from the back. I want to start getting these weather dates down. And maybe we can compare them with the mayor’s activities as well.”
“Certainly,” said Roger, tearing out a page and handing it to her.
Jessalyn went back to the large record book, and began making note of any dates where there was mention of a storm. Soon, her list was long enough to start a second column. Samuel had been right, they were quite frequent. Over the past month alone, there had been nearly three storms a week. Jessalyn scanned the notes for each day, but there was nothing written about the livestock attacks. In a meticulously kept record such as this, it seemed unlikely that such a significant blow to the town’s industry would be left out. The Founders role in this seemed to be growing bigger by the second.
As she wrote, Roger kept examining the mayor’s journal, occasionally thinking out loud. “Adjust locks . . . locks to what?” He was staring at the oddly empty shelving unit. Jessalyn glanced over and saw that he appeared to be counting them. She wrote down a few more dates, turning a page.
“Oh!”
Roger’s sudden shout made her jump. “What?”
He whirled around to face her, arm outstretched. Between his fingers was a small key.
“Where did that come from?” Jessalyn asked, stunned.
With his other hand, Roger brandished the notebook at her. “C seventeen!”
“I need more than that, Roger.”
“I was just thinking, what could that possibly refer to? And then, what are these shelves for, so I began counting. There are twenty-six columns of these smaller shelves here, see? Twenty-six! So, in theory, C could correspond to the third column, yes? And then, seventeen, the seventeenth space up, and I reached in, and there it was!” Roger was practically vibrating with excitement.
Jessalyn only just followed his dizzying thought process, but smiled all the same. “Good work, but what is that a key for?”
“I have no idea. Something of import, if its location was coded,” said Roger.
Jessalyn looked at the other side of the room, completely covered by the green curtain. “Why have a curtain in a room when it’s not covering the only window?”
Roger stepped closer. “It is the only place we haven’t checked.”
Taking a breath, Jessalyn reached out and pulled the curtain to one side.
At first, it seemed to just be a blank expanse of wall. But as her eyes adjusted, Jessalyn could make out the faint outline of a small door set into the wall about four feet from the floor. It was hidden in the paneling much like the door to the records room itself.
Roger saw it as well. Without a word, he took the small key he’d found and slid it into the lock on the left side. The key turned easily, and the lock clicked open.
Inside, they were met with the sight of a dull gray metal
box.
“A safe,” Roger breathed.
Jessalyn took the notebook from his hand and quickly flipped back to the most recent entry. “Adjust locks . . . twenty-three, nineteen, five. Do you think?”
“I mean. It must be. Mustn’t it?” said Roger.
This endless string of mysteriously concealed doors was getting to them. The curiosity was maddening, but there was also a sense of worry. Maybe they were going too far. “Should we try it?” she asked.
Roger held up a finger. “Just to clarify. We are about to open Mayor Carson’s safe, which was concealed behind a hidden panel, behind a curtain, within a secret room in his private office.”
“That about sums it up, yes.”
He looked at her, eyes and smile wide. “This is somehow more exciting than any adventure novel I’ve ever read.”
“This is pretty high caliber excitement for real life, too, Roger,” Jessalyn said.
Roger shook out his shoulders and gripped the safe’s dial. “Right then.” Carefully, he rotated the dial. “Twenty-three, nineteen, five.”
There was a muted clunk, and the safe’s door popped slightly open.
“I suddenly find myself very nervous,” said Roger.
Jessalyn pulled the safe door open the rest of the way. The interior was dark, and she thought at first it might be empty. She reached in, and her hand brushed against something smooth. She grabbed the object and pulled it into the light.
In her hand, Jessalyn held the skull of a large bird.
“Oh, my word!” Roger said, jumping back.
“What in tarnation . . .” Jessalyn looked closer at the skull. The bone was pale yellow-brown. Large empty eye sockets were set on either side of its beak. A large crest of bone protruded from the back of the skull. It was light enough that she could hold it in one hand, but it was long, the beak alone nearly the length of her forearm. Jessalyn had never seen a bird this big. Even the vultures that often circled the skies definitely didn’t have beaks like this.
“It’s very old, but in good condition,” said Roger, also taking a closer examination. “But what are these carvings?”
What Jessalyn had initially taken as natural cracks in the bone were, she saw now, carefully etched lines and symbols. Most of them looked like concentric spirals. Angled lines connected one spiral to another, creating a strange web. They spanned the entire surface area of the skull, some of the ones along the crest inked in dark blue, making them pop out against the pale bone.
Roger peered at the symbols. “As a matter of fact, I do believe I might have seen—” he began to say.
A distant noise caught Jessalyn’s attention. “Shh!”
“What?” Roger whispered back.
Jessalyn paused, straining her ears to pick up that sound again. There it was. A series of loud coughs. “Do you hear that? Someone coughing?”
They both listened. Only this time, they heard voices.
“My goodness, Grace. Are you all right?”
“Mayor Carson! You’re back!”
“No need to shout, girl. I’m not as old as all that.”
Jessalyn and Roger stared at each other, frozen. Ebenezer had returned.
“What should we do?” Roger hissed.
“We have to get out of here.”
“There’s only one way out and it’s the way we came in.”
“Um . . .” Jessalyn’s mind raced. They had to get through the office, the lounge, and the atrium without arousing suspicion. That would be impossible if Ebenezer settled into his office now. “We could say we were waiting for him?”
“What for? And why didn’t we wait in the lounge?”
Those were both good points. They were out of time to think of plausible cover.
