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There was nothing of note about the man who handed Trucy the forged diary page of her late grandfather, the forged piece of evidence that forced the courts to disbar her adoptive father. The man wore a medical mask, a generic black suit & tie and a baseball cap. Whoever it was who framed her adoptive father, was not going to make it easy for him to find them.
There was one distinguishing feature of the man, there was a scar on the back of his hand or he might have, she isn’t so sure. The scar appeared and disappeared to what seemed like a moment’s glance, just like a disappearing trick. Trucy is familiar with disappearing tricks, how easily an eye can be fooled by a slight of hand, she figured she might have been mistaken.
When Trucy first met Kristoph, she was immediately unsettled by the way he moved, the way he walked, the way he talked, it all felt unreal to her. She could only describe it as the same way that amateur claymation makes her feel something is off. It all still felt off even as she saw the man on a regular basis. Kristoph was her father’s investigation partner in the incident involving the forgery framing and her father’s disappearance but she could never trust the strange man as much as her adoptive father, Phoenix could. It was convenient that Kristoph came to his aid, he had all the right connections to help her father with the investigation, his reasoning for wanting to be so involved had been that he suspects his brother was involved in the whole thing.
Kristoph had tried his best to befriend Trucy, an offering of polite conversation and friendly smiles but it couldn’t make up for the way his stares crawled on Trucy’s skin and how his presence was like a dark hall you couldn’t see the end of. Every bone in her body would tell her to run and hide, usually behind Phoenix’s legs.
Still she couldn’t give Phoenix a good reason why she didn’t want him around. Trucy would flee to another part of the office when the pale blonde man was present and fiddle with her crayons and playing cards to try not to think about him in the other room. The truth is neither could she herself give a good reason why she didn’t like Kristoph. There was just something familiar about the man in the indigo suit, like she had met him before.
*
It was only supposed to be an hour, Kristoph had suddenly appeared to Phoenix while Trucy and her dad were at home. He claimed to have a time sensitive lead in their investigation. Phoenix rushed out the door, throwing on his beanie and hoodie and promising to be home by dinner. Giving a final rustle of her hair and a kiss on the forehead before leaving Trucy alone in the apartment. Trucy understood the direness of the situation but much in her own way, this was no time for funny business, she had homework to finish by the end of the week. If she could finish all her work tonight, she would have all the time to play video games after dinner. She could impress her dad if she can finish before he gets back and maybe he would let her stay up a bit longer past bedtime.
Trucy had indeed completed her homework before he’d gotten home, which was no issue considering the time her dad was supposed to be back had gone and passed. She anxiously checked the clock as the hour ticked on, slowly reading the analog clock as she was taught in school. The short hand moves slower and it represents the hour with the big numbers going to 12, that means it’s almost 8. The long hand moves slower and represents the minute, going from one to sixty in 15 minute increments, that means it’s… 8:46? Yeah, 8:46. Weren’t these things supposed to be based on a sundial? Trucy can see why everyone uses a digital clock these days. Hm. Anyways, she could be going on the Wii now considering she had finished her homework.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the click at the apartment door and the jiggling of the doorknob. Trucy grabbed her homework and rushed to the door to show off what she had done.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look! I finished my homework before dinner-” she shouted down the hall, screeching to a halt when she saw who had come in the door.
“You’re not my dad.”
The pale man who had opened the door hung his indigo suit jacket next to her pink hat and cape. He bared his teeth into a smile as he crouched down to greet Trucy. “Ah! Miss Wright, I suppose you were expecting someone else,” Kristoph laughed to himself.
“Where’s my daddy?” Trucy asked, her voice sounding very small.
“Phoenix? He’s fine, he’ll be back later tonight-”
“Why?” Trucy stepped in Kristoph’s way preventing him from heading further into the home.
“Like I was saying. My dear partner in ‘crime’ is a bit caught up in the investigation but he said I could look after you for a night. So don't worry about your little head.” Kristoph reached out a hand to ruffle Trucy’s hair, she tried to lean away from the hand, feeling his fingers graze her scalp. “I’ll be babysitting for you tonight, is that alright?”
