by Andrea Engel
They had an arrangement. Finn would take out Bogey’s trash—human trash, that is—and he always gave Finn top dollar on his packages in return.
“Where’s your little guy today?”
Finn stiffened and held back his first response in order to think for a moment. “He’s visiting his grandmother in Topeka. They haven’t seen each other in a long time. It’s quite the reunion. He’s staying with her now.”
“Ah, too bad. I like the look of him, know what I mean?” Bogey made several shallow thrusts with his hips, and Finn buried his hands in his pockets to keep from bashing the man’s teeth through his brains.
This would be the last time he’d ever let anyone speak that way about his Beagle—anyone, no matter how valuable they might be to his enterprise. Right now, however, he needed Bogey, so he made the best of it.
Soon, a variety of diamond necklaces, rings, gold chains, bracelets, an unparalleled coin collection, and miscellaneous trinkets covered the table under the light. Bogey whistled as he weighed the pieces and examined them with his loupe. He abandoned calculating the total in his head and brought out his adding machine. “I think this is the biggest haul you’ve brought in so far, slim. There’s even coins here from the early nineteenth century.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Enough to buy a car?”
“Enough to buy three or four luxury-mobiles, I’d say.”
“Excellent.”
Finn looked around at Bogey’s odds and ends, while the latter went to the wall where he kept his safe. With his back to Finn, he turned the dial with fat sweaty fingers, finally opened the door, then counted out each bill as though it were worth ten times as much. He licked his fingers to peel off the last bill just as the crowbar made contact with the back of his skull.
Finn let the crowbar fall to the floor and took back his duffel. It was never part of the deal anyway. He used it to take everything he’d originally brought plus all the cash in the safe. He gathered the handful of bills that had scattered across the floor near the body, save the ones already saturated by the growing pool of blood.
What a shame, but it had to be done. The man had been kind to Finn, but he couldn’t let the comment about his Beagle stand. Tragic mistake, Bogey. Finn didn’t particularly need too much blood on his hands, but principles were important. He felt the moment of death, and he inhaled as Bogey’s essence entered through his nostrils. He shuddered. There were those sausages and onions again.
Instead of going back out the way he came, he climbed the stairs to the shop and gave it the same once-over he’d given the basement. He could have taken anything he wanted, but it was time to get going. The rest of what he now needed was all around him. From lighter fluid behind the counter and the many wooden trinkets and statuary, there was more than enough to build a campfire in the middle of the shop. S’mores, anyone? He waited for a laugh from Mr. Helpful, but none came.
A porcelain statue caught his eye. He took the tiny beagle and slid it into his jeans pocket.
He used three cans of lighter fluid to douse the floor and walls. He went back to the basement with another can and used the entire thing to saturate Bogey’s body. He lit Bogey first, waited until the flames licked the corpse from head to toe, then hurried upstairs to light the shop. With his duffel in hand and a new pair of designer sunglasses, he headed out.
Two blocks over stood a used car lot, which shared the same seediness as the pawnshop. Finn browsed the small lot then settled on an older silver Cadillac. A salesman sauntered over and introduced himself. Both ignored the billowing smoke behind them, as well as Finn’s overflowing duffel. Finn watched Leonard, whose eyes were wide. He saw drool forming at the side of the salesman’s mouth as he stared at all the cash. He wanted the man’s attention to stay on the money rather than his partially shaded face. It worked.
Finn climbed behind the wheel. He loved the red leather interior, though he could do without the tobacco infusion. As he took off his sunglasses, he caught sight of his face in the rearview mirror and gripped the wheel tighter. Something was different. There were loose folds under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept in a month. I have to get going, he thought. No time for distractions.
Considering that he didn’t have his license, he started the car and backed out without a hitch. It took only five turns and two miles before he was both a proficient driver and cranking it on I-25 North. He knew exactly where he was going but put the Thomas Guide street map on the seat beside him as backup.
