The Lost Soul Page 3

  My eyes widened as I turned to my dad.

  He nodded. "It's true. I’d never met them before either, but they didn’t care that I didn't want to fight. I was already on the ground by the time Rob came along. To this day, I still don’t know exactly what he did. Whatever it was made them suddenly vanish and the next thing I knew, he was helping me up. Course, I was angry, mostly due to hurt pride. But it didn’t last long. You ever see wolves take down a deer?”

  I thought about a National Geographic film about animals I’d seen years ago and nodded.

  My dad smiled bitterly. “I was the deer and it was like a grizzly scared the wolves away. By the time we left this park, I knew Rob was someone I could trust with my life. Strange, because I would never recommend keeping a bear for a best friend.”

  The detective laughed, immediately denying the comparison. "I didn't do very much, and I’m no grizzly. I just knew what to...say...to get them back off.” His smile faded as he picked at the knee of his pants. "You see, Mark, I'm like you in some ways."

  He looked up again with that same strangely intense gaze, and once again, I felt like he was reading my mind.

  "You're right, I am."

  I blinked at him and he leaned over and gently chucked my chin. I closed my mouth with a snap, making him laugh again.

  "That's part of what makes me so good at my job. I don't have a finding ability, like I think you do. You could call what I do telepathy, not that it always works.”

  “You mean you can actually read minds?”

  It was starting to become clear to me my life had completely turned head over heels. If my previously unknown godfather could read minds and was saying I had a finding ability—whatever that was—maybe I actually could do something to save my friend.

  “Yea, I can. And just like with your talents, it’s usually easy to pass off as well-developed intuition, the kind of thing any detective worth their salt should have by the time they have salt in their hair.”

  He winked, running his fingers through the grey on his temples and despite my bewilderment, I smiled.

  “You have to keep this to yourself though. Only your mom and dad, and a small handful of other people know about this. You are included in a very select group of people because I know you can understand the repercussions of the wrong people hearing about this."

  I thought about what my dad had said about me as a kid. If I had suppressed my finding abilities because of self-preservation, what would happen to someone who could read minds if a person wanted to hide secrets?

  I shivered and nodded. “I won’t say a thing.”

  "Perfect. In that case, I’d like you to call me Rob. Anyone who knows I can read minds doesn't need to keep thinking of me as ‘the detective’. Besides, I'm not worried you're going to tell anyone. It’s not exactly the kind of thing you can talk about without people thinking you're crazy. Not to mention it looks like you have your own secrets to keep now."

  I nodded, sinking down beside Rob underneath the tree. "So now what? If my dream is right, it means my friend is missing and maybe badly injured. Or worse. Can you find him? How can I use the dream to help him? Surely, I had it for a reason."

  Rob’s face turned grim as he gave my dad a sidelong glance. "We can use your information to start searching. I'd like to go back to where you saw him taken, if you think you can handle that. Do you know where he works?"

  I nodded. "Yeah. We walked out of school together on Friday. He turned down the street to the convenience store when I turned to go home. I can show you the place."

  Rob nodded. "Good. I want to take a look at the alley behind the store. I know the police have already searched it, but I'm hoping with your finding ability you can pick up on something they missed."

  "How do we explain if we find him? Will they suspect me? I mean, Dad said that when I started getting in trouble as a kid I suppressed my finding skill. What if..."

  Rob winked. "You leave that to me. Over the years, I've gotten quite good at giving creative explanations. You may not believe it now, but it’s actually pretty easy to tell people what they want to hear. Especially when the only alternative explanation is something that doesn't make a lick of sense."

  I considered his words, deciding he was right. I mean, he was a detective after all. I imagined he’d have to be good at what he did in order to get to that place on the force, so it would be reasonable to assume if he cracked a case it was due to his investigative skills, not something unbelievable.

  After all, I could hardly believe anything he was saying, and I’d just had my own world turned on its ear.

  Frowning, I raised an eyebrow and looked at my dad. "Is that why we went to the police station and didn't call in to make a report through the tip line?"

  My dad nodded. "Yes. I always knew this day would come, although to be honest I expected it to have already happened long ago." He sighed. “I guess you’ve been so busy with school, sports, and your friends it was easy to push your talents aside. Until now when it involves one of them."

  "How did you know though? And why aren't you more freaked out?"

  Now, he smiled. Technically, it was more of a smirk, like the one Robbie got when he knew something I didn’t and was going to enjoy dropping a bomb. I braced myself, but still wasn't expecting what he said next.

  "Let's just say we come from people that are known to be intuitive. Some can read minds like Rob, who I discovered was a distant cousin not long after meeting him.”

  I started, looking between the two men with what I was sure was an open mouth. My dad, pale, tall, and blond, did not resemble in any way, shape, or form the dark-skinned, dark-haired, and stocky detective.

  “Clearly, you didn’t see the resemblance. We get that a lot."

  Rob laughed. “Don’t worry. It’s a very peripheral connection. We have a great uncle in common in England.”

  "Huh. Okay, well aside from Rob, who else has abilities? Do you?"

