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finished mopping up the last of tonight’s collateral bath damage and gotten Georgie into bed when Daniel heard a familiar tap-tapping at his attic bedroom window. Mollie had insisted they create a secret code—a special rhythm to the tapping that would identify it as her. When Daniel had sarcastically asked just how many other people in Noble’s Green could fly up the three stories to his window, Mollie had answered him with a punch to the arm. And so the secret code was born.
    The tune Mollie had chosen was the Darth Vader theme from
Star Wars
. Mollie added her own lyrics. They went, “Daaaaaniel is a butt-head, dum-da-dum, dum-da-dum.”
    “It’s unlocked, Mollie,” Daniel said, interrupting her before she could make up a second verse.
    Mollie floated into the room like a gently blown leaf, settling with a plop on the edge of his bed. She’d really mastered the graceful entrance. So different from her first trip through that window, over half a year ago, when she’d crashed into his room, exhausted and terrified. Of course, that had been the time of the Shroud, when fear had been a constant among the special children of Noble’s Green.
    “Your room’s a total mess,” said Mollie, eying the stacks of books and unfinished-model pieces littering his desk and bedside table. Daniel and Rohan had recently gotten into WorldWar II era battleships and were trying to create a complete model of the Pacific fleet. But as summer arrived, the two spent more and more time outdoors and less and less time on their plastic armada. Now every patch of space that wasn’t already taken up with detective books and comics was being used for bits of the U.S.S.
Independence
and H.M.S.
Nelson
.
    Mollie idly kicked at the flight deck of the U.S.S.
Intrepid
and made a face.
    “It’s a work in progress,” said Daniel. “So tell me what you saw. Did you get over to Plunkett’s house?”
    Mollie nodded. “We did a flyby, but we couldn’t get too close without being seen. Nothing to report, really. At least nothing freaky. There are moving vans parked out front and a big black limo. No other cars.”
    “Well, their Porsche is going to be in the shop for a while, I suspect. Once they drag it out of Tangle Creek.”
    Daniel thought about this for a few minutes, chewing the inside of his cheek and tapping his fingers on the Sherlock Holmes–style pipe that sat on his desk. His mom had found it at an antiques store and picked it up for Daniel as a surprise. He liked to hold it, to imagine that it helped him focus in the way that his hero Holmes focused. But he didn’t like to put it in his mouth, because the tip still tasted like bitter tobacco.
    “I gotta say I’m surprised that Plunkett had any family at all,” said Mollie.
    “He was an orphan. Theo must be a great-great-grand-cousin or something. I didn’t have much time to interrogate him before the fire department showed up.”
    Herman Plunkett had officially disappeared over half a year ago. Though a missing-persons investigation was ongoing, the Noble’s Green sheriff’s department hadn’t mentioned foul play. Nor had anyone connected the dots between Plunkett’s disappearance and the mysterious collapse at the Old Quarry around the same time. No one suspected that Herman Plunkett, aka the Shroud, lay buried under that mountain of rock and rubble.
    “Well,” said Mollie, “hopefully they’ll pocket the silverware and Plunkett family portraits and be on their way. Eric’s totally freaked out—he wants to keep an eye on them around the clock, like a stakeout or something.”
    “Yeah, we have great luck with those,” Daniel said.
    “But Rohan said that we’re all overreacting. He said there’s no reason to suspect that Herman’s family has anything to do with the Shroud.”
    “He’s right about that,” said Daniel. “It’s not like I’m worried about a family of Shrouds moving into Plunkett’s old house, but I am worried.”
    “What about?”
    “You