“Either Mr. Porter is out roaming the halls unattended or someone took them from his room and put them in your locker. In any case, this is a serious breach of responsibility.”
“My mom loves Blackjack!” Rose stepped in. “What would she want with his medals? She’d never take them!”
Missy turned to address Rose, but just then, Candy walked up. “Excuse me, Ms. Stouffer, but I’ve just begun speaking to the residents and have already gotten five more complaints of missing property.”
“All from the memory care unit?” asked Missy.
Candy shook her head. “Everywhere.”
Missy rubbed the stress from her temples while everyone awaited a response. Blackjack breathed heavily, which sounded more like a rattling wheeze. Mary and Rose exchanged glances. They looked scared. A bead of sweat ran down my back.
Missy spoke, still working at her temples. “This facility is on lockdown until I figure out what’s going on. Every square inch will be searched. I’ll be speaking with all staff members. If that yields nothing, then I’ll call the police and report the thefts.” Missy lifted her head, half glaring, half pleading with us to understand. “I will not tolerate this lack of supervision and security under my watch.”
Mary blinked and looked at the floor.
I felt about two feet tall.
Blackjack trembled with agitation once again. “Give those back to me! Who took them? Who—” He cut himself off with a heaving cough that turned everyone’s head. He gasped for air, then coughed again. Mary, the nurses, and Missy all rushed to his side. He trembled with each breath. Blackjack hacked, then retched on himself.
Missy turned to Mary. “Attend to Mr. Porter. Get him back to his room, cleaned up, and see to any other attention he requires. I’d like to speak to you later. Alone.”
“Of course, Ms. Stouffer,” said Mary. Rose stood next to her mom, watching. The color had left her face, and she looked as if she might cry.
Amid the chaos, I’d forgotten about Grub. I scanned the room, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Has anyone seen my brother?” I asked loudly, but everyone was still distracted by Blackjack’s meltdown.
I rushed to Rose. “Rose, my brother? Have you seen him?”
She looked at me, wide-eyed, as if she’d just noticed I was there.
“I think I saw him running toward the front door,” said one of the Bettys.
Shit.
“Thanks,” I said. Then to Rose, “I’ll be back later, okay?”
She nodded.
I blew through the front doors, rushed to the sidewalk, and scanned right, then left.
There!
Two blocks down the street, a small, green army helmet bobbed behind a hedgerow, running west.
I hopped on my bike and raced after him, leaving the nursing home in my wake. I caught up to him just as he ran into Dylan’s yard.
“Grub, stop! Everything is okay! Blackjack’s going to be fine!” I shouted, unsure if those things were true or not.
Grub disappeared behind the house. I let the bike fall to the ground, then followed him into the backyard. I rounded the corner of Dylan’s garage to see my brother diving at the foot of a forsythia bush.
“Grub,” I said, not shouting this time. He paid no attention. He dug at the ground under the bush from his knees, then stuffed something in his pocket.
What the hell . . . ?
I watched my brother dart across the yard to a flowerpot, which he threw to the ground. It shattered. He grabbed something from the spilled soil.
“Stop it, what are you doing?” I said, but he continued to ignore me, running to a short wall of landscaping stones. He flipped one over and grabbed something.
“Grub, stop!”
He didn’t listen. I ran after him, wondering how I’d explain this to Dylan or his sister if they glanced out the window. Grub yanked a bird feeder from its hook, then tipped it upside down, spilling the seeds on the grass.
Now I was mad.
“Grub! Stop, dammit!” I spun him by his shoulder, and he let out a cry. I squeezed his wrist. “Give it to me.”
I pried open his fingers. My breath caught in my throat.
In the palm of his hand lay a gold ring with tiny red jewels surrounded by the words Class of ’42.
THIRTY-TWO
I EXAMINED THE RING WITH ONE HAND WHILE STILL HOLDING MY brother’s wrist with the other. I felt confused. I felt angry. I also feared for my brother—how would I explain this to anyone?
“What are you doing with this?” I asked.
He hesitated. “It’s one of the treasures.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “Treasures? Grub, this is Letty’s ring. Did you take it from her room?”
He looked down at the grass. “I was following Blackjack’s orders.”
“Blackjack’s orders?” I clenched my jaw to keep my head from exploding. “Grub, you can’t take people’s things! This is real life!” It took all my willpower to keep from completely letting loose on him, but he looked scared enough as it was. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Grub sniffled. “It was supposed to be a top-secret mission. Blackjack told me about it that one day, when Rose was upset. You went to go see her and I stayed at Hilltop, remember? Blackjack told me not to tell anyone, that it was really important. But he’s been sick ever since and I had to do it all by myself. Last night was the final mission.”
My stomach sank to my ankles.
Mom was going to kill me. She told me I’d been self-involved this summer, and here was the proof. I should’ve been looking after my brother, but I’d been too distracted by my new girlfriend, my new band, my new life.
How long had Grub been stealing from residents? Three weeks? Longer? How many times had he talked about his “secret mission,” or wandered Hilltop while I hung out in the common room?
I scanned Dylan’s backyard—the bush, the flowerpot, the landscaping stones, the bird feeder—and suddenly remembered Grub’s map with the circled Xs and Agatha standing guard.
Grub had been hiding stolen property in Dylan’s backyard for weeks, right under my nose.
I stuffed Letty’s ring in my pocket. “What else do you have? Give me all of it.” Grub emptied his pockets, revealing earrings, necklaces, rare coins, and other assorted trinkets. I wanted to grab him and shake some sense into him, but I didn’t. I shoved everything into my own pockets before anyone could see. I placed my hands on his shoulders and looked him in the eye. I tried not to sound angry, even though I was. “What were you thinking?”
Grub’s voice trembled. “I don’t know why Blackjack got so mad. I took his medals last night, just like he told me. I had to hide them until I could bring them here.”
Blackjack ordered Grub to take his medals, and doesn’t remember doing it.
And then I found them in Mary’s locker.
I felt like I’d just stuffed live grenades in my shorts. “Let’s go. We’re returning everything right now.”
“No!” Grub grabbed my shirt. “You have to give them to Rose.”
I shut my eyes and squeezed the bridge of my nose, trying to make sense of what he’d said. “Grub, what are you talking about?”