  My dad shook his head. "Not exactly, at least, not like Rob. But your grandma did, and you've some distant cousins who do. Most are back in England, but there’s a few in North America, some who are incredibly powerful, if the rumors I’ve heard are true.”

  I was still waiting for him to stop mid-sentence and tell me it was all a joke and he was pulling my leg for thinking a dream was real, but he didn’t.

  Maybe it was because he was so matter-of-fact in explaining things, or maybe it was having this previously unknown police detective with a gaze so intense it did feel like he could read minds. Whatever it was, I knew my dad wasn’t lying to me now.

  Which meant this was really happening.

  I wondered if I shook my head until it sank all the way in if it would be easier to accept. Somehow, my dad expected me to find my friend and had expected me to do something like this a lot earlier in my life.

  If I wasn't completely off-base, he looked kind of pleased I’d had the dream. The same dream that had scared the crap out of me. And what was this about my grandma? I realized as I examined his face there would need to be a much longer conversation for me to get all the answers I wanted.

  Right now, my focus needed to be less on understanding what everything meant and completely on how I could help save Paul.

  I needed to find him before it was too late.

  "Okay, I’m going to have a ton of questions. But first I need to find Paul.”

  Rob narrowed his eyes as he took in my face. I wondered if he could see the anxiety building. I didn’t know how much was from the information they’d shared, or from this strange new sensation inside, an urgency to follow the clues in my dream.

  Rob stood up, dusting off the seat of his jeans and smiled. "Absolutely. Let's go to the convenience store where Paul works. It’s only been a few hours, so it’s still an active crime scene, but they’ll let you past if you stick close to me. Are you sure you're up for this? It may be a little disturbing."

  A shiver crossed my back when I remembered the news report and t
he shooting. He hadn't specifically mentioned it, but I knew there would be blood. Was any of it Paul’s?

  He narrowed his eyes as he watched me and I could feel his concern. Somehow, it was the small hesitation on his part which made it easier for me to reply.

  "I'll be fine after we find him."

  As we walked back to the SUV, I could only hope I was right.

  Because I could feel our chance was slipping away. If we didn’t find him soon, it would be too late for Paul, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.

  Chapter 5

  Everything looked so ordinary.

  The convenience store Paul had been working at to pay for university wasn't a chain, or even a large independent store. It was the kind of mom-and-pop store you could find on any street corner in every small neighborhood I passed in Toronto. Most I was sure were kept going by the owner and family working as close to twenty-four hours a day as their bodies could handle.

  Paul had been hired at this particular store because the owner’s daughter was already in university and couldn't work as many hours as she had in the past, and now there was tuition on top of their other expenses. It was a place I’d been many times before, often with Paul. We’d picked up ice cream or cold drinks in the summer, snacks after games, or swing by on weekends when we had the munchies.

  Today, the friendly mom-and-pop shop felt eerie.

  It looked the same on the outside, but I could sense it had changed. It was like the household dog had shown its teeth and attacked the hand that fed it—it was deeply wrong, but I didn’t have the words to explain how.

  I knew it wasn’t the owners fault, and it wasn’t the building’s either, of course. From what I’d read in the news report, Paul was throwing out the garbage at the end of the shift and had seen something he wasn't supposed to see.

  Bad timing, that's all.

  "Okay, Mark. I want you to be quiet and follow my lead. We're going to go inside the store. I’ll question whoever’s working and I want you to take a look around, try not to make it obvious you’re listening to my conversation, okay? Can you do that?" Rob raised an eyebrow.

  I nodded quickly, glancing at my dad when he answered for both of us.

  "Of course. Come on, Mark. Let’s go look at the beer."

  My eyebrows shot up and he started laughing. I picked my jaw back up, clearing my throat and hoping my voice didn’t crack as I attempted to sound nonchalant.

  "Are you serious?"

  I had turned eighteen a few months earlier, but drinking age in Ontario was nineteen and my dad had never encouraged me before.

  Now, he merely shrugged. "It doesn't mean I want you to get in the habit. But given the recent developments, it’s reasonable to have a six pack cold and ready for tonight, depending on how things go. What say you, Rob?" He tilted his head toward the detective.

  Rob nodded. "Absolutely. One way or another, a drink or two will be in order for tonight. Count me in."

  My dad clapped him on the back, then Rob walked into the store a few paces ahead of us, once again the powerful Detective Avery who had intimidated me with his intensity. I hesitated, feeling so far out of my element I briefly wondered if I was on another planet, before following after my dad.

  The innocent chime of a doorbell announced our presence, and I trailed after my dad through the aisles to the back, where they kept the freezers and fridges. He nodded briefly at the front desk person when they caught his eye and continued past when Rob flashed his badge and drew the man’s attention.

  "So, what are you in the mood for? A pale ale? Stout? Or how ‘bout some blue mountains?"

  We’d come to a stop at one of the beer fridges, and the bounty of brands in front of me was dizzying. I had no idea what to say. Most of the beer I’d had so far hadn't been ones necessarily chosen for quality.

  "Um, I don't know. What do you like?"