By his calculations, he would arrive at 11:30 p.m. Perfect. He couldn’t have planned it any better.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Dream a Little Dream for Me
Sadie scarfed down her dinner, even though it was her favorite meal, eggplant parmigiana. She usually took her time to sop each bite with adequate sauce and cheese, but tonight she had experiences to share with Rufus. She needed to talk to him now.
She ignored the surprised looks on her parents’ faces when she politely asked to be excused. Once she was out of earshot, she ran all the way to her room, shutting the door behind her and securing herself within the confines of her own personal space.
“Oh, Rufus, keeper of my secrets, where might you be?” she called out. “Of course! Right where I left you, in the closet under my art supplies. Mom wouldn’t think of looking here.” She smiled so wide it hurt her face. “I know I said good-bye to you less than a week ago, but it was never meant to be permanent.”
Dear Rufus,
I rushed through eggplant parm to talk to you. I’m so excited. I can’t believe it. I met someone. His name is Sam. Even though he doesn’t go to my school, talk moves pretty quickly, so I told him my name is Annie. I know that was wrong of me, but I want a real chance, you know, Rufus? Just a chance without Dave and the others changing his mind before he gets to know me.
He’s really nice, Rufus. He lives a couple of blocks over. I was riding my bike, and I saw him in his driveway. He’s perfect. I don’t know what gave me the courage to stop, but I did.
I can’t believe I actually feel this way again. I almost feel a little guilty—I mean, he’s not Christopher, but this feels so strong, Rufus. Could this be real love? Sam listened to me. Even though I only introduced myself, I know he heard me. I felt important to him when we were talking. The way he looked at me when I spoke.
He has an easygoing confidence, and he’s interesting. He doesn’t seem hung up on himself. This is the first time I’ve met a boy like that since Christopher…and I like it.
No, no, no…I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. I don’t want to get hurt again. But, hey. What can I do? I can’t think of anything but Sam.
Awesome, right, Rufus?
I’ll try and get used to the name Annie for a bit. Maybe I’ll ask Mom to call me that for a little while so I’ll remember. I’ll tell her it’s for a school project. That everyone needs to go by their middle name for a week. She’s so busy with other people’s problems anyway—I can’t see her checking up on something like that.
What do you think, Rufus? Wait, don’t tell me. I think I know.
I have a feeling I’ll be talking to you again soon.
Thanks for everything, Rufus!
Until next time,
Sadie, aka Sss-Annie
Sadie closed the diary and tucked it back into its hiding place. She lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling. A quick glance at the clock told her it was time for bed, but she was too wound up to sleep. The only cure for this was on top of her bookshelf: Gramma’s music box would do the trick.
She lay back and wound the box; its soothing melody helped calm her. As the first refrain ended, the lights flickered. Barely paying attention, Sadie wrapped herself in Sam’s imaginary arms, dancing to the soft music.
The lights flickered again. Bright blue and green, they bounced around the room before zooming to the ceiling. From overhead they flashed repeatedly. As the entire room sparkled, Sadie sat up. The rug beside her bed expanded, turni
ng its thick beige fibers into bright-green grass. Sadie looked at the carpet in astonishment.
Vines crawled up her bedposts and across the top of her bookshelf before twisting their way down in front of her door, barricading her inside the room. Sadie dug her nails into the bottom of her foot, hoping to wake up. She wrapped the blanket around her, allowing one eye to peek out. Fresh, thick shoots sprung from the main vine and knocked over her night table, though delicate curling tendrils caught her lamp before it shattered on the floor.
She burrowed deeper under the blanket, though she couldn’t look away. The bookshelf began to crack where it connected with the wall. Books tumbled to the floor. Her art portfolio followed. A single picture caught an invisible breeze and landed at her feet. It was that alligator-and-tree picture, now much more familiar than the last time she had looked at it.
She heard her name.
Sadie.
It didn’t sound like her parents, though she couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t be at her door with all the ruckus.
