Colin froze where he stood in our yard as Dr. Girard headed in the opposite direction and down the sidewalk toward his car. As Dr. Girard drove away, Colin ran up the porch steps.
“I hope you won’t be disappointed by what you learn from Dr. Girard, Andi,” Amelie said before she went back inside.
“Is that who I think it was?” Colin removed his glasses and wiped them on his T-shirt.
“Yep,” I said. “And he’ll be back tomorrow afternoon.”
Colin grabbed a handful of Girl Scout Cookies from the tray. “Tell me everything.” He pulled the casebook from his backpack.
I told Colin about my encounter with Dr. Girard. And after a moment’s hesitation, I told him about following Dr. Girard into his office earlier that day. Colin wrote down every word.
During my story Colin had interrupted me every few seconds with questions, but suddenly he got quiet.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Why didn’t you tell me you followed Dr. Girard?”
“I don’t know. I planned to tell you. I wanted to think it through first.”
“We could have thought it through together. I thought we were a team.” He frowned.
“It’s no big deal.” I said.
“It is a big deal,” he insisted. “It makes me think you don’t trust me. And I could have helped you follow Dr. Girard, too.”
“It’s not like we both could have gotten up and said we were going to the bathroom without it looking like something was up.”
Colin snapped the casebook closed. “I was the one who took you to the museum in the first place. If it hadn’t been for me, you wouldn’t even know Dr. Girard.”
“You can’t take credit for that. We met him there by accident.”
Colin folded his arms.
Bergita’s van turned into the Carters’ driveway, and Bethany jumped out of the van. She was smiling as she ran across the lawn, gripping her art case. She pulled up short when she saw Colin and me frowning at each other. “What happened? Did you find out Andora was sold to the circus?”
Colin ran down the steps and back to his own house. Bethany watched Colin go. “I guess I’m not the only one who gets tired of you.”
Before I could respond, she slipped into the house.
That night, I sat in the kitchen long after I should have gone to bed, waiting for Bethany to fall asleep. I didn’t want to talk to her about Colin, or Andora, or most of all about our parents.
I wiped a damp rag over a silver picture frame that I’d found under the bed in the attic. Carefully, I removed the photograph of Andora from the safety of the casebook and placed it in the frame. I set the framed picture on the kitchen counter.
“Who are you? What happened to you? Where are you?” I asked.
Andora stared back at me but said nothing. I hadn’t expected an answer, but I wouldn’t have turned one down either.
Mr. Rochester jumped on the counter and nosed the frame.
“Mr. Rochester, you’re not supposed to be up here.”
“Meow!”
I petted his back. “I promise I won’t tell as long as you won’t tell Amelie how late I stayed up.”
The cat nudged my hand with his head, and I took that as him saying we had a deal.
I picked up the frame and turned off the kitchen light. With the lights off in my own house, I could see into Colin’s house next door. I tip-toed to the window, clutching the picture to my chest. Through the window, I saw the Carter family’s den. Colin’s parents were home. The slim, blond couple sat side by side on the couch reading the newspaper. Colin stepped into the room and asked them something. Colin’s father shook his head. Colin’s face fell. He turned and left the room. His mother never looked up from the paper.
I swallowed as I remembered the last time I’d burst into my parents’ study on the night before they left for their last trip to Central America.
“Mom and Dad! I got an A+ on my science test! Mr. Pearce said it was the best score in the class!” I held the test out in front of me for them to see.
“That’s nice, honey,” my mother said. Then she’d turned and asked my father, “Art, have you seen my field guide to succulents?”
He was bent over his microscope. “I hope you didn’t leave it at the office. We don’t have time to swing by campus on the way to the airport.”
“Do you want to see my test?” I asked.
“Later, Andi,” Mom said.
My arms fell to my side as I listlessly held the test in my left hand.
Dad didn’t look up from his microscope. “We can see it before we leave. Your mother and I are taking the red-eye tonight.”
I crumpled the edge of my test in my hand.
One of Bethany’s paintings hung on the wall behind Mom’s desk. Bethany didn’t understand. I wasn’t the favorite child at all, not even close.
I’d woken up the next day with the test under my pillow. They never did see it.
I went to bed then feeling sorry for Colin, and feeling angry at and sorry for myself.
CASE FILE NO. 16
There was a knock on the front door a little after eight the next morning. Colin stood on the other side of the door wearing his hazmat suit.
“Hi. I’m surprised you’re here,” I said.
“I’m here to help with the attic. I said I would help.” He acted sheepish.
I folded my arms. “If you don’t want to, it’s okay. It’s close to being done now. I can do the rest by myself.”
“Listen, Andi,” Colin said. “I’m sorry about how I acted yesterday. I know what Bergita would have thought if she’d seen it.”
“I have a few guesses, too.” I dropped my arms to my sides.
He swallowed. “I’m not included in a lot of stuff. You know, at school. The kids just think I’m some weird nerd who hangs out with his grandmother and her friends.” He reddened. “So when you didn’t ask me to follow Dr. Girard, I thought that maybe you … had come to the same conclusion.”
