Page 40 of Deadly Lineage
I yawned, wide enough to crack my jaw. Slumped within Franklin’s front seat, I breathed in the fresh scent of his body wash and hoped it was enough to counteract my dubious stench. I’d stayed up too late the night before and was still deep in sleep when he called late this morning. There hadn’t been time to shower before he pulled up in front of my house. There’d barely been enough time to scarf down a Pop-Tart and chug a glass of OJ. I ran my hand through my hair, frowning at its untamed tangle.
“I swear, I brushed my hair this morning,” I said while tugging my fingers through a thick section.
Franklin had the audacity to chuckle. “I believe you. I also believe your hair has a mind of its own.”
I blew a raspberry. “This coming from the man who keeps his head shorn so tight a sheep farmer would be jealous. Maybe I should just whack it all off. It would be a hell of a lot simpler and—”
“Don’t.”
I glanced at Franklin, surprised to see his neck lighting up a fiery crimson.
“I’m just saying that you have nice hair. That’s all.” Franklin shifted and tugged at his seatbelt.
My mouth parted. Dammit,words. I needed to use my words, and yet none came. No, that’s not true. I thought too many came, all of them crowding and vying for attention, drowning each other out and hiding the important ones.
When I didn’t say anything, Franklin gripped the steering wheel tight enough to whiten his knuckles. “We should be there in another forty to forty-five minutes. I spoke to a Mrs. Gladys Campion on the phone. She seems to think there might be more records about Lorelai Winston. She also said they haven’t had the funds to digitalize most of the records, so it will be a bit of an Easter egg hunt. Sorry to drag you out of bed for something so tedious—and most likely boring.”
This time, my words came quickly. “I don’t mind,” I rushed to say. “I want to help and since my usual MO isn’t currently very advantageous, then this will have to do.”
“It’s not your fault. You know that, right?” Franklin shot me a quick glance before his eyes landed back on the road.
“I know. That doesn’t make it much better. I still feel useless.” Typically when I was called in, the information I gained from the deceased soul either solved the case or went a long way towards solving it. This time was grossly different.”
“You’re hardly useless, Boone. Trust me, I’ve met useless and that’s not you. Not by a long shot. Without you, we wouldn’t know we didn’t know something.” Franklin scratched the side of his cheek. “I promise, that made more sense in my head.”
My laughter filled the car. “Thanks. I think. I get what you’re saying but it’s still frustrating and…sad.” It was a hell of a lot more than just sad, but it was the only word I could think of. “I want to figure out a way to repair their souls, but I’m not sure it’s possible.” All my earlier laughter disappeared.
“As in, you don’t think it’s possible for you to do, or not possible at all?”
“Both,” I answered after some thought. “I know for certain it’s not something I could do, but I don’t know that anyone can. I can’t get the feel of their souls out of my mind. Sometimes, I can almost feel the rough edges pushing at my insides. It’s uncomfortable.”
“Sounds a hell of a lot more than justuncomfortable,” Franklin said with a hint of disbelief.
“I won’t argue that. But the point is that in a way, I feel like they’re still with me. They aren’t,” I hastened to clarify. “It’s the memory I can’t let go of. It sucks, but it’s also allowed me more time to analyze what Rebecca and Phineas’s souls truly felt like.” I shook my head. “They’re more than torn. It’s like pieces of them are missing. If those pieces still exist, I should be able to find them. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”
Franklin was momentarily quiet before he answered, “You think those missing pieces don’t exist any longer. That they’ve been destroyed somehow.”
I nodded. “And if that’s the case, then there simply isn’t anything to repair. It would be like having a unique piece of cloth with holes cut out. If someone burned those removed pieces, then the pattern can never be remade.”
“Shit,” Franklin said, whisper quiet. “I’m sorry, Boone.”
“Yeah.” I sank further into my seat. “So am I. I don’t know what to do. Leaving their souls like that—in so much pain and agony—isn’t right. To spend an eternity like that…” I shivered, and Franklin eased off on the air-conditioning. It was a nice gesture, but I didn’t think the cool air was the cause of my chill. “I can’t allow that, Franklin. I don’t think I can live with myself.”
Releasing his right hand from the steering wheel, Franklin reached over, palm up and welcoming. After a second ofhesitation, I gripped his offered hand and released a heavy sigh when Franklin entwined our fingers.
“I’m sorry, Erasmus. Those words seem wholly insufficient, but they’re all I’ve got.”
I gripped Franklin’s hand tighter, using it like a lifeline. “Right now, it’s all any of us have.” And wasn’t that the sad, shitty truth.
Gladys Campion was an elderly woman, although I’d never refer to her that way to her face. Slightly hunched, I figured she’d been about my height before age pulled her down. Those same years hadn’t diminished her spunk, though. The Ocean Spring’s Historical Society had definitely found a champion when they’d hired Gladys. Despite her age, the woman had enough energy to fuel half the city. She managed two flights of stairs better than humans half her age and knew every square inch of the modern building holding the past’s lost treasures.
“The city moved us into better quarters after Hurricane Katrina,” Glady’s explained as she turned on an overhead light. “New Orleans wasn’t the only city affected. Ocean Springs fared better, but we still suffered a lot of damage. We’ve had some losses, so I hope we still have what you need, but I can’t guarantee it. Before Katrina knocked on our door, I would have felt more confident.”
I marveled at the shelves lining the air-conditioned room. The humidity was low, conducive to preserving paper artifacts. I wasn’t sure what the previous building was like, but figured this was an improvement.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you like, or at least until closing,” Gladys added with a smile. “If you boys need anyrefreshments, just let me know. We’ve got some nice restaurants and cafés nearby. I can also head over to the local convenience store if needed.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Franklin said. He’d developed a slight Southern accent over the past few years. To us, he’d always sound like a Northerner, but I’d bet money his Illinois relatives thought his accent had changed.
