The Stirlings and the Missing Statue

Chapter Twenty-Two: What To Do With This Booty?

The second sundown without her twin passed no more easily than the first. A week prior, she'd been placing the final touches on the family's itinerary and no where on it had been the village, the pueblito of Cerro Gordo, nor had there been any kind of intention to explore some haunted cave within the hill of the same name. Her brother, her annoying second half with whom she shared no real similarities other than their birthdate and hair color, hadn't wanted to come once she'd showed him their proximity to the shoreline and that they'd be no where close. She'd shared this with her parents—perhaps the idiot had gone to the shore—but the logistics of Declan getting down off the mountain and navigating himself to the nearest beach were impossible. Not even a tiny pinch of probability was allowed for the theory. It was Declan they were talking about. There was absolutely no way.
The children and their mother were back at the villa. Mr. Stirling was back at Cerro Gordo and conducting yet another search for his missing son. The local authorities had concerned themselves more with preserving the cave's tunnel and inner cavern where the newly discovered treasures remained. Once it was clear that they cared more about the legend proved true, Mr. and Dr. Stirling removed themselves and their exhausted children from the local office and back to the villa.
Essentially dropped off so their father could speed back to the cave, the children and Dr. Stirling shuffled into the main room of their accommodation in various stages of shock. Dr. Stirling was all cried-out for the moment and was looking frantically through her crossbody purse for a sheet of paper one of the officers had given her. It was a fax sent by the consulate agent who they'd spoken to on the phone and contained two columns of names and contact numbers. On one side was a list of lawyers who spoke English and would work with American tourists specifically during legal woes. On the other side of the page was a list of private investigators who would do the same but for American tourists who had a missing family member. When she'd found it and uttered a shuddering gasp of relief, Ez could see her eyes flit between the two columns.
"Mom?" Ez asked her. "Can I help?"
Dr. Stirling hesitated for a moment, her eyes still scouring each list over and over, but then she shook her head. "No, no. This is grown-up stuff."
"But I...I feel like..." Ez couldn't say it. She couldn't say how guilty she felt. Especially when what could be clues to Declan's disappearance were hidden still in Mitchell's backpack. She couldn't speak of her guilt and she couldn't speak of the treasures—something wouldn't let her.
But her mother seemed to see right through her. "Honey, this wasn't your fault." She was gripping the paper firmly in one hand and causing a starburst of creases along the edge but she brought it down to her side and looked at each of her (not-missing) children with the same firm expression.
Mitchell had pulled himself into one of the bar stools at the wet bar and Callum had simply leaned against the wall next to the kitchen. Ez had stopped inside the living room and their mother hadn't made it further than the foyer.
"None of you caused this. None of you did this. I know that. Your dad knows that," Dr. Stirling said serenely.
It was hardly like her to address all of them at once, even when they were all in trouble for not doing chores or staying up too late. Usually their dad did the scolding and even the praising, so Ez almost welcomed the attention even under the circumstances.
"I shouldn't have suggested it," Callum said. He was staring at the floor. His hair was still greasy from sweating up and down the mountain and his face was streaked with soot that had been poorly wiped away when they each were allowed to clean up in the police station bathroom. "This wouldn't have..."
"Don't," their mother warned. It sounded more like a warning to herself, as if she were considering pushing some of the blame (or all of it) onto one of her children after all. "I shouldn't have let you all go. Dad shouldn't have drunk the water. Declan shouldn't have separated..."
She wouldn't finish her sentence. The shocked expression that melted into guilt told Ez that she had started to blame her own son for his own disappearance.
Dr. Stirling cleared her throat to push away what was likely another bout of tears. "Well, I need to...I..." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly with rounded lips. "I need to call an invest...investigator."
She didn't wave her children away but they each understood that she thought it best she speak to the investigator alone, so they all moved at once to return to their bedrooms. Ez gently knocked into Mitchell as he crossed in front of her for the study bedroom and she nodded toward the hallway next to the kitchen where Callum had already shuffled. Ez raised her eyebrows at each of her brother and pointed her head across the kitchen to the stairs that led up to her bedroom.
"What?" Callum asked.
He was obviously as tired as the rest of them but he had a history of being extremely cranky without sleep. The children were all going on some thirty hours without sleep, having only dozed in the lobby of the police station but for a few minutes at a time.
"Just come up to my room for a minute," Ez spoke through her teeth.
Their mother had begun pacing through the house as she started dialing and making inquiries with the first of several investigators. Ez didn't intend to alert her mother to what she wanted to speak to Callum and Mitchell about if she could help it. And if her stupid brothers would realize that they definitely needed to talk.
