The Prince of Lost (boyxboy)

Six: Cole

        In the afternoon, the weather had been contradicting. The skies were dark with heavy clouds that might bring down rain at any moment but the air was still the same: hot and dry, making sweat trace down Cole's back.
        The skin on his arns and neck and face felt sticky.
        "Will you stop glaring at each other?" Cole was annoyed.
        "He started it!" Moir said defensively.
        "No, he started it," said Alex.
        "Okay, both of you stop," Nigel placed his hands in front of both boys. "We have a more serious matter to discuss here. So will you please forget about your issues and focus?" Steel gray eyes jumped from Moir to Alex. Then Alex to Moir. "A'ight then."
        Cole took a long sip from his ice cold coffee before he spoke. "Things are getting worse and nobody's doing anything about it." Brenton's face flashed across his mind. Seeing his dad, who had been coming home very late and leaving so early in the morning, had urged him to make a move. "Well, the Sheriff is doing everything he can but it doesn't seem to be enough. We need to do to something."
        A humorless laugh escaped from Moir's mouth. "Don't kid yourself, Cole. What can a bunch of children do to help finding missing people?"
        Cole exhaled. Moir was obviously against the idea. He needed something more if he wanted him on board. "I have a speculation that these abductions are somehow connected to what happened sixteen years ago. Otherwise, the townspeople wouldn't point their fingers at the Frostmounts."
        "Of course it is! It's them again, obviously." Moir rolled his eyes.
        "I wouldn't say that if I were you," Alex said. The angry boy just a moment ago had completely changed into someone else. Into someone who Cole knew during his childhood. It was the Alex that liked solving mysteries with him. "Because if I were to commit a crime, I wouldn't make it this obvious. Kidnapping people is serious, and if I want to remain innocent after this, I wouldn't let a single blame be put on me."
        "So what are you suggesting?" Moir challenged.
        The ginger-haired boy only shrugged.
        "We need to find evidence." It was Cole who spoke up. "Evidence that will either prove the Frostmounts' innocence or guilt." All eyes were on him. "And I found something else. A name. Isabelle Lincoln."
        Nigel almost blew out the juice in his mouth. "What? Isabelle who?"
        "Isabelle Lincoln," Cole repeated. "Strange that I don't know her if we share the same surname."
        "So what about her?" Alex asked.
        "Her name was carved into one of the tables in the library. It was connected by a heart with an Andrew Frostmount. I have a gut feeling that an invisible thread is joining these occurences."

***

        Later, the four found themselves in the shadows of Lincoln resindence. They decided to do what they can while the sun is up and finish the rest when midnight strikes.
        "It's so dark in here!" Nigel protested.
        Cole pointed his flashlight at the other boy. With black hair and clothes, he perfectly blended with the darkness. "Speak for yourself."
        Their voices didn't echo like Cole expected. It only meant that there were more places and boxes to search. Four circles of light darted from one place to another, giving Cole a vague layout of the basement under his house.
        "What are we looking for again?" It was Alex, who was far ahead of the three. He was already snooping over piled mechanical devices.
        "The Lincoln family tree."
        "Hey, Alex. Careful with the dust, will you?" Moir complained, backing away.
        There was shuffling sound. "Sorry, Mr. Clean-freak. But basements are quite known for housing bags and bags of dust."
        Moir murmured under his breath.
        "Let's break into two groups," Cole decided. "You guys search the cabinets and escritoires. Alex and I will be on the shelves back there."
         Cole didn't wait for them to agree and moved toward the dust filled books. Alex was on his heels, flashing his light over the next shelf. Cole was somehow relieved for the quiet. Hearing his friends' continuous smart-aleck remarks and retorts sent his ears ringing. It was getting tiresome.
        And they didn't have much time.
        They needed to find what they were looking for before Luisa arrived. His mom had been clear that he should stay out of the subject. But his instinct told him otherwise.
        Isabelle Lincoln, who are you? He asked in his mind as he scanned each page for a folded piece of paper. Unlike the other families in Goldenwood, the Lincolns didn't paint their family tree in the dining room. Instead, they wrote it in a piece of paper thrice the size of a bond paper and folded it into the size of a book page.
        He had seen it only once, long ago, right after Alex stopped coming to his house. And never saw it again after his dad scolded him for touching it. He wasn't sure if he'd find it here. But it was a start. He didn't think Brenton would hide it anywhere else.
        His lungs were screaming by the time he reached the third shelf. The one before last. Like the others, the shelf was intricately carved with woven lines and marks he didn't recognise. The books, too, were a mix of leather-bound, hardbound and paperback. Some were novels, biographies of famous people from the past, and some were handwritten diaries of his great great grandparents.
        He kept his eyes sharp in case one of them bore the name Isabelle Lincoln. He was on his third book when he heard a voice, "Found it!" It came from the other side of the room.
        Cole met Alex's eyes, bright orbs of blue green lighting up. He felt his spirit lifting up, too. He didn't know how long they'd been down here. But his back and legs were already hurting.
        They found Moir and Nigel at the farthest cabinet. Scattered pieces of paper lingered on the floor. Documents they had absentmindedly discarded in a rush.
        Four circles of light flashed over a large parchment paper. Lines where it was folded marked it like huge rectangular gridlines. It was old that the edges were torn and dotted with tiny dark browns.
        And the Lincoln family tree laid before their eyes.
        Cole saw the names of his ancestors, up to the first Lincolns to ever step into Goldenwood. There was Philippe Lincoln and Annabelle Heatherfield. Under them fell their children's names and spouses. Names branched down and wide.
        But Cole wasn't paying much attention to them.
        "Here." Moir pointed at the middle of the paper, where the Lincoln bloodline ended.
        Isabelle Grace Lincoln was written beside Brenton George Lincoln and Luisa Hannah Dolner. And beside her name was Andrew Frostmount. All these names were written in dark ink and it was visible that it was written not longer than three decades.
        "Isabelle is my aunt," Cole said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper. "And she married a Frostmount."
        A furrow appeared on Moir's forehead. "But Cole, why is your name not written here?"