Under the Boardwalk by Barbara Cool Lee

Zac was here on, um, it must have been Saturday morning."
    "You're serious?" Kyle said. "Why was he here?"
    "Doing research on family history is all he said."
    Hallie glanced at the back door. What could Zac have been looking for?
    Kyle noticed her glance. "I don't suppose we could take a look at your morgue, Alec?" he asked.
    "Sure," Alec said. "But it's just a bunch of dusty old clippings." He led them to the back room.
    "We can't get out hopes up. Zac's always doing school projects on local history," Kyle said. "There's nothing odd about him hanging out here."
    She started looking around. The room was lined with cubbyholes, a few papers filed in each one.
    Alec scratched his head and looked around at the dusty cubbyholes. "Let's see. It was something to do with the Madrigal family, at least I'm pretty sure that's what he said.
    "They're filed alphabetically, or what?"
    "By subject," he answered. "Each cubbyhole's a separate topic. And, if nobody's been screwing around with them, the stories'll be filed chronologically within the subject area."
    "I suppose this is just a waste of time," she muttered. "City Council, Logging, Fishing Industry," she read off the labels on the cubbyholes. Each file had a few clippings in it. "Earthquakes, Floods, Cougars. Cougars?"
    "Mountain lions—we've got an overpopulation problem up here in the mountains."
    "Oh. Geez, there's a lot of stuff here."
    "All the news that's fit to print."
    "You said he was looking up something about the Madrigal family?" she asked. "Did he say what subject he was looking up?"
    Alec pointed to a cubby stuffed with clippings. The label beneath it said "Madrigals."
    Hallie gingerly pulled out the pile of yellowed clippings. "There's gotta be a hundred of them here." She sighed.
    "The Madrigal family's been here as long as the newspaper has," Alec said.
    "Longer," said Kyle from over her shoulder.
    Alec left them and went back out to the office.
    She flipped through the clippings. "They're out of order," she said. She stopped at one reading "Madrigal Patriarch Dies at 79." "This one's from 1920." She started reading. "What's 'Arturo's Folly'?" she asked.
    "Pajaro Beach. Great-Grandpa—Arturo Madrigal—built the amusement park and everyone thought he was nuts—until the tourists started showing up in droves, that is."
    Hallie sat down on a stool and started flipping through the clippings again.
    "March 11, 1933," she read aloud. "Earthquake Destroys Local Band Organ. The famous Wurlitzer band organ whose melodies charmed local children has been silenced," she continued. "Today's earthquake sent the music machine crashing to the ground, and an echo of sadness was heard throughout the village. But never fear: Mayor Madrigal vows a new one will be installed before children arrive to ride the carousel this summer."
    She saw Kyle watching her. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm getting us sidetracked here." She put down the pile of clippings.
    "No," he said. "Go ahead."
    "There's no point. An earthquake in 1933 has nothing to do with Windy and Zac disappearing."
    Kyle smiled. "That sounds like my line."
    "Well, then, let's go."
    "Wait," he said. "Maybe you're right. Maybe there is a clue here."
    She brushed the dust off herself and started for the door. "You have a lot of better things to be doing right now."
    "No, I don't," he said. He hesitated, and she wondered what he was going to say. "I need you," he finally said. "I need someone who can think like Zac, someone with—"
    "—a vivid imagination?" She shook her head. "You said yourself this isn't some silly mystery."
    "We don't know what it is. Hallie, please."
    She looked at Kyle. His jaw was set in a stubborn line, but his eyes were sad and lost. She couldn't imagine what kind of hell he was going through. Raising these kids was his "mission in life," and now they were gone. Her best friend was gone. And she didn't know why.
    She picked up the clippings again. "Okay," she said. "What about this