ANOTHER CLUE

-Dis/Claimer-

x x x

. Chapter Seventeen .

Carolyn had been Ian’s sister for a good twenty-eight years now, and by now she could easily read his very few expressions. As she passed by and locked eyes with him on her way to the dining room, he wore a knowing but hesitant glare. At this point, Carolyn knew she had little if any time to tell Riley what she wanted to before Ian did. Her mind shifted in mechanical thought as she sat between Riley and Ben. Ian sat directly across from her with Walt to the left, and an empty chair was left for Patrick.

“It was wise of you to join us this evening,” Ian said to Riley and Carolyn with a charming smile. The humor in his voice was on the downside as he stared at Carolyn meaningfully. “We have important matters to discuss.”

Her time was more limited than she thought. Carolyn looked up calmly, setting her hands in her lap with her napkin.

“Where is Abigail?” Riley asked.

“Safe,” Ian supplied.

Riley looked over at Ben for verification, and he said, “She’s fine, Riley.”

x x x

From in the kitchen, as Patrick readied dinner to be served, he listened to the mumbled phrases and conversation in the dining room uneasily. Being forced to cook dinner for his worst enemy with his grandchildren innocently playing upstairs… He hated that man.

Just then, the phone rang. Patrick rolled his eyes but picked it up cautiously.

“Hello?”

x x x

“Abigail is with Carl and Fischer a few blocks away,” Ian told them. “They are in deep seclusion, for I have suddenly got the FBI on my trail again.”

And they all knew why. He looked over at Riley and Carolyn, the ones responsible for the airport incident. Riley stared at him with hatred while Carolyn was detached from the conversation, still thinking of a way to communicate with Riley. She reached into her bag and grabbed a pen, setting it in her lap.

“It’s perfectly all right, though,” Ian continued without noticing her actions beneath the table. “They were expendable and my clue is right here with me where it should be.” His eyes penetrated Riley to the point that Riley got a chill in his spine.

“Set it on the table,” Ian demanded.

Slowly, Riley opened his jacket and pulled the copper flag out of his pocket, laying it in the center of the table face up without a word. Did Ian still not know about the writing? Or had he found out?

Well, he probably would soon anyways…

He felt Carolyn’s hand move over his under the table and was surprised momentarily as she gave it a squeeze. He felt a small piece of paper shift with her hand as her fingers wrapped under the edge of his hand. Discreetly, he upturned his hand so that the paper fell into it, Carolyn’s pulling away slowly. He closed his hand around the paper as Ian kept his eye on the copper flag on the table.

Just then, Patrick entered with a large plate of pork chops. He went to set it down but saw the piece of copper in the center of the table and paused, now feeling the tension around the table. He realized that this was what they were fighting over now. Instead, he set the plate somewhere else on the table.

“I could use some help with the casserole and potatoes in the kitchen,” Patrick said to them hesitantly. He looked at Ian. “If it’s all right with you, of course.”

“Riley, go help him,” Ian dismissively. “And don’t be too long.” The threat was accompanied with a smile. “I’m hungry.”

Carolyn felt strained as Riley rose from his chair and followed Patrick into the kitchen. Ian laughed at her.

“Oh, don’t be like that. I don’t know why you’ve got anything to worry about,” he chided sarcastically as he served himself some food.

Carolyn remained tense. She hoped he would read it as soon as he got out of sight, but she dreaded the moment he did.

x x x

As soon as Patrick was in the kitchen, Riley watched in confusion as he doubled his pace over to the phone on the countertop. Riley followed in question as Patrick handed it to him.

“It’s for you,” he said seriously. Riley took the phone, looking down at it bewildered.

“What? How is that possible?” He lifted the phone to his ear, pocketing the piece of paper Carolyn had just given him. “Hello?”

“Mr. Poole?”

“Yes?”

“This is Agent Kinley of the FBI,” the voice said. Riley frowned but wanted to fall to his knees in gratefulness at the same time. Agent Kinley was nothing compared to what Sadusky had been with their last encounter with Ian, but she was the FBI.

“Thank god,” he said quietly. “Where have you been the passed few days? We’ve lost all contact with the FBI!”