I thought about what it must be like to be an only child whose parents are gone all the time. Even when they were still alive, my parents weren’t around that often. But at least I’d had Bethany. She wasn’t much of a companion to me now, but we’d been closer when we were younger. And even now, she was at least someone close to my age.
I grinned at Colin and hoped the grin was enough to let him know that I’d forgiven him. I spun around, leaving the door opened behind me. “You coming or what? The attic won’t clean itself.”
At precisely two o’clock, the doorbell rang. This time I peered through the peephole first and saw Dr. Girard standing on the other side of the door, holding a brown leather briefcase in his hand. “It’s him,” I told Amelie and Colin.
I opened the door.
“Andi,” he greeted me. “It’s so good to see you again. Let’s go straight to the attic, shall we?”
Amelie looked like she was about to say something, so I jumped in, “Okay.” The sooner I showed Dr. Girard the trunk and its contents, the sooner he would tell me what he knew about Andora. At least I hoped he would.
Since space in the attic was tight for more than three people, Amelie volunteered to stay behind. The rest of us trooped upstairs. I climbed up the attic ladder first, followed by Dr. Girard and then Colin. The older man knocked his head on the side of the hatch and swore under his breath. I covered my mouth to keep from laughing, but Colin laughed from below.
Once upright, Dr. Girard ducked to avoid the low spots in the ceiling.
Bright sunlight poured into the attic through the open and recently washed window. I grimaced as I remembered how it took us ten attempts with glass cleaner and about forty paper towels to remove the grime off the glass. A light breeze floated in through the window, but the attic still felt stuffy. I switched the knobs on the fans to maximum power. Dr. Girard tugged at his button-down collar.
“Here’s what we found,” I said.
I showed Dr. Girard the little blue trunk,
which I’d placed on a small end table. He pulled a pair of reading glasses out of his shirt pocket and slid them onto the bridge of his nose. Gently, he lifted out the china doll and placed her on the table beside the trunk. Then he examined the clothes and the wooden blocks.
“Where’d you find it?”
Colin pointed to the cubby door and then opened it by tugging on the string we’d looped through the space where a doorknob had once been. Dr. Girard squatted in front of the cubby, and Colin handed him a flashlight. I sat on top of a nearby dresser and waited.
“So, someone hid the trunk,” Dr. Girard murmured with a small smile. After a few minutes, during which he knocked on all of the walls inside the cubby and felt around the dusty floor, he leaned back on his heels. Then Dr. Girard stood and wiped his hands on the clean rag that Colin offered to him. His mouth was turned down. “You didn’t find anything else in there?” he asked, swiping a dust bunny off his knee.
I thought about the framed photograph of Andora sitting on my nightstand downstairs.
“This is all we found,” Colin said.
I smiled at him gratefully. I had been alone when I found the photograph of Andora, and so what Colin said was technically the truth.
Dr. Girard walked back to the end table. “These items are certainly consistent with the time period.” The professor hunched over the small trunk like a vulture. Then he straightened as a peculiar look crossed his face.
The look passed quickly, and I wondered if I’d just imagined it.
“Are you sure you don’t have anything else to show me?” He turned from me to Colin and back again.
“We’re sure.” I would make a decision about showing him the photograph and telling him about Miss Addy after he told me what he knew, not before. It was Dr. Girard’s turn to share some information with Colin and me.
Dr. Girard picked up the china doll, turned her over, and looked under her dress as if instead of doll-sized pantaloons, the skirt might be hiding some great secret to Andora’s identity. He placed the doll back inside the trunk on top of the baptismal gown.
“This is going to be harder than I thought.” He scowled. “I expected more.”
“We have more than you do,” I shot back, feeling defensive. “Do you think you can use Andora for the book?”
“We will discuss what I know downstairs.”
Amelie was waiting in the living room with chai tea, pita chips, and hummus. Dr. Girard turned down the snack, but Colin dug in heartily. I didn’t feel hungry, and chai gave me a stomachache. Between bites, Colin made notes in our casebook.
Dr. Girard sat on the edge of the couch and opened his briefcase. He pulled out a file. “I have a small housekeeping detail to take care of before we move forward. I spoke to my agent about the prospect of including Andora in my book. She faxed an agreement over this morning.” He pulled a silver, expensive-looking pen from his shirt pocket. “Andi, since you’re a minor and Amelie is your legal guardian, you’ll both have to sign the form.”
“What kind of agreement?” Amelie asked.
I sat beside him on the flowered sofa. He flipped through the form’s pages and pointed to the line where I should sign. I’d never signed anything so official before. I didn’t think the back of my library card counted.
“Hold on a minute,” Amelie said. “Let me read that first.”
Reluctantly, Dr. Girard handed Amelie the documents.
Mr. Rochester jumped onto the back of the couch behind Dr. Girard. He cocked his head. I’d seen that same expression on his face before he pounced on his toy mouse. I reached behind me and moved the cat to my lap. Dr. Girard’s lip curled and he scooted away from us. Great, he doesn’t like kids or animals.