The side wall of her bedroom collapsed, sending a cloud of dust across the rest of the room. Sadie brought the blanket over both eyes as if it would protect her. After several moments, the noise and dust died down. She peeked out from under the covers. Gone were the vines and fallen books. Sadie stood outside in vibrant, humming woods. What the heck is happening? I’m still awake. The setting was like the woods behind her house, only different.
Sadie had no words for what she sensed all around her. There was a gentle buzzing in the air, reminding her of what she’d heard at the Fletcher house. There was a breeze that smelled like Gramma’s butter cookies mixed with peppermint. I want one of those, she thought, whatever they are.
Colors were brighter. Everything glowed. She caught a flash of purple near her shoulder. It turned out to be her own hair, changed. It now glowed electric violet, long and flowing free. Her signature pigtails were gone.
“Oh. My. Gosh!” she cried, then laughed out loud. “This is awesome!”
She walked farther into the woods and met someone who resembled the alligator from her childhood drawing, but it wasn’t an alligator. He had scales all over and three spikes that poked up from his tapered tail. His hide resembled a color pallet with varying shades of blue. Brightly shining jewels set them off, changing the tone of his skin from moment to moment. He was exquisite, sparkling brightly.
She wasn’t afraid; in fact she was drawn to him immediately. He came toward her, walking upright into his own light with each step.
“Well, hello there. It’s about time. Welcome to our world, Sadie.”
His voice sounded smooth. Though deep, it was gentle. “Do I know you? What is this place? How do you know my name? Why is it about time, and who are you?”
“Whoa, whoa there, Miss Sadie. There will be time enough for many questions and answers, but let’s move naturally through them, okay?”
“What should I call you? May I ask that first?”
“My name is Thelonious. My friends call me Thelo. Please count yourself among them. You, Sadie Myers, have been given the gift of Mystashan. That is what this place is called.”
“Why me? Though I do feel like I know you. When I look into your eyes, it’s like being with someone familiar. I feel connected, even though I can’t explain it.”
Thelo smiled as only one of whatever he was could. His teeth resembled a wolf’s, with a rounded quality at their tips. “I have been watching over you your whole life, and you have known it, maybe not consciously until now. Remember your artwork from kindergarten?”
“Oh, yes! Isn’t that something? I can’t remember being with you before, but I do remember drawing that picture of you and Banyan, I guess.”
“Follow me, Sadie. I have something to show you.”
Thelo offered her his arm, and Sadie took it. She felt grateful, as she had no idea where she was going or which direction they were heading. Her questions still lingered, her curiosity growing as they walked along the well-kept path toward some unknown destination.
The unmistakable babbling melody of flowing water grew louder. The light around her shifted from silver to a golden radiance. She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the change. When she could see clearly, a familiar form rose up in front of her.
“Banyan! I knew it was you!” Sadie looked more closely at her transformed friend. Every leaf gleamed gold, and an underlying copper tint shone through the branches. They reached out toward her in welcome.
His kind, smiling face nestled in his glimmering trunk. She glanced at Thelo before racing over to her dear Banyan, embracing him with a big bear hug.
“Hello, my Sadie.” Banyan’s voice sounded like swirling leaves being swept through the breeze.
“Hello, my Banyan.” Sadie’s tears of joy rolled down her cheeks.
She walked over to Thelo and hugged him too. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and she closed her eyes. For the first time in a long time, she felt safe and wanted. “Thank you so much for bringing me here. I’ll always be grateful.”
❄❄❄❄❄❄❄
Sadie opened her eyes. She was back in her own bed with the morning light shining on her desk. Everything was as it always had been. The woods were gone, as were Thelo and Banyan.
“Oh, man, it was just a dream.” She sighed and rolled over. On the nightstand beside the bed, a spark caught her eye. “What’s this? Wow!” she gasped, stunned by the sight of the shimmering rock. It was clear and had flat sides across its surface.
“It wasn’t a dream,” she whispered. The rock vibrated with a cool, uplifting energy. Without being told, she knew it was alive. As she turned it, the light hit each facet with differing effects. On the underside, a single word was carved into its smooth surface: APPRECIATION.