Agent Kinley spoke quickly and quietly. “I was told by Agent Hendricks stationed at the hotel in Brooklyn that you and Ben Gates left the hotel without permission or supervision one morning to retrieve Sally and Charlie from an unknown location.”

“Ian said no FBI,” Riley told her regrettably. “Ben pulled me along; I wanted someone to know.” He paused. “Why are you calling?”

“Because that same day when you got the children back to the hotel and disappeared again, we took Patrick and the children to his residence-“

“Yeah, I know, I overheard,” Riley said.

“We lost track of you, Ben, and Ian after that, until this morning.”

Riley bent his brow. “This morning?”

“Your debit card account.”

“Oh.” He looked over as Patrick spooned mashed potatoes into a bowl. “What’s going on now?” Riley asked her.

“We have had Patrick’s home surveillanced by the FBI since we took them there. Including now.” She stopped for a moment as Riley’s eyes widened. He looked out the window next to him but saw no one. “Right now, we have the house surrounded, and our main concern is getting the children out safely.” Her voice became stern. “Can you get them out?”

Patrick looked back at Riley before taking the potatoes out into the dining room. Riley took in a deep breath, looking at the staircase on the other side of the kitchen desperately.

“Maybe,” he whispered. “They’re upstairs. Everyone else is downstairs.”

“All right,” Kinley said. “Listen closely.”

x x x

“Where’s Riley?” Ben asked his father.

Patrick sat the potatoes down next to the pork chops. “He’ll be right out with the-“

“Casserole?”

Everyone looked back as Riley walked out with the steaming dish. The copper flag was still there as a centerpiece. Face up and undisturbed.

Carolyn watched him stand beside her, a difference in his mood somehow. He was still extremely cautious and worried, but she thought she saw a shining bit of a secret in his eyes. She looked at her plate in thought. Had he read it? Was he that calm and understanding about it?

“Excellent timing, gentlemen,” Ian said. We were just about to-“

“Whoa!”

Patrick turned around, knocking the casserole out of Riley’s hands and all down his front. Riley yelped in pain as he jumped back, brushing the hot food off of himself. Carolyn stood and helped him as Ben went over and picked up the bowl.

“Ow, ow!”

“It’s okay, here,” Carolyn said, quickly throwing the hot food off of his pant legs. Ian and Walt stood as Ben carried the bowl in the kitchen and Patrick wiped up what he could of the mess on the floor. Ian looked over at Carolyn and Riley.

“You might want to clean that up,” Ian said to Riley evenly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he said with a wince at the burning from his chest to his legs. “I’ll be right back.”

Riley started upstairs with a look back at Carolyn. Her expression was worried and shadowed, but he tried to reassure her with his eyes in a brief split second.

A sickening feeling grew in Carolyn’s stomach. Had he read the damn note yet or not?

After climbing the stairs, Riley stopped taking careful steps and broke into a brisk walk despite the nagging burning of the remaining food on his clothes. He went up the hall and opened the guest room. Charlie, Sally, and Champ were inside.

“Come on,” he said quickly. “And no talking. We’re playing the Quiet Game.”

“What happened to your shirt?” Sally whispered as they walked over to Riley.

“There was a big food fight down stairs, and I’m trying to get you out before you get hit with spinach,” Riley told her as they moved swiftly to the other end of the hall. “Now remember; I said Quiet Game.”

“Okay,” Sally said even softer.

“Where are we going?” Charlie asked.

“You’re going to go out the window down here with some of my friends,” Riley said as they passed the staircase. “They’ll get you out before the food fight gets ugly.”

“Like onions and sour kraut?” Sally asked.

“With liver on top,” Riley told her, opening the window at the end of the hallway. She made a face as Riley leaned out, seeing a ladder and two men on the dark lawn. One gave a thumbs up as he began climbing the ladder. Riley stuck his head back inside, turning to the twins.

“Okay, Sally- Hey. Where’s the dog?”

They all looked up as Champ ran down the stairs suddenly going into a barking fit. Riley’s face fell as he heard Ian become suspicious. Carolyn’s voice interceded, but Ian shot her down and continued asking risky questions against the barking.

