Touch: A Trilogy
Page 17
“No. You need to leave.” She turns toward Jonathan, and her eyes are wild. “He said Alex was involved with those dead girls. The ones we’ve seen on TV.”
“No, ma’am.” Martinez shakes his head. “I asked if there was a chance your son had ever met any of them.”
“Alex is a good boy. He would never hurt anyone. Never.” Her voice is high and shrill.
“Yes, ma’am we understand. But there is evidence that suggests that your son is connected to these girls somehow, and we—”
“Get out.” She lunges for him, hand raised like she will slap him.
Jonathan gets his arms around her, looks at Martinez apologetically. “Perhaps it’s best if you leave.”
Percy touches Martinez’s arm. “Let’s go.”
Martinez cocks an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” He nods.
“All right.” Martinez closes his notebook and slips it into his pocket. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you so late. If you think of anything else.” He sets his card on the end table and follows Percy out the door.
16
Percy takes a deep breath as they step outside, feeling the need for space and quiet.
“You think the parents have anything to do with this?” Martinez steps down off the porch.
Percy shakes his head. “No. Not in the way you mean.”
“The mother became very agitated when I started asking about Alex. Like she was trying to hide something.” Martinez looks back at the house, a doubtful quirk to his mouth.
“Yes.” Percy shoves his hands in pockets. “But not about the disappearance or the girls that have been attacked.”
"Agent Cox." Michaels shuts the screen door and hurries down the steps after them. "I'm sorry about my wife. It has been a difficult year."
"Of course."
"There is something else you should know. Something I haven't told the police before because... well, I didn't think it mattered. I thought for certain Alex ran away." He crosses his arms over his chest, squeezing tight as though he is cold. "I saw her once."
Percy frowns. "Her?"
"Alex." He licks his lips and glances over his shoulder. His wife is a pale blotch in the hallway, but he drops his voice lower anyway. "It was downtown. She was walking with a young man. And she was beautiful. But I never told Lettie because I knew if I did then we'd have to tell other people, and I was ashamed." Tears well up, and he rubs them away with blunt fingers. "How stupid was that? Being embarrassed by my smart, beautiful girl."
"This was recently?" Martinez has his notebook out again.
"No. It was before those men attacked her. Before I sent her to that awful place." His lips tremble, and he rushes on. "But she was with a young man. Tall, with dark hair. One of those… like… Goth haircuts. Shaved on the sides and long on the top. But not as pale and he was wearing a t-shirt and jeans."
"Anything else you can remember about him?" Martinez has that bland look on his face—calm and nonjudgmental. "Scars? Or piercings?"
"No. But he had tattoo around his neck. Almost like a collar of some sort."
Martinez makes a note. "Could you see what it was?"
"I wasn't close enough. I didn't want her to see me." His voice drops to a whisper. "I didn't want anyone to see me with her." He starts to shake, tears streaming down his face.
Martinez looks at Percy, questioning. “And you didn’t mention this before?”
“I only saw that man the one time. Never since. And… well. If you had seen them together, you would understand.” He tucks his arms tighter across his chest. “Alex loved him. And he loved her. There was no way he would have… hurt her. But now I’m thinking he might do something terrible to try and save her.”
Martinez nods. “Okay. We’ll see what we can find out.”
Percy looks at Michaels trying to find some compassion for him. “Thank you for telling us.”
Michaels nods, rubs his eyes on the back of his hand. “Alex is dead, isn’t she, Agent Cox?”
“We really don’t have any information on your child, Mr. Michaels.” Martinez closes his notebook, looking more uncomfortable with the half-truth than usual.
Percy puts his hand on Michaels’ shoulder awkwardly. “That is very likely, Jonathan. I’m sorry.”
Michaels sobs, burying his face in the crook of his arm for a moment. And Percy puts his arms around him. Because no matter what blame lies on him for what he has done, he has lost his son. And his daughter.
After a moment, Michaels steps away, rubbing his cheeks dry again. “I need to get back inside. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Martinez nods automatically.
Percy gets back into the car. Closes the door, closes his eyes, just trying to breathe.
Martinez slides into the driver’s seat, thumps the door shut. “You shouldn’t have said that.” He leans closer when Percy doesn’t say anything. “About his son. We don’t know—”
“His daughter,” Percy says firmly. “And she’s dead.”
“We don’t—”
“I do.” He looks at Martinez. “I do.”
Martinez frowns. “I don’t doubt your word, Cox. But you can’t just go around saying things like that. Not ‘til we have something more concrete.”
Percy nods reluctantly. “You’re right. But he deserved to know.”
“Maybe.” Martinez starts the car. “Where now?”
“I think I need to talk to the local specialist. Jones.”
Martinez frowns. “Why?”
“The man Michaels described might be the one I saw earlier. When I was with Miss Grant.”
“And why do you want to talk to Jones about it?”
“He might have a better idea of the locals who have the Touch now that we have a better description.”
“Okay.” Martinez nods and shuffles through some things on his phone. “We’ll try this address and see if he’s there. But we’re not chasing around the city all night if he isn’t.”
