Part four

In the morning, Trixie rose early to help her mother prepare a big breakfast. As the children awoke, the household became increasingly busy. Brian and Mart and even Diana pitched in to get the chores done.

“It will keep my mind off things,” Diana explained, when Trixie told her she didn’t need to help.

Around eight o’clock, Diana and Trixie went to pick up Diana’s father from the airport. They took Trixie’s car, leaving the van in case the children needed to be taken somewhere. Diana sat in the passenger seat and fidgeted, stating early in the journey that she didn’t want to talk.

As they neared, Diana’s phone rang and she had a short conversation, presumably with her father.

“He’ll be ready to pick up when we get there,” Diana explained, after hanging up. “You know where we need to go, don’t you?”

Trixie nodded. “I’m glad the flight was on time. I was wondering what we’d do if it was late.”

She manoeuvred through the traffic to the pick-up point they had chosen.

“There! That’s him!”

Trixie swung into an empty spot and Diana barrelled out. She threw herself into the outstretched arms of the stout older man. Trixie busied herself with stowing his bag. After a minute or so, Diana remembered enough to perform the introductions.

“Daddy, this is Trixie. Her family is looking after the twinnies for me. Trixie, this is my father, Doug Lynch.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the man greeted. “Sweetheart, can we go now? I want to get to Sleepyside as soon as we can.”

She nodded and waved him to the front seat, sliding in behind Trixie to talk to him more easily.

“How is Hector?” he asked, as Trixie pulled out. “Do they know what’s wrong yet?”

Diana shook her head. “I talked to him on the phone before we left and he was feeling a lot better, but they haven’t told him anything yet. He was a bit annoyed about that, actually.”

“I guess that’s a good sign,” her father muttered.

A short silence fell, then Diana blurted out her questions. “Was my grandmother’s name Maggie? And how did she die?”

Her father turned as well as he could to look at her. “I believe her name was Carol. And she was killed by falling debris when part of the chimney in their old house collapsed suddenly. Why do you ask?”

“Because I didn’t know. And I wondered, because my grandfather kept saying… something. After Mummy disappeared, I mean. I thought, maybe, he was talking about my grandmother, but I guess, if her name was Carol, then he wasn’t.”

Trixie frowned, thinking about those words: “Maggie’s dead and it’s all my fault.” With an effort, she kept her attention on the road. Was Maggie Lynch really dead? That didn’t fit in at all with Trixie’s theories, but then she had very little evidence to support them. She wondered how she could find out for sure and was so busy planning a trip into the woods to search for clues that she missed the next part of the conversation and very nearly missed her turn-off. She set her mind on the job at hand – of getting the three of them safely back to Crabapple Farm – and let father and daughter talk uninterrupted.

When they finally arrived, Diana’s four younger siblings raced out of the house to greet their father. Many a tear was shed, especially by the small girls, who were quite upset by the whole ordeal. At length, Trixie’s mother managed to find a moment to introduce herself and invite Mr. Lynch inside.

“I can’t thank you enough for looking after my kids while this was happening,” he told her. “I don’t know what would have happened otherwise.”

Helen smiled at Diana. “Your eldest daughter is a very capable young lady and I’m sure she could have coped. But I was more than happy to help her. I wouldn’t want my daughter to do something like that on her own either.”

“I don’t want to impose on you any longer than I have to, but I need to go and check in at the police station. Could I possibly–”

“No, Dad! Don’t leave us!” Larry interrupted.

“Take us with you,” Terry added, and the girls agreed.

“No. I’m sorry, but that’s out of the question.”

Through the chorus of disapproval, Helen assured him that she was ready to help. “Take all the time you need. Would you like someone to drive you? Or to borrow a car?”

In the end, he and Diana went together in the van. Helen organised the children to play a board game together and set Honey and Trixie to keep the peace among them while she prepared some lunch. Between disputes over the rules and a tendency for the siblings to squabble, this proved to be a full-time job. By the time lunch was served, Trixie still had not found an opportunity to talk things through with Honey.

Diana and her father had still not returned, but Trixie’s father and older brothers trooped inside, each of them at least a little spattered with paint. Soon, everyone had served themselves, with Helen helping the smaller children. There wasn’t room for everyone to eat together without moving the furniture, so the children sat at the kitchen table and the adults at the dining room table. Trixie snagged a seat next to Honey, right at one end.

