Horace was able to return home before anyone grew suspicious of his absence. He spent the rest of the morning helping his dad in the garage and wondering about the treasury his grandma had mentioned. What possibly could be inside?
For lunch he made himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then ran upstairs to finish the last of his homework. When he was all done, he looked over at his phone and saw it was getting late. But he still had time before the library closed. He was desperate to learn more about Detroit and maybe find his grandfather’s donated books.
He threw his completed homework into his backpack and then ran downstairs to the kitchen. “Mom, can I go over to the library?” he asked. “I won’t be long. I just want to do some research for one of my school projects.”
His mom looked up from her work. “Okay, but make sure you’re back for an early dinner.”
“Got it!” answered Horace, and then he ran out the door.
Shadow was waiting diligently in the tree in the front lawn.
Horace shouted up to the falcon, “Let’s go! The library closes soon.”
The Niles Library was located in the center of town, next to the museum. They shared a parking lot. As he arrived at the library’s entrance, Horace looked over at the carriage house, wondering when Herman might return through the portal in the Stout Scarab car.
Shadow took a watchful position on the bike rack, and Horace walked into the library through the main entrance. At the front was the checkout desk and to the right were several computers.
“May I help you?” asked the librarian manning the desk.
“Yes, I’m looking for the donated books section.”
The librarian frowned. “I’m sorry, but we don’t let patrons rummage through donated books until they are at the fall fair.”
“I’m just looking for some books that might have been donated to the library by mistake.”
The woman seemed to hesitate, so Horace continued. “It was a collection from my grandfather’s house. They were donated after his death, and one or two shouldn’t have been given away.”
Finally she conceded. “In the back by the bathrooms.” She paused. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”
Horace wasn’t really sure. “I think it was nonfiction.”
“If we have any new donations, they’d be over there in one of those boxes on the floor. We haven’t had much time to sort through all our donations this fall, so they might be a little disorganized.”
“That’s okay. I can just look around,” Horace answered.
He soon found himself rummaging through three big cardboard boxes. From space exploration to cooking to self-help, there was every subject Horace could imagine. Apparently, people in Niles had a lot of extra books. However, there was nothing that looked like it might have come from his grandfather’s house. In fact, most of the books looked brand-new.
Could someone have taken them already? wondered Horace.
He continued to scour the books, losing all track of time in his exploration of their contents. And then toward the bottom of the third box, he started to find what he was looking for: books on Michigan. He slowly began flipping through the book titles: Michigan’s Natural History, The Story of the Potawatomie. And then Horace saw it, a beat-up book at the bottom of the box: The Legends of Detroit. This had to be one of his grandfather’s books! It looked especially old and worn. The binding was starting to peel off. He opened the book and began to delicately flip through the pages.
The Legends covered numerous stories and myths connected to Detroit and its early colonial founding. But it also mentioned ghosts and the city’s famous cemeteries. The mention of the cemeteries rang a bell in Horace’s mind. If the Keepers were hiding the Benben Stone in a Niles cemetery, could they also be hiding a treasury in one in Detroit? His grandmother never told him, but he wondered what could be kept in the treasury. He could only imagine the riches, including gold and jewels, hidden in the vaults of the Time Keepers.
Just as he was starting to get excited, an announcement came over the loud speaker. “Please make your final decisions and head to the checkout desk. We will close in five minutes.”
Horace looked in the box once again to see if there might be anything else of his grandfather’s. But there was nothing. He bit his lower lip in frustration; his hopes had been so high. Had someone already taken any other books? Holding The Legends in both hands, he made his way to the front of the library.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” the librarian asked.
Horace hesitated. “Well, I think this is one of my grandfather’s books. Is it okay if I take it back?” He handed the book to her.
She looked at its worn cover. “Hmm, this looks interesting, but it’s also in pretty bad shape. I think it will be all right if you keep it,” she said, handing the book back with a smile.
“Thanks,” said Horace. He put the book in his backpack and headed to the exit.
As he stepped out of the front door of the library, he saw someone exit the museum at the same time. It looked like Mr. Franken. He walked across to a car in the parking lot. The man’s presence at the museum wasn’t unusual, but something about Mr. Franken’s car looked oddly familiar to Horace.
Mr. Franken jumped into his car and pulled out of the lot. As the car turned onto Main Street, Horace noticed the car had a broken taillight. I’ve seen a car with a broken taillight before, just recently, he thought. But where? And then it struck him like a lightning bolt—the cemetery! Mr. Franken had been the one driving around the cemetery! Horace had to follow him and see where he was going.
He jumped on his bike and began to pedal as fast as he could. Shadow was already up ahead, flying above the car as if she knew what he was thinking.
Horace made a diagonal line across the front lawn of the library. He then hopped the curb at the other end and landed back on the opposite sidewalk.
As he hit the concrete and popped out of his seat, he thrust down hard with his foot on the pedal. The light turned green, and Mr. Franken’s car turned right. Horace powered after him. He couldn’t let him escape.
This cat-and-mouse game continued for another ten minutes as Horace pulled closer to Mr. Franken whenever he stopped at a traffic light or a stop sign, only to lose him again when he accelerated down the street. If it wasn’t for a particularly slow mail truck, Horace thought Mr. Franken surely would have gotten away. He was starting to feel tired, and his legs were beginning to burn from the effort. Mr. Franken appeared to be heading toward the outskirts of town. Horace was struggling to keep up under the extended effort. But just when Horace felt like Mr. Franken was finally pulling away, he made an unexpected turn into Silverbrook Cemetery.
It was only another minute or two before Horace also reached the gate of the cemetery. He could see the one taillight of Mr. Franken’s car occasionally flash as the car slowly made its way through the cemetery. He decided it was best to take the next part on foot.
Horace hid his bike behind a bush near the gate and began to make his way deeper into the cemetery. Ducking from stone to stone so that he wouldn’t be noticed, he slowly crept along to get a better look at the car.
Horace watched as Mr. Franken exited his car. The man was looking for something, Horace was certain of it. But what?
Shadow swooped through the tree branches overhead, and Horace moved closer to follow Mr. Franken. But as he drew nearer, Horace stepped on a fallen branch. The noise echoed across the cemetery.
Mr. Franken looked up as Horace ducked behind the nearest gravestone.
Horace waited another moment and then peered over the grave marker. Mr. Franken was pacing around the back of the cemetery again and then peering intently at the names on the neighboring graves.
Horace had to get closer, but there were no more hiding spots between him and Mr. Franken. Shadow landed on a grave marker near the man. He spotted her and became incredibly agitated, raising an arm as if to ward off an attack. Horace hadn’t seen a reaction like that one since Shadow had teased Seth at the front of the school.
Horace thought the distraction might be enough to get him even closer, but Mr. Franken quickly returned to his car.
He turned the engine on and drove out of the cemetery. Horace waited a few minutes to make sure he was gone and then slipped out from behind his hiding spot. He ran down to the Beeson Crypt. He wanted to make sure it was still locked. He pulled on the door handle, and it remained firmly in place.
“What do you think Mr. Franken is up to?” Horace asked Shadow as she circled overhead in the late-afternoon sun. “I know it was him out here the other night. I recognize the broken headlight. Do you think he knows about the Benben Stone?”
Shadow let out a squawk.
“I know. I have to tell my friends, even if Herman warned me otherwise. It’s too suspicious,” Horace said. “Things are getting serious.” He knew he couldn’t keep doing this alone, and he needed to get help. He had to tell his friends no matter what Herman had told him. Mr. Franken was up to no good.