  He laughed, throwing an arm around my shoulder as he opened the fridge and selected a twelve pack of cans with blue mountains from the fridge.

  "It may not be fancy, but it's a decent starter beer. And best of all— it has a sale sticker. When in doubt, pick something bland and generic the crowd will love that has a half-off tag."

  He spoke as if imparting some great secret, handed down from generation to generation, and I couldn't help myself. Even with the urgency I felt to find Paul, a chuckle slipped out.

  "Thanks, Dad," I said softly, knowing exactly what he was doing.

  He winked then inclined his head slightly to the front. "Why don't we look for some snacks to go along with the drinks?"

  I knew based on the way his eyes widened subtly that he wanted us to move closer to the conversation. Since it was also what I wanted to do, I nodded and followed. Under the guise of selecting the perfect bag of chips, which just so happened to be the row directly behind the counter, we stood and listened to the conversation between Rob and the elderly man behind the desk.

  "What time did your employee come to work yesterday?"

  I could tell the man was devastated just from his face. Even before he spoke, a swirl of guilt and sadness flashed over his face, which was reinforced by his words.

  "Paul came into work just before four. He had agreed to work a twelve hour shift for me, to cover my daughter. She’s studying for finals. Second year law.” A smile flitted over his face, quickly replaced by fatigue and regret. “My wife was coming in early in the morning to take over but our youngest was sick so she sent my oldest daughter instead."

  Rob was scribbling down notes in a notepad and nodded now, looking up. "What time did she get there?"

  The man rubbed his forehead and looked down. "She arrived at two thirty or so and went into the store first. She figured Paul was taking the garbage out and went to look in the back, when she heard a commotion in the alley. When she opened the door to see what was happening, there was a man on the ground and someone was crouched over him, talking on a cell phone."

  "What happened next?"

  I marveled at his calm and rational tone. Somehow, even though his words were brief, he managed to sound both sympathetic and in control.

  The man behind the counter sighed deeply before shaking his head. "That was it. She saw a man bleeding on the ground. The woman who’d found him called her for help when she saw the door open and of course she came to see what was wrong."

  “Then what happened?"

  "She found the man bleeding heavily and ran back into the store, getting a roll of paper towels for the woman to apply pressure to the wound. A few minutes later, the paramedics came and took the man away. That was it."

  Rob closed his notebook with a snap. Even from where I stood, he appeared disappointed. "She didn't see a man driving away or hear anything? Such as a gunshot?"

  The man looked even older as his face crumpled. I noticed the sparse wisps of hair at the top. What was there was mostly grey with only hints of black remaining. I didn't know how old he was, but his face sagged like he’d lost ten pounds rapidly.

  "No. Whoever shot the man was already gone.” He swallowed audibly. “And so was Paul."

  Heaviness crushed my chest at his words. I couldn't fault the owner for his actions. He hadn’t even been there. I knew he cared deeply about his business and all of his employees were family, except for Paul. I could see his guilt written all over his face that the person taken had been his newest employee, how he was accepting all blame even though no one except him would ever consider it his fault.

  "Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ardoin. We’ll let you know if we have any other questions. Can you show me the door your daughter took to the alley?"

  Mr. Ardoin nodded, pointing to the back and Rob tucked his notepad in his breast pocket, thanking the man before heading in the direction indicated.

  We lingered a moment longer at the chip aisle, and I saw the store owner quickly rub moisture from his eyes before standing up straight and smoothing his face into its usual customer service smile. My dad nudged me with hi
s elbow and I followed him. "Morning. Just the beer and chips."

  My dad kept his voice friendly and impersonal as the owner nodded and rang us through, making a few mundane comments about the weather before thanking us for our business.

  After exchanging pleasantries and accepting bags for our purchases, we headed out of the store and around the side of the building, toward the back where we'd watched Rob exit the building.

  It was a normal, albeit smelly, back alley. A large dumpster was pushed up against one wall, and both sides of the alley were open to traffic except for the yellow tape now marking it off-limits. A uniformed officer began to walk toward us but Rob stopped him with a word.

  Without knowing what was important, I took in as many details as I could.

  Rob appeared very official in his detective role, already crouched down next to the dumpster. He was wearing a pair of blue gloves and sifting through objects beside the dumpster near a large bloodstain visible even from where we had stopped.

  I gulped. How much blood did someone have to lose to make that big of a mess? I wondered how that guy was doing, and if Paul was somewhere scared and bleeding as well. I tried not to think the worst, that he was dead, but the thought refused to go away. I exhaled slowly and scolded myself.

  Smarten up. Paul needs you rational and calm. You wouldn’t have had that dream if there wasn’t the possibility of saving him.

  I knew I’d been shown where he’d been taken because there must be a chance to bring him back in one piece. Doing my best to focus on that instead of the worst case scenario, I drifted toward Rob and looked at the scene in what I hoped was a logical, detective-like manner.

  The road was paved but cracked, with more potholes than asphalt. Not uncommon for back streets in this neighborhood. The dumpster was half-full and fragrant in a way that wasn't enjoyable, even so early in the morning on a cool June day.