Tarnished Soul: A Nine Minutes Spin-Off Novel

by Beth Flynn

  Just over a week ago, Brad had finally gotten around to tightening the squeaky ceiling fan over her bed when the unthinkable happened. She’d had classes that day and before she left, Brad showed up with his tools, a tall black coffee, and Bella. As different as night and day, Chaos and Bella had become best buddies. Kind of like me and Jonas, she’d thought more than once. Brad later explained how he’d carefully laid an old sheet on her bed so he could stand on it to reach the fan. Because he was afraid of accidentally stepping on them, he’d placed her dolls on a chair in the corner. And his black coffee on a small table next to the chair.

  “I’d just finished with the fan and climbed off the bed,” he’d told her with anguish in his eyes. “Before I could react, Chaos and Bella came storming through the room. They were playfully chasing each other. They jumped on the bed and almost knocked your lamp off the nightstand. I ran over to grab it but not before Bella headed for the corner and ran under the little table with my coffee on it.” He took a deep breath. “And when Chaos thought he had her cornered…” The words came out hoarse when he told Lucy how a cup filled to the brim with black coffee not only landed on her precious dolls but the chair as well. Without even asking permission, he’d taken the chair and the dolls to have them professionally cleaned.

  Lucy stared at the vacant space on her bed and remembered having to calm a very shaken Brad. He’d known the meaning behind her dolls and why they were important to her. She didn’t care about the chair and told him he could’ve thrown it away. But her dolls? She was grateful he was having them professionally cleaned. Whether they came back stained or not, they would be returned to their proper places as soon as they came home.

  She heaved out a sigh and decided to call the vet to check on Chaos. He’d started foaming at the mouth last night and she’d rushed him to the emergency vet clinic. They’d surmised that he’d gotten a hold of a toxic frog that secreted poison. They were to keep him for twenty-four hours for observation as well as rehydration with an IV. She’d pulled into her garage close to three a.m. and decided she would skip classes today. Between Chaos’ brush with a poisonous frog, the accidental staining of her dolls, and missing Jonas, she wasn’t in the mood for school. So much so, that she’d been contemplating asking her teachers to let her take all her exams early and be done with it. For some reason, she no longer found the learning environment as exhilarating as she used to.

  She spent the morning catching up on chores, paying some bills, and checking with the realtor to see if the house had garnered any interest. She’d listed it last week. Even though it had only been seven days, she’d not had one bite and wondered if maybe her mother had set the price too high. The realtor thought that might be the case as well, so after hanging up, Lucy decided to call her mother and discuss dropping the price.

  She sat on the floor with the telephone and leaned back against the side of her bed. With her back to the bedroom door, she faced the empty spot where the chair had been and stared at the vacant corner.

  Her mother picked up on the second ring. After some discussion, she told Lucy, “Honey, the house is paid for, so there isn’t a mortgage to worry about. And you don’t need the money for your move to Atlanta, so maybe we can hold off a while before lowering the price. It’s already worth more than we’re asking.”

  Lucy agreed and caught her mother up on the past two weeks, being careful not to mention anything having to do with Jonas, which included the new alarm system, Chaos, and the new car. It was obvious that Lenny hadn’t spoken to their mother recently, as there was no mention of the BMW Lucy had gifted him. Then again, Lucy had made it a stipulation when she’d handed the keys to Lenny. “Don’t tell Mom.” And apparently he hadn’t.

  “And your dolls, Lucy. “ She could hear her mother take a sip of coffee before asking, “When is your friend going to get them back from the cleaners?”

  Lucy twirled a strand of hair. “I think he was supposed to pick them up yesterday, but I haven’t heard from him yet. I really hope they’re not ruined, Mom. But even if they are, it’ll be okay.”

  There was a pause in the conversation and Lucy used it to her advantage. Even though she hadn’t heard from Jonas, she couldn’t help but prod her mother.

  “Mom, there’s something you should know.”

  What’s that, honey?”

