Page 33 of The Catcher (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #5)

N oah and Callie stepped out of the Jeep Wrangler, where they were met with a scene straight out of a historical narrative. The farm was nestled in the picturesque Adirondack Mountains, its rustic charm contrasting with the somber atmosphere brought on by the overcast skies and chilly winds.

“Wow, it’s freezing,” Callie said, rubbing her hands together.

“Hence, the reason why no one is here.”

The site was open on Sundays and would often be bustling with tourists and locals alike, but that afternoon, it was deserted.

A hard wind bit at their cheeks.

Before them stood the farmhouse, a humble yet sturdy structure that spoke volumes about John Brown and his family’s simple life during their time there.

The weathered wooden planks of the farmhouse and the windows offered a glimpse into the past, hinting at the daily routines and struggles of those who once called this place home.

Adjacent to the farmhouse, they spotted the grave of John Brown, marked by a weather-beaten headstone that stood as a silent tribute to the man who dared to challenge the institution of slavery in America.

Fallen leaves scattered across the ground, adding to the solemnity of the scene.

Further ahead, they noticed the statue of John Brown, a solemn figure standing tall amidst the windswept landscape. The statue captured Brown’s determined expression, serving as a reminder of his unwavering commitment to the cause of freedom and equality.

Despite the urgency of the moment, a sense of reverence was in the air as Noah and Callie took in the sight, reflecting on Brown’s profound impact on American history.

As they explored, they couldn’t help but feel a connection to the past, to the struggles and sacrifices of those who came before them in the fight against injustice.

Noah and Callie wandered through the farm, their footsteps crunching on the fallen leaves as they followed the navigation on his phone.

They passed the outbuildings, imagining the hustle and bustle of farm life that once filled these now quiet spaces.

The wind carried the faint echoes of the past, whispering tales of resilience.

As they drew nearer to the statue of John Brown, they found themselves drawn to its imposing presence.

The figure of Brown, standing tall and resolute, was accompanied by a young boy.

Together, they represented a symbol of defiance against the injustices of their time.

Brown’s gaze seemed to pierce through the veil of history while the boy’s expression mirrored hope.

Noah began to read from the cache page. “Okay, the description says: ‘Welcome to the John Brown Farm State Historic Site! To unravel the secrets of John Brown’s legacy, you must embark on a journey that combines historical knowledge, riddles, and math-based challenges. Your goal is to uncover the coordinates to the final stage by successfully solving a series of puzzles related to John Brown and his historical significance. At the base of the statue, you’ll find a significant year in John Brown’s life engraved into the stone.

This year will be the key to unlocking the first clue. ’”

The plaque read: “In this year, John Brown led a historic abolitionist raid.”

“1859,” Callie said.

“That was easy,” Noah replied. He continued to read from the cache page: “I am a number, a year of might when Brown’s brave raid took flight.

Divide me by 5, a number you’ll see; that’s the clue to set them free.

Take the number of paces south, and there the marker lies, revealing history’s truth under open skies. ”

Callie used the calculator on her phone. “So, 1859 divided by 5 is 371.8. But since we can’t have a fraction of a pace, let's round it to 372. That’s the number of paces south.”

Using the compass in the Geocaching app, they began to walk 372 paces south.

“Why is he going to all this trouble?” Callie asked.

“You’re asking why the sky is blue. It just is. ”

“No, I mean, playing these games, taking us to these locations?”

“That’s what I’ve been wondering,” he said, pacing across the grass and then the road to a gated area holding John Brown’s grave.

Noah and Callie stepped into the grave area, enclosed by the black wrought iron that lent an air of solemnity to the space. Their eyes were drawn to the three gravestones, each bearing silent testimony to the lives and legacies of those buried beneath.

John Brown’s gravestone was behind glass, a measure taken to protect it from the elements or curious visitors. Its inscription remained obscured.

The other two belonged to his sons.

Their gaze then shifted to the massive stone beyond, adorned with two more headstones embedded within its surface.

Those were the remains of his followers.

The weathered stone bore the weight of history, its rough surface a testament to the passage of time and the enduring significance of those it memorialized.

As they stood in quiet contemplation amidst the graves, Noah felt a sense of reverence wash over them. The air was heavy with the weight of the past, and he couldn’t help but wonder about the lives and stories of those beneath the earth.

“Okay, so the coordinates are meant to be here. Look around. The last few places have had them hidden. Look under, over, or behind; it could be in plain sight.”

Noah and Callie exchanged determined glances as they took in the surroundings of the grave area. With a shared sense of purpose, they began their search.

Noah bent down to examine the ground, running his hand around the gravestones and carefully inspecting the earth for any signs of hidden clues.

Meanwhile, Callie scanned the area above, her eyes tracing the contours of the iron-girded enclosure, searching for any unusual markings or symbols that might indicate the presence of the hidden coordinates or a hidden cache.

They moved with quiet determination, methodically exploring every nook and cranny of the grave area. Noah reached out to touch the smooth surface of the glass-encased gravestone, running his fingers along its edges in search of any hidden compartments or markings.

Callie stood on tiptoes, stretching her arms upward to inspect the tops of the headstones embedded in the large stone beyond. She carefully examined the surface, her fingers tracing the grooves and crevices in search of hidden compartments or inscriptions.

As they continued their search, Noah and Callie exchanged occasional glances, silently communicating their determination to uncover the hidden coordinates.

“Each time, our perp never gave us the exact coordinates of the body’s location. At the summit, it was a riddle seen through the coin-operated binoculars; at the phone booth, it was another riddle.”

Noah checked the riddle they’d been given on the description page and reread it.

“I am a number, a year of might when Brown’s brave raid took flight.

Divide me by 5, a number you’ll see; that’s the clue to set them free.

Take the number of paces south, and there the marker lies, revealing history’s truth under open skies.

” He paused for a second and then read the last part.

“A marker, revealing history’s truth under open skies. ”

They continued their search for another five minutes.

Callie called out as Noah clambered up on top of the boulder at the center of the grave area. “Noah!”

He climbed down to find her holding a round vintage pin.

“It has a magnet on the back. I found it attached to one of the posts.”

On the front was 1980 HIGH PEAKS. Its mascot was Roni the racoon, an animal from the mountains of the Adirondacks, where High Peaks was situated. Holding it in his hands, he repeated the last line of the riddle.

“A marker, revealing history’s truth under open skies.” He paused. “Of course. Where was history made under open skies?”

“At the 1980 Winter Olympics. But our entire town has multiple locations that were used for that.”

He held up the pin. “Right. But there’s only one place you can buy these. The Olympic Museum.”