“I was wrong,” she admitted softly, between bites. “It turns out that Diana’s grandmother wasn’t called Maggie. Which means, he wasn’t talking about her, but about Diana’s mother.”

Honey’s eyes widened. “Do you think that means she really is dead, after all?”

Trixie shook her head. “No. I really hope she’s alive and well. But then why does he thinks she’s dead? Unless he saw Anthony Simmonds and knew something about him already. Hey! Maybe he knew him when his daughter lived here with him and knew that he knew Maggie and they had some kind of disagreement. Maybe he wanted revenge, or something.”

“For what?” Honey wondered.

Trixie looked around, thinking. “Well, she went off to Arizona. Maybe she rejected him to choose Diana’s dad and they ran away to Arizona to escape him and he’s never forgiven her and now, since she’s come back, he’s here to get back at her.”

“But how did he know she’d be here?”

Trixie frowned. “That is a problem. But maybe he’s been doing strange things around Mr. Wilson’s house to try to lure her back, and it’s worked. But even if it didn’t, he could have had his revenge on her father instead, by driving him crazy, since probably Mr. Wilson encouraged his daughter to marry Mr. Lynch and not Anthony Simmonds.”

Honey’s face clouded. “So, what do we do about it? We can’t exactly search the whole Preserve to find where he’s hiding her, can we?”

“Can’t we? Let’s ride the horses this afternoon. We can cover plenty of ground that way and we might find out some more about where this guy’s been.” Her face lit up. “Oh, and we should go and see Mr. Maypenny, too. Maybe he’s seen something.”

“That’s a good thought,” Honey agreed. “Maybe we should see if Jim can come with us. That way, we won’t get lost.”

Trixie’s nose wrinkled. “Do you have to put it that way? Couldn’t we just say that Jim would be a lot of help?”

Before Honey could answer, the doorbell rang. As Mart got up to answer it, Brian drew his sister into a discussion on the next stage in the repairs. Before she had a chance to continue her conversation with Honey, Diana and Mr. Lynch joined them and another round of introductions were made. Trixie and Honey became separated in the reshuffle of seats.

“Where’s Mummy?” Diana’s little sister Tillie asked her father, having squeezed herself into the space between his chair and the next one. “Didn’t you bring her back with you?”

“I don’t know where she is,” he explained. “But I hope we will find her soon. If you’ve eaten, maybe you and Jessie could go and play?”

“Come with me. I think we can find another game,” Helen offered and led the children away.

“The search parties haven’t found anything?” Peter asked Mr. Lynch, after they had gone.

The other man shook his head. “I understand the owner of the neighbouring land has put his staff on the task. They’ve covered a good bit of ground, but nothing so far.”

Trixie shot her best friend an agonised look. There went her next good lead.

“And they’re sure she didn’t leave by the road?”

Mr. Lynch shook his head. “The tree came down across the road during the night before – it’s a pretty big one and you couldn’t pass it either on foot or by vehicle. The crew arrived to clear it, but stopped just before they got to the house because they’d left something important behind at the depot. They had two vehicles and one of them went back to get whatever it was. The driver of the other one is adamant that no vehicles arrived, no pedestrians passed and the only vehicle to leave had two young women in it – whose descriptions tally very nicely with the two young women here. He was definitely there from before Maggie disappeared. And he saw no one but these two and a young man with red hair who was talking to Diana.”

“Jim.” Honey nodded. “My brother.”

“Then it has to be someone hiding in the woods,” Trixie muttered. “I just know it’s Anthony Simmonds who’s behind it all.”

“What did you just say, Trixie?” her father demanded, in rather a sharp voice.

Trixie’s eyes widened, alarmed by his tone. “Nothing!”

“No, Trixie. You said a name. Where did you get it?”

She felt her face reddening. “I kind of overheard him talking to the police officer. He said he was from around here, a long time ago. Did you know him?”

“I knew of him. He was your Uncle Andrew’s age.”

“Did you know the Nesbitts, too?”

“Yes, but they sold out to Mr. Wilson and moved into town when I was very young.”

Trixie frowned. “But then, he should have known that it wasn’t the Nesbitts’ land.”

“Who should have known?”

“Anthony Simmonds! He asked the policeman if it was the Nesbitts’ land, because he’d been friends with Jake and knew they’d let him stay.”

Her father sighed. “I think, Trixie, you’d better start at the beginning. This isn’t making any sense.”

