The Keeper of Lost Things

by Jamie Campbell

  Tissues helped but could only do so much.

  The voices of two men speaking with Samantha quickly made me forget about my meltdown. She ushered them inside where I could see their police uniforms. They all wore somber looks.

  “Have you got news?” Samantha asked them. I stood at her side, trying to be a united front against the fuzz.

  The one on the left nodded his head. He was about fifty years old, clearly the senior of the two officers. “I’m afraid it’s not good news.”

  Everything inside of me stopped, gripped with dread. Police officers weren’t known for their joking abilities. If they said it wasn’t good news, then it wasn’t good news. It was probably going to be the worst news someone could possibly hear about their loved ones.

  “Shall we take a seat?” the younger of the pair ventured. He gestured to the couch, triggering something in Samantha to bring her back to the conversation again. If she was anything like me, her head was a minefield of spinning thoughts, unable to focus on any one thing in particular.

  We all sat on the couches together, the police taking one and us the other. Nobody looked comfortable to be there. We didn’t match the homely surroundings, our straight backs and stiff expressions in direct contrast to the soft furnishings and pastel colors.

  “So are you going to tell me what you came here to say or are you going to keep me in suspense?” Samantha said, breaking the silence. She smiled, trying to break the tension but she wasn’t fooling anyone.

  The senior policeman took the lead next. “We have received a report from the county coroner today. He was investigating the body found on Pearson Street.”

  The information I heard was that they’d found a wallet belonging to Marshall Gabrielle. The news, online reports, nobody said anything about who the body belonged to. But I hoped jumping to conclusions was the wrong thing to do right now.

  My breath hitched in my throat while my heart stopped beating and waited for the next words to escape from the policeman’s mouth.

  “The body was in bad condition, but I’ll spare you the details,” he continued. For once I was grateful for his briefness. I normally thrived on the details, needed them like my life depending on them, but not now. Not for this. “There wasn’t enough, um, markers for a full identification but the coroner had stated he strongly believes there is enough evidence to support the body belonging to that of your husband.”

  Samantha gasped and made a whelping sound like a little puppy that had been kicked.

  No matter how long I lived I was never going to be able to forget that noise.

  She broke down in tears, great sobbing rolls of weeping that wracked through her whole body. I returned the compassion she had shown me just minutes before and hugged her against me while she let the tears flow.

  The police officers didn’t know what to do. I could tell they still had information to unload on her but they didn’t want to seem callous and continue on when Samantha was in such a state.

  Maybe I was all cried out.

  Maybe I’d already cried for the loss of my father many years ago.

  Whatever it was, for now my eyes were dry.

  “Mrs. Gabrielle, I’m very sorry for your loss,” the officer started again after a reasonable pause. “There will be some formalities that we will need to go over but they can wait for another time. If you like, we can leave you for now and come back when you’re ready to discuss them.”

  Samantha nodded. “Yes, please.”

  They awkwardly stood and I accompanied them to the door, feeling like it was something I should do so Samantha didn’t have to. She would have wanted someone to remember their manners in the situation, I got the feeling she wouldn’t have wanted to be rude even in the horrible situation.

  We stood on the stoop in silence. I couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Do you really think it’s him?” I blurted out.

  They gave me the look. The one that said they had sympathy for me because I was so stupid I couldn’t accept the truth. I didn’t like that look.

  I’d received it too many times before.

  “The evidence is pointing that way,” the officer said softly, like I was fragile and only moments away from breaking down like my stepmother.

  I couldn’t reply, just in case they were right. I nodded instead and they mirrored my actions before leaving. Nothing more was said as they backed down the driveway and sped off down the road.

  Back to their lives.

  Back to their families.

  Away from the grief.

  They were lucky.

  I returned back inside and sat with Samantha for a very long time. We didn’t speak, just held each other and thought of all ways that the news could not be true.

  The longer I sat there, the more I truly didn’t believe it. The coroner wasn’t entirely sure it had been the body of Marshall Gabrielle. It was only the evidence that had led him to believe that.

  What if someone had made it seem that way?

  What if it was my father himself that did it?

  Or someone else, so the police stopped looking?

  There were a million reasons why someone could fake someone’s death. If there was a fire involved it made it even easier. If a flame burned hot enough it could destroy a multitude of identity markers.

  I didn’t share any of my outlandish ideas with Samantha. There was still a good chance I was completely wrong and only grasping at straws. She didn’t need that kind of false hope in the midst of her grief.

  At close to three o’clock, Samantha’s phone beeped with a reminder. She didn’t need to check it to know what it meant. Neither did I–school was almost over. “What do I tell April? How do I tell her that her daddy is dead?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” I replied. For once I wished I could come up with a convincing lie for the purposes of doing good instead of evil. “Maybe you shouldn’t tell her yet. Maybe wait for a bit longer.”

  “He’s not coming back, Em. The coroner was certain, otherwise they wouldn’t make a report. He’s gone.” Her tears started to well up all over again. They were already red, raw and puffy. “He’s really gone.”

