Hannah took a few deep breaths, letting them out slowly through pursed lips.
All right.
When she calmed down, closed her eyes, and let the needle of her inner compass point the way, there was one direction that felt more in, and one that felt more out. If she kept going in she would have to reach the pond soon, and from there perhaps find a different path, or at least orient herself toward the city. And search for the treasure. Out, on the other hand, would certainly be the safer choice. But it also meant failure.
What was she doing? What did she hope to find? A pile of jewels just sitting out here in the middle of the park? Hannah looked over her shoulder and thought about going back. But then what? Where could she go for the money? Who could she turn to?
No. She had to keep going. Deeper.
She reached out and bent off a twig from a nearby branch. She coiled her braid up on the crown of her head and stuck it in place with the stick. She bent and tied up her skirts to keep them from snagging and tripping her. Who was out here to see her ankles, anyway?
She followed the terrain down little draws and back out again, over white and gray boulders splotched with yellow lichen, and through scented pine thickets. A short time later, as she crested a low rise, she caught a glimpse of blue through the trees. She craned her neck and squinted at a patch of smooth water. It had to be Grover’s Pond. She wiped her brow and sighed.
She started down the little bluff and strode into a sunny glade, smiling. She caught sight of something large spread out on a rock to one side. It moved as she turned to look at it.
An enormous cougar rose to its feet.
Hannah stared at the beast, feeling as though all her body had stopped working. Her heart. Her breath. All of it frozen. The beast was longer than she was tall, from nose to black-tipped tail, all tawny fur and heavy paws. It stared at her, eyes golden, unblinking.
Hannah lurched backward, arms in front of her like a shield. Her mouth was open, but she was afraid to make a sound. The cougar padded toward her. Its lips rippled and then lifted in a snarl. Hannah stared at its long white teeth.
She heard a sound nearby. What was it? A fiddle? Out here?
“Help!” she shouted.
At her outburst the cougar flinched. Then it roared, a sound to tear the air apart between them. It dipped its shoulders low to the ground, haunches high and taut. It crept toward her, shifting its paws like it was looking for the right footing.
The violin had stopped. She had imagined it.
“Help me!” she shouted.
The cougar roared again and seemed ready to lunge.
Someone appeared out of the trees on Hannah’s right. A boy. Familiar.
“Pullman!” he shouted. He bent and scooped up a rock, never taking his eyes from the animal. The cougar had changed its posture, ears back, eyes darting between Hannah and the boy. “Hold still,” the boy said to her.
Hannah nodded.
A third figure entered the clearing, a man dressed in leathers. He held a rifle at his shoulder, sighting down its barrel. “Steady, now,” he said. “She knows what this is. I’m going to fire a warning shot.”
A deafening crack, and Hannah flinched. A plume of smoke, and a spray of dirt kicked up from the ground near the spot where the cougar had been crouching. The animal had already vanished into the trees.
The man lowered the rifle. “Everyone all right?”
“Yes,” said the boy.
Hannah took longer to respond. “Yes.”
“Good.” The man peered into the trees. “Follow me back to Alice’s.”
Alice?
Hannah and the boy fell in line behind the man in leathers. She trembled and made fists to tame her hands. Her heart still raced. She reined in her breathing, feeling as if she were stepping down from a knife edge. The attack had happened so fast there had been no time for thought, but now thoughts came in a suffocating rush. A cougar. She could have died, been clawed and chewed, eaten, gone. Her mother and father had no idea where she was and never would have known. With the thoughts came tears, and the boy stared at her.
“You all right?” he asked. His eyes fell to her ankles.
She let her skirts back down, embarrassed. “I’m fine.” They walked in silence.
A short distance later she saw a small cabin. Gardens surrounded it like a wreath of flowers and vegetables. Hannah smiled. It had to be the same Alice. The sight of the flowers cast off the last edge of panic, and she finally relaxed. A little path led from the cabin door down to the edge of Grover’s Pond, a mirror of water in the middle of the park. Hannah wanted to head down to it that moment and start looking for clues. The map in Grumholdt’s office had an area circled up on the north side.
“I have a few questions,” the man said to her. The muscles on his jaw tightened. “Have a seat, if you please.” He motioned toward a bench in the flower garden. “You too, Giuseppe.”
Hannah did not have time for questions. But she sat down, and the boy plopped down next to her. He smelled like he had skipped a bath too many weeks in a row, and she realized where she had seen him. The cemetery, at Mister Stroop’s tomb. And here he was at Grover’s Pond. Had he been carrying a fiddle when she saw him before?
“First,” the man said to her, “I’m Pullman. The park warden. What’s your name?”
“Hannah.” She turned to the boy. “You’re Giuseppe?”
He nodded.
“Was it you I heard playing?”
“Yep,” he said.
“You heard me call for help?” she asked.
He nodded. “Then I called Pullman.”
“Good thing I was here,” Pullman said. “Mirabel looked awful agitated.”
“Mirabel?” Hannah asked.
Pullman pointed off into the trees. “Mirabel. The cougar.”
“You named her?” Giuseppe asked.
“Sure. There’s only a few left in these parts. Not hard to keep ’em straight.”