“You’re telling me!” She closed her eyes for a moment, thinking it through. “So, I found a campsite in the woods, only there was no one there. Then, later, after the disappearance, I heard the man from the campsite explaining to the policeman that his name was Anthony Lionel Patrick Simmonds, of no fixed address, and he’d been camping there a few days or a week and didn’t know he was trespassing, but that he thought the Nesbitts would let him stay because he used to know them. And I’m sure he’s the one responsible; I just can’t prove it yet.”

Her father shook his head. “Tony Simmonds is not responsible.”

“But, Dad!”

He held up his hand to silence her. “Tony Simmonds is dead. He’s been dead nearly twenty years.”

Mr. Lynch turned away. “I think I’d better call Sergeant Molinson. Maybe this is the break he needs.”

“Use our phone. In the kitchen.”

The man thanked him and headed in that direction.

“Dad? What’s this about?” Brian asked.

For a long moment, he did not answer.

“It was a very unpleasant sequence of events. And one that I’m not sure I should tell you.”

“I’ll just go,” Honey said softly and took a step towards the door.

Peter shook his head. “If I tell one of you, I might as well tell all of you. Diana, I’m not sure how much you know about your parents’ move to Arizona…”

“Almost nothing,” she answered. “It was before I was born.”

He nodded. “According to my younger brother, who was in her class, your mother had a lot of admirers when she was at school. Tony and his friend Sam were probably the keenest. And so, when she left for Arizona, the two of them decided to follow her. But they didn’t have a lot of money and so they decided to just drive straight through – switch drivers every so often and sleep while the other drove. They crashed in Oklahoma when Sam fell asleep at the wheel. Tony was killed and Sam terribly injured. I think it might have been a head injury; I heard he wasn’t the same afterwards. He never did come back.”

“What is it?” Mart asked. He was looking intently at Diana, whose face showed a measure of shock.

“I just remembered something that my mother told me once, about a man who was obsessed with her and who scared her, but her father wanted her to marry – and I think, maybe it was Tony Simmonds. But why would someone pretend to be him?”

“To hide who they really are,” Trixie suggested. “You know, that probably means that whoever that guy really is, he’s one of the people from the yearbook. Let me go and get the copies.”

She returned a minute or two later with them clutched in her hand. Spreading them out on the table, she noticed her uncle’s smiling face for the first time – in her hurry to get the copies, she had not examined them fully. She picked out the Sam from her father’s story as Sam Jorgensen. Among the rest of the men pictured, a few names seemed familiar but none of the faces.

“If only I’d seen him, I’d be able to tell who he is!” Trixie grumbled, as they all looked over the rows of faces.

“If you could imagine what he looked like back then,” Mart corrected. “Face it, Trix. You can’t do anything about this.”

“I’m going to try. It’s the least I can do.” She frowned. “The only other thing that isn’t making sense is the witch sign.”

“What did you say?”

She turned to find that Mr. Lynch had returned.

“The marks scratched on the door,” she explained. “Someone told me they’re a mark to keep witches away.”

He looked alarmed. “No one’s mentioned that to me.”

“It was scratched on the front and back doors,” Diana added. “And on a couple of the window frames. A lot of overlapping circles.”

Trixie nodded. “And I saw it on a tree in the man’s camp. And scratched into the dirt a couple of places, too.”

“What did it look like?”

Trixie fetched a pencil from the sideboard and flipped over one of her photocopies. She drew the flower-like symbol as best she could, but it looked rather wonky when she was finished. In the background somewhere, Reddy and Bud began to bark.

“That’s kind of it, only the circles were more round.”

“What does it mean, Daddy? Why are you looking at it like that?”

He turned to his daughter. “You asked me earlier about your grandmother and how she died. I’ve never known the whole story, but there was something to do with this symbol. It must have been inscribed on the chimney somewhere and when it fell, she was killed. Your grandfather has been very superstitious about circles ever since – especially any patterns of circles that look like this.”

“But who could possibly know that?” Diana asked, perplexed. “Whoever took Mummy must have known about this, or why would they do it? They can’t actually believe in witches, can they?”

Her father sighed. “I just don’t know. I didn’t live here. I met your mother in White Plains. So, I never really knew all the intricacies of the local social structure, or who might have gotten close to Hector. He never liked me and I just kept away. And even when your mother decided she’d drive all the way here with you kids, I didn’t want to insist that she fly, because then I would have to come, too, and keep her calm on the plane.”