Riley moaned. “Oh no…”

Then a knock came from beside him, and an FBI agent was at the window. Riley picked up Sally, handing her to the man. “Quiet Game!” he whispered urgently.

“Okay!” Sally whispered back as she descended the ladder with the agent.

“What is going on?!” Ian demanded, his voice suddenly traveling up the stairs. Riley’s eyes doubled when Ian and Walt appeared at the top of the stairs, staring him down and heading right for him with a gun.

“Charlie, move!”

He pushed the boy into a room next to him as he fell to the ground, a round of bullets flying out the open window behind him.

From downstairs, Carolyn and Ben exchanged looks, racing up the stairs as Patrick waited at the front door to let the FBI in. At the top, Ben promptly hit Walt in the back of the head, knocking him over. Riley lifted his head slowly, just catching a glimpse of Carolyn actually punching Ian in the face. His moment of awe was short-lived, however; Walt pulled Carolyn to the ground, gun on her.

“No! Ben!”

Whether Ben had heard him or not, he suddenly kicked the gun from Walt’s hand as Champ came back upstairs barking loudly to add to the chaos. Riley, by some miracle, heard another knock on the side of the house.

“Charlie! Come here!” Riley shouted. “Hurry up!”

The boy peered around the edge of the doorway frightened. Riley reached out for him. “Come on, Charlie, just hurry,” he said.

Charlie ran for the window, and Riley lifted him into the other man’s arms that immediately went down the ladder to safety. With a final look, he left the window and ran over to the scuffle, pulling Carolyn to her feet. They collapsed against the wall panting.

“Are you okay?” he asked her.

“Riley-“

The front door burst open from downstairs, and Walt pulled out another gun, handing it to Ian. Champ barked on.

“Get the flag!” Ian shouted as he ran downstairs. “Go!”

Gunfire sounded again, Carolyn covering her ears and wished it would all just go away. Riley watched Ben run downstairs after Ian. He looked over at Carolyn and grabbed her hand, puling her to the window.

“Get out of here!” he yelled over the commotion downstairs.

“The ladder’s fallen!” Carolyn said. Her face fell dramatically as Riley took her hands in his, looking around for another way out. She felt tears threaten.

“Riley, I have to tell you something-“

“Tell me when we’re not being shot at,” he said, taking her up the hall now.

“But we aren’t-“

“We’re in the vicinity!” Riley argued. He led her into the bathroom. “Just hold on. I’m working on it.”

“This can’t wait!” Carolyn said in exasperation. “Just listen!”

“What?!”

“I’m Ia-“

Loud gunshots cut her off.

“-er!”

“What?!” Riley yelled again.

A shower of bullets flew into the bathroom, and the two fell back into the wall stunned. The shower door looked like Swiss cheese. Walt walked in, forcibly hitting Riley on the back of the head. The young man lost consciousness and slipped to the floor in a pile.

“Leave him alone!” Carolyn shrieked, beating on Walt’s arm. “Leave him-!”

The bottom of the gun met her temple, and her eyelids drooped into darkness. She felt her head hit the tile floor, an image of Riley’s blue jeans, sneakers, and the bottom of his tan suit jacket the last thing she could comprehend.

x x x

Soft mumbling entered his restricted thoughts as he came around. Riley moaned lowly. His head ached so much, and the light was terrible (and he had barely cracked them open yet). The process was slow, but Riley finally did open his drowsy eyes halfway. Carolyn had her arms folded under her chin as she watched him wake up with a small smile. Riley was confused.

“What happened?” he said in a gruff, frail voice. His eyes throbbed painfully.

Carolyn’s smile saddened. “We got away.”

“From Ian, I hope?”

She shook her head. “Nope.”

Riley closed his eyes, moaning again.

“Where am I?” he asked miserably.

“It’s about six A.M. and you are in the top bunk of a camper,” Carolyn said. As expected, Riley squinted at the answer.

“A camper?” he repeated.

“Uh huh,” Carolyn said. “We just stopped for gas and some food. I stayed in here to see if you’d come around.”

Riley was wearing a blank expression of thought before asking, “How did we get a camper? How did we get out of the house?”