“Why didn’t you shoot her?” Hannah asked.
“I just said there’s only a few left. The park needs her.”
Hannah did not understand that.
“How’d you come to be in that clearing with her?” Pullman asked.
“She was lying on a rock in the sun.” Hannah shrugged. “I think I startled her.”
“Probably did,” Pullman said. “But that doesn’t answer my question. Just what are you doing out here?”
Why was this park warden being so rude? “Begging your pardon, sir, but that is my business. What matter is it to you?”
He leaned forward, hands on his hips. “It matters to me because it matters to the park. Say I’d come a second later, what then? Mirabel would have been on you, and I would have had to shoot her dead.”
Hannah would probably have also died. But it seemed he forgot to mention that.
“So I’ll ask again,” he said. “What are you doing out here?”
Hannah looked at Giuseppe. “I’m searching for something.” The boy showed no sign of recognition or reaction, but he had to know about Stroop’s treasure. First, the cemetery, and now all the way out here. Why else would he be in both places?
“What’re you looking for?” Pullman asked.
“I’d rather not say.” But she had to start looking for it. Now.
Pullman grunted. “Suit yourself. Two kids in as many days.” He shook his head. “You’ll be all right here till Alice gets back.”
“Where are you going?” Giuseppe asked.
“I need to track Mirabel for a bit and make sure she’s all right. Don’t worry, she’s long gone from here.”
Hannah was glad to see Pullman go, but the boy looked uncertain. Pullman made it seem like the whole incident was somehow Hannah’s fault.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
Pullman nodded. He marched away and left Hannah and Giuseppe sitting on the bench. Neither spoke, and Hannah was not about to be the first. She tried to figure out what to do. How much did Giuseppe
know about Mister Stroop? How could she look for clues with him around?
“You’ll like Alice,” Giuseppe finally said.
“I know her,” Hannah said.
“You do? How?”
“I work — used to work at the Gilbert Hotel. She’s a gardener there.”
He tipped his head to one side. “Oh, so that’s it.”
“That’s what?”
“I knew I’d seen you before. You were the maid in the cemetery.”
She nodded.
“You were looking at Mister Stroop’s tomb,” he said.
“So were you.”
He dropped his eyes to the ground. “Yeah,” he said with sadness in his voice. “Yeah, I was.”
Hannah softened inside. “I, um, never said thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving me from the cougar.”
“Well, Pullman had the gun. All I had was a lousy rock.”
“But you came just the same. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, and there was an impish charm in it. “So, Hannah, what are you looking for out here?”
Hannah leaned back and considered him. There did not appear to be any guile in his question. He had that same restlessness she had seen in the cemetery, somehow swaggering as he sat there fingering the rim of his cap, but innocent, too, like a hound pup still big-eared and big-pawed.
“You really don’t know?” she asked.
“How would I?”
“You were at Mister Stroop’s tomb, and now you’re here.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing about you. I still don’t have a notion of what you’re talking about.”
“I’m looking for Mister Stroop’s treasure,” Hannah said.
Giuseppe blinked. “Mister Stroop had a treasure?”
Hannah nodded. “I was certain you knew.”
“Nope.” Giuseppe seemed to be thinking things over. “But what would his treasure be doing out here?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m looking for, and this could all just be a waste of time.”
Giuseppe hopped to his feet. “Well, whatever it is, maybe I can help you find it.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Well, I could use a bit of treasure, if there’s enough to go around. Forty-five dollars ought to do it.”
Hannah smiled in spite of herself at this scrapper, this wild boy who seemed as much at home in the woods as he did in the streets. She could use the help, and if the treasure lived up to her hopes, then forty-five dollars would be a small price.
“All right, Giuseppe. Here’s what I know.” She told him all about the legend, the tomb inscription, and the map in Grumholdt’s office.
“We better get crackin’,” Giuseppe said. “The north side of the pond?”
“According to the map, if I’m remembering it correctly.”
They skirted the banks, past clutches of cattails and reeds, startling a frog or two into the water. The sky had become overcast and heavy, and a rain-scented breeze came at them. Thunder clapped and tumbled toward them from the mountains to the north, sounding just like Hudson’s ninepins.
“The rain will be here soon,” Giuseppe said. “What should I be on the lookout for?”
“Something out of place,” Hannah said. “I think we should start searching around here. This seems to be where the circle on the map started. I’ll take the bank. You look in the trees.”
They parted. Hannah took slow, wide steps, scanning the ground in front of her. Giuseppe picked along the edge of the wood, darting in and out, lifting branches and pushing shrubs aside. They kept pace with each other, glancing up now and again to shrug or shake their heads. Another peal of thunder shook the sky, and the first patter of rain splashed on Hannah’s cheeks. The clouds had darkened, thick kohl lines across the sky’s face.
Before long they reached the farthest shore and swung around, heading down the other side of the lake. They were leaving the area circled on the map. There was nothing there.
Hannah chewed on her lip. She felt a groan of frustration in her throat, begging to be let out. She could not go back empty-handed. She could not fail her father. She halted her search, afraid to go farther and find nothing. Perhaps she had missed it.