  “My friend did a search on you too.” Lucy could hear the sharp intake of breath on her mother’s end of the phone. “And guess what?” She waited for an answer that didn’t come. “There is no record of a Sarah Tucker before 1952. At least not one that fits your age and background. Just like there isn’t one for Dad.” For a moment, Lucy thought the phone had gone dead. “Mom? Are you there?” Her heart started to sink when the scenarios she’d only witnessed in television dramas and movies began to feel like a possibility.

  “Mom?”

  “You shouldn’t have done that, Lucy. You shouldn’t have pried into something that no longer matters.”

  Lucy exhaled. “It’s true then, isn’t it? You and Dad were hiding something or running from something. What was it? Tell me.”

  “It’s not what you think, Lucy. I promise it’s not. It’s a long story and one I’d rather not go into on the phone. Maybe it’s time for me to make a visit. Time for me to sit you and your brother down and have a face-to-face.”

  “You’re scaring me, Mom,” Lucy admitted, her voice shaky.

  “Oh, it’s nothing like that, Lucy. You don’t need to be afraid. Your father and I weren’t into anything illegal. I can assure you of that.”

  “I won’t be able to hang up until you tell me everything, Mom. You know I can’t let this go until you get around to flying down here for a visit. Right?”

  Lucy listened in astonished wonder as her mother launched into the reason behind the decision to change identities. They weren’t running for their lives. It was nothing quite that dramatic. They were running because of their love for one another.

  “It’s actually a little frightening to know some of your family’s background, Mom,” Lucy confessed. “So I understand your need for secrecy. But it’s pretty romantic too,” she added with a sigh. Romantic with a scary kind of flavor to it. Sort of like me and Jonas, she thought.

  They’d agreed that they would make it a point to get together for Thanksgiving, whether it be in Maine or Florida, and her mother would share the tale with Lenny. The main protagonist, who’d been the reason for her parents’ flight into anonymity, had died years before her father disappeared. There was obviously no connection or any reason to keep up the facade. Lucy felt as though a weight had been lifted and wanted to page Jonas just to share what she’d learned and to tell him he could call off his investigation. But she knew she wouldn’t.

  The conversation segued back into chitchat as Lucy caught her mother up on the neighborhood news, excluding the possibility of a Peeping Tom. “Mrs. Hancock’s nephew seems nice,” she mentioned. “But, every time I’ve dropped in to visit, she insists she doesn’t have a nephew. I feel kind of embarrassed for him.”

  “I don’t remember the Hancocks having a nephew. At least not that she ever mentioned,” Lucy’s mother informed her. “Still, just because she didn’t mention him doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist. And sadly, memory loss is a significant side effect of dementia, so she obviously doesn’t remember him.”

  Lucy agreed. “I know. Last time I saw her, she told me she remembered the day you brought your twin girls home from the hospital. She thinks I have a twin sister.”

  “I almost forgot to tell you, honey. I got another visit from the police.”

  Lucy picked at a piece of fuzz on her bedroom carpet. “What do you mean another visit?” she asked.

  “I told you when Allen first dumped me, they came around asking about my neighbor, the woman who ran off with him. Remember? She was in law enforcement and they just couldn’t believe she ran off without telling anybody.”

  Lucy gave a sad smile her mother couldn’t see. “I gue
ss love does crazy things to people,” she said, thinking about her month with a murderous biker in the heart of the Everglades.

  “Yeah, well, apparently, enough time has passed without her even contacting her family that they’re doing a real investigation. They wanted to know more about Allen.”

  The last thing Lucy wanted to talk about was Allen. She was actually happy to be having a conversation where his name hadn’t been mentioned. That had been short-lived. “What about him?” she asked, not able to mask the lack of interest in her tone.

  “They’re following up on what I told them before. I even showed them the note he left me. About their affair and running off together.”

  Lucy rolled her eyes heavenward. “You kept that stupid note?”

