The Soul Thief (15 page)

Franklin could see how Darryl’s boys shared their father’s look.

If the doctor won and cheated death like he planned, Franklin would never be able to see his face in his boy’s. Would never know if his daughter’s eyes would look like his. Would never see Mama’s smile there either.

Around eight o’clock the next morning, long after the rest of the officers had arrived, Sheriff Thompson came in. He stood on the far side of the bars and glared at the pair of them.

“I thought I told you to keep your nose clean,” he growled at Franklin.

“Yes, sir,” Franklin said.

“What was you doing down at Dr. Traeger’s?” the sheriff asked.

Franklin opened his mouth, only to find his arm grabbed and pinched. Hard.

“Ow!” he said, staring at a now wide-awake Darryl.

“Nothing,” Darryl said. “We weren’t doing anything.”

Franklin was impressed by just how much scorn the sheriff managed to convey by just rolling his eyes. “Really? Nothing?”

Franklin wisely kept his mouth shut. He’d let Darryl handle this.

His cousin had a lot more experience on this side of the bars than Franklin did.

“What, you was just out joy riding? Got lost?” Sheriff Thompson asked.

That was what Darryl had dictated to Franklin to put in his report. His own was identical. Probably word for word.

“That’s it exactly,” Darryl said. After a moment, he added, “Sir.”

“You know the security tape shows you sneaking in and creeping along the fence. And those are some awfully interesting keys you got on your key ring,” Sheriff Thompson said.

“I work in a garage. You know how people are always locking their keys in their car,” Darryl said brazenly.

“That’s what a slim-jim’s for,” the sheriff pointed out.

Darryl just shrugged.

“And you, Franklin? You got anything to say for yourself?” Sheriff Thompson asked, fixing his hard stare on him.

“No, sir,” Franklin said. “We was just out. Driving.”

“You know what I think?” Sheriff Thompson asked. When neither man replied, he continued. “I think you saw all those posters about the charity ball. And the silent auction. And just decided you might help yourself to a few of those items, before they was auctioned off.”

“Really?” Franklin asked. He couldn’t help himself. He was boggled. Did the sheriff really think that low of him? “You really think I’d go stealing other people’s property?”

Though that had been exactly what he’d been going to do. Kinda. Though actually, he’d just been going to take back what had been stolen from him.

Sheriff Thompson didn’t budge. “You tell me.”

Franklin sat back, crossing his arms over his chest, disgusted. He’d thought the sheriff knew better.

“Well, you two are just lucky. Dr. Traeger decided not to press any charges,” the sheriff said after a few moments of silence. “Y’all are free to go.”

Franklin stood up stiffly, not meeting the sheriff’s eye. Darryl looked happy, giving the sheriff a wide grin as he stepped from the cell.

The sheriff stopped Franklin from following. “What was you really after?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Franklin said.

“Probably not,” the sheriff said. “Try me.”

“That Dr. Traeger is the same one who stabbed me,” Franklin said. “He has my knife.”

The sheriff nodded, smoothing down his mustache thoughtfully with his forefinger and thumb. “I figured that’s what you’d say,” he said. “And you’re right, I don’t believe you.”

Franklin shook his head and stood there, staring holes at the floor.

“But if you can bring me some proof,” the sheriff said softly, “I’d think better of you.”

Franklin couldn’t help but roll his own eyes at that one. No matter what he did, Sheriff Thompson was always gonna give him a hard time.

“I know you don’t believe me,” the sheriff said as he stepped out of the way so Franklin could leave. “But I’m not the bad guy here. I’m not out to get you.”

Franklin knew that. The sheriff was just doing his job.

Unfortunately, that meant he was protecting the bad guy.

Franklin would just have to find another way to get the blade away from the doctor.

Before it was too late.

Ξ

Karl gave Franklin a mean look as he came pedaling up that morning, as if they weren’t partners and competitors anymore, but some kind of enemies.

Franklin had no intention of telling Karl where he’d been all night. On the one hand, Franklin didn’t want to lie to Karl about having ghosts who needed his help.

On the other hand, what other excuse did Franklin have for arriving so late to the fruit and vegetable stand?

