Emily Windsnap and the Siren's Secret - Liz Kessler [57]
He didn’t sound like his usual self. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something different about him. Something — I don’t know — something lost. It was as though he wasn’t even seeing me, didn’t care that we’d caught him following us, or whatever he was doing. What was he doing? My indignation crept up a notch.
“Did you follow us here?” I asked. Then it hit me. “Did you get here before us? Have you found it?”
Mr. Beeston spun around. “Found what? What are you talking about, child?”
“Found the —” I stopped. Yes, exactly. What was I talking about? “Found the lost thing,” I said lamely.
He shook his head and laughed sourly. “You know nothing, child,” he said. He started to walk away, toward the sea.
“The shell,” I called to his back. “Did you steal it?”
“Steal the shell?” he called over his shoulder. Then he stopped. He whirled around and paced back to me. He stood so close to me, I could see beads of sweat breaking out one by one on his forehead. “Steal the shell?” he repeated. “Don’t talk to me about stealing the shell. Don’t talk to me about stealing anything!” Then he said something under his breath. I couldn’t be sure I’d heard him correctly, but it sounded as though he added, “Or anyone.”
And then he marched to the shore. Standing at the water’s edge, he turned back toward me. “There’s nothing here,” he called. He turned back to the sea. Holding his arms out wide, he called again. “Nothing,” he repeated, his voice breaking on the word.
Aaron was by my side. “What’s going on?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Mr. Beeston’s acting all weird.”
“Do you think he found the lost thing?”
I stared down at Mr. Beeston. “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe he knew what we were looking for and found it before we even got here. Maybe he’s had it all along. I just don’t know.”
“What about the shell — has he got that?”
I let out a breath. “I’m fairly sure he has, but I can’t prove it. Why would he want it, anyway? I don’t understand why he’s here, what he’s got to do with any of this, why he’s acting so strangely. I don’t get any of it, Aaron.”
“Nor do I, but if he hasn’t got the shell, I don’t know what else can have happened to it.”
I looked down at Mr. Beeston, standing at the water’s edge, staring out to sea. “Yeah, but if he has, we’re not likely to get it back. He’s not in a mood to give anything away.”
“Maybe the shell isn’t that important anymore,” Aaron said hopefully. “I mean, we found the map. It didn’t have anything else inside it. Perhaps Melody won’t mind so much that it’s gone.”
I laughed — or at least I tried to. It came out a bit more like the sound of a cat being strangled. “Yeah, right. And perhaps we won’t get tied up and tortured and left out for the sharks when we go back and tell her we’ve lost it,” I said. “You never know. We could get lucky.”
Aaron reached out and took my hand. My anger and fear melted away when he did that and I met his eyes. “Sorry,” I said. “I’m just scared.”
“I know. It’s OK. We’ll figure something out. We’ll tell them everything. The important thing is that we get back there and make sure that Shona’s all right.”
I nodded.
“Once we get to the caves, we’ll work out our next move together.”
I smiled. “You’re right. Come on, let’s get going.”
Aaron nudged his head back toward Mr. Beeston. “What about him?” he said.
I shook my head. “Forget him,” I replied, setting off over the rocks. “He’s not even worth thinking about.”
We got back to the caves easily — Aaron’s sense of direction was almost as good as his photographic memory. Soon, we were both leaning out across the waterfall.
“You ready?” Aaron asked. He reached out for my hand.
“We should go separately,” I said. “If we stop the waterfall, we might not be able to get down.”
He nodded. “OK. See you inside.”
A moment later, I was in the waterfall,