Ebenezer’s muffled voice came through the walls once more. “You’re free to leave, Grace. I doubt much business will be happening today.” There was a soft creak as the office door opened.
“Oh, Mayor Carson!” Grace squeaked. “Before I go, uh . . .”
“Yes?”
“When I arrived, I noticed that the, um, the mariposa lilies around the back of the town hall have bloomed.”
“Have they? That’s nice.”
“And,” Grace said quickly, “I remember you saying they were some of your favorite flowers, and, well, would you like to go outside? To see them? With me? . . . please?”
There was a pause that seemed to last an eternity.
“All right. Since you seem so eager. It might be nice to take in some nature for a while. Let’s go have a look.”
The office door closed. Two sets of footsteps grew more and more distant.
Jessalyn finally allowed herself to breathe.
Roger dropped his head back, heavily sighing. “May the Lord bless you and keep you, Grace Templeton.”
Jessalyn thrust the skull back into the safe and pressed the door shut. “C’mon. We have to put everything back and go, now.”
“Yes, yes.”
Together, they scrambled to get the records room back into the shape they’d found it in, and burst back into Ebenezer’s office. Safe locked. Curtain drawn. Key on the shelf. Lock the door. Hang the painting. Put the chair back. Notebook on the desk.
Once they’d finished, there was no time to double check. They would have to hope for the best. “That’ll have to do,” Jessalyn said. “Let’s go.”
“Right behind you,” said Roger.
They ran through the atrium and out into the bright sunshine.
17
EVENING CAME QUICKER THAN USUAL that day. Sam leaned against the fireplace in Jessalyn’s house. The group had agreed to reconvene and share the day’s findings. Jessalyn and Lilah sat in the armchairs, while Roger worked at the kitchen table, going over his own personal notes. Sam felt exhausted. The trip to the ranches and back had taken more out of him than he’d expected. Maybe because his cross-country trek with Sinbad hadn’t been burdened with the extra weight of secrets he wished he didn’t know.
“Miss Joy, that’s amazing!” Lilah said, excited. “You discovered a secret room? And a safe? And Gracie helped you escape? It’s like you’re a spy!”
Jessalyn had just finished recounting her and Roger’s adventure in the mayor’s office. She shook her head. “It’s really nothing to be impressed by, Lilah. It was actually quite foolish of us.”
“Sam and I didn’t have anything exciting like that happen to us. I feel like I missed out, don’t you, Sam?”
Sam flashed her half a smile. “Some folks have all the luck.”
Jessalyn narrowed her eyes at him.
“It’s finished!” Roger announced, standing from his seat and waving his papers in the air. “I’ve compiled everything we managed to learn today. You were right on the money, as they say, Mister Brooks. There is a pattern.”
“Go on, go on,” said Lilah.
“To summarize,” Roger cleared his throat. “For at least his entire length of term as mayor, maybe longer, Mayor Carson has been taking trips up into the mountains once every four months. After his trips, there is always a very large thunderstorm, usually within two days. Other storms take place but never as large. For years, there didn’t seem to be a significant effect on the livestock, at least not enough for anyone to report. However, starting around February this year, that changed. According to the individuals Mister Brooks and Miss Lilah spoke with, each attack did occur during a storm. They also seem to have been increasing in the level of violence. From what I can tell, Charlie has been the only human victim to date, but his attack meets all the previous conditions.”
“Mountains, thunderstorm, dead cattle,” Lilah said. “Like clockwork. Only something’s going wrong, now.”
“It’s too strange to be a coincidence,” said Jessalyn.
“And you said Mayor Carson had written down that he was planning another trip to the mountains?” Lilah asked.
Roger tapped his notes. “Yes, for to
morrow, it seems.”
“Then we have to go, too! We have to find out what he’s doing up there.”
“Is that wise?” asked Roger.
“There has to be a connection,” Lilah said. “We’re never gonna know otherwise.”
“Samuel? You’ve been awful quiet,” said Jessalyn.
Hearing his own name shook him out of his thoughts. “Hm. I agree with Lilah. I think we should tail him. Things were suspicious even before the secret safes and bird skulls.” That part of the tale had weirded Sam out the most. He still didn’t think the mayor was capable of any sort of outright crime, but he was undoubtedly hiding something.
“Grace might know more details about the mayor’s schedule. I can ask her tonight, and we can all meet back here tomorrow and head up after him, real careful like. Just like spies.”
“It may not be the best plan, but it’s our plan,” said Jessalyn. “You still in, Roger?”
“Oh, absolutely,” said the preacher. “I’ve seen too much to say no.”
Lilah hopped out of the chair. “We’ll be back in the morning then! G’night Miss Joy, g’night Sam.”
Roger nodded at them both. “Farewell.” Together, they left.
Sam pushed himself off the wall. He was alone with Jessalyn. It felt like ages since they’d been standing in this kitchen. So much had changed since then.
He had to tell her.
He had to.
Could he?
“Well,” he said after a moment. “Seems like we’ve got a full day ahead of us tomorrow. We should rest up.” He started towards his room beneath the stairs.
“Samuel, before you go, can I have a word?”
Sam turned back to Jessalyn. “Yes?”
“I wanted to thank you. This is all escalating very fast, and the fact that you jumped in so quick to help, even though it has nothing to do with you, well, it means a lot to Lilah. And . . . to me.” She paused. “It’s no wonder I don’t take houseguests more often, look what’s happened.”
Sam couldn’t help himself. “You mean espionage and town secrets weren’t a part of the standard Jessalyn Joy welcome package? Now I feel special.”
Then Came the Thunder Page 11