After a mild protest from Callum, Ez slipped through the kitchen and started up the stairs. Mitchell and then Callum followed and didn't bother quieting their clomping footfalls on the tiled steps. Just off the stairs was a large room and in the center was a small pool table. Two large recliners sat facing each other in the corner with a chessboard and table between them. The balcony doors were open, as were the doors that led into the bedroom, where Ez had left her bed perfectly made from the day before.
"This is your room? Want to trade?" Callum said, practically drooling over the large television and gaming consoles that were neatly tucked into a wall shelf underneath.
"No," Ez said quickly. She'd chosen the villa and her room weeks ago. She'd given the boys the chance to look at the floor plan ahead of time, but she thought that Mitchell might have been the only one to have looked at it. He hadn't seemed totally surprised by their dad's suggestion that he stay in the study.
"What are we doing, Ez. I'm tired," Callum said as he made his way over to the pool table. He pulled out the cue ball out of the channel underneath and rolled it across the felt. He let go and slid the ball across the table where it bounced off the corner and rolled quietly near the center pocket before it stopped.
"Mitchell, I see you're still wearing your backpack," Ez said. She arched an eyebrow with annoyance.
"Oh," Mitchell said. "Right."
He slithered out of his backpack and let it thunk onto the tiled floor. Falling into a sitting position beside it, he reached for the zippers but Ez stopped him with a small sound at the back of her throat. She nodded toward the stairwell door and Callum, standing the closest, crossed the room and closed it. Ez and Callum joined Mitchell on the floor as he continued then, pulling out the knife, the coins, and the vase and tankard. He pulled the jewels out last, counting all six from the hand he dug into the backpack's outer pocket.
"Why didn't you tell mom about this?" Callum accused.
"Why didn't you? Or you?" Ez asked each of her brothers in turn.
Mitchell hesitated. "I...I don't know. I couldn't."
Callum squinted and frowned. "If we'd said anything, especially about these," he pointed to the six jewels where they sat on the ground, "they'd have forgotten all about Declan and been worried about the legend of whatever."
"That's exactly what did happen," Ez said. "Where are they now? In the cave looking for Deck or for gold?"
"Yeah," Mitchell and Callum said together.
They each took one of their pilfered items and examined it in the full light of the bonus room instead of by flickering campfire. The vase and tankard seemed innocuous but were definitely more modern-looking than the knife or any of the coins. Mitchell began to insist that it was still dried blood that stained the knife's blade, but Callum and Ez both assured him that it was rust.
"But rust requires moisture...like blood," Mitchell offered.
The older siblings rolled their eyes and went back to inspecting their own items. Callum still had the first coin he'd found in his pocket and he took it out but didn't add it to the pile.
"I wish I'd known we were going to take all this before I traded you the knife," he admitted to Mitchell.
The youngest Stirling pulled the knife against his chest protectively. Callum chuckled lightly and shook his head. He picked up one of the jewels, red and sparkling except for the flat back that was gummed with adhesive and remnants of a soldered setting.
"What are we going to do with this stuff?" Mitchell asked, taking one of two green jewels from the pile. "Weren't we going to turn this in? Like to a museum?"
A panic rose in Ez's chest. "No," she said simply.
Callum opened his mouth to protest but something changed in his face. "No. She's right. We can't."
"But..." Mitchell started to argue but fell to the tradition of not being able to argue successfully with any of his siblings. His earlier confidence that he'd shown once Declan was missing was faltering.
"It's too late now. We should divvy it up though," Ez said. "Just to be fair."
"Right," Callum said with a twinge of uncertainty.
"That's two jewels for each of us, six coins a piece...well, seven for Callum. Knife goes to Mitchell, the tankard to me...wait, no, I'd rather have the vase. You can have the tankard, Cal."
"What about Declan?" Mitchell asked.
"What about him?" Ez snapped. She hadn't meant to sound so callous. She had been a bit surprised, however, that it was Mitchell who brought up Declan's take.
She looked up from the crystal clear jewel she was inspecting and found both Callum and Mitchell staring at her with some horror in their expressions.
"What?" she asked.
"I'll save the tankard for Deck and he can have some of my coins," Callum said without taking his eyes away from Ez.
"Fine," Ez said with a roll of her eyes. "He didn't want any of this anyway. Especially the jewels."
"And he has the painting," Mitchell said.
Ez straightened her back and the roll of old canvas under her shirt scratched at her shoulder blades. "Yeah. Yeah he does."