“Right.” Percy props his chin on his fist, watching the streetlights slip by as they drive through the dark city. He’s itching to open the files Connie sent him, but Martinez is too sharp for that. He needs Jones to keep Martinez busy, just for a few minutes.
He sighs. Patience.
17
Franklin lights the candles around the ring on the floor and pauses to drink the last couple swallows of coffee from his mug. Takes a deep breath and focuses once more on the circle of salt.
“Alexander John Michaels, I summon you. Come and speak with me.”
He doesn’t have to wait as long this time. The shade flickers into the center of the ring almost as soon as the last syllable of the name is spoken.
Franklin lets his hands drop back to his sides. “Alexander?”
The shade tilts its head. “Alex.”
The voice is lighter than Franklin expected, and he pauses, taking note of the dress and long hair. “You are femme?”
Alex smiles. “Now. But before I was… not as much.”
“Ah.” Franklin nods. That explains why it is young women who have been taken. “Do you know about the women who have been killed? Souls taken and put into the body you have left behind.”
Alex frowns. “I am aware of it. But I cannot stop it.”
“Do you know who is doing these things?”
She pushes her hair back from her eyes. “You cannot stop him.”
“If he is not—”
“Yes.” Her shoulders sag. “He is determined to try and have me back in one way or another. But he will kill you if you try and stop him.”
“He will kill others if I don’t.” Franklin steps closer, taking care not to break the salt ring. “Please. You must help me.”
Alex shakes her head. “I can’t.”
He rubs his lip, thoughtful. “Why hasn’t he summoned you back?”
She looks at him, silent, for a long moment. “He did, at first. But every time he went to sleep… I faded away again.”
“No.” She fidgets. “Just like them, I didn’t want to stay. He could hold me there for a while, but then… I would leave. I thought after a few times he would give up.”
“He no longer summons you.”
Alex rubs her hands together as if she is cold. “No. But his purpose remains the same. To bring my body back to life.”
“Ah.” Franklin nods. “So he has started trying to put someone else in your skin instead.”
“Yes.” Alex leans close to the shimmering line of salt, and her eyes are wide. “I’m afraid he won’t stop.”
“That’s why I need your help, Alex. These young women don’t deserve what he is doing to them.”
Alex shakes her head. “I can’t stop him.”
“Tell me who he is, and I will stop him.”
“You can’t.”
Franklin leans forward, nearly pushing through the salt ring. “I must try.”
The door leading in from the backyard shudders. “Franklin Jones. Open up.”
He frowns. Who the hell is that? But the candle on the table has burned down to a stub and, with it, the magic that has drawn Alex here.
“Tell me his name, Alex. Help me stop him.”
She hesitates.
The door shudders again, the frame starting to crack under the strain.
Franklin rests his hands against the magic barrier, as he did with Delaney, teeth aching with exhaustion as he uses up part of himself to bend the energy, and the shade bound inside it, to his will. “Alex. Tell me his name.”
Alex shivers, but nods. “Be careful. He will kill you.”
“His name.”
“Malcolm—”
The door slams open, bits of wood from the splintered edge ricocheting off the shelves that line the walls, and the candle on the table goes out.
“Damn it.” Franklin drops to his knees, exhausted.
“Keep your hands where I can see them.”
The voice is familiar now that it is no longer filtering through the door, and Franklin blinks against the glare of the flashlight. “Agent Cox?”
Percival bends down to touch the residue of the salt ring. “What were you doing here?” When Franklin hesitates, Percy leans forward and grabs him by the front of his shirt. “What were you doing, Jones?”
Franklin swallows a prickle of fear. He may not be a Sensitive, but he can feel the magic lurking within Cox. Hungry and fearful. “I was attempting to communicate with the shade of Alex Michaels.”
The other man, shorter and more solid than Cox, frowns. “Communicate? How?”
Franklin settles back on his heels, keeping his hands on his knees. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Agent Martinez. Communicate how?”
Franklin touches the salt ring, now little more than a caustic smudge on the old concrete floor, with one hand. “Physical magic.”
Martinez looks at the dusty symbols, the melted pools of candle wax. “Were you successful?”
“Somewhat. But I was interrupted.” He tilts his head to indicate he is referring to Martinez and Cox.
Cox tightens his grip on Franklin’s shirt. “How do we know you are not a part of this? The soul-stealing? If you can summon a shade here…?”
Franklin grits his teeth as magic slithers across his skin. “You told me what you felt in the hospital was a Power, Agent Cox. And I may be skilled, but that is not me.”
“You could still be working with him.”
“Percy.” Martinez edges forward. “Calm down.” He settles his gun back into the holster on his belt. “We’ll take him back to the office with us. All right?”
Cox lets go of Franklin reluctantly. “All right.”
Franklin stands up carefully, doing his best not to look threatening. He’s not afraid of Martinez, even with his hand still resting on his gun. But Cox…
Franklin resists the urge to rub the back of his neck, the hair on his arms standing up as though lightning is about to strike. He wonders if Martinez can feel it, too, but doesn’t dare ask. “Can I get my jacket?”