“Brian, go and see what’s wrong with those dogs,” Peter directed.

“Has anyone asked Mr. Wilson?” Mart wondered. “Maybe he’s known all along?”

Di shook her head. “He wouldn’t answer any questions yesterday. He just kept saying the same thing, over and over. And today he just complains that no one tells him anything.”

“What did he say yesterday?” Mr. Lynch asked gently, but Diana could not say the words.

He turned an appealing glance to the others present. Trixie could not help but answer it.

“Jim told us Mr. Wilson was saying, ‘Maggie’s dead and it’s all my fault.’”

His face crumpled. “She can’t be dead. She just can’t.”

Trixie hesitated, knowing tact wasn’t her strong suit, but just had to speak. “You’ve just told us that Mr. Wilson associates this symbol with death. Probably, when he saw it, that’s all he could think about.”

Honey’s eyes widened. “And what if the person knew that? They knew that Mr. Wilson would know them and they knew that if they used this symbol they’d distract him from them, because he would be too upset to point the police in their direction, but Mr. Wilson knew that he’d done something to encourage the man, so in his mind he knew that it was somehow his fault, but I don’t think it really is his fault, because he’s not responsible for someone else’s actions.”

“Uh, Dad?” Brian called, from somewhere out of sight. “I think you’d better come and see this.”

Something in her brother’s voice cause Trixie to trail along behind. Reaching the kitchen, they stopped and Brian pointed them to the window. There, in the yard, stood the pig-like creature.

“It is a tapir,” Honey breathed. “Oh, I’m so glad to finally know what that was all about.”

Mart, who had also followed, peered over her shoulder. “Why on earth is it in our back yard?”

“It belongs to the man who’s camping in the woods and it’s been running around loose all over. At least, we think it belongs to him, since it seems to go everywhere he’s been,” Trixie explained. “Now, all we have to do is catch it and he’s sure to come and get it, so we can catch him when he does.”

“We will do nothing of the sort,” answered her father.

“But, Dad–”

He shook his head. “No. Brian, keep the dogs away from it. And all of you stay away from it. I’ll just go and tell Helen to keep the kids inside. It’s a wild animal and I don’t want anyone approaching it.”

“I might make another call to the police,” Mr. Lynch added. “It seems there’s a lot more I should tell them.”

Peter waved him to the phone. “That’s a sound idea. Kids, why don’t you give him some privacy – but keep away from that animal, Trixie. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Dad.”

She frowned heavily as she returned to the dining room to start stacking the empty plates.

“I just know that man from the camp is responsible,” Trixie muttered as she worked. “So, maybe, some of the things I thought earlier were wrong, but I’m sure that one thing is right. And I think I know how to prove it.”

“Trixie, if this plan in any way involves us wandering the Preserve in the middle of the night, you can count me out.”

“I wasn’t thinking exactly of wandering and not in the middle of the night.”

“No. Just no. Take one of your brothers. Or Jim. Or Dan, even. Or maybe Diana would agree to it. But not me. You know how I am with the dark. And strangers. And strangers in the dark. Especially those.” She shuddered. “But don’t tell me about it afterwards, either. I just don’t want to know.”

Trixie’s enthusiasm drained out of her and she sank onto one of the chairs. “Okay. Fine. I won’t do anything. I’ll let whatever-his-name-is… Molinson… find her. I’m sure he’s a perfectly capable person for the job.”

“I’m sure he is,” Honey agreed, weakly. “And I’m sure he’ll find her soon, if she’s still here to find, and hasn’t been taken away somewhere else.”

Trixie groaned. “She probably has been taken somewhere else by now. We should have searched right back at the beginning, when I said we should, only Moms didn’t let us. But he’ll be back to get his tapir; I’m sure of it.”

“Is this a private conversation, or can anyone join?” Mart asked, from the doorway.

“Come on in,” Trixie offered, with only a slightly resentful look.

“Dad has agreed that Brian and I should go and join the search,” he told her. “Do you want to come, too?”

She jumped to her feet. “Of course!”

Honey shook her head. “Not me. I’ll stay here and help your mother.”

Mart nodded, then looked back to his sister. “Do you want to change or anything?”

She looked down at her old denim shorts and faded T-shirt. “Yeah. Maybe. Wait for me.”

When she returned, only a minute or two later, Mr. Lynch had finished his phone call and was preparing to leave.