“Hey!” Giuseppe called to her. “Over here.”
“What?” Hannah hurried over to him. “What is it?”
“Something out of place.” He pointed with his toe at a polished stone laid in the ground at the base of a large oak tree.
It was a flat slab of marble, white as sea foam and ribboned with blue and gray. Someone had carved an inscription into its surface, a beautiful script with organic flourishes, and around the text a border of holly leaves. Their style was unmistakable. She knew her father’s work like she knew his face.
“What does it say?” Giuseppe asked.
“Dedicated to Roland McCauley. May his legacy live on in those who share his vision.” She paused, then whispered, “It’s a memorial stone.”
“It looks pretty, doesn’t it?”
“Beautiful,” Hannah said. But how could it be? Her father’s work out here?
The rain began to fall hard, blown sideways in the wind. It wet the stone until the whole surface glistened. Hannah stood there getting soaked, thinking things over. Giuseppe watched her with a puzzled expression, stepping from foot to foot, his hair wet through and stuck to his forehead beneath the rim of his cap.
“So, what next?” he asked.
She lowered to her knees and felt around the edges of the stone. “Maybe it’s buried underneath it.”
Giuseppe crouched beside her. Together, they wedged their fingers under the heavy slab and tried to lift. It would not budge. Hannah strained, and her throat tightened. The forest around her faded, and she stared at the stone through a blurry tunnel. Her hot tears mixed with the cold rain.
“Hey, it’s all right,” Giuseppe said. “Maybe we can pry it.”
Some of her wet hair had come loose from its braid, and it snaked over her face, across her eyes. She wiped it away with the back of her hand. Giuseppe came with a thick branch and a rock. He set the rock down next to the marble, jammed the stick between them, and threw his weight against it. The marble lifted several inches.
“Get something under it,” he said. “Quick.”
Hannah snatched another rock and slipped it under the memorial. Giuseppe eased up and let the slab settle on it. Then they took hold of one side and heaved. The slick of rain made it hard to keep their grip, but they inched the stone up until they were able to tip it over. It thumped on the ground, and the underside crawled with centipedes and pill bugs. Worm trails squiggled through the dirt where it had lain.
Hannah dropped to the ground, scooped and dug with her bare hands. Giuseppe said something about a shovel. She ignored him. She clawed at the soil as it turned to mud in the rain, heard herself whimpering and grunting. Her fingertips throbbed, scraped raw. She shivered and sobbed as doubt crept in like a chill, whispering that the treasure was not there.
Then Giuseppe was there next to her. He was using a trowel he had gotten from somewhere, probably Alice’s. She snatched it from him and drove it into the ground. She felt him staring at her, but she did not care.
She dug, and dug, and dug. One foot deep, then another, until she was leaning halfway into the hole, and still nothing but more dirt beneath her. She felt a hand on her back.
“Hannah?”
She shook the hand off and stabbed at the earth with the trowel.
“There’s nothing down there,” Giuseppe said.
“It has to be!” She kept digging.
The hand on her back again. “I don’t think so.”
Hannah stopped. She pulled up and leaned away from the opening she had made in the earth. “Maybe it’s just buried deeper,” she said.
Giuseppe looked at the hole. “It’s not here.”
Hannah dropped the trowel and hugged herself. She st
arted shaking.
“Come on.” Giuseppe took her hand. “We need to get you out of this rain.”
Hannah nodded and let him lift her to her feet.
It did not seem possible. The treasure was not there. She had come out into the forest seeking a mystery, only to learn that the answer lay in bed back home, unable to speak.
CHAPTER 16
Alice
GIUSEPPE AND HANNAH JOGGED BACK TO THE CABIN TO GET out of the storm. The door was unlocked, and he figured Alice would have insisted they get inside if she were there. He opened the door for Hannah and followed her in. The cabin felt dry and warm but a little dim. Giuseppe ran his hands through his hair and wiped the water from his face.
“Would you like a fire?” he asked.
Hannah sat down at the table, looking exhausted after her frenzy by the stone. She rocked a little back and forth, shivered, and said nothing.
“Hannah?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like a fire?”
She blinked at him. “Yes, please.”
Giuseppe threw some kindling on the morning’s embers and then a couple of small logs. He crouched in front of the hearth until he felt the heat on his face. “There you are. Come closer.”
Hannah scooted her chair nearer to the fireplace. She stared into it, with the same bewildered look in her wide eyes she had when they found that stone, her mouth neither smiling nor frowning, almost as if her lips were waiting to see how she felt. Giuseppe cleared his throat.
“You know something about that carving, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“What did it mean?”
She did not answer at first. “I have to get home.”
“Well, you should at least wait out the worst of this rainstorm.”
She reached up and pulled a stick out of her hair, and her braid slapped her back like a wet rope. “My father made it. That stone out there.”
Giuseppe pulled up a chair. “How do you know?”
“I just do.” She covered her mouth, still shivering.
Giuseppe squirmed a little next to her. She was older than him by a couple of years and very pretty. Water droplets caught the firelight in her lashes and on her cheeks. Her eyes seemed to glow. Giuseppe got up and went to the floor where he had folded his blankets from the night before.
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