Part 2 (1/2)
”How're you going to do it?”
Scott cracked another sunflower seed. ”Uh, Darryl, I wouldn't be doing that to Cornelius if I were you. He packs a pretty mean bite.”
Darryl shrugged and repeated the question. ”How're you going to get even?”
”I've been giving it a lot of thought. The surest revenge is to go for the leader.”
”You mean Brooke?”
Scott shook his head. ”She's pretty much out of the picture since the kidnapping. I'm talking the Ascension Lady.” Darryl's eyes widened in surprise. ”Priscilla Bantini?” Scott nodded.
Darryl gave a nervous sniff. ”I don't know. She's pretty heavy-duty.”
”So much the better.” Scott cracked another seed.
”But ... I mean, she knows stuff.”
”You're saying she's psychic?”
”For starters, yeah. How can you pull off something on someone who knows everything?”
”I'm not sure.” He reached for another handful of seeds. ”The trick is to find a weakness.”
”Good luck.” Darryl pushed up his gla.s.ses. ”Between her psychic abilities, her magic potions, and her astrology charts, she's got everything pretty well covered.”
”Astrology charts?” Scott stopped cracking the seeds. ”She's an astrology nut?”
”The biggest. She claims it's her 'insight to the future.' ”
”So what does she use? Books and charts and stuff?” Darryl turned back to Cornelius and resumed teasing the bird. ”It's all done on computer.”
”On computer, huh?” Scott's mind started turning.
”What are you thinking?”
”Your cousin, the computer hack ...”
”Hubert?”
”You think he might want to help us out again?”
”Depends.” He looked back to Scott. ”What's up?” Scott rose to his feet and crossed over to his own computer at the desk. ”I'm not sure. Let me check with Z first, see what he knows about astrology.”
”You're going to talk to Z? Now?” There was no missing the interest in Darryl's voice. Z was a mystery. The man (or woman - they really didn't know) had become Scott's private source of information on the occult. Z knew everything. And not just about the occult. Sometimes he knew about their own personal lives, things only family would know - which often gave Scott and Becka the w.i.l.l.i.e.s. But Z would never reveal his ident.i.ty. They'd even tried to track him down once, but with little success.
Z was always one step ahead.
Darryl pushed up his gla.s.ses and gave another obnoxious sniff. ”Doesn't he, like, you know, just talk to you at night?” Scott snapped on the computer. ”Usually ... but I can still leave a message.”
Darryl nodded, then suddenly let out a bloodcurdling scream as he grabbed his finger. ”OWWWW!”
”SQUAWK. MAKE MY DAY, PUNK, MAKE MY DAY!” Scott looked up from the computer and chuckled. ”I told you not to tease my bird.”
Darryl glared at Cornelius as the bird continued bobbing up and down, a particularly satisfied gleam in his beady black eyes.
”MAKE MY DAY, MAKE MY DAY, MAKE MY DAY.”
3:23 p.m.
When Ryan had suggested ghost hunting, the last place in the world Becka thought they'd wind up was in the public library.
But here they were, inside the dimly lit microfilm-viewing room. Before them were a dozen boxes of microfilm envelopes, with one packet of envelopes for each year that the Crescent Bay Gazette had been in publication.
”Here's the last of them,” the librarian said with a grin as he hauled in the final two boxes and placed them atop the others.
”All one hundred and forty three years. If there's anything about your little girl or her murder, it'll be right here.” Becka and Ryan stared blankly at the boxes. ”But where?” Ryan asked. ”Where do we start?”
”Well, son,” the old man chuckled, ”that's your job now, isn't it?” With that he turned and shuffled out of the room. He stuck his head back in to say, ”We close at six,” then gave them a wink and shut the door behind him.
At first Becka and Ryan were overwhelmed. But soon they started to make headway. Well, sort of ...
Becka remembered the Ascension Lady wanting the seance the day after tomorrow; that was Friday, the twenty-first. ”She'd said the twenty-first was some sort of window,” Becka explained.
”The anniversary of the girl's murder.”
Ryan nodded. ”Then that's the date to check.” Becka moaned. ”But that's one hundred and forty-three issues.”
Ryan flashed her his famous grin. ”Guess we'd better get started, then.”
Reluctantly she reached down and turned on the bulky microfilm machine in front of her. The screen glowed and a little fan inside began to whir. Ryan followed suit with his own machine.
”Let's start with last year and work backward,” Becka suggested.
The hours dragged on as they went through year after year.
Some of the history was interesting, but for the most part it was a continual stream of boring who-did-what-to-whom or who-built-this-and-bought-that.
Because of the date, there were frequent articles on the Easter season and various church ser vices. This got Becka to thinking about their previous conversation. ”Hey, Ryan, how come you believe all this stuff happened - ” she nodded at the pile of microfilm - ”but you don't believe the Bible?” Ryan threw her a glance. ”Run that past me again.”
”Why do you accept all this stuff as history, but not the Bible?”
”Well, this stuff was accurately reported. It was witnessed by the people who lived here.”
”And the Bible?”