“Oh, Trixie. Help me find all the children’s belongings. They’re going back to the Wilson house.”

“We’ll wait for you, Trixie,” Brian promised. “We still have a few things we need to do before we go.”

Trixie nodded and raced off to check the living room, where the girls had stayed. She dragged out a few items of clothing and a shoe from under one sofa, a stuffed toy from behind the drapes. A few items were strewn across the guest bathroom, too. In no time, she had the downstairs cleared and the stray items added to one of the bags Diana was packing. Her mother returned from upstairs at about the same time.

“Thanks. You can go now, if you need to.”

She grinned and raced out the door, calling a goodbye as she went. Brian and Mart met her in the yard – the tapir, by this time having disappeared – and they set off together.

---

Trixie practically fell into bed that night. She and her brothers had all carried on their search until it was too dark to see properly, but to no effect. They had located two more former campsites, but both seemed long-abandoned. Whoever the man was, he had apparently been moving through the woods for a long time.

They also had run across Mr. Maypenny at one point. He had only seen the man in the distance once or twice, but not close enough to know for sure that it was the same person. He had known that trespassers had been camping in the Preserve, but hadn’t caught any in the act. Other searchers had already checked all of the places he knew of.

And somewhere along the way, Brian and Mart had come to true peace. She wasn’t sure how or why, but the animosity between them dissolved as they worked together to help someone else. And with that barrier gone, Trixie began to feel closer to both of them than she had in years. The feud had become a habit, but the crisis had broken it.

For ten minutes, thoughts of all these things swirled through Trixie’s mind. Her tired body then took precedence and she slept deeply.

---

Something awakened her in the early hours of the morning. Some sound, or movement. Eyes wide, she listened, hearing nothing but the normal noises of the night. Then a whistle sounded, high-pitched, but not shrill. The wind caused it to ebb and flow for a moment, until it fell silent. Trixie sat up straight as she heard another sound, similar to the first, but much closer. If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought a car was braking heavily in her back yard.

Throwing back the sheet, Trixie scrambled out of bed, out of her room and down the stairs. She peered out the kitchen window, but could make out nothing in the darkness. Next, she tried the front door. She turned on the porch light and stood with her back to it.

A dark shape passed by, headed for the road. Trixie followed, taking her time as her feet were bare and she had brought no light. She hesitated a stone’s throw from the road.

“Here you go, girl,” a male voice coaxed. “In you get.”

The man grunted, perhaps lifting something. She heard a series of small noises, then the sound of a hand patting some hard object. Moments later, before Trixie could get close enough to see what was going on, a motorcycle engine roared to life.

She ran the last little distance, mindless of what she might step on, to see the silhouette of the bike, the man who rode it and a large crate strapped behind him. It disappeared into the gloom, headed away from Sleepyside.

“Oh, no!” she cried and raced back to the house.

Back in the kitchen, she called the police, but could not make the operator understand her in time for them to do anything about it. Giving up in frustration, Trixie checked that the house was closed and went back to bed.

---

“What were you doing outside at three o’clock this morning?” her mother asked Trixie as they prepared breakfast together.

Trixie ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “I think the guy came and collected his tapir. I didn’t realise that’s what was happening until right at the last minute and then the police operator wouldn’t believe me.”

“Oh.” Clearly, Helen Belden did not know what to make of this admission. She glanced out the window and her tone of voice altered. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

Trixie followed along as her mother ran out of the back door and across the yard. There, next to the doghouse, stood the missing woman.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?”

The woman shook her head. “Physically, I’m fine.” A tremulous smile crossed her lips. “He let me go. He decided I wasn’t really me.”

“It’s Mrs. Lynch, isn’t it?” Helen continued. “I’m Helen Belden. Come inside and we’ll call your family.”

“Call me Maggie,” the woman replied.

Trixie trailed along as her mother guided Diana’s mother into the kitchen and seated her at the table.

“Call the Wilson house,” she directed Trixie, then turned to offer her guest something to eat or drink. “Then you’d better call the police as well.”

Remembering her last call to the police, Trixie frowned, but picked up the phone and dialled the Wilson number.

“Yes?” an adult male voice greeted, just a little groggily.

“Mr. Lynch? It’s Trixie Belden. Your wife’s just arrived here.”

“My… But how?”

“She just walked up,” she tried to explain. “I don’t know how, either.”

“Let me speak to him,” Mrs. Lynch asked, taking the receiver. “Doug, it’s me.”

