by Todd Borg
I suddenly felt that the weight of justice was on my shoulders. Which principle was greater? The right of the world to the artifacts of one of the world’s greatest explorers? Or the right of a child to the promise of an adult?
Phillip and I looked at each other for a long moment while I fought an internal wrestling match. Finally, I held the dagger out to him.
“I’m not very good at throwing,” he said, taking it in his funny hand. He stood up, gripping the dagger awkwardly between his misshapen thumb and two fingers and gave it a hearty toss. The dagger traced a shallow arc over the water. There was a flash of gold and red and then it plunked into the water with barely a splash.
Spot lifted his head at the noise and saw nothing but the three of us staring at the water. He put his head back down on the seat.
“What about the box it came in?” I said. “Do you want to sink that as well?”
Phillip picked up the box and ran his fingers over the intricate designs. “No. This box is neat. I think I’ll keep it.”
I started the engine, shifted into forward and eased the throttle up.
“Now can I give it to him?” Phillip hollered over the roar of the engine.
I nodded.
Phillip reached into Street’s canvas tote. He pulled out a paper bag, unfolded the top and gently removed a large Danish.
Spot went from casual awareness to Red Alert.
Phillip gave it a little toss and jerked his hand back to safety.
Spot caught the Danish in midair.
When we got back and had the boat stowed in the boathouse, Phillip and Spot bounded out onto the dock and ran up the snowy path toward the Salazar mansion.
Phillip had left his things on the boat seat. Street picked up his pack. I took Captain Cook’s box. I opened the lid and touched the fabric. It was worn smooth where the dagger had rested. I gave the box a shake.
Street looked at me.
I pinched the fabric and lifted one corner. It was glued in place. Angling the box for better light, I saw several small drops of glue on the edge of the fabric, drops that did not look like they were 200 years old. My pocket knife sliced through them easily. I pried up the fabric and the thin wooden board it was attached to.
Underneath was a slender leather notebook. The letters MT were embossed on the cover. Street’s intake of breath was audible. I pulled the notebook out and opened it up.
All but four sheets of paper had been torn out of the notebook. The handwriting was messy. The title on the top of the first page said, “The Amazing Island Boy And His Trick Wood.”
The writing filled both sides of all four sheets. At the end it was signed Mark Twain.
We didn’t have time to read it. I stuffed the notebook inside my shirt.
“We need some way to glue the fabric back down,” I said.
“I have some nail hardener that will work,” Street said. She dug in her canvas tote and pulled out a little bottle. She used the little brush to dab where the fabric met the edge of the box.
“Phillip doesn’t know the notebook was in there, does he?” Street said as we walked up the path toward where Phillip and Spot were playing in the snow.
“I’m sure he has no idea.”
“Are you going to tell him?”
“Certainly,” I nodded. “When he grows up. About eighteen years from now.”
About The Author
Todd Borg lives with his wife in Lake Tahoe where they write and paint.
To contact Todd or learn about the other Owen McKenna novels, please visit toddborg.com.
Titles by Todd Borg:
TAHOE DEATHFALL
TAHOE BLOWUP
TAHOE ICE GRAVE
TAHOE KILLSHOT
TAHOE SILENCE
TAHOE AVALANCHE
TAHOE NIGHT
TAHOE HEAT
TAHOE HIJACK (August 2011)
This book is for Kit
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe heartfelt thanks to several people for editing and critique.
Kate Nolan is a rare judge of how fictional characters work, and her observations about my characters made this a better story.
Liz Johnston provided much thoughtful comment along with thorough copy editing. She is more perceptive than she knows and she helped a great deal.
Jenny Ross explained how Tahoe-area law enforcement works. She deserves credit for whatever I got right, while any mistakes I made are all mine. In addition, she had many helpful suggestions for which I’m very grateful. This is a much better book as a result.
I’d like to thank Keith Carlson for another great cover and interior map. He made helpful comments on the story as well.
Thanks also to my agent Barbara Braun. As always, her observations helped me write a better novel.
Further thanks are due to Amber Bradford and Abby Gallup who keep the world turning while I write.
Last, special thanks go to my sweetheart Kit whose ear for story, character and dialogue has much better pitch than mine. She takes the roughness out of my rough drafts, smooths out my rewrites and puts the polish on the final edit.