Martinez nods. “I’ll come with you.”
“It’s just upstairs. Watch yourself on the steps.”
Martinez glances back at Cox. “You coming?”
“I’ll meet you back at the car. Just going to look around for a moment.” He waves a hand at the basement.
Martinez hesitates for a moment, then nods. “Okay. But don’t take too long.”
Franklin leads the way up to the first floor, turning on the light in the kitchen when they reach the top of the stairs. “Mind if I get a drink of water?”
Martinez shakes his head. “Go ahead.” He paces a few steps, peers into a cabinet. “You’re a magician, right?”
Franklin blinks, pulls a clean glass off the drying rack by the sink. “Yes. Why?”
He glances back at the stairs to the basement, then steps in close. “Does he seem all right to you?”
“Agent Cox?”
“Yes.”
Franklin gets some water from the tap and takes a quick swallow. “I have only met him once before.”
“At the hospital.” Martinez nods. “But… there is nothing strange about him? Nothing different about him tonight?”
Franklin drinks more water, searching for words that will not sound like a lie. Words that will not put them both in danger. “I really can’t say. But he is tense. I think that is obvious. This case is particularly difficult. Yes?”
Martinez looks at him intently, lips moving silent as though maybe he will argue about it. Then he nods, sharp. “Of course. Are you ready?”
“Almost.” Franklin rinses his glass and sets it back on the rack to dry. Then leads the way to the front of the house to collect his keys and jacket from beside the front door. “Will this take long?”
Martinez shrugs. “We’ve got some questions. About what you were doing. And about the case, that we thought you might be able to help with.”
“Right.” He shuts the door behind them and follows Martinez down the stairs to the car.
Cox is leaning against the passenger-side door, the shadows on his face stark under the glare of the streetlight. “I was starting to worry.”
Martinez shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
Cox frowns and leans in toward Franklin, pulling open the back door. “All right. Get in.”
“Thanks.” Franklin climbs into the back seat. He isn’t too happy about trusting Delaney Green, but there’s no doubt she was right about Percival Cox. His power is just waking up.
18
I wake up after a while, warm and content. Overhead the moon sashays across the velvet sky while stars flutter on the darker fringe just above the tree tops, the fireflies swaying in the shadows below the branches.
For a moment, I have no desire to be anywhere else. For a moment, I think I could just stay here forever.
Baby sighs and nudges me with her little fist. “You awake, Delaney?”
“Yeah.”
She sits up, and the leaves scuttle away so that only the soft grass remains beneath us. “I don’t think you have much time left. Here.”
I cross my legs underneath me and tuck my hair behind my ears. Close my eyes and try to remember the twists of the other threads I saw in the cave under Daddy’s tree. “No. It’s coming to a close.”
Baby smooths the front of her dress. “Are you certain about this, Del? You know it ain’t an accident you were drawn to Percy.”
That was a thing I had always suspected, but I’d never realized it was not me that had pulled that first thread. Knowing that Daddy has had a hand in it only makes me more determined. “If I leave him by himself… he will do terrible things, Baby.”
“He may still do terrible things.” She looks at me, big eyes as dark and terrifying as the passage back to the living. “You may do terrible things.”
“Yes.”
“And you do not fear that?”
“Of course I do. But I am not certain I can walk away from this path I have set.”
Her mouth cinches up, and she narrows her eyes. “You can always walk away, Delaney. No matter how many threads you have pulled and chased, there is always a choice.”
“I am not certain I want to walk away, Baby. No matter how I was drawn to Percy in the beginning, he and I share something beyond Daddy’s purpose. And leaving him alone will not solve anything.”
She is silent for a long moment. There is something tired and old resting in the round lines of her face. “No. I suppose you are right.”
I rub my eyes, then wipe damp fingers on my dress. “I’ll miss you, Baby.”
“I will miss you, too, Delaney.” She crawls forward into my lap, hugs me as tight as her little arms will allow. “Can I stay with you until you leave?”
“Yes.” I cradle her against my chest and blink up at the moon as fresh tears well up.
Baby touches my cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m scared, Baby.”
“It’ll be all right.” She snuggles closer, one fist drifting toward her mouth. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“Are you sure?”
She yawns. “Yes.”
Leaves scrabble up into my lap and up to cling to Baby, soft and warm as a bat’s wing.
I dry my face on my sleeve and stare up at the moon circling slow overhead. I will do the right thing. I will.
19
They put Franklin in one of the empty offices with a chair and a cop outside the door.
Martinez looks at Percy, worried. "You sure you want to talk to him? I can do it. See what shakes loose."
"No." Percy smooths his dark hair across his forehead. "I want to talk to him. I'm better now anyway. Coffee helped." He taps the Styrofoam cup with a faint grin.
"All right. Well, I guess we better get to it then."
They bring chairs in, and Martinez waves the officer away from the door with the assurance they will call if they need further assistance.
Percy opens the folder on his knees, plucks a photo of the salt ring, and holds it up. "Tell me about this."