“Peculiar.” I could not tell if Jackaby had actually recognized our arrival, or if he was merely talking to himself. He tucked the lens into his bulky coat.
“Miss Fuller!” Brisbee said cheerfully. “Welcome! Wonderful to see you again!” Then, taking in the whole group of us, he added, “Oh good! So glad you folks are getting along. I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee. Why don’t I just bring everyone some refreshments?”
“That’s really not necessary,” said Lamb.
“No, no trouble at all.” With a wave of his hand, Brisbee was already away, bustling off into the farmhouse.
“What exactly are you looking at, gentlemen?” Nellie Fuller asked.
Hudson leaned on one knee. “These tracks ain’t like nothin’ we got around here—least nothin’ I ever hunted.” He thought for a moment, and then added with a grin, “Yet.”
My heart, which had been up in my throat since the revelation at the dig site, dropped suddenly to the pit of my stomach. I slipped back and slid toward Charlie while the others were crowding around to gaze at the footprints.
Charlie read my intentions and met me halfway. “In case you were wondering,” he whispered in my ear, “I have never visited the farm in my other form. Whatever Mr. Hudson is tracking right now, it isn’t me.”
“Good,” I said. “That’s good.”
Charlie’s eyebrows knit, and his expression was torn. “If I did, however,” he continued, “I might be able to put this whole business to rest a lot sooner. Someone stole those bones, and we’ve yet to uncover any obvious leads. Jackaby’s right. If I could just pick up a scent before it has time to fade . . .”
“You know that’s a bad idea,” I whispered. “Mr. Hudson is already on the hunt for something, and even if it isn’t you, you’re still—”
“Rook!” Jackaby’s voice broke me away from my thoughts. “What do you make of these tracks?”
“Me, sir? Wouldn’t Mr. Hudson be a better judge?”
“Of course he would,” said Jackaby curtly, “which is why I asked Mr. Hudson first. Now I am asking you.”
“Looks like a bird,” Hudson said as I shuffled past Lamb and moved to join my employer in the soft dirt. “Three big old toes and just a hint of a back one. They’re real thin, but those talons are long and nasty. I thought Rosie was big. Whatever left this makes her look like a chickadee.”
I finally focused in on the tracks and gaped. The footprints were very familiar. I had seen similar marks cast in plaster at the museum and sketched in my father’s field journals, but more than that, I had seen imprints like these only minutes ago at the top of the hill. The markings were the precise size and shape of the enormous dinosaur’s missing toes.
“Oh good grief,” said Lamb. “This is getting ridiculous.”
“Well, it has to be a hoax,” said Horner.
“Oh, drop the act! Of course it’s a hoax, but you would know all about it, wouldn’t you?” Lamb waved a hand at the footprints. “The specimen’s foot is missing! Horner has obviously used my fossils to stamp these impressions.”
“What? Why would I do that?” Horner demanded.
“I don’t know how your mind works. To distract me from my legitimate work, I imagine.”
“He’s right,” Hank announced. “They’re all pressed from the same foot. They go back an’ forth like it’s two, but they’re all the left. Explains them being so thin, too.”
“There’s more to it than that,” Jackaby mumbled, his brow still knit in concentration.
“Sir?” I asked. “Can you see something . . . special?”
Jackaby’s eyes narrowed. “Fake or not, these prints were not made with simple fossils. Fossils are no longer living; they’ve been reduced to a mineral state, even less vital than dry bone. As I said before, studying fossils is no different than studying rocks.” Lamb and Horner both bristled, but Jackaby ignored them and continued. “These prints have traces of something far more potent. It’s not like the others, but there is a residual tincture here—an aura I cannot quite place.”