The 39 Clues [Cahills vs. Vespers] 05 - Trust No One by Linda Sue Park Page A

Tossing restlessly, wringing the sheets and her hands, her eyes open but unseeing. It had been so hard to see her that way. . . .
    And she had mumbled a lot. Mostly streams of incomprehensible syllables, but occasionally a few words. Atticus had tried desperately to understand, responding to her as if they were having a normal conversation in the hope of breaking through her delirium.
    Already his recollection of her mumblings had helped them once, and he had been meaning to search his memory again. Somehow he hadn’t gotten around to it, and he knew why: It was too painful.
    But seeing Dave brought it all back — the hours that were endless because of seeing her suffer, and at the same time, much too short because they were her last. Her words may have been mostly nonsense, but they were his final memory of her.
    The Mad King . . . something about guardians . . . stay friends with Dan . . .
    And there had been more.
    Missing . . . voyage . . . where . . . LaCher . . .
    Voyage?
    Not voyage —
Voynich
! She was saying ‘Voynich’!
    Atticus was thinking so hard that he held his breath, as if any activity other than recollection would take away his ability to remember his mother’s words.
    “You okay, bud?”
    Atticus blinked. Dave was staring at him, looking concerned.
    But it wasn’t just concern. Atticus frowned. There was something else in Dave’s expression, something sharper and less kindly than concern . . . or was he imagining things?
    I’m just paranoid over this whole Vesper thing.
    “I’m fine,” he said. “Sorry — I was thinking about Mom.”
    Dave nodded. “So, what are you up to? Is your dad here, too?”
    “No,” Jake said. “We’re, um, just here with our friends.”
    “Dave,” Atticus said suddenly, “do you know a friend of Mom’s named LaCher?”
    “Sure,” Dave said. “LaCher Siffright.”
    Siffright — again?
    “Siffright?” Dan said. “That’s —” He stopped for a moment, then went on, “That’s a funny name.”
    “She’s a medievalist — at Brown, I think,” Dave said. “Tall, blond hair . . . Why do you ask?”
    “No reason,” Atticus said, aware of how lame that sounded.
Quick — think of something else!
“I mean, I was just trying to remember all Mom’s friends. I thought maybe — maybe I’d write and ask if they have any pictures of her.”
    There, that’s better. Pretty convincing, if I say so myself. Besides, it’s a good idea — I should do it for real.
    “Want me to track her down for you?” Dave asked.
    “That’s okay,” Jake said. “I’m sure Dad has her address somewhere.”
    Dave took out his phone. “Sorry, just thought of something.” He took a polite step back, punched in a quick text message, then put the phone away.
    “Can I buy you all lunch?” He smiled at Atticus. “Do you still like peanut butter on your tuna-fish sandwich?”
    Amy looked at her watch. “That’s nice of you, but I’m afraid we need to get going,” she said.
    Dave glanced at Amy’s wrist. “Cool watch,” he said. “Okay, I’ll get back to work, then. Say hi to your dad for me. And take care, both of you.”
    Atticus waited until Dave was out of sight. Then he turned to the group and said, “I know what we need to do next.”

Ted could sense the heaviness of the depression in the room. He and the other hostages had staked everything on the escape attempt. Now that they had been recaptured, they had nothing left.
    It was quiet, with only the occasional sounds of Nellie and Natalie moving about as they attended to Alistair. Nellie should have been a patient herself: During the escape attempt, she had been attacked by the Vespers’ dogs.
    But Alistair was worse off. He had lost a lot of blood from the deep gash in his leg, which had been cut on a sharp rock as he was trying — unsuccessfully — to keep Phoenix from going over the edge of a cliff.
    The wound had gone septic. Alistair had a high fever, and the girls were using up some of their