Trixie stepped away, returning to the breakfast preparations which had been interrupted. Her mother was busily searching for ingredients for a bigger breakfast.

“I told her to invite them all over,” she explained. “Now, pancakes, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, sausages… what else do we have?”

Mrs. Lynch put the phone down, then suggested that she call the police herself, adding uncertainly, “Doug and the kids will be here soon.”

“That will be lovely,” Helen assured her.

While their visitor called the police and then tried to explain herself to the rather obtuse person on the other end of the line, Helen and Trixie worked hard to produce a celebration breakfast. Mart entered the room a short time later and his mother set him to work as well. Mrs. Lynch had not quite finished explaining when the van pulled into the yard and her family piled out.

A happy reunion took place right there in the kitchen, amidst the appetising smells of frying pancakes and bacon. Peter, Brian and Bobby, roused by the noise, joined the crowd.

“Brian and Mart: come and set up the picnic tables,” Peter directed.

They had not even reached the door, before someone knocked on it and stuck their head in.

“Oh! What’s happening?” Honey wondered, pushing the door fully open. “I thought there was going to be more searching today.”

Trixie waved the spatula she was using. “No need to search; she’s right here!”

“Really?” Jim asked, from behind his sister.

“Well, I guess I’ll be going,” another male voice noted.

“Stay; all of you,” Helen invited. “Hello, Dan. It’s good to see you again.”

He nodded. “Morning, Mrs. Belden.”

“Picnic tables,” Peter repeated, giving each of his two older sons a gentle prod.

“We’ll help,” Jim offered.

Honey joined in the food preparation, while Mrs. Lynch hugged each member of her family in turn. She blinked back a tear or two to see them so happy together after all their worry.

Bobby set the tables and, when everything was ready, Helen, Honey, Trixie and Mart carried the food outside. The men had gathered a collection of chairs from all over the place, carrying many of them out through the front door so as not to disturb what was happening in the kitchen. They had also found an extra table somewhere, giving the group plenty of room.

The young adults ended up at one end of the row of tables, the kids at the other end and the older adults in the middle. Mrs. Lynch had her husband on one side and Diana on the other.

“May I say the blessing?” Mr. Lynch asked.

Peter nodded his approval and they all bowed their heads for a heartfelt prayer of thanks, not only for the food, but for the safe return of the missing woman. Once the Amens had echoed around the table, the feast began. Honey, Jim and Dan had all already eaten, but their hostess convinced them to have just a little more.

“You’re the only person I know who doesn’t mind an extra ten people for breakfast,” Jim complimented her, smiling. “Thank you. This is great.”

The others echoed his thanks.

Then Honey turned to Trixie. “Oh, but you haven’t heard our news, yet. We have a new chauffeur.”

“What’s happened to Tom?” she asked, in dismay.

“He and Celia are taking a year off,” Jim explained. “Celia’s grandparents have a family business that they’re not up to running any more. They’re going to get it into shape to sell, or, they might decide to stay with it permanently.”

“Which means that we need a new chauffeur and it’s all official this morning, that Tom and Celia have definitely decided that that’s what they’re going to do and Dad has decided to definitely hire a new, temporary, live-in chauffeur to replace Tom and isn’t that great?”

Jim smiled. “It might help if you mentioned who the new chauffeur is.”

Honey smiled in return. “You’re so right. It really would make a lot more sense if I did that, which I haven’t, only I should have, but in all the excitement of explaining about Tom and Celia and their plans, I didn’t.”

“Well? Who is it?” Trixie demanded, when she failed to add that piece of information.

“That would be me,” Dan informed her.

“And when he’s not needed for driving, he’s going to help Mr. Maypenny sometimes, too,” Honey added. “So, Regan’s been giving him riding lessons and he’s been learning his way around the Preserve, too.”

Trixie’s eyes widened as another piece fell into place. “That’s why you warned me about staying out of the woods. You’d seen something while you were learning your way around.”

For a moment, it seemed like Dan would refuse to answer. Then he shrugged. “Nothing definite. I just had a bad feeling about him.” He frowned. “He talked to himself. And the things he was saying were kind of creepy.”

A wave of outrage washed through Trixie, but she pushed it down. If they were going to live next door to each other, they would have to learn to get along.

Brian and Dan began a discussion on cars, leaving the others free to talk about something new. Trixie left them to it for the next few minutes, preferring to think through the implications of all she had just heard.

