by Al Turner
“You’ve read it before, haven’t you?”
Carson decided it was time to confess. “Okay, Mother caught me reading it a couple of months ago, after I returned from my last storm chase. I was looking for a pair of shoes to borrow and came across it.”
“She let you read it?”
“No, of course not. She was pissed. I only read some of it before she snatched it and hid it in a better place. I guess she figured I’d never find it in their secret underground lair.” Carson laughed as she said it.
Tripp looked at her disapprovingly. “So that’s the reason you and Mom have been at odds. You invaded her personal thoughts, so naturally she’s been upset. Which makes me wonder about your anger issues. I’ll assume you read something in those pages that sparked some animosity toward her.”
“Do we really want to go into this?”
“No, there’s a more pressing matter to discuss.” Tripp closed his eyes as though debating how to proceed. With a deep breath, he took the plunge. “Pops called Uncle Joe with news last night. You were already asleep, so we agreed not to wake you.”
Carson’s heart went into her throat. “What happened?” She braced herself for the answer.
Tripp found it difficult to say the words. “Mr. Sanchez is dead.”
Carson gasped as the words came out. She neither spoke nor moved as she absorbed their impact. The tears snaked down her cheeks. She finally sat on the couch, her head in her hands, and cried.
Tripp put his arm around her. Their uncle and Daniel appeared from a back room. No words were needed to tell them what was wrong. They all gathered around Carson and mourned the loss of their dear friend. Although Joe barely knew Sanchez, he understood the pain of losing someone much loved.
Carson slowly pulled away and wiped her eyes. She allowed anger to replace her sorrow. “If that bastard Mark did this, he’s going to pay. Do you hear me, Tripp?”
“I hear you, sis.”
“Daniel, when we catch up to him, you hold that little prick while I beat him to death. You got that?”
“Carson,” Joe said firmly. “It wasn’t Mark who did this. I believe he’s dead as well.”
“Then who did?”
“Pops believes very dangerous people are on our trail.”
Carson stood up and took a couple of steps back. “This is all my fault. I insisted we do this. He’d be alive today if I weren’t such a selfish bitch.” The tears streamed down.
“It’s not your fault,” Daniel said.
“Shut up. Don’t be nice to me. I deserve the guilt.”
“Nonsense,” Tripp said. “Your actions had nothing to do with Mr. Sanchez’s death. His own involvement put us on the same trail he was on. The only thing our choices could have affected was ourselves.”
Was it true, or was he was just saying what he thought she needed to hear? The others waited while she considered his words. Before long, she reached a conclusion.
“You’re right, Tripp. Thank you.”
“We can head back home and offer our condolences. I’m sure after everything settles down, we can revisit any unanswered questions.”
“No.”
Tripp started to speak but was silenced by Carson’s raised hand.
“You listen to me, all of you,” she said, emphasizing each word. “Whoever murdered our friend may come for us. That won’t change, regardless of what we do next. Poppy is welcome to send whatever resources he sees fit to aid us, but I’ll finish what we started. I won’t live in fear of whatever assholes may come our way. That would only dishonor Mr. Sanchez’s sacrifice.”
The three men looked at one another and nodded. She had rapidly switched gears. Daniel was the first to get up and return to the server room. Tripp hugged Carson and followed.
Joe sat, a grin forming. “We expected the resistance, but that was a damn fine speech.”
“You just like tough girls.”
“If you’re referring to Wanda, I only wish she had the heart my niece does.”
Carson smiled but moved past the compliment. “Somehow, these people will pay, Uncle Joe.”
“I know,” he said and stood up. “I’m going to go fetch us some lunch while the geeks work on that computer. Want to join me?”
“Thanks, but I’m going to check every inch of this place.”
***
The server room turned out to be little more than a study. They found an older PC tower locked behind a glass cabinet. Tripp easily picked the simple lock. As for breaking into the secured machine, it would take more work.
While Daniel got to work on the task, Tripp left the room to check on his sister. He found her headfirst in a closet. She had already pulled out most of the contents and stacked them in the hall. “Anything of interest?”
Carson paused when she heard his voice. “Not in the closet itself, but have a look-see at what was behind all this junk.”
“Are you okay, sis? You probably need more time to process what’s happened.”
“Are you going to look or not?”
Tripp peered inside and saw a safe painted to match the white concrete wall it was embedded into. It had a peculiar lock mechanism. He moved closer and studied it. “I won’t be able to pick this lock,” he said. “I’m guessing, but what unlocks this is likely a disc-shaped object, similar to a hockey puck but slightly smaller. It should have several teeth or pins, ranging in number from a few to many.”
They searched for such an object but couldn’t find it. As they started to clean up their mess, Putter walked in. He lingered, as though wondering what they had been up to. Carson walked up to him as Tripp finished putting things back in their place.
“Hi, Putter,” she said and slapped him on the shoulder.
He adjusted his glasses as he surveyed the mess. “What are you guys doing in here?”
“Did you know there’s a hidden safe in that closet?”
“No,” he said. “I don’t mess with things that don’t belong to me.”