Carolyn didn’t look too eager to tell the tale. “Ian bought time with bullets, grabbed us, the clue, and left,” she told him. “We stopped and got Abigail, Carl, and Fischer, too. As for the camper, I was still unconscious like you, so I don’t really know…”

Riley propped up on his elbow at this. “Is Abigail okay?”

“She’s in the diner eating,” Carolyn said. “They all are.”

“What about the twins?”

She shrugged. “Safe, I guess.”

“Are we out of town?”

“No, we’re heading into the city.”

Riley contorted his mouth at the idea. “For what? The clue? But we don’t even know-“

“Ben and Ian are sitting down to finish discussing it once we hit the road again. I told them about what we had discussed yesterday in the hotel about Betsy Ross,” she said.

Riley’s face fell. “Ian knows about the writing?”

“And almost shot someone else when he found out,” Carolyn added. A yawn suddenly escaped her.

Riley took note of her tussled hair, tired eyes, and saw the straps of her black dress under the hair around her shoulders. For some reason, he felt a pang of guilt for what had happened.

“Are you okay?” he asked her quietly.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him half-heartedly with a smile. “I was more worried about you.”

“When did you wake up?” Riley asked.

“Maybe… three, four hours ago. I still feel terrible, though.”

Riley smiled, feeling equally worn out. Suddenly, a thought occured to him. “Wanna hear something amazing?” he asked. Carolyn laughed.

“What?”

“One week ago today… I saw you walk downstairs in the manor…” Carolyn laughed openly now, remembering their first meeting. It was in fact a week ago today that she had met him.

“And you insulted me beyond belief,” she said. “I wanted to-“

Carolyn stopped, not able to bring the words ‘kill you’ into the sentence (for it had been true a week ago). Riley just smiled at her.

“It’s been a crazy week,” he nodded at all that had happened.

She laughed for another moment, but then her face went serious. He didn't know who she really was since they had met a week ago. “Riley, I really have something I need to tell you about,” she said, lowering her voice. Suddenly, Riley remembered parts of what happened before he was knocked out the previous night. She was telling him this. He got concerned.

“What?”

Just then, the camper door slammed open, and Ian walked in shouting at Ben about the clue. Ben sat at the table, Abigail with him, as the argument went on. Patrick boarded with Carl next, and the camper roared awake. Riley didn’t like it. Carolyn made a face, thinking she would never get to tell him. She dropped from the ladder she stood on and walked over to the table.

“How are you doing, kid?” Patrick asked, walking over to Riley.

“I’m okay,” Riley said. “I guess.”

As Patrick walked over towards the table that everyone was gathering around, the camper pulled out of the diner’s gas station, and Riley got out of the bunk to rejoin the group. He stood between Patrick and Carolyn, the other four seated at the table with raised voices. The copper flag sat in the middle victimized, the writing side up.

‘Widow of needle

In philos adelphos stay

The illegible keystone

In this bed of coals lay.’

Widow of needle. Besty Ross.

Philos adelphos. Philadelphia.

What about the rest of it?

“A bed of coals can be something other than a fireplace,” Ian argued with Ben. “What if it is the coffin of someone who has been cremated?”

“Betsy Ross was not cremated, otherwise it might be considerable,” Ben argued back to make his point. “The keystone, whatever it may be, is laying in a fireplace. It was a common term in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries for a fireplace.”

“How do you know?” Ian asked.

“Well seeing as I’m the American historian of the two of us, we’ll go with my logic on the American history riddle,” Ben said challengingly. Ian was ready to make a remark, but Abigail cut in.

“A keystone is an archeological part of a fireplace, too,” she reasoned. “It’s the center stone at the top of most arched fireplaces.”

“Besty Ross’s fireplace was not arched,” Patrick told them. “It was a simple square.”

“Regardless, a keystone is still present,” Abigail, said.

“Or ‘keystone’ could be a reference leading us to Pennsylvania,” Ben pondered aloud. “Pennsylvania is the Keystone State, and it is the home of Betsy Ross.”

“Sounds like the word has two meanings,” Riley interjected, slouching tiredly with his arms crossed over his chest. "Even though Philadelphia sort of gives the location away."

“'Keystone' does have a double meaning,” Ben said. “Pennsylvania reference and fireplace reference.”