The meal was more than half-over when another car pulled into the drive, this one a police car.

“Oh, they’ve finally taken notice,” Trixie noted, as the same police officer she had spoken to on the day of the disappearance got out of the car.

Her mother, with a glance at the few platters which still held food, got up and offered him refreshments. He accepted coffee and retreated with Mrs. Lynch to the kitchen to take her statement.

“I’ll speak to you next,” he told Trixie on his way past.

“Why? What have you done?” Mart asked her, eyes narrowed.

She waved a hand airily. “Oh, I just reported that Sam Jorgensen was collecting his tapir and riding off on his motor cycle at three o’clock this morning.”

“Who – what?”

“We had all the information we needed. We just needed to put it together,” she explained. “Dad told us who Tony Simmonds’ best friend was.”

“Yes, I got that part,” Mart answered. “I meant the part about the tapir and the motorcycle.”

“I got woken by weird noises and, when I went to investigate, I saw him leave. But I didn’t think the police operator believed me when I called them.”

“She didn’t,” a voice answered, from just behind her. Turning, she saw Sergeant Molinson. “But fortunately, she complained about the crank call to someone with more brains. We called through and the next jurisdiction over picked him up. But that’s just between us, okay?”

She nodded. “Was there something else I could help you with?”

“Yes,” he answered. “One of those baked eggs.”

Trixie grinned and served one onto a clean plate for him. “Knives and forks are in the first drawer by the stove.”

“Thanks.”

“He is okay, I guess,” she mused, mostly to Honey, after he’d gone. “But you were wrong: he didn’t find her.”

“He could have, if there’d been time,” Honey answered.

“I didn’t find her, either.”

“Well, so could you,” she countered, with a smile.

“How is your grandfather?” Jim asked Diana, taking the attention away from Trixie.

“He got discharged from the hospital yesterday – they didn’t find anything much wrong – but he refuses to go home.” She sighed. “He said he was selling the house. He won’t set foot in it again after that mark got scratched on it. Which means I have nowhere to live, so I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’m too stupid to go to college–”

“You’re what?” demanded her father, from a couple of places over.

She rolled her eyes. “I know that’s what you all thought.”

“We thought nothing of the sort. You’re an intelligent girl. We just thought you weren’t interested in college.” He sighed. “Looking back on it, maybe we should have said what we were thinking, rather than assuming that you knew.”

“There didn’t seem like any point in being interested, since everyone was sure I couldn’t do it.”

Her father frowned. “Who is this ‘everyone’?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “Saxon. And his friends.”

“The boyfriend,” Honey mouthed, in response to Trixie’s confused look.

Mr. Lynch took a deep breath. “I see.”

“But it doesn’t matter so much any more, because I dumped him three weeks ago,” she continued, while one of her fingers traced a line across the checked tablecloth.

He moved to sit next to her. “Oh, sweetheart. Why didn’t you say?”

She shrugged. “I was angry. You were sending me away to get me away from him.”

“Now, where did you get that idea?”

“Well, what other explanation is there?” she asked him. “My grandfather didn’t actually need looking after and he didn’t want to be looked after.”

“He does need to be looked after; he just doesn’t want to admit it. But I’m hoping you won’t be the one who has to do it. Last night, he told me he was going to move to the retirement village, like we’d suggested first. Up until then, he’d flat out refused.” He gave her a rather harder look. “And you didn’t have any plans. No job. No college applications. Nothing. And Saxon told me he was moving to New York.”

Her eyes widened in shock and anger. “That dirty, double-crossing low-life! He promised me he was going to stay.”

“Yes, I think that’s probably a fair assessment of him.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry we had this misunderstanding.”

Diana nodded. “I’m sorry, too.”

“If Hector does sell the house, he’s going to need help with cleaning it out. Would you be willing to stay and do that?”

She glanced at Honey, who smiled.

“Yes, I think I could do that. And afterwards…”

“You can find something that you’d like to do,” he finished for her. Then he smiled. “And maybe your fingernails could go back to being purple.”

She held out a hand, as if to admire them. “You don’t like the black?”

He shook his head.

She smiled. “Neither do I.”

The End

Return to The Odds and Ends Page

Return to Janice’s Main Page

---

Please note: Trixie Belden is a registered trademark of Random House Publishing. This site is in no way associated with Random House and no profit is being made from these pages.