Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2 Dan's backpack thudded against his spine. It felt good to run after being on a plane for a million hours. The only problem with traveling so much was… traveling. That, and the lack of Cherry Garcia ice cream on airplanes. Nellie passed him easily, even with Saladin's cat carrier swinging back and forth in one hand, her overstuffed pack on her back, and their duffel slamming against her hip with every step. Nellie seemed to spend her time napping or eating, but she was in awesome shape. Nothing like having a commando for an au pair. They reached the bus stop where the old woman had gotten off. They looked around wildly, but there was no sign of her. Pedestrians swirled around them, walking quickly, smiling, laughing, and chatting. A tall, elegant woman in green suede heels strolled over to look at an interesting

building. Nobody hobbled around waving a map. Dan spotted a splash of red in the middle of some bushes. He hurried over. He pulled out the red suitcase the old lady had carried. It was surprisingly light. Dan flipped it open; it was empty. Two red splotches appeared on Amy's pale cheeks, as though somebody had slapped her. Dan knew that sign. Amy was trying not to cry. "I l-l-lost Grace's necklace. I can't believe it!" Amy collapsed on the stairs in front of a stone building. "It could turn up," Dan said. He thought he knew how Amy felt. When he'd lost the photograph of their parents in the train tunnel in Paris, he'd cried like a little kid. Right in public. Dan looked up at the building Amy had collapsed in front of. He saw the word museum on the sign. Normally, that would cause hives to break out on every inch of his body as he waited for his sister to drag him inside, but maybe a museum would distract her. Amy was blinking back tears so fast she was causing a breeze.

"Hey, look, a museum," he said. "Want to go in?" "Uh, Dan? Have you noticed? It's a museum," Nellie said. "I think I recall you saying you'd rather have spiders suck out your eyeballs than step foot in another museum again." Dan jerked his head toward his blubbering sister, letting Nellie know what he was up to. Nellie gave him an appreciative nod. "That's just silly," Dan said. "Spiders can't suck out eyeballs." He thought a moment. "Though maybe they can in Australia. Cool. Anyway, it's the Justice and Police Museum. That could rock. Come on, Amy, let's check it out. Maybe the thief ran in here to get away from us. You can read labels," he coaxed. Nellie sat on the stairs. "I'll wait here. They probably wouldn't let me bring in Saladin, anyway." She opened her Dictionary of Australian Slang. "I'll just put on my sunnies," she said, slipping on sunglasses. "I'll spit the dummy if you ankle biters take too long, but if you don't, she'll be apples!"

"Speak English, please," Dan said. "If you take too long, dude, you're toast." "Got it. C'mon, Amy, I bet they have weapons." Dan bounced up the stairs while Amy followed more slowly. At least she was coming. After they paid admission, Dan paused at a wall lined with photographs of criminals from the 1890s. They all looked like they were about to eat your face for breakfast. Incredibly cool. "Amy, listen to this! Once, this guy went missing, and then one day this shark in an aquarium coughed up his arm! I love this place!" But Amy had wandered off to look at a courtroom. Dan bent over to examine the death mask of Captain Moonlight. For once, he'd found a museum that made sense. Amy didn't get her brother. Didn't they have enough mayhem in their lives? Why did he find a place like this so fascinating? She saw the elegant woman in the green suede shoes lean forward to examine the wall of mug

shots. She looked intently at the wall, but Amy couldn't tell what she was looking at. Whatever it was, it was fascinating. The woman turned and reached into her purse, and something about the motion pinged inside Amy. Something familiar… like she knew this woman. But she didn't know anyone in Australia. By now she was used to following her instincts, no matter how strange they seemed. When the woman moved off down the hall, Amy followed. But when she turned the corner, the woman had disappeared. A re-creation of an old cell caught her attention. Amy stepped inside. It would be so handy to have a place like this to lock away little brothers when they got obnoxious. Which would be every five minutes… Suddenly, she heard the door behind her clang shut. She spun around. The woman was smiling pleasantly at her through the bars of the cell. She was beautiful, with huge amber eyes and gleaming dark hair that feathered against her face. Her skin was so smooth and perfect that it looked like a

china doll's. "Don't be alarmed. This was the only way I'd get to talk to you," she said in a British accent. Her voice was thick and creamy, as if she was holding a spoonful of yogurt in her mouth. She leaned closer, as though confiding in Amy. "We Cahills have a way of running away from each other, don't we." She winked. Amy wanted to kick herself. The woman was a Cahill! Amy casually looked around for another exit. "Still a worrier, I see." The woman's smile didn't waver. "You never trusted your own courage. Grace used to say that." Amy felt a stab of pain at those words. She lifted her chin. "D-d-don't tell me about my grandmother. Who are you?" She cocked her head and studied Amy, an affectionate smile still on her lips. "Ah, the regal stare. Now I see Grace in you. I'm Isabel Kabra." "Ian and Natalie's mother?" She nodded. "I've tried to stay out of the hunt for the thirty-nine clues. Tried to keep Ian and