There were a lot of people at the stand for a Thursday morning. So Franklin got right to work, helping customers, picking out the ripest tomatoes for Mrs. Beckons who came by at least twice a week, as well as chatting with some tourists who couldn’t get over how green everything was.

By the time the crowd had died down, Karl no longer looked like he was hopping mad. Still, his arms and back under his tight white T-shirt were all tense and knotted.

“I’m sorry I was so late, Karl,” Franklin started off with. He figured that were always the best way to begin this kind of thing, though he had no intention of telling Karl all of his troubles.

They were competitors, still getting to know each other. They weren’t best friends, for all that they did hang out together now.

Karl sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked mad. And kinda twitchy, like he was just looking for something to hit.

“Sheriff Thompson stopped by early this morning, told me you might be late,” Karl said sourly. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Franklin opened his mouth, then closed it. Them kinda cuss words shouldn’t be said out loud.

“I got caught trespassing,” Franklin said after a moment. “But they didn’t press any charges.”

Karl nodded. “Why,” he asked flatly.

“You remember I was stabbed by a blade that was stolen?” Franklin asked.

“You sure don’t look like you’ve been stabbed,” Karl said.

“That’s a whole other story,” Franklin said. “But I found out who took that knife. And what they’re gonna do with it. So Darryl and I went to go steal it back.”

Karl bit his lips together for a moment. It looked like he was gonna explode.

“Darryl. And you. Trying to break into someplace that has some kind of security?” Karl couldn’t seem to hold it in any longer. He started laughing. “I woulda bought tickets to watch that.”

“Well, we failed,” Franklin said. He and Darryl weren’t that much of a screwup.

“I’m sorry,” Karl said after he stopped laughing. “That’s just too much.”

“We still need to get that blade back,” Franklin said seriously. “It’s important.”

“How important?” Karl asked.

“Matter of life and death for a lot of folks,” Franklin replied. He weren’t about to explain that it meant the death of a bunch of ghosts—that would just complicate matters.

“Maybe you should hire an expert,” Karl said slowly.

“You know one?” Franklin asked. Karl knew a lot more people than Franklin expected him to. He was always greeting people at the stand, people Franklin would have never expected to see there.

“You remember Harvey Alturez?” Karl asked. “From high school?”

Franklin nodded. Somewhere along the line Harvey’s family had some Spanish blood. It showed up in Harvey’s black hair and olive skin. He’d also been one of the tallest kids in school. Hated basketball, though.

“He’s got a history with the law, breaking and entering, things like that,” Karl said. He paused, considering. “But I don’t think he’s available. Seem to recall Mrs. Alturez saying he was back in jail.”

“You know anyone else?” Franklin asked, thinking about the other people they knew from high school. Franklin had always kept his nose clean, never gotten on the wrong side of the law. Mama would have tanned his hide if he had.

Plus, Franklin had been working with a lot of ghosts, which had made high school even harder.

“No,” Karl said after a moment. “But Ray might.”

“Ray Donovan?” Franklin asked. He’d been the class brain, valedictorian, but generally well liked. Franklin thought Ray had left Kentucky years ago to make his fortune out in California.

“No,” Karl said, exasperated. “Ray Sorrel. He used to be a fixer out in Hollywood. You needed something done, you went to Ray. He knows everybody. Both here and in Hollywood.”

“I was planning on going to see him sometime,” Franklin said slowly. “I try to invite him over to dinner on a regular basis.”

“Ray will probably know someone. But it’ll cost ya,” Karl warned.

“That’s okay,” Franklin said. “Ray owes me.”

And he did, for the times Franklin had gone over to help Adrianna.

However, Franklin hadn’t been able to stop the creature. It had killed Adrianna. Ray didn’t blame Franklin for that. That creature was the one to blame.

Still, Franklin hoped Ray wouldn’t think it unseemly for him to ask for a favor.

He needed all the help he could get.

Ξ

Franklin took his afternoon break and pedaled into Katherinesville, then turned up Stewart, going north, heading up toward the Sorrels’ place. The outside of the gate used to be a continuation of Adrianna’s “found” art: an old tin medicine cabinet with the door removed, filled with dolls’ heads; rusty exhaust pipes welded together into long strange waves; even plastic bags tied together into faded streamers.