  “Do you want me to pick her up?”

  She took a deep breath. “No, I need to do it myself. Thank you, sweetie. For everything. Are you going to be okay?”

  “I lost him a long time ago.”

  She hugged me again before we walked to the door and parted ways. I wouldn’t accept a lift home, mainly because I wasn’t planning on going home.

  Many people had called me stubborn before, mainly teachers and occasionally Principal Moore. They always made it seem like a bad thing but I always took it as a compliment.

  Right now, I was being stubborn once more.

  I didn’t believe the coroner or his stupid report. They didn’t have a body, they didn’t have a real identification, and that meant it wasn’t time to give up just yet.

  Frankie asked me what my gut thought earlier that day. When I asked myself the same question now all I could think about was that my father couldn’t be dead.

  He was alive.

  Somewhere out there.

  I wasn’t ready to bury him like Samantha was. I wasn’t ready to accept that he was gone and call a few pieces of burned bones his remains.

  Yes, I was stubborn.

  But I also might have been right, too.

  I didn’t have any leads, I didn’t have any clues, all I had was my gut and itchy feet. They led me to my father’s office, a place I had only been once before.

  Breaking in a second time was easier. I had no idea what more I could find there or what I was looking for but I was desperate and it was the closest connection to my dad I could find.

  The moment I stepped inside I knew something was wrong.

  It was more than a feeling in my gut.

  Chapter 24

  My first thought as I walked through my father’s messy office was that the police would have gone through his things. They would have had peop
le go through with a fine toothed comb, searching for clues of his whereabouts.

  I’d seen the TV cop shows, I knew the deal.

  I knew things would look different to my first visit because of the police and their thoroughness. Or coffee stains and donut crumbs, whatever.

  But I knew the difference between a search and targeted thieving of items. The stack of contracts for IT services to be provided by my father was in neat pile. The police had done that, because Frankie and I had left it in the mess we had found it in.

  All the contracts were no longer there.

  One was missing.

  Just one.

  It was memorable only because the name made me think of a giant shining sun. It was with Julia Golden Design, the business belonging to the mean lady that had all but thrown me out of the shop.

  If it was the police that had taken it, then why? Why that one and none of the others? I counted them again, just to make sure I hadn’t missed one or two on my way through. I hadn’t. There was definitely only one missing.

  After making that discovery, I surveyed the room with a more suspicious eye. I trudged my memory, trying to remember everything as it was the first time I saw it.

  My memory was a pretty good one. Uncle Marvin told me dozens of times growing up that I needed to forget more than I remembered otherwise I was going to get myself into trouble.

  Good thing I never listened to Uncle Marvin.

  I looked at everything, comparing it to my recollection and tried to find anything else out of place or missing. It was pretty dark the first time I’d been there so it wasn’t exactly an easy or accurate process.

  As far as I could tell, everything else looked about the same. A round circle of missing dust told me there was probably a coffee mug next to the main computer at one stage but that was about it. And who knew how long that mug had been gone. Someone might have just taken pity on it and cleaned it.

  It still felt like my dad could step back into the office at any minute and start working. Even though it had been so long since I’d seen him, I could imagine him crouched over at the computer. His face would be all scrunched up with concentration as he glared at the screen.

  I wished he would breeze on in and sit down.

  It sure would make our lives much easier.

  But I got the feeling that wasn’t going to happen. Not anytime soon, anyway. And probably not without help. If the police were so certain he was dead, they weren’t going to be looking for him any longer.

  That only left me.

  My poor father, having me as his last hope.

  I couldn’t stand to be there a moment longer. I needed to get out of the office or it was going to suffocate me with the force of a thousand paper cuts.

  Running to catch the bus, I didn’t know where I was going until I got there. It was almost dark by that stage and I should have been thinking about Uncle Marvin’s dinner instead of missing parental figures.

  However, I knocked on Frankie’s front door anyway and hoped he was home. I also hoped I wasn’t interrupting his perfect family dinner. I didn’t want to be the dark shadow that took him away from that.

  His sister answered the door. I couldn’t remember which one, but it was the smaller of the lot. “Are you Frankie’s girlfriend?”

  “I, uh,” I stammered, just managing to get out vowel sounds instead of actual words.

  The kid turned into the hallway and yelled. “Frankie, it’s your girlfriend! She wants to kiss you! Oooh!”

  At least the kid got a chuckle out of it.

  My face burned with embarrassment the entire time it took for Frankie to relieve her from greeter duties and close the door behind him. “Sorry about Mary. Just be grateful she didn’t start singing about sitting in a tree.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I hate that song.”

  “Me too.” Even though Frankie said it like he agreed, he was still smiling with amusement at my embarrassment. He was taking none of it seriously.

  I couldn’t find it in me to hate him for it.

