To Catch a Stolen Soul

by R. L. Naquin

  I glanced around. “Dammit. All that food on the truck, and we still have nothing to drink in our room.”

  Ash yanked earbuds from her ears. “Want me to go get something for you?”

  “Oh, hell no. If they’re after me, they could be after you, too.” I pulled myself from the bed and dragged my sore body into the bathroom for water from the tap. I bent and drank a mouthful and swallowed. One of the pills went down sideways, and no matter how much water I sent after it, it felt like it was stuck there for good. I threw my arms up in the air. “I’m going to sleep.”

  Ash squinted at me as I climbed into my bed. “Are you sure you’re supposed to? Do you have a concussion?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I’m fine. Just worn out.”

  “Okay.” She turned off the light. “Kam?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Thanks for not dying.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’m invincible.”

  “You are?”

  “So far.”

  No. No I was not.

  * * *

  The next morning, I awoke feeling like I’d wrestled a pack of hellhounds. I was stiff, the back of my head had a knot the size of a lemon and the gash in my leg didn’t want to stretch with the rest of the skin around it. As a result, every move I made elicited a cringe and a grunt.

  Ash was already up and dressed. She sat propped against her headboard, ankles crossed, staring at her phone. She wasn’t in her genie costume. She looked up when I pulled myself to a sitting position. “Morning.”

  I peered at the swimming red numbers on the alarm clock. “What time is it? Does that say nine thirty?”

  “I made a judgment call. You had a hell of a night and needed sleep. The office park can do without toast for one morning.”

  I hated not being out there—I couldn’t protect anyone if I was curled up in bed. But she was right. I needed a little downtime to recoup the energy and maybe put some ice on my head.

  I prodded it with a careful finger. “This thing is huge. It’s as big as a...” My eyes grew wide. “So that’s why they call it a goose egg.”

  Ash smirked. “Maybe you shouldn’t be up yet.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t be so bossy.” I stood and took a tentative step toward the bathroom. “Oh, man. It’s been a while since I was in a fight. I feel like ass.”

  The truth was, it wasn’t simply being in a fight that had messed me up this much. It was being in a fight where my life had been threatened but I’d had to keep from hurting the other guy. That was a different way of moving. And my muscles weren’t letting me forget it.

  Once I was in the bathroom, I figured I might as well go all in and stand under a hot shower to loosen my angry muscles. I swallowed a couple more ibuprofen, toweled off and got dressed. When I came out, my aches had eased, and Ash hadn’t moved from her position on the bed, staring at her phone.

  I sat on the edge of the mattress. “You okay?”

  She looked up. “Hmm? Yeah. Fine.”

  “You look like you were concentrating hard on something. But there’s nothing on the screen.”

  “I got a call earlier.”

  “Oh?” This information made me pause. For the phone of a teenaged girl, she spent surprisingly little time focused on it.

  “It was my foster mom.” She held the phone in her hands as if she were waiting for it to ring again.

  “Did you tell her where you are?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t answer it.”

  “This isn’t the first time she’s called, is it? You’ve been gone for days.”

  “It’s the first time.”

  What kind of woman didn’t notice her kid had been gone for the better part of a week? No wonder Ash had run off. My jaw fell open in disbelief. I may not have had kids of my own, but I’d have called the police by now.

  I wanted to hop in the truck and drive out there to give the woman a lecture. “Did she leave a message?”

  “Yes. She asked if I’d pick up Evie from ballet practice today.”

  I blinked. “Well, shit. Will she wait for you to answer or will she just assume you’ll do it?” I had no idea who Evie was, but I was struck by an all-consuming worry that no one would pick her up today.

  “I have no idea. That’s why I’m sitting here staring at my phone.” She gripped the phone tighter. “I guess I need to call her back.”

  I reached across the bed and grabbed one of her hands. “Do you want me to do it for you?”

  She gave me a sad smile. “Yes. I really do. But I can’t let you. I have to do this myself.”

