Virals(81)

Or if it was even there.

Of course it would be there. I didn't climb a gazillion stairs, gag, sift through filth, and uncover something lost since the first moon landing, only to come up short. No way, Jose.

We reached the Morris dock just as full night took charge. I stood with Katherine's stinky bag hugged to my chest, waiting while the boys fixed the lines. Growing impatient. It was time to unwrap this bad boy.

"Where to now?" I asked.

"My place," Shelton said. "Pops converted our garage into a workshop. He takes computers apart, so he's got tweezers, gloves, that kind of stuff. Plus my parents went to see La Boheme in town. They won't be back for hours."

Ben glanced at my scum-covered arms. "Does it have a sink? A hose?"

Ha ha.

"Perfect," I said. "Lead the way."

"Not a chance," said Shelton.

"Clean up," said Hi.

"Now," said Ben. "We'll wait."

I stuck out my tongue, but hurried home to scrub up.

Each unit on Morris has a single-car garage. Neither of the senior Devers ever parks in theirs. The walls are lined with metal shelving. Plastic containers cram every inch, carefully labeled, holding an oddball assortment of screws, wires, plugs, cables, adapters, and circuit boards. Nelson's workshop looks like a RadioShack jammed into a phone booth.

Ten minutes later I joined the boys there, freshly showered, neatly changed, and raring to go. They were clustered around a drawing table. True to their promise, the backpack lay untouched.

My dirt-free attire got a round of applause. Ben whistled.

"Much better," Shelton proclaimed.

"I don't know." Hi pooched out his lips. "The avian excrement added a certain je ne sais quoi."

"Very funny," I said.

"Sir." Shelton stepped aside with a bow. "I yield to your superior skills with scientific protocol."

"Why, thank you," said Hi. "Now let's please open this thing."

Hi positioned a magnifying lamp over the parcel. Fluorescent light bathed the tabletop.

"You smelled this bag?" Shelton still couldn't believe it. "Under a floor grate? Through a half foot of bird crap?"

"What can I say?" I shrugged. "I sniffed Katherine's sweater in Sylvia's apartment, then picked up the same scent in the tower. I was flaring both times."

"Amazing," Shelton said. "I wanna try that. Sounds awesome."

"Believe me, it didn't smell awesome. Bird funk nearly killed me." But I had to admit, my bloodhound act excited me. These flares might be useful after all. Very useful.

"Ready?" I asked.

"Ready." Pulling on a pair of latex gloves, Hi reached inside the crusty pack. A smile spread over his face. He carefully removed a crumbling notebook.

My heart leapt. Success! Unbelievably, we'd found a clue the police had missed.

I'd found it, thank you very much.

The journal's cover was cracked, its pages rippled and swollen. When Hi lifted a corner, dirt poured from its spine.

"Careful," I scolded. "The paper is disintegrating."

"You think I don't know that?" Hi set the notebook down, gently raised and jostled the bag. Out came a pencil and a barrette. Nothing else.

"Can you read it?" I crowded close, anxious to see if the journal's pages were intact.

"Back it up!" Hi shooed me with gloved hands. "I can't work like this."

Reluctantly, I retreated a step. Inched forward again.

Using tweezers, Hi teased the front cover open.

Nature had taken a devastating toll. Rainwater. Salt spray. Bird droppings. The abuse had rendered the entries indecipherable.

Hi leafed carefully, a page at a time. Nothing was legible.

The air slowly leaked from the room. It seemed impossibly cruel, that we could locate Heaton's notebook after forty years, yet be unable to read a single word she'd written.

"Here's something." Hi sounded excited. "Look!"

He'd reached the very back of the notebook. The last two sheets were better preserved than the overlying ones.

Hi was pointing at what appeared to be a sketch of a bird. The caption underneath was too smeared to read.

"What is that?" Shelton was tipping his head from side to side. "Robin? Woodpecker?"

"Eagle," Ben said with conviction.

"How can you be sure?" I squinted at the wavy lines, barely visible on the stained page. It looked like any old bird to me.

"The body is uniformly shaded, but the head and tail are white," Ben said. "And look at the beak. The talons. That's a bald eagle."

"Why was Heaton drawing eagles?" Shelton asked.

"Who knows?" Ben said. "Maybe she was super-patriotic."

"There's writing on the back of the page." Hi squinted. "I think I can make it out."

Peering through the magnifier, he read aloud: I found them! A bald eagle colony! Three enormous nests, way up in a stand of longleaf pines, just off the Stono River. Who would've guessed that bald eagles were living on Cole Island? An endangered species, right on our doorstep! This is perfect for our science project. Abby will be thrilled! The University will probably send people to study-