“You haven’t seen a hockey puck with teeth, have you?”
Putter looked at her in confusion. “A what?”
Tripp and Putter discussed what she was referring to. Carson retreated, shaking her head. “At least there’s one other human in the world who can communicate with you,” she said, eyeing Tripp.
She wandered over to the wall across from the hall closet and noticed a picture of a clock tower. “I’ve seen this picture somewhere before.” Then it came to her. “Dad has this exact same picture in his study at home.”
Carson removed the picture from the wall, but she found nothing behind it—no hidden safe. She started to replace the picture but felt something in the back of it. She turned it over and found an old key embedded in the cardboard backing. She pried it out and showed it to Tripp.
It was long with an engraved round bow on one end and a single wavy bit on the other. “Cast iron,” Tripp said as he examined it. “Nice weight. Whatever lock this fits would be easy to pick.”
“My grandmother has a clock with a key kinda like that,” said Putter.
“Clock!” exclaimed Carson as she retrieved the key and put the picture back on the wall. “There’s a clock tower across the street.”
“Of course. It’s a famous landmark around here.”
“That’s where we’re going.”
“What do you hope to find in the museum?”
“It’s a museum?” Carson’s enthusiasm only increased. “So there isn’t a bunch of cops over there?”
“Just one near the entrance,” Putter answered, looking unsure.
“Good—we can work with those odds. Come on,” she said and tugged at Tripp’s arm.
“Wait,” said Putter, confused. “That clock is far too big for a key of that size. Also, you can’t tour the clock tower, only the lower levels.”
“I’m aware of that, nerdling, but I’m betting this key being hidden behind a picture of the same clock tower isn’t a coincidence. This may be the key, in the lite
ral sense, to finding whatever unlocks that safe in the closet.” Carson took her phone out and made a call as she headed for the door.
Tripp believed it was a long shot but still feasible. “Who are you calling?”
“The Pops emergency service. We’re going to need a new ride once we find what we’re looking for.”
“We can all travel together in Uncle Joe’s car.”
“I like to control my own destiny, thank you.” She walked out the door.
Tripp gave a deep sigh as his sister stood outside the doorway and waited. “Let me apprise Daniel of our plans.” He found his friend in the server room and updated him. Daniel chose to stay and work on the machine. As Tripp rejoined Carson, he passed by Putter and thanked him.
“Good luck, whatever it is you guys are chasing,” the man said with a wave.
“Oh, my sister will tell you that luck has nothing to do with it,” Tripp said. He closed the door and followed her down the steep staircase.
LIKE CLOCKWORK
The old Denton courthouse sat on a courtyard surrounded by four streets that formed a perfect square. Built over a century before, the structure, with its limestone walls and sandstone-capped columns, rose above the several oak trees that dotted the well-kept lawn. The clock tower, its highest point, had four faces. The historical building had been converted into a museum years before and was a popular hangout for families and local college students. All around were shops, eateries, and, of course, bars.
Carson and Tripp stepped through the glass door, crossed the street, then skirted a yoga class on the courthouse lawn. They went around to the southern entrance of the building, and once inside, passed a single guard, who also happened to be a Denton police officer.
Tripp had to wait while his sister flirted with the young policeman. The officer smiled as Carson, feigning bashfulness, walked on. Quickly but gently, she elbowed Tripp’s rib cage. “We’re not going to have any problems in here,” she said, smirking.
“Don’t mistake a man’s flirtatious gestures for a sign he’d hesitate to carry out his duties,” Tripp said.
“You really do underestimate the power of a woman,” Carson said with a hint of haughtiness. She swayed her hips as she walked, knowing the policeman’s eyes were glued to her.
“I await the day that routine backfires.”
“Not today, little brother.”
From the floors to the custom wood-paneled walls, everything about the multistory courthouse breathed its history. The twins started at the center of the first level, peering up into the open rotunda that cut through the floors above them. There were many things to see, which meant as many places to investigate. They started with the exhibits on the first floor and moved along to the offices still used by city employees. On the next level, there was an old courtroom, complete with a surrounding galley. Along the walls was a visual history of the judges who had presided in the chamber.
After about half an hour of exploring each exhibit and room on the floors accessible to the public, they were still no closer to finding the elusive key. Carson wanted to go up into the clock tower, but it was gated and tourists weren’t allowed in.
“Why can’t we just pry the damn safe open?” Carson asked in frustration.
Amazed, Tripp said, “You saw it. It’s solid steel and built into a concrete wall. Besides, we don’t know if some mechanism would set off an alarm or even destroy its contents if we tried.”
“This seems like a dead end.” Carson rolled her eyes and walked up to the black metal spiral staircase. “Give me a boost,” she said, glancing back.
“If memory serves, this was your suggestion,” Tripp reminded her. He lifted his sister’s thin frame over the rail of the staircase, bypassing the gate that blocked their path at the bottom. It took him a bit longer to climb over, even with Carson’s help.
Climbing the tight, spiral staircase, they headed up the first two levels of the tower—which were empty—before coming to a room that housed the inner workings of the clock itself. Tripp had to stop and investigate the gears while Carson decided to open the nearest window.
