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the house too.”
    “Thank you—for everything,” said Paloma.
    Diane stood for a moment after the call and looked at the computer equipment, then at the television in the bedroom. None of this was taken. Did they not have time? They seemed to have cleaned out only a hutch and an old desk in the living room. That was odd.
    “Diane,” called Neva from the lower floor, “can you come down here? I’ve found something strange.”

Chapter 6
    Downstairs in Marcella’s living room Neva was standing over the desk with a magnifying glass in her hand. She had removed the middle drawer and set it upside down on the top of the desk.
    “What you got?” asked Diane.
    “I’m not sure,” said Neva. “The drawer doesn’t have a handle or knob, so I thought there might be prints under the bottom rim where you have to grab to pull the drawer out, and, well, what I found is just really weird. I don’t think it’s important—I mean, it’s old. It looks old. It’s just really strange.”
    Diane looked down at the desk to see what had Neva all tongue-tied. The back of the desk drawer was raw unvarnished wood discolored with age. Nothing noteworthy about it except there was small handwriting in one of the corners.
    Neva gave her the magnifying glass and Diane moved the desk lamp to view the writing. It was in a small, clear hand, a combination of cursive and printing, composed into simple declarative sentences and phrases. It was odd, poignant, and a little chilling.
They want to make me disappear. I don’t know what to do. There is no one I can trust, no one to call for help. If I disappear, they have taken me. To where, I don’t know. I’m afraid. Please look for me if I disappear. Please. MAG
    “Well,” said Diane, straightening up. “What do you make of that?”
    “I have no idea,” said Neva. “Is it a joke? Is it Marcella’s handwriting?”
    “No,” said Diane. “I’ve seen hers, and it’s nothing like this.”
    “Then what? Where did the desk come from, I wonder? Did she buy it in some antiques shop, get it at Goodwill, a family heirloom?” asked Neva.
    “That’s something we can ask when we can talk with Marcella,” said Diane.
    “I wonder how old the message is?” said Neva. “Is someone in trouble? I suppose if they are, it’s too late to help them now. It looks to me like it was written a long time ago.”
    “It does to me too, but we’ll let David take a look at it. I’ll get Korey to have a look too.”
    Korey Jordan was Diane’s head conservator at the museum. She frequently called upon him for various jobs where his expertise would be useful.
    “Questioned Documents might have some insight,” said Neva. “Couldn’t they?”
    “Yes,” said Diane, “but I doubt this has anything to do with what happened to Marcella. It looks too old—a kid may have done this years ago as some kind of play. We can’t devote many resources to it.”
    “I know, but, well, it’s spooky,” said Neva.
    “It is. How about the other drawers?” she asked. “Anything on them?”
    Neva shook her head. “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know.”
    “You might want to look at the back of the desk too,” said Diane. “Maybe something is written there. People often tape notes on the back of furniture.”
    “I will. Maybe Jonas knows were the desk came from. It’s kind of shabby compared to the rest of her furniture. Maybe it is some childhood piece she’s never been able to part with—you know, fond memories. But that message is not quite the stuff fond memories are made of,” observed Neva.
    “Could’ve just been a game,” said Diane. “I used to stuff secret spy messages in my dolls that some people might have found creepy if they read them.”
    “I heard about that,” said Neva, smiling.
    Diane smiled back at her. “Marcella’s daughter called. Her name’s Paloma Tsosie. She’s coming in from Arizona. She may know something about the desk.”
    “Tsosie?” said Neva. “I’ve never