Spring break was drawing to a close.

Tom, Colby, and Noodle waited quietly around the kitchen table for Tom’s mom to return from Manhattan’s Midtown South Precinct, where Mr. Edison had spent the last day and a half, answering questions about how he ended up hanging from the ceiling of Grand Central Terminal.

Just like the three kids had done, he told them everything he knew: how they were in search of Thomas Edison’s secret formula to create gold, how Lieutenant Faber had planted the stolen book in Tom’s room, and how Curt Keller and Nicky Polazzi had been the ones who’d kidnapped Tom and Colby.

The detectives didn’t believe a word about any secret alchemy formula, but since so much of their stories checked out, they had no choice but to order a department-wide investigation on Faber, as well as on Sergeants Gilbert and Mancini, and have a judge issue a restraining order on Curt Keller for the time being.

But the old CEO’s whereabouts were currently unknown.

The sound of keys jiggled in the lock, and Tom’s parents entered the kitchen. His mom set Rose down and headed toward the fridge to make her lunch. She looked tired, Tom noticed. Not that he blamed her. She’d had the scare of her life when Tom went missing and now had to deal with fines, cops, and a delinquent son and husband.

Since it was their second strike with the police, Tom, Noodle, and Colby had been given mandatory community service, and their families each had to pay a five-hundred-dollar fine. Still, they hadn’t been sent to “the big house” as Noodle had feared, and had even received an e-mail of appreciation from the mayor for their help in uncovering an elevator that supposedly led to a private room in the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel next door. What exactly that “secret suite” was, the kids had no idea.

Tom’s dad took a seat at the table. Nobody spoke.

Noodle finally broke the silence in typical Noodle fashion. “So you beat the rap, Mr. E?”

“Decent fine. License suspended,” he answered with a sigh. “All in all, though, I’d say I got off easy.”

Tom’s relieved eyes met his mom’s. She smiled. Or at least it looked like a smile. It was hard to tell with her sometimes.

“Your father explained everything on the way home from the station,” she said. “I’ll just never understand how the two of you get yourselves into these situations.”

“But,” Tom’s dad piped up, “your mom and I have also decided that even though the outcome wasn’t what we’d hoped, the adventure itself had given us something.”

He reached across the table and placed his hand over his wife’s. “Something this family had been missing for a while, and I think, when we’re in Wichita, that we need to remember how—” He broke off, confused. “Tom, what are you smiling about?”

“You’ve got exactly the look on your face that always worries me,” added his mother. “So spit it out. What do you have to tell us?”

All eyes were on Tom, who grabbed a notepad and started writing, then slid it across the table toward his father.

Here your search will terminate. So pop the cork and celebrate, it read.

“Yeah, yeah, we all know what the baseball bat said,” sighed Colby with a glance toward Tom’s note.

You’re not getting it, he wrote in huge, underlined print, shaking his head no like a mime as he gestured toward the ceiling. Tom was certain there were still a couple of Keller’s listening devices hidden somewhere.

“What’s to get?” whispered his dad.

Tom then reached into his pocket and placed a tiny metal key on the kitchen table. He’d hardly been able to contain his excitement while he’d waited for his father to come home from the station.

This was inside the baseball bat, wrote Tom.

His dad picked up the key, slowly turning it over in his hands to read its message. They could all now see that engraved into its side were the coordinates 41° 2’ 47.42” N, 73° 51’ 50.12” W.

“I can’t believe you held out on us for this long,” said Colby, smacking him on the arm.

“I wanted everyone to be together,” he whispered.

Tom’s mother scooped up the key and turned it over in her palm.

“Mommy, lemme see!” Rose’s round fingers wriggled for it, and Mrs. Edison held it close for her daughter to get a good look.

“Pretty,” Rose pronounced.

Tom’s dad sprang to his feet. He had his Swiss Army knife out and used it to slice open one of the storage boxes that was marked Mise—DESK DRAWERS.

“What are you looking for?” asked Tom’s mom. “I spent all week organizing those boxes.”

“Something we accidentally packed,” he answered.

After a few moments of searching, Mr. Edison pulled out a large map of the United States.

He was determined to figure out where those coordinates led.