The Key to Finding Jack, Ewa Jozefkowicz [top e book reader TXT] 📗

The Riddle of the Locked Chest. The memory of the final riddle Jack had told me made my eyes blur. I flicked back through the notebook. There were so many stories there, easily more than a hundred. Jack hadn’t known that I’d written them all down. I wondered if I’d ever have the chance to tell him. I began to hungrily read through them, wishing that I could reverse time to when I’d jotted down the very first riddle.

I was so engrossed that I didn’t notice the time until a car horn brought me back to reality and I panicked when I saw that it had already gone 8.30 a.m. Drat, I was supposed to be at Keira’s, ready to walk in together. I weighed up my options. I could go into school and keep my phone in my pocket (which was breaking the rules). That way, when I heard it buzzing, I could make up an excuse and run out into the corridor to take the call.

The alternative was telling Mum that I didn’t feel well and staying at home, but I knew that if I did that, I would likely spend many more hours sitting here on the bed, staring at the phone, which would be torture. Who knew how long it would take the community centre man to find Jack? I took down Jack’s calendar from the wall, and struck through all the days that I’d left unmarked since the earthquake. I heard the echo of his words, ‘Every day you tick off means I’ll be a day closer to home.’ Then I threw on my school uniform, carefully placed the key under my shirt and went next door.

The weather had cooled overnight, and instead of the glorious, spring-like morning that I’d hoped for, it left a miserable, boggy greyness and a fine, cold drizzle. The rainwater ran down the pavement causing tiny, sad-looking rivers that splashed up my leg, leaving annoying damp spots on my tights.

I ignored it, trying to keep hold of the nervous excitement that was filling me to the brim.

‘Why are you so…?’ Keira began when she saw me.

‘Oh, Keira, I’ve solved the investigation. You’ll never believe who S.F. is!’

‘No way! Who?’

‘It’s me! It stands for Sergeant Flick – the nickname that Jack gave me.’ And then I told her all about showing Mum and Dad the tree.

‘I can’t believe we did all that work and it turned out to be you! How mad is that? But you know, I don’t think it went to waste. There’s lots of important—’

‘—He’s going to call today,’ I interrupted her. ‘I know that Jack’s going to call. He’s in a village called Llave. It’s where Grandpa bought the key for Grandma and it’s also close to the cathedral where the Inca gold was stolen. All the clues have come together. I’m certain that’s where he is.’

‘Woah, slow down. How do you know all this? Have you worked out what happened when he got off the bus?’

‘I think he decided a few days earlier that he would go to Llave instead of travelling back to Lima. He must have been curious about the place where the treasure legend comes from, and maybe this teacher, who he met on the bus, told him about a school in the area that runs a volunteering scheme – Simon is still looking into that part.’

‘And you think Jack will be able to call from this man’s phone?’ Keira asked, when I’d finished updating her.

‘Yeah, there’s a time difference. We need to wait another couple of hours. It’s still early morning there,’ I said confidently.

Keira squeezed my hand.

‘What’s that for?’ I asked.

‘Nothing.’ She seemed surprised, almost as though she hadn’t realised she’d done it.

‘You’re worried I’ve got it wrong, aren’t you?’ I asked.

‘No I… You know I want Jack to be found, Flick. I’ve been helping you with this from the beginning. And I think we’re definitely getting closer. You could be onto something, but then again, we might have to cast the net wider. I want you to understand that if you’re wrong this time, it’s not the end…’

I felt so angry about the tiny seed of doubt she’d planted in my head that I refused to speak again until we reached school. Because of me, we were seven minutes late and had to go into the school office to sign in.

As luck would have it, Duncan was there registering his own lateness. He gave me a nervous smile and loitered, waiting for us to leave the office. He seemed to have a sixth sense for catching me at the very worst moments.

‘Hey, I spoke to my dad about your story,’ he said. ‘He’s willing to take a look at it. He might have some useful feedback.’

Before I could answer, we heard a deep American voice ahead of us in the corridor.

‘Oi, squirt, where’s my hoodie?’

Duncan’s face instantly changed, as if somebody had chucked a bucket of ice-cold water over him. His features rearranged themselves into a look of worry, maybe even fear. He shifted out of my line of sight, and I could see that the person talking to him was a tall, muscular guy of about Jack’s age, wearing tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt with two crossed tennis rackets. He loomed over Duncan, who seemed tiny in comparison.

‘I… I don’t have it,’ Duncan stammered.

‘Yeah, you do,’ said the older boy furiously, who I was now certain was his older brother. ‘I saw you take it from my room this morning when you thought I was asleep. If you don’t give it back by lunchtime, things are gonna get serious. D’you understand? They’ll get even more serious than they did before. And don’t think Dad is going to protect you this time!’

His eyes narrowed as he said this, but Duncan had already turned on his heel and started walking away, before I could witness more of his shame.

‘Loser…’ hissed Duncan’s brother.