Amelie’s eyes narrowed as they moved across the pages. “If I understand this correctly, you’re asking for exclusive rights to this story. In other words, legally we can’t give our consent to anyone else to write about it.”
Dr. Girard sighed. “All due respect, Professor, but I don’t think that’s unreasonable.”
“How long does this agreement last?”
He cleared his throat. “There is no set ending date.”
Amelie’s jaw tensed. “What if when Andi is an adult she wants to write about her experiences trying to uncover Andora’s identity?”
“Really, is that very likely?” He looked at me and smiled. “What child would be interested in writing about history?”
“Andi might be, and I don’t want to hold her back by signing something when she is only eleven years old and not ready to make that decision.”
Dr. Girard’s tone was hard now and he flushed. “I don’t know what all the fuss is about. This is a standard agreement. As the author, I have rights to the story.”
“And as relatives of Andora, we have rights to the story too. We need time to think this over. I’ll have my lawyer take a look at it. And I’m sure we can come to an agreement by making some simple changes to the wording of this document.”
“Amelie, I want—” I started to say that I just wanted to know about Andora. I didn’t care about signing the paper.
Dr. Girard snatched the pages from Amelie’s hand. “Really, Amelie. I’ve written two books and been published in dozens of journals. This is a standard agreement. I’ve never felt so insulted.”
“That may be true,” Amelie replied, her voice calm. “But you cannot object to me having my lawyer look it over. It is a legally binding document, isn’t it?”
Dr. Girard stood abruptly. “This conversation is over. I don’t need your permission to write about this mysterious relative of yours. I was doing you a favor by including you.”
I jumped up. “But you haven’t told us anything yet.”
“Nor will I, under these circumstances. Andi, you have your aunt to thank for that.”
“I think it’s time for you to leave.” Amelie’s voice was cold.
Dr. Girard glowered. “Very well.”
Colin jumped out of the armchair, sending pita chips tumbling to the floor. Mr. Rochester hissed at Dr. Girard with eyes wide and back arched.
The history professor glared at us all in turn, including Mr. Rochester, who hissed at him a second time. “Don’t stand in my way,” he warned. “There’s a big story here, and I will get to the bottom of it with or without your help.” He stomped out of the living room, yanked the front door open, and slammed it shut behind him.
When he was gone, I turned to my aunt. “How could you do that? He was going to tell us about Andora!”
Amelie’s face fell. “Andi, I—”
“Now, we’ll never know what happened to her.”
“Andi, I had to protect you. That’s my job.”
“From what? A piece of paper? I don’t care about that contract thing.”
“You might not now, but you will someday. Let’s …”
Before she could finish her sentence, I stomped out of the room.
CASE FILE NO. 17
A day later, I sat at the picnic table in the backyard, reading over the casebook and stewing over Dr. Girard’s words. Could he really steal Andora’s story? Amelie told me he could write about Andora whether or not we signed the agreement. But she said it was good thing we didn’t sign because her lawyer informed her that Dr. Girard’s reaction sounded fishy. I still wished we’d signed it. Maybe then I’d know what Dr. Girard knows about Andora.
The telephone rang inside the house. Seconds later, Bethany poked her head out the back door. “It’s for you. Some old guy.”
Without thinking, I clenched my hands into fists, as if I were getting ready to punch someone. It was probably Dr. Girard calling to convince Amelie to sign the contract. When I didn’t jump up and get the phone, Bethany placed it on a plastic chair by the back door. “You know, Andi, pouting won’t finish cleaning out the attic or help you find Andora.” She went back inside.
Said the Queen of the Pouters, I thought. I jumped off the picnic table and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“Andi, it’s Patrick Finnigan from the Historical Society.”
“Oh hi, Mr. Finnigan,” I said, my voice guarded. I remembered that he was the one who’d told Dr. Girard about our search for Andora.
“Amelie called and told me what happened yesterday,” he said. “She wasn’t very happy with me. And she had every right to be upset. I shouldn’t have sent Dr. Girard to you.”
“That’s okay, Mr. Finnigan.” I could imagine his black mustache drooping.
“No, it’s not okay. I should have known he’d be more interested in getting the story than in helping you kids.”
I held the phone up to my ear and waited.
“It’s just that … he’s … he’s so well known. I thought that if Dr. Girard wrote a definitive work about Killdeer history, it would put our little museum and historical society on the map. With the right recognition, we’d have a better chance to get some grant money or even a few visitors.”
I still didn’t say anything. My mom and dad applied for tons of research grants to fund their botany lab. It always seemed like a lot of work to me.
“Anyway, I fully deserved Amelie’s reprimands. Please allow me to make amends.”
“Okay.”
“Are you still interested in finding out more about Andora?”
“Yes!” I replied quickly.
Just then, Colin walked into the backyard and waved. I put my finger to my lips.
“Miss Addy is a good friend of mine,” Mr. Finnigan said.
I sat up straighter and flashed Colin a thumbs-up. “Miss Addy?”
Colin sat next to me on the picnic bench and leaned in close to hear the other side of the conversation.
“I’ve interviewed her many times for the museum archives. In fact, I saw her just yesterday, and she told me that you’d asked her about Andora.”
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