  I squeezed her hand. Had it been only a few days since I’d picked up a young hitchhiker on my way here? It felt more like years. And my heart filled with pride. She could have taken the easy way and let me make the call. But no. It was her problem, and she was going to handle it. “Okay, then. Do you want me to step outside and give you some privacy?”

  She grabbed my receding hand and held tight. “No, don’t go.”

  “Your wish is my command.” I pulled one leg onto the bed and tucked it under the other.

  “Is that a genie joke?” Some of the tension left her expression. “Because you’re totally making fun of my heritage.”

  “Phenomenal cosmic powers.” I grinned and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Rip the bandage off. Get the call over with.”

  She nodded and sighed. “Yeah.” She swiped her screen with a shaky finger, hesitated over the number for a few seconds, then tapped it. It took a bit before her expression changed, so I assumed the phone rang several times before someone picked up. Ash tensed and swallowed. “Margo? It’s Ashley.” She was quiet while the person on the other end spoke. “No, wait. Don’t hang up. I can’t...” Her voice trailed off as she gave up trying to get a word in until Margo finished. “Yeah. Okay, but you’re not listening. I can’t pick her up. You’ll have to find someone else.” She groaned and covered her face with the hand she’d been using to grip mine. “Margo, I’m not there. Seriously. I haven’t been there in four days. Check the closet. Go look.” This pause was the longest yet. Presumably, Margo had gone to Ash’s room to look in the closet.

  This time, I could hear the voice on the other end. I couldn’t make out the words, but there was definite shouting going on. I tensed, ready to swoop in and take over the phone call if Ash needed me to do it.

  She didn’t need it. In the short time I’d known her, I’d seen Ash show a variety of emotions. Anger hadn’t been one of them until now.

  Because Ash hadn’t hit her birthday yet, her powers hadn’t hit their full potential. But she was pissed off, and her eyes reflected it. Her pupils didn’t fill with flames like mine did, but they did spark. Tiny branches of lightning shot through the centers, blue and yellow and white-hot. It was spectacular, like a miniature fireworks show. I’d never seen anything like it.

  “No, you listen to me, Margo. You find someone else to pick up Evie from ballet. My birthday is in a few days. You knew I was planning to leave as soon as I could anyway. I left a little early is all. Don’t bother looking. By the time you found me, I’d be eighteen anyway. Let me go.” Her voice softened. “And maybe treat the next one like she matters. Maybe she won’t run off.” She paused, listening, then nodded. “I will. Yeah, I’m fine. I made a friend who’s helping me out. No, nothing like that.” A tear ran down her cheek, and she brushed it away with the back of her hand. “I will. Tell the others I said goodbye. Thanks for everything.” She ended the call and sat there, her face blank.

  I took the phone from her limp hand and set it on the table. “Are you okay?”

  Her lower lip quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. “They didn’t even notice I was gone.”

  “Oh, honey.” How many hours—years—had I spent locked in the Master’s box, al
one, frightened and certain that no one had noticed I was gone? Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t let her feel that same way. She had to know she wasn’t alone. I held my arms out, and she collapsed into them, sobbing. I stroked her hair and murmured soft sounds until she stopped shaking and sat up, drying her face with her sleeve.

  “I’m sorry. I’m okay now.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry.” I handed her a couple of tissues from the box on the nightstand. “And you don’t have to be okay. That was a hard phone call. You’re allowed to be upset.” There was a large part of me that wanted to call this Margo person back and give her a lecture on being a decent freaking human being, but this wasn’t my fight. My fight was here, making sure Ash was all right.

  She dabbed the inside corners of her eye with the tissue, then stared at her hands in her lap. “How could they have gone four days without noticing I wasn’t there? Except for when I was useful, I never mattered to them. I never mattered to any of them.”

