33.

“We were—” Timothy began, but the man interrupted with a wave of his hand.

“Save it.” He stepped inside. His dark hair and beard were salted with white. He wore black jeans, an untucked dress shirt, and a dark blazer. “Wendy told me she gave a couple of visitor passes to some middle-school students earlier this morning. I didn’t see anyone downstairs who fit that description, so I thought I’d do a little exploring, and what do I find?” The man smiled, revealing crooked yellow teeth. “Trespassers.”

“Um, sir?” Timothy raised his hand. “Technically, we’re not trespassing. There wasn’t a keep-out sign on the door.”

“I guess common sense is a difficult concept for today’s youth,” said the man. “Come on. Time to go.”

“We’re wicked sorry,” said Timothy, heading toward the door. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

“Yeah, totally no harm meant,” Abigail whispered, trailing behind him.

When they reached the door, the man stopped Abigail. “What’s this?” he said, glancing at the framed baseball cards.

“Oh, that’s, um …,” said Abigail, but she wasn’t quick enough.

The man took the frame from her. “I recall these sitting in front of the safe on that bookshelf over there. At least, that’s where they were the last time I checked.”

The safe? thought Timothy. What safe? He glanced at Abigail. She looked as shocked as he was. The man brushed past them, crossed through the room, and slid open a small wood panel in the bookshelf. Inside the cupboard was a metal door, a combination lock plugged into its center. “Locked,” said the man, closing the door and replacing the frame. “Strange, if you ask me,” he continued, “but then again, in my opinion, this whole situation is strange. Beyond strange.” The man ushered Timothy and Abigail out the door, past the plastic curtain, and onto the landing. “You’d think after almost fifty years, the college would have left this room alone,” said the man. “They were the ones who put up this wall in the first place. But no. Now we need space. Space! We cannot waste the space! And I have to deal with the mess.”

“You mean,” Abigail said, following the man down the stairs, “the college put up that wall?”

“One of the old librarians asked them to,” said the man. “Sealed that office right up.”

“But why?” said Timothy.

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, the man stopped and turned around. “And I’d be telling you for what reason?” He squinted at them.

“Actually,” said Abigail, “it’s kind of weird, but we’re here doing research about the man who used that office.”

“Dr. Hesselius?” said the man. Surprised, the kids nodded. Abigail pulled the microfiche pages from under her arm and handed them to him. The man flipped through them with a curious expression. “Why would you want to know about him?”

A few minutes later, Timothy and Abigail were behind the front desk, helping the man, who’d introduced himself as Gavin Engstrom, load heavy books onto a wobbly cart. Abigail had convinced Gavin to tell them the history of Hesselius’s strange office in exchange for a round of reshelving. He’d sent the blond assistant away for the moment.

Gavin leaned against the desk and folded his arms. “The plans began last year when someone up in the admissions building noticed the window anomaly.” Both Abigail and Timothy stared at him. “There were more windows outside than we could account for on the inside,” Gavin continued. “The Office of Building and Development soon rediscovered the room at the top of the stairs. As I was saying, space is quite a commodity at this institution. Of course, I’ve been fully aware of the room ever since I started here. After the library erected the wall, the abandoned office was secret staff knowledge, passed down through these last few generations, like an heirloom. I had come to the conclusion that the room had actually become invisible.”

Timothy snickered. “Well, that’s just…,” he began. Just what? Silly? A moment later, Timothy realized it wasn’t silly. After everything he’d just learned, it was actually really creepy.

“I’m assuming you know a bit about the former occupant,” Gavin went on, nodding at the pages Abigail had stacked on the book cart. “Scary story, right?” Abigail and Timothy nodded. “Supposedly, the librarians at the time knew Hesselius pretty well. They liked him. Early on, during the trial, there had been talk about whether or not Hesselius might return, so they saved his office for him, just the way he left it. But after the government put him away, no one wanted to go in there. With all the talk, people didn’t know what to believe. I think it was … Percival Ankh, the head librarian at the time, who locked up the office. And so it remained, for several years, a closed door,” said Gavin. “Hesselius died. People said they heard noises in there. Rumors of voices. Cults. Dark magic. No one even used that staircase anymore. Creepy. Mr. Ankh was a superstitious man. I’m pretty sure it was his idea to seal up the room behind the wall too.”

“Did people think Hesselius’s ghost was in there?” Timothy asked. “Did you ever see anything?”

“Me?” Gavin laughed. “No. I’m not the seeing kind.”

Abigail bumped into the cart. It squeaked. “Upstairs, you seemed a little freaked out.”

“Well, yes, I was nervous,” Gavin said. “I heard your voices. I didn’t expect to find a couple of kids up there gathering dust.”

“Then why’d you make us give back that frame?” said Timothy.

Gavin laughed. “You wanna know why?” he asked. “First of all, it didn’t belong to you. Second of all … it didn’t belong to you!”

“Then it’s not cursed or anything?” Timothy blushed.

“It very well may be, if you believe in curses,” said Gavin, “but that’s not my concern. Nothing can leave that room. You see, there’s a lawsuit. Turns out, news of the room’s discovery got back to Dr. Hesselius’s relatives. They insist everything in that room belongs to them. No one’s supposed to touch it until the college settles the issue.”

“Who are his relatives?” said Abigail.

“His son, specifically,” said Gavin. “A sweet old guy who still lives in New Starkham. I don’t blame him for trying, the economy being what it is.”

“You’ve met him?” said Timothy.

“Sure,” said Gavin. “Came by the library a couple months ago. He hobbled up those stairs himself. Technically, he wasn’t allowed, but I gave him some time to look around. Unlike some people I know, he left without touching a thing. I actually hope he gets everything he wants, though most of what’s left in there is worthless, in my opinion. Still, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the guy. Losing his father the way he did.”

“You mean, his father, the child snatcher?” said Abigail, tossing a book onto the cart.

“Hey, careful with that,” said Gavin. He sighed. “Please. You know what I mean. He lost his twin brother too. Imagine how you would have felt if you were him.”

“I don’t think I really want to,” said Abigail quietly, “but thanks anyway.”

Gavin stared at her for several seconds, then shrugged. “People don’t inherit the sins of their parents.”

“Thank God,” said Timothy and Abigail at the same time.

“Let’s go,” said the librarian. “Enough chat.” He pushed the cart from behind the desk toward the bookshelves. The squeaky wheel echoed through the large room. “More action.”

Moments later, Timothy followed Abigail into the Ancient Religions section. “We’ve got to get back up there.”

“Where?” said Abigail. “The office?”

“That hidden safe,” said Timothy. “The baseball-card frame was right in front of it. It’s gotta be a clue. We should check it out.” He pulled a book from the cart, matched up the number on the spine, and shoved it into its place on the shelf. “Besides, after everything we’ve been through, there’s no way I’m leaving those cards up there. I don’t care if Gavin tries to stop us. I’d be willing to do some evasive action to get past him. Whenever we play basketball in gym class, I play pretty good offense.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Abigail, lifting another book from the cart.

Timothy shook his head. “What do you mean, not necessary?”

Abigail placed her book on the shelf. “The evasive action already happened, silly.” She reached into her back pocket. “I doubt we can get back up there without being noticed, but at least we’ve got these.” When she pulled out the three baseball cards, Timothy had to cover his mouth to keep from whooping. She held her finger up to her mouth and said, “Shhh.”