“Hmm, I don’t understand. Why this word?” She thought about it, but the scent of bacon and pancakes was too strong. Mom’s making breakfast?
Sadie stretched then climbed out of bed. She dressed quickly and hid her gift at the back of her sock drawer for safekeeping before heading downstairs to the kitchen.
Mom flipped a batch of silver-dollar pancakes. She smiled. “Good morning, sweetheart. I hope you’re hungry.” She reached for a plate from the cabinet next to the window then paused. “Come here, Sadie. Look at how pretty the garden is today.” Mom’s smile turned into a frown. “Well, all except that bunch of drooped-over flowers on the right.”
Sadie joined her at the window. “Mom, they’re as lovely as the others. Maybe they’re saying good morning to the lawn?”
In that moment, Sadie understood that she was like the droopy flowers—as important as everyone else in their own way, even when life was difficult. A warm feeling of appreciation spread through her. “Oh, now I get it.”
Her mother looked at her funny, but she laughed a little as she handed Sadie her pancakes.
“Thanks for breakfast, Mom,” Sadie said with a smile.
CHAPTER FORTY
Open the Basset File
Finn parked around the corner. He sat for a moment in the quiet, instantly missing the vigorous growl of the Cadillac’s engine. He grabbed his roll of duct tape and the flashlight from the seat next to him. His new black suit jacket had roomy pockets, perfect for hiding all the tools of his trade.
The house hadn’t changed a bit, and he had a feeling the inhabitants within hadn’t either. Lights out was 10:00 p.m. His watch read 11:34 p.m. He was right on time. They were heavy sleepers and would be out of it by now. He headed toward the back door, skirting the bright halo of light that pooled under the streetlamp.
Finn used the picking set he had received from the gang on June eleventh, his last birthday. He released the lock and entered, carefully shutting the door behind him. He removed his shoes and straightened the hanky that was in the top pocket of his jacket. The long mirror at the end of the hall provided a darkened but sufficient reflection of his new ensemble.
The fine Italian suit was from last year’s collecti
on, and the pants hung just a tad too long, but he had no time for tailoring. He almost laughed as he recalled the look on the gas station attendant’s face when he’d emerged from the dank, dirty restroom impeccably dressed, with his hair slicked back. This day had been long in coming, and he wanted to look the part.
Climbing the stairs to the bedrooms, he avoided the third step from the top. It always had been a squeaker.
From the streetlights’ glow through the cracks in the window shades, he clearly saw Frank and Marj, sleeping deeply. They were slightly older but still the same lying, manipulative fakers they’d always been.
“Wakey, wakey, Franky Frank.” Finn slapped the man’s face on either cheek to speed up the process and get to the good part.
Frank’s eyelids fluttered but didn’t open. He mumbled something in his sleep and rolled onto his side.
Poor Frank has no idea what his future holds. “I said, ‘Wake up!’”
Frank’s eyes flew open. His blank expression revealed no recognition.
Marj remained motionless, still asleep.
Finn bent over to look the man in the eyes. Less than an inch separated the tips of their noses. “What? You don’t remember me? Don’t recall the last time you saw me? Well, I do. Every day of my life for the past three years, I’ve lived for this day. Care for some ice cream?”
Five minutes later, Finn sat down in the wing chair he had positioned across from the one in which Frank was now duct-taped, with an additional piece for his mouth. Duct tape. Nothing in the world is quite as useful. “What’s the matter, Frank? Don’t you recognize me, your one-time buddy? That’s all right. Maybe Marj will.” Finn could see that remark hit home with Frank as he struggled in his seat.
Finn walked over to Marj’s side of the bed. He couldn’t believe she slept through all this, and then he noticed the bottle of sleeping pills on the nightstand. The glass of water next to it came in handy. Finn picked it up, holding it right over her face for a few moments, then let the drips come out slowly. Drip, drip, drip.