  I frowned. “Hey.” I ducked my head so she’d have to look me in the eye. “You matter to me. You matter a great deal. And not because you can run a food truck like a pro. That’s just for this week. Next week, I’ll be back to chasing souls, and whether you come with me or you go off somewhere on your own, you’ll still matter to me. People who overlooked how great you are—how important you are—that’s a lack in their character. It’s not because you’re not enough. You’re more than enough. You’re more than they deserve.” I wiped a stray tear on her cheek. “Got it?”

  She sniffled, and her lips drew up in a soft smile. “Yeah. I’ve got it.” She blew her nose and took a deep breath, then blew it out. “Okay. I’m all right now.”

  I climbed off the bed and stood in the middle of the room. “So, I assume we don’t have to worry any more about people coming to look for you.”

  She shook her head. “Nobody’s coming after me. I should have known better.”

  I hugged her with one arm. “Not your fault for thinking people are better than they actually are. It’s a good trait to have. Don’t let other people ruin your outlook. Most people aren’t trash.” I grinned. “Stick around with me long enough, and I’ll take you home with me to meet my family. And they’ll love you and make you part of the family, too.”

  She stuck her hands in her pockets and looked at her shoes. “That would be nice.”

  “First, though, we’ve got to stop a killer and find a missing ring.” I picked up my purse. “You ready?”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Back to the café. I have questions.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  My list of suspects was about as short as the time I had left to solve this whole thing. Other than Pete the reaper, everyone who’d been hurt or killed was a food truck owner. It wasn’t an unreasonable leap in logic to assume the perp—time for me to start using my gumshoe words—was attempting to clear out the food trucks.

  The only reason I could think of for that was business. The food trucks were competition.

  That meant the killer was either another food truck owner, or someone associated with the café across the street. My money was on Merle himself. Or maybe Lucas. Partly because I didn’t trust him, and partly because it made him hotter if I thought he was a bad guy. Not that I’d sleep with him if he turned out to be the murderer. I wasn’t totally without good taste. Still, a girl could have her fantasies.

  There weren’t any other competing businesses in the vicinity, so that was my short list—Merle, Lucas or one of the other food truck owners. If my suspicions were incorrect and the motive for the murders was something else entirely, then I was screwed. I’d never solve it. The murderer could be some chick on the fourteenth floor of one of the office buildings, and she could be killing people because someone had said her boyfriend was sleeping with everybody.

  So far, I hadn’t come across anyone with any weird obsessions paired with an unhealthy hatred for food truck owners. My best bet was to follow my instincts and go with the likely answer—competition.

  We drove the Toast Genie to the office buildings and pulled in on the end next to the Bandito truck. I hopped out and locked the door behind me.

  “Not staying?” Lucas hung over his windowsill, oozing charm and sex.

  “We’re heading across the street for brunch.” I turned my back and waited for Ash to come around to my side of the truck, pretending as if Lucas barely held any of my attention. I was kind of proud of myself for how cool I was keeping it. Every cell of my body was aware of him staring at the back of my head.

  “Wow,” Ash said as she reached my side. “That was smooth.”

  “What do you mean?” I looked at her as if I had no idea what she was talking about.

  She smirked. “Just start walking before you blow it.”

  I strode forward but made it only two or three steps.

  “You look good out of your costume, Jeannie.”

  I turned and flashed him a wicked smile. “I’m sure you look good out of your costume, too.” A second later, I realized what I’d said. I turned back and continued walking toward the café, my face burning.

  “So close,” Ash said.

  “Well, on the bright side, maybe he’s the killer, and I’ll get to beat the crap out of him.” I waited for a red pickup to pass before crossing the street.

  “You are so weird.” Ash gave me an amused look and hopped onto the sidewalk. “What makes you think he’s the killer?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. He’s just...suspicious somehow. There’s something more to him. Maybe he’s the heir to the Burrito Bandito truck fortune and he has to clear out all the competition before he can collect his inheritance.”

  Ash pulled the café door and held it open, shaking her head. “Yes. I bet that’s exactly what’s going on.” She rolled her eyes and leaned toward me, her voice a whisper. “Just sleep with him already.”

