He nods, his hands resting on his hips. “Well, I have a lot of work to catch up on, so if you’re feeling better …”
I tell him I’m fine and thank him. He drops a kiss on my forehead. I crawl back into bed with my phone and sink against the pillows. I drink some of the Gatorade. I force down a few bites of toast. Then attend to the messages I’ve missed.
There are two from Walt. One’s from him, and the other is from him on behalf of Maggie, who doesn’t own a cell phone, becausewhy in tarnation would I want to make myself constantly available?There’s two from Naomi, three from Harper.
The rest are from Twig.
Wednesday, 8:16 a.m.: Hey. Where are you?
Wednesday, 8:31 a.m.: Must talk ASAP. Text me when you get here.
Wednesday, 8:32 a.m.: Dug this up last night.
The message came attached with a link. When I click on it, I’m taken to an old blog post titledForgotten Crimes of West Virginia. There’s a small paragraph dedicated to a bank robbery in 1930. In Foggy Hollow. Isaiah Vandenberg and his wife are listed among the victims.
I return to my messages and continue scrolling.
Wednesday, 9:24 a.m.: I’m at DEFCON 2 here, Selah. One more hour and I’m calling in the National Guard to report an alien abduction.
Wednesday, 10:12 a.m.: Okay. So Mom says you’re sick. Hope it’s not too bad. Talkafter school?
Wednesday, 5:32 p.m.: Thinking of you. Feel better soon.
Thursday, 7:04 a.m.: Any better? Proof of life?
Thursday, 8:23 a.m.: Mom says you’re still sick. I have robotics at four, but I’m stopping by after school to make sure you aren’t actually transitioning into a vampire. If you’re going immortal, I’m going with you.
This makes me smile.
There’s one final message at 8:25 a.m.
P.S. Will bring homework.
The time is now 1 p.m. I take two Tylenol and munch on some saltine crackers as I pull up the picture I took of the Vandenberg Family Tree. I try to do some research, but there’s little to no information online and my eyes are sore. I’m dying to talk to Maggie, who would know all about the train crash in 1890 and the bank robbery in 1930. I ring Evermore Books, but there’s no answer. I’d email her, but I don’t think she has one of those either.
Walt does though.
A phone, too. Hence, his text messages.
And he used to work for theFoggy Hollow Gazette.
I send him my request.
Hey Walt, I’m looking for information regarding a train crash near Foggy Hollow in 1890, as well as a bank robbery in 1930. I’d get myself to Maggie’s archives, but I’m still under the weather. Can you help?
I hit send and stare at the screen, like Walt is attached to his phone and might send an immediate response. But there’s nothing. Noreadreceipt. No scrolling ellipse.
With a sigh, I turn on the television. I open Amazon Prime, where I have a collection of fantastic movies at my disposal. In light of Twig’s reference to the immortal, I selectThe Lost Boys. Right around the time Michael lets go of the train tracks and plummets into the fog, I begin to doze.
An hour and a half later, my phone dings.
Walt has replied.
And he has delivered.
I skim the pair of headlines.
Bank Heist Ends in Bloodshed; Prominent Businessman Slain in Crossfire.