“So, the clue is in a fireplace?” Carolyn asked.

“The keystone of Betsy Ross’s fireplace,” Ben clarified. “We’ll have to get in somehow.”

For some reason, as always, all eyes shifted to Riley. He pouted, shut his eyes, and let his head fall backwards.

“I hate being the computer guy sometimes,” he groaned.

“No, it won’t require that high scale of an entry,” Ian said. “They hold self-guided tours at the house, right?” He looked to Ben for confirmation.

“Not for another four hours,” Ben told them. “Let’s try to rest up while we can and find a change of clothes.”

x x x

Their last stop before heading to Betsy Ross’s house was yet another shopping trip; Ben, Walt, Carl, Fischer, and Patrick all needed a change of clothes. Ian remained at the camper with Riley, Carolyn, and Abigail. Riley had simply shed his suit jacket and threw on his dark hoodie (and cleaned the stains out of his jeans from the night before) while Carolyn changed back into her pants and Riley’s two shirts from the other day. Abigail and Ian did not change.

After freshening up, Riley carried two glasses of water over to the little table, giving one to Abigail as he sat opposite her.

“You feeling any better?” he asked, taking a drink. Abigail sighed, looking at her glass silently.

“I- Ooo!”

Riley jumped up, and Carolyn came over. “What, what?” he asked quickly.

That’s all we’d need now is for the baby to come, he thought.

“The baby’s kicking hard,” Abigail said with a small laugh. “I think it’s confused by all the recent… exercise I’ve been doing.” She looked up at Ian as he came inside, and Carolyn and Riley turned as he joined their group.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Ian asked her civilly, putting a hand in his pocket.

“We don’t know,” Abigail answered unwillingly. “We wanted to be surprised.”

Ian gave a chuckle. “You and Ben certainly do live a life full of surprises,” he said. “It should only be appropriate.”

“It should only be a matter of time before the baby’s born,” Riley said, a sort of plead to Ian. “It’s due next week! Six days! She can’t be dragged all over the country like this.”

“Well let’s hope we find the treasure in six days then,” Ian said.

Carolyn gave him a glare of pure hate. “You are so selfish,” she suddenly spat at him. “You could be endangering the life of her child-“

“Not like I haven’t done that before,” Ian remarked.

“Stop it, Ian,” she said dangerously. “Just because it’s due in six days doesn’t mean it will be. It could be born right now-“

“Do you think I’m an idiot?" Ian suddenly asked. “Mother said the exact same thing about you, but you were five days late.”

Her eyes widened as Riley stood next to her, throwing an incredulous look between Ian and Carolyn. Her heart pounded as she stared at Ian, a smug smile now on his face.

“Always too late,” he mused at her. “And always so foolish.” Ian looked over at Riley. “She never did find the time to tell you her deepest, darkest secret, did she?” he asked him. Riley looked over at Carolyn blankly, a laugh escaping him.

“What is this?” he asked.

“He was only using me and then tried to kill me the night of the party,” Carolyn said. “I tried so many times to tell you after that-“

“But you never got to the good part,” Ian said. He smiled as he walked between them and gripped Carolyn’s shoulder. “Terribly tragic for a killer to fall in love with her target.”

Riley stared at her as she looked at the floor angrily. Abigail looked sullen, almost expectant of this. At this moment, Ben, Patrick, Carl, Fischer and Walt boarded the camper; curious at the scene they had stumbled upon. When Ben locked eyes with Abigail, his shoulders fell, realizing what had just happened. Ian looked up at the others, still behind Carolyn.

“Fischer, Carolyn will be joining you in the cab,” Ian said to his driver. Fischer came over and took her, maneuvering her towards the door. She looked back at Riley painfully torn with guilt, but Riley’s expression was immovable, disappointed, and glazed.

After she left with Fischer, Riley looked away from the door, everything hitting him at once.

Carolyn was Ian’s sister.

She was in the house acting as a housekeeper…

To get the painting.

With the clue in it to give to Ian.

He huffed with a smile at how blind he had been when the camper started up and began to move. A heavy hand fell on his shoulder, and Ian’s acidic voice floated into his ear.

“You’re welcome.”

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