  He shuffled down the few steps to the sidewalk and sat on the bottom step. I plonked down next to him and he took in my disheveled appearance for the first time. “Something happened today, didn’t it? And here I was joking and all. God, I’m so sorry, Em. What happened?”

  I swallowed to try to get some moisture back into my mouth. “The police told Samantha they found a body in that house fire. They’re saying it’s my father.”

  “Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t think it’s him.” Saying the words out loud made me sound like a crazy person. Maybe I was, it wouldn’t have surprise me. But the words still needed to be said. If I walked away from this now I would never forgive myself.

  And I would never have answers.

  Samantha might have been able to bury the charcoal pieces and mourn for the loss of Marshall Gabrielle but I wasn’t prepared to yet.

  Not until I was certain.

  “What makes you think they’re wrong?” Frankie asked. I launched into the full explanation, using the opportunity to not only fill him in but to also gather my thoughts and put them into some kind of order.

  Things I knew for sure:

  My father was missing.

  Some of his personal items had shown up, including his wallet.

  A contract for one of his clients was missing from his business.

  Nobody knew where he was.

  Nobody else was looking for him.

  The police considered Uncle Marvin a person of interest in the case.

  Anything I had stumbled over was just conjecture or my own personal opinion. The facts were so little to go off that they seemed pitiful.

  But cases had been solved with less, I’m sure.

  “I think my dad’s customer has something to do with it all,” I finished the story with my suspicions. If other service contracts were taken I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But just one? It couldn’t have just been a coincidence.

  I was the Keeper of Lost Things, it was my duty to find this missing contract.

  Right?

  “So what’s the plan?” It lifted my heart to know he had my back, no matter how insane I sounded. After all, when someone of authority told you your father was dead, you were supposed to believe them. You weren’t supposed to call them liars.

  I filled Frankie in on the vague, sketchy plan I had and he grabbed a coat before coming with me. While we walked I sent Uncle Marvin a text message, telling him I was caught up with a Recycle Club meeting and couldn’t get away. Hopefully he wouldn’t think about it too hard.

  It wasn’t even Wednesday.

  While I was texting, Frankie was also on his phone. He knew all the places to look up online to get people’s addresses. Companies had to be registered and they had to have directors. Those directors had to have residential addresses. Apparently for a small fee, anyone could look up these details if they knew where to look.

  Lucky for me, Frankie did.

  In little more than a few minutes, we had the home address of the owners of Julia Golden Design. Privacy did not exist in this world anymore. Clearly, it was a thing of the past. It was scary the amount of personal information so freely available to just anyone.

  After working out the bus routes we’d need to take to get into the Moorborough district of Lakeside, Frankie decided it was going to be easier to go back for his bike and hike it into the neighborhood. I went with him so I didn’t have to stand around and look like a weirdo by myself.

  Another twenty minutes and we were on our way again. Frankie was on the pedals of his neon green bike while I rode shotgun on the handlebars. It wasn’t entirely safe but that never really stopped me from doing anything before.

  The Moorborough part of Lakeside was occupied by the more affluent members of our society. The streets were neatly kept with even the leaves not daring to fall where they weren’t supposed to. High fences ringed every generous boundary and barely managed to hide the mansions be
hind them.

  Not to mention the Bentleys and Mercedes parked in the driveways.

  Claudine and Derrick Bowden lived at number forty-nine Twiningdale Drive. Their house was one of the smaller ones on the street, probably only containing about eight bedrooms instead of ten.

  Only a few lights were on in their house. At least they were thrifty with their fossil fuels. The streets were lined with large trees, heavy with their leafy foliage. They provided us with some cover from anyone who dared to venture a look out their window too hard.

  Frankie leaned his bike against one of those trees and we stayed close to it. Hopefully if anyone did glimpse us, they would assume we were just taking a quick rest.

  Instead of staking out the place.

  Not that I was planning on breaking into number forty-nine or anything. I didn’t really have a plan. All I knew was that I had to keep a close eye on them because nobody else was. The moment the word got out that Marshall Gabrielle was pronounced dead, it would have a ripple effect.

  Those responsible for his disappearance would also hear the news.

  And react.

  In what way, I couldn’t say. But I was expecting something to happen and I wanted to be there when it did.

  “I’m sorry to be taking you away from your family tonight,” I said, breaking the silence as it hung in the air as prominent as the full moon in the sky.

  “You’re doing me a favor. My house can be chaotic at times. This is like a holiday.” I could see his white teeth as he flashed me a quick smile. “I’m more worried about you. Do you think you should be with your family tonight? Maybe Samantha or your uncle Marvin?”

  “He’s not dead. I’m not going to mourn for him.”

  “But they’ll be mourning, right?”

  “I don’t know if anyone has told Uncle Marvin yet.” Reflectively, I checked my cell phone. There was no message from my uncle, neither in response to mine about dinner or a warning message about some bad news he had to tell me.

  Uncle Marvin wasn’t exactly a cell phone type of guy.

  On the odd occasion he did message me, he always wrote in all caps.