She stepped out onto a veranda that provided a nice view of the Denton courthouse square. After surveying the area, she returned inside to find Tripp staring straight up. Their remaining journey required a climb up two more flights by ladder. They proceeded to the next level which housed a large bell.
“I don’t want to be anywhere near that thing when it goes off,” Carson said.
Tripp nodded his agreement and they continued up until they reached the top and found they were behind the clock facing itself. There were four different clock faces—one for each direction.
Tripp and Carson examined the room carefully. Aside from old brick walls that the large clock faces were embedded into, there little else to look at. As they resigned themselves to starting their journey back down, something caught Tripp’s eye.
Reaching up, he examined some scratches on a brick in the corner. “It looks like a shield or banner, perhaps. These marks may represent three birds,” he said pointing.
“How did you get all that from that terrible drawing?” Carson asked, unimpressed by the discovery.
“If I’m not mistaken, this is a rudimentary drawing of the Page family crest,” Tripp said, but then grinned. “Or it could just be what’s engraved on the iron key’s bow.”
“Smart-ass.”
Running his hand over the spot again and again, he confirmed what he had hoped. “This appears to be a colored plaster meant to match the bricks around it.” He pounded his fist into the wall, making Carson jump. After a few more hits, he was able to brush away the damaged plaster.
Carson tried to figure out what he was doing and stood on her tippy-toes. “Well?”
Tripp pulled out a pocketknife and began clearing the area around a keyhole. “You were correct.”
“I was?”
“Indeed,” Tripp said as he inserted the iron key in the keyhole. With a little effort, it turned and locked into place. He used it as a handle and pulled outward. Dust and plaster rained down, revealing a short drawer in the wall. He reached into it and triumphantly handed Carson a round metallic object.
Carson cupped it in her hands as if it were a delicate treasure. It was heavier than it looked, and one side was smooth, while the other had several points sticking up.
She counted the points. “Eleven teeth,” she said, smiling, and handed it back to him.
Tripp took it, raised his shirt to expose a fanny pack, and tucked the object inside. “Let’s get back to the loft.”
They descended the tall ladder and reached the level with the veranda. This time, however, they had company—two bald men dressed in dark slacks and jackets. The taller one had a long face, while the shorter one was round from head to toe. The men stood silently, gazing at them from behind the sunglasses they wore.
“Not again,” Tripp said with a sigh.
Carson tried to appear oblivious to the fact that the men didn’t work for the museum. She smiled as she tried to walk around them. “I know we’re not supposed to be up here.”
The men blocked her path to the spiral staircase. One pushed her backward as she tried to move past him.
“We’ll pay the fine and be on our way.”
Tripp knew the men weren’t buying it. They obviously were the ones who had been tracking them. “It seems warm for jackets.”
“It is,” said the shorter one as he produced a gun. Carson and Tripp stepped back with their hands up.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” the taller one asked. His partner gave a grin that showed off his gold tooth.
Tripp stalled, trying to think of a way out of their predicament. “We did enjoy the historical and architectural aspects of the building. Plus, exploring the clock tower was almost like hunting for treasure.”
The shorter one addressed his colleague. “Paul, what should we do with our young explorer?”
“He seems like a smart-a
ss, James. Maybe we just grab the girl and throw this one away.”
James peered over the guardrail, through the octagonal hole that exposed the floors below. It was several stories straight to the bottom. “We can let him explore gravity.” Both snickered.
Tripp sensed Carson’s anger, but she was forcing herself to be cool and sultry. “I’ve got a better idea. Maybe we can work something else out,” she said as she ran her hand down James’s arm.
“Sis, what are you doing?” Tripp said through his teeth.
James looked at her and laughed. “You’re not my type.”
Carson seemed confused by her total lack of appeal to the man. She backed up to the window behind her and climbed out onto the veranda before either of the men could react. “I’ll scream, you pricks,” she yelled. “Then I’ll jump!”
“Go get her, James,” Paul said as he grabbed Tripp, pushed him against the wall, and poked a revolver in his midsection.
James crawled halfway out the window, one foot still inside. Carson stood up on the ledge and almost lost her balance. The man froze as if uncertain what would happen if he continued outside.
“Not another step,” she said.
James looked back to his partner, who seemed equally confused.
“Tell her I’ll throw her brother to his death,” Paul said.
“She might jump if I say that,” James whispered. “Bad things will result if something happens to either of ’em.”
Paul slapped his own forehead in frustration.
Tripp observed that this kidnapping attempt differed from the first one. He had been convinced Mark would have shot him. These men, however, had been bluffing, undoubtedly to get them to cooperate.
Knowing this, Tripp found the courage to roll the dice. “Sir, you should allow me to go out there and retrieve her.”
Paul studied Tripp with a skeptical look. He raised the pistol and held it to Tripp’s chin. He drew closer, his breath pungent. “And why would you do that?”
Glancing down, Tripp noticed the man’s finger never touched the trigger. “Because she’s my sister, and I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to her.”