Page 23 of The Library of Borrowed Hearts

“Yes, Gunderson?” I asked politely.

“Babs made a casserole for you. She figured you’d have more than enough on your hands taking care of your brother.” He smiled in a way that made me feel like a jerk for every time I’d been ungenerous to him. “It’s in the break-room fridge. She wanted me to tell you that we’re all rooting for him.”

Feeling like a villain of the worst degree, I thanked him and started to wheel my cart back to the reference section. I was so focused on this task that I didn’t even notice the piece of paper tucked into the Hemingway until Zach was long gone.

In a scrawl that reminded me a lot of Jasper’s illegible hand, I saw Zach’s name followed by a nine-digit phone number. And underneath that:

I also respond to the bat signal, but don’t tell anyone. I wouldn’t want my secret getting out.

9

CHLOE

I returned home in an exhausted but strangely upbeat mood. Not only was dinner taken care of, courtesy of a cheese-covered dish that both looked and smelled delicious, but the only emergency phone call I’d received all day was from Theo’s school reminding me that every child was required by law to keep his shoes on in the classroom, even if hehadchosenonychocryptosisas his Science Word of the Day.

Fortunately for both me and the school secretary who’d been forced to make the call, I was at the reference desk at the time. It had taken me all of five seconds to log in to Google and come to the conclusion that Theo had decided to share his ingrown toenail with his fellow classmates. It took five seconds more to write myself a note reminding me to make him an appointment with our general practitioner. If his toe was getting bad enough to pull out and frighten his classmates with, then it was probably time to get the inflammation looked at.

Unfortunately, my mood took a turn for the worse when I parked the station wagon in my usual spot and slid out of the seat. Even though it was too early for Trixie and Theo to be home yet, Noodle and Gummy Bear were nowhere to be seen.

“Gummy Bear?” I called as I stepped through the house. On any given day, there was only a fifty percent chance the dog would answer, but I had to try anyway. “Noodle? Where are you guys?”

No one answered, and the more time I spent looking around the house, the less likely it seemed that someone would. There was no sign that my brother had touched any of the snacks or ordered a pizza like I’d told him to. His bottle of water was untouched, the television remote exactly where I’d left it. Most damningly, however, was that his graphic novels were nowhere to be seen.

There were only two things in this world that Noodle treasured most: the Nightwave series and that slobbering, useless lump of a dog. If he were to run away into the forest again, those were the exact two things I’d expect him to take.

Not food. Not water. Not a sleeping bag. Not anything even remotely useful to sustain life.

I dashed out the door with my heart in my throat. I had no idea how far a preteen with a freshly broken leg and a rented pair of crutches could get, but he had at least a six-hour head start on me. I didn’t like my odds.

Nor did I like how the road stretched off in two different directions with half a dozen walking paths thrown in for terrible measure. In Colville, the national forest was never more than a stone’s throw from any given location. For the longest moment, I toyed with the idea of dashing back inside and pulling that slip of paper from between the pages ofA Farewell to Arms. Of everyone in the world who could track and hunt a missing kid, Zach seemed like the most qualified candidate. I had no doubt that he’d be able to drop his nose to the dirt, sniff a few times, and tell me exactly where to find my missing brother.

“No,” I said aloud. I wrapped my arms tightly around my midsection—partly to stop the acid feeling in my stomach from taking over, and partly because I was cold. The fall temperatures were already droppingearlier and earlier with each passing day. “That isn’t an option. I’m sure I can find him on my own. I just need tothink.”

That was when I heard the howl.

At first, the sound was only a faint one, and I barely recognized it. Gummy Bear wasn’t a dog given to howling in the normal way of things. Not only did it require too much effort, but bulldogs treat the process of creating a howl like summoning a demon. There’s chanting and crackling andwaymore saliva than seems necessary. The longer the sound went on, however, the more I realized what I was hearing. And, more important, where it was coming from.

“Gummy Bear?” I called as I ran to the edge of the lawn, where the trellis beckoned me into Jasper Holmes’s garden of good and evil. “Is that you, boy? Are you hurt?”

“Noooooo!” came a scream.Thatone I recognized just fine. Noodle’s anguish was unmistakable. So was the shriek that followed.

Tearing through a shrub I couldn’t identify, I dashed toward the back of Jasper’s house. I had no idea how—or why—Noodle and Gummy Bear had made their way over here, but I knew that there was nowhere on earth the pair of them would be less welcome. The glimpses I was getting into Jasper’s past through the book notes made him seemslightlymore human, but I wasn’t willing to stake anything of value on it.

Especially not my brother.

“Whatever’s going on back here, I—oh! Noodle?Jasper?” My feet dug into the soft, cushiony lawn as I came to a halt. There, in front of me, sat Noodle, kingly in an Adirondack chair and with his leg propped up on a log. In one hand, he held a stick with a string dangling off the end, a literal and proverbial carrot bouncing back and forth. A bite had been taken out of it, courtesy—I assumed—of Gummy Bear, who was actuallyprancingacross the grass in front of him.

As if this sight wasn’t startling enough, Jasper Holmes himself sat inan identical chair, a steaming mug of tea in one hand and a paperback copy ofNorth and Southin the other.

Of all these things—my brother relaxing in Jasper’s backyard, Gummy Bear disporting himself like an actual dog, and Jasper reading a romance—the last one was what alarmed me the most.North and Southwasn’t just romantic fiction; it was also deeply religious and full of saccharine sentiment—all things I never would’ve associated with this man.

“Hey, Chloe!” Noodle cried before I could say any of the things I was feeling. “Watch this!”

He proceeded to bob the carrot in front of him as Gummy Bear wheezed and snapped in an effort to clamp the garden-fresh vegetable in his hungry jaws. The poor old bulldog couldn’t get much air, but that didn’t stop him from heaving his chubby body as high as it could go.

“I’m fishing for Gummy Bears,” Noodle added, beaming at me. “Did you know dogs can eat carrots? And that theylikethem? Mr. Holmes says it’s good for him. It’ll make his breath smell less like death warmed over.”

“I don’t… I’m not…” I cast a bewildered glance at Jasper and back at my brother, my confusion giving away to a different sensation. Shock, maybe? Prostration? I hadn’t heard Noodle speak that many words in succession in years. “Mr. Holmes, did you do this?”