  “Oh, stop, Lucy. I know you never warmed up to him, but—”

  “How could I warm up to someone I never knew?” Lucy interrupted.

  “Exactly!” her mother countered. “That’s what I was going to tell you. They started asking me about Allen’s background and I realized I hardly knew anything about him. Other than him being from Minnesota and working in construction, Allen was pretty tight-lipped. They didn’t believe me, but I told them that getting information out of Allen was about as hard as putting socks on a rooster.”

  Lucy had slowly been sinking against the side of her bed, but her mother’s words were like a shot of adrenaline. She shot straight up and asked, “I’ve never heard you say that before.”

  “Say what?” her mother asked.

  Lucy crossed her legs. “About putting socks on a rooster. Where did you hear that?”

  She could almost feel her mother brushing off the question. “It was one of Allen’s adages. It’s the only good memory I have of him. I’d never heard it before, and it always made me laugh when he said it.”

  “Mom?” There was a seriousness in Lucy’s tone. “Did Allen have a British accent?”

  “Of course not. Why would you even ask me that? He’s as homespun as apple pie. I think I told you he was from Minnesota.”

  “I have to go. Someone’s at my door,” Lucy lied. “Sorry to be abrupt. I’ll call you later.” She disconnected the call and waited for a dial tone. She was about to punch in the numbers to Jonas’ pager when ice water ran up her spine. She wasn’t alone.

  Chapter 48

  “I have a gun pointed at the back of your head. I don’t want to use it, but I will. Don’t turn around, and slowly put the phone down.” There was a pause before he said gruffly, “Do it now, Lucy, and show me your hands.”

  She swallowed and did as he said.

  “Keep staring straight ahead,” he insisted.

  She could feel him climb on the bed behind her.

  “Take your glasses off.” His voice was even and without emotion.

  She once again followed his orders, and before she knew what was happening, felt him expertly covering her eyes with a blindfold and tying a tight knot behind her head. He then wound heavy tape around it several times, securing the cloth. Some of the tape caught on strands of her hair, making it uncomfortable.

  He climbed off the bed, and she could sense him standing over her. “I was hoping to find what I was looking for in my own time, but I’ve run out of patience.”

  “I know what you’re looking for, Brad. Or should I call you Allen? And I’m sorry to tell you, it doesn’t exist.”

  He didn’t respond and she couldn’t help but ask, “What? You think because you’ve reverted to your true accent, your American accent, that I wouldn’t know it was you? You can take the blindfold off. I know what you look like.” Of all the stupid things she’d done in her life, nothing compared to revealing she knew his identity. What had she been thinking? She should’ve just played along and let him go on his merry way.

  She could almost hear the smile in his voice when he asked, “Your number game. Do you know what one hundred and ninety numbers equate to?”

  Yeah, lots of things, she told herself. But knew now was the time to play dumb. Give him what he wants. If he’d changed his identity so drastically from the guitar-playing hippie her mother had described to the gay British accountant, he could certainly blend back into society as someone else.

  Her silence prompted him to say, “A combination of ten different routing and bank account numbers. Ten different possibilities of where your accountant father hid all that money he stole. And I’m going to find it because I know where to look. I just didn’t know the numbers. I was hoping he’d left his ledger sheets in those damn dolls of yours, but they proved useless. It’s you, Lucy. You’re his ledger.”

  Lucy pressed her lips tight. As her mother had just explained, her father hadn’t absconded with any money. Besides, did they look like a family that lived above their means? Unless. Unless her mother hadn’t told her the whole story.

  “I’m ready when you are, Lucy. Say them nice and slow so I can write them down.”

  Lucy sat completely still, her back stiff. “You already know them.”

  He didn’t say anything at first, like he was trying to remember. “My memory isn’t as good as yours. I don’t trust it. So start at the beginning. Nice and slow like I said. And don’t even think about feeding me the wrong ones. Not even that massive beast of a biker will be able to save you if you cross me.”

  You obviously don’t know Jonas very well, she thought.