  I shrugged and walked through the door. “Who says he’s any good? Maybe I’d rather stick with the fantasy.”

  The café wasn’t any busier than it had been the day before. We grabbed the same table and waited for someone to notice us. It took longer this time.

  Something crashed and clanged from the kitchen—metal on concrete.

  “Dammit, Laney. I told you to hold on a second.” Whoever was speaking had a low, gruff voice. He didn’t sound angry so much as irritated and tired.

  After a moment, Penny, our server from dinner, came out wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m so sorry about the wait.” She grabbed some menus on her way over and handed them to us. “Welcome back! Can I get you some coffee? Juice?”

  We chose both, and she ran off to get it while we checked the breakfast menu.

  “Salmon soufflé?” Ash peered at me over the menu. “How is that a breakfast food? Or a diner food, for that matter?”

  “Crab Benedict seems kind of fancy, too. I’m guessing Merle was classically trained. Ooh, ricotta pancakes.”

  A moment later, Penny returned, holding a tray aloft. She set it down and gave us cups, a French-press pot of coffee to share and chilled glasses of orange-mango-pineapple juice.

  I took a sip and sighed. “Remind me to tell Art he needs to get his people to make this.”

  “Your boss has people?” Ash took a sip and nodded agreement that it was delicious.

  “Yes. And his kitchen helper is a little obsessed with juice. You’ll see.”

  She smiled but didn’t comment on my assumption that she was going back with me.

  I ordered the ricotta pancakes with raspberry coulis, and Ash chose the quiche of the day, which was goat cheese and fresh herbs. I glanced out the window and felt a little sorry for the people across the street who hadn’t chosen to eat here.

  When the food came, Penny waited for us to taste it.<
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  I took a bite of pancake and squealed with delight. “Oh, wow. This is incredible.”

  Ash made a similar noise. “So good.”

  Penny smiled. “Good. If there’s anything else I can get for you, just let me know!” She turned to head toward the kitchen.

  “Wait!” I finished chewing and swallowed. “If it’s not too much trouble, we’d very much like to thank the chef in person. Do you think he’d have time to come speak to us?”

  Penny’s expression was flustered. “Maybe. I’ll be happy to check with him. Merle’s... Well, he’s not feeling that great today.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Kind of in a mood.”

  “Well, I’d hate to bother him.” I dragged my fork through a pat of melting butter. “But maybe hearing how much we enjoy his cooking will cheer him up.”

  She brushed a stray hank of hair out of her eyes and under her hat. “You might be right. Let me have a word with him.”

  Penny was gone for quite a while. We were nearly done eating and what little coffee was left had gone cold by the time she came back. “I’m sorry for the wait. Let me get you a fresh pot of coffee. Merle will be out shortly.” She grabbed the coffeepot and left.

  I glanced at Ash and raised my eyebrows in surprise. “Looks like he’s coming out after all.”

  “I thought for sure he wouldn’t do it.” She scraped up a last bit of cheese with her fork. “Not sure what you’re hoping to find out from him, but I’m impressed so far.”

  I shrugged. “I just want to meet him. If he’s up to anything, he’s not likely to take one look at us and confess.”

  A tall, thin man in a pale green chef’s uniform came in, scanning the room. When he spotted us, he removed his hat and strode to our table on long, spindly legs. “Ladies. How was the meal today?” His lips turned up in a smile, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They were pale green, a little bloodshot and the saddest eyes I’d ever seen.

  “So wonderful.” I strained my neck looking up at him. “And last night was fantastic. You’re a genius in the kitchen.”

  “Why, thank you. That’s very kind.” He clasped his hands behind his back and ducked his head in a display of modesty that was almost too perfect to be anything but practiced. To my surprise, when he dipped his head, the light caught his skin and I saw that telltale shimmer. Beneath the gaunt human face, his Hidden face was the same but with one exception. He appeared to have gill slits on the side of his neck, ever so faint, as if they’d closed up and healed over.