Ray had taken most of that down after she’d died. All that remained was the fancy doorbell next to the gate, made of blue-green brass swirls, with the button sitting in the heart of it like a lighted pearl.

Franklin pressed the button. The gate buzzed and unlocked, swinging open immediately.

Seemed as though Ray wanted company.

There was great speculation as to whether Ray would still have the picnic that he and Adrianna had hosted every year later that summer, inviting the whole town as usual, or if he’d not celebrate at all.

Franklin didn’t know either, though he’d been one of the few people to step inside their property since Adrianna had died.

Ray had left a lot of Adrianna’s artwork there, like the collection of outboard motors painted all the colors of the rainbow, up on fancy pillars; the odd-looking robot-man made out of spare car parts with holding an upturned hubcap filled with water for the birds; and the white rock paths that were laid along the lines of energy that Adrianna saw.

But a lot of it was gone, too, like the tree men who Adrianna had treated like her own grandchildren, who had tried to protect her from the creature, as well as the mural of the mermaid, made out of a mosaic of found glass shards, and the huge koi pond.

Franklin walked his bike inside the gate—leaving it outside was just asking for it to be stolen—and leaned it up against the fence.

Ray came out of the house. He’d always had gray hair, but he hadn’t seemed old, necessarily. Adrianna’s death had aged him, put lines in his square face, across his brow, over his bushy white eyebrows, along the sides of his mouth. He had a hard jaw that had just gotten harder, with teeth so white they couldn’t be natural.

But he smiled when he saw Franklin, making him seem a bit younger. He still wore his favorite loud Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and brown socks with sandals, showing off his knobby knees.

“Franklin!” Ray said, holding out his hand.

Franklin shook it, glad to feel the strength of Ray.

“It’s good to see you,” Ray said after a moment. “You look well.”

“Thank you,” Franklin said. “So do you.”

“I’ve been trying to keep busy. Well, busier. It’s been helping,” Ray said honestly. “Would you like some sweet tea?”

“Yes, please,” Franklin said, following Ray into the house.

The living room seemed dark after the bright sunlight, so Franklin paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust. He was glad he did—the room had more furniture in it than he remembered. He would have walked right into a tall wing-back chair set just before the door if he’d just gone straight in. Plus, boxes sat stacked all around it.

Shelves lined the wall to Franklin’s right, while a couch and love seat took up the walls on his left.

Adrianna hadn’t spent as much time inside the house as out in the yard, so it held fewer of her touches. Still, the shelves in the living room proudly displayed the odd purple dragon she’d melded together out of found toys, the tall feather “plant,” and the collection of soap logos she’d pasted together into a huge smiley face.

Beyond the living room was an open kitchen, with just an island separating it from the living room. To the left were large glass doors, leading to the backyard.

Ray fixed Franklin his tea, opened up a beer for himself, then led Franklin back out into the yard through the side door.

Once they got settled into the lawn chairs out there (the ones that Adrianna hated but let Ray keep), Franklin asked Ray, “How are you doing?”

“I’m doing okay,” Ray said. “As I said, keeping myself busy helps.”

The death of Adrianna still sat like an open wound on Ray’s chest. Franklin weren’t sure what he or anyone else could do.

“I’m glad you came by,” Ray said. “I was going to talk with you about possibly storing some of Adrianna’s things at your farm.”

“Of course,” Franklin said immediately. He didn’t have any room, but he’d find some. Or make some. He’d been wanting to replace the old shed in the driveway with something fancier.

“Any reason in particular?” Franklin asked when Ray didn’t continue. Was Ray planning on moving away? There had been those boxes in the living room…

Ray nodded slowly, taking another sip of his beer. “Katherinesville had never been my ideal retirement place. Adrianna needed to be here, though. She loved this place, so much.” He took a deep breath.

Franklin waited patiently, giving Ray the space he needed to continue.

“But I think it’s time for me to be moving on. I wasn’t planning on selling this place,” Ray hurried to say. “However, I might just keep it as a vacation home. Live somewhere else. Maybe move someplace further south. Actually retire, like, to Florida.”