  “I’ll tell you the numbers if you tell me what happened to my father.” She tried to be brave, but her words came out in a high-pitched squeak. “I’m sure you must know something if you know my parents’ histories and real identities.”

  She could sense his tension. “He’s dead.”

  “I figured that,” she replied as the blindfold soaked up her unseen tears. “Did you kill him?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t mean to. And that’s the truth. After your father drained your grandfather’s accounts, the old man put out a bounty on his head. Not only had he stolen from his pockets, but he ran off with his only daughter. That was in 1952. He had people looking for them for years. Then, the old man up and dies. No more reward money. Interest waned. Even I stopped looking for them. There were bigger and better fish to fry. Eight years later, I get called down for a high-paying job in Fort Lauderdale. I’d just pulled off a huge heist. A heist that wouldn’t be detected for months,” he added with a slice of pride. “I’m sitting in a diner enjoying a cup of coffee and a sandwich, and who walks by? Your father. Even though he tried to change up his appearance, I knew it was him. Apparently, he had a business meeting in Fort Lauderdale. The timing was real bad for him because after that meal, I’d planned on heading straight back to Philadelphia. I followed him and laid a wailing on him to tell me what he’d done with all that money. Interrogation was never my specialty and after two days, he’d had enough. I took it too far. Him and his Buick are at the bottom of one of those deep canals off of U.S. Route 441.”

  Lucy started sobbing. “You beat him to death? You beat my father to death?” Her voice wilted as she added, “You murdered him.”

  “I didn’t murder him! I accidentally killed him. The numbers, Lucy. Give me the numbers.”

  “Why did you wait so long to come after my family? You have been stalking me, right? You’ve been in my house.” And I stupidly gave you access while you pretended to be my friend, she silently chided herself. “Why now?”

  He didn’t deny it. “I didn’t have a choice. I could’ve had this handled eighteen years ago if it hadn’t been for a routine traffic stop.”

  “A what?” Lucy asked.

  She heard him blow out a breath. “I had your dad’s license with his address. After I got rid of him and his car, I made my way to Naples. But I couldn’t get near your mother or the house because by then she’d reported your father missing, and law enforcement was too close to the family. So, I decided to wait it out for a couple of weeks. I devised a scheme whereby I would pose as a detective looking into his disappearance. I’d never met your mother before, so it could
’ve worked. I could’ve easily insinuated myself into your family as the concerned and hardworking detective. But, I got snagged at a routine traffic stop. I had an outstanding warrant. I’d been wanted for questioning in the Piccadilly Dock Heist. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s a pretty famous heist.”

  It was almost as if he wanted her to recognize his notoriety. Lucy shook her head.

  “I got sent back to Philly,” he continued. “And thrown in the slammer with a thirty-year sentence. I got out last year for good behavior. I did some homework and found that your mother had relocated to Maine.”

  Lucy nodded her head in understanding. “So, you started with my mother and when you didn’t get anything from her, you ran off with her neighbor and headed this way. Is she in on it? Is she holed up somewhere waiting for you?”

  He snickered. “That bitch was getting too close. She recognized me. She briefly worked at the correctional facility where I was doing my time. She couldn’t place me at first, but when she did, I knew it was time to make a move. That’s another body that will never be found.” There was a chilling pause before he shouted, “Enough talk! The numbers, Lucy. Give me the fucking numbers. Now!”

  She did as he said, and after she’d recited all one hundred and ninety numbers, didn’t resist when he yanked her to her feet and pushed her into the spacious closet. He hog-tied her with bindings so tight, she thought she felt her muscles tearing. He left her on the floor without a word and shut the door. She could hear the thump of a chair he must’ve retrieved from her desk. No doubt it was snugly secured against the bottom of the doorknob. Even if she could get out of her bindings, she doubted she had the strength to kick the door down.

  She lay on the floor while her sobs echoed off the walls. When her tears finally dried up, she said in a hoarse whisper, “Jonas. I need you.”