Trucy barely mumbled out an answer when she realized that when she leaned away from Kristoph’s hand she had cleared the path into their home. He stalked into the sanctuary, inspecting the surroundings of their living room and the kitchen. The Wrights’ home was colourful with the various things they kept around the home, Trucy’s magic equipment displayed on a shelf, Phoenix’s picture frames, her drawings of Phoenix and his friends pinned to the fridge. The primary colours stood in sharp contrast to the new babysitter in his neat black v-neck vest and white long sleeves. Out of all the adults that Trucy knew and trusted, why couldn’t have been Uncle Gumshoe or Aunt Maya. Did Phoenix really give him the apartment key? Did he really ask him to come here?
Trucy clutched the pages of her homework to her chest like a shield and followed after Kristoph. Even if she didn’t like Kristoph, the black of night outside was far more unappealing.
Kristoph tapped the open cabinet door with his long manicured fingernail, considering his options for tonight’s dinner. Even if she didn’t like Mr. Gavin, Trucy wasn’t allowed to use the TV without the permission of her dad or her babysitter and he was still her babysitter.
Trucy looked up at Kristoph, “Mr. Gavin?”
He looked behind,“Yes?”
“I've done my homework. Can I go play on my wii?”
“Why do you need to ask?” Trucy just barely recoiled. If Phoenix asked Kristoph to come here, would he have told him about what Trucy was allowed to do? After a moment of silence, Kristoph sighed and held out his hand expectantly. “Let me see.”
Trucy tentatively handed over the worksheet as Kristoph snatched it away. Kristoph’s eyes grazed the words, Trucy watched for any change of expression and saw none.
“What is your homework about?”
“It’s about poisons and stuff!” Trucy piped up. “In ye olden Europe, they thought tomatoes were poison but it was actually the lead plates they served them on.”
Kristoph tilted his head in mock confusion, “Why tomatoes in particular if the plates were the problem.”
Trucy thought for a moment about what she recently wrote. “The- uh acidity in the tomatoes would mean that more of the lead would come off the plate and on to the tomato.”
He wordlessly handed the sheet back to Trucy, looking down on her without tilting down his head.
“It looks good,” he hummed. “Go ahead.”
Trucy swallowed hard and returned the sheet to her backpack. She settled down on the couch with the remote, booting up the console and made her way to Mario Kart. From the corner of her eye, she watched Kristoph make dinner. The crunch of the can opener paired with the noise of her player screen being inked by the Blooper. With half her attention going towards Kristoph, her driving suffered, landing her in 7th.
Trucy was starting to feel hungry, there were those packaged cookies in the cupboard. They would probably make her feel better about everything going on. Sneaking behind Mr. Gavin’s back, she made her way unnoticed into the kitchen, managing to steal a snack before returning to her video games.
Later in the night, Kristoph calls her over for dinner, stopping Trucy from starting another race. Putting down her controller, she heads to the kitchen. Sitting across from Mr. Gavin, Trucy stares down at what he cobbled together in Phoenix’s kitchen.
Tomato soup.
Trucy stirred the red stew with her spoon, steam rose into the air from the heat of the food. Her eyes flicked up, it hadn’t been that long since she sat down. Kristoph’s hands are clasped together with his elbows on the table over his own bowl of tomato soup. He wasn’t eating. He was waiting, expecting something to happen.
“Is there something wrong with the soup, Trucy?” Kristoph asked.
Trucy found it kind of a strange question to ask considering she had just sat down, or at least from the time she sat down to when he asked the question to be barely any time at all.
“It’s just a bit hot,” Trucy spoke honestly, giving the red liquid another stir. With soup steaming like that, it was definitely too hot at the moment.
Something in Kristoph changed, Trucy couldn’t tell if it was relief or a nervous tick. The hairs on her arm were starting to stand on end, the rustling of clothes and the clearing of throats were beginning to be more prominent in the silence.
“As long as you eat. I think your dad would be disappointed in me if I didn’t feed you.”
“Mhm,” Trucy agreed, her little hum of agreement almost came out in a squeak. She dipped her spoon in the soup and raised it to her lips.
“That’s the whole reason I’m here,” the words left him like a hiss.
"I wouldn’t want you to starve.”
Trucy felt the air tense so hard between them it almost gave her a headache. A product of her bloodline, whether it be a curse or a blessing is to feel every small movement of the people around her. Every flinch and twitch, the tension of the people around her ran through them and to her. Every bluff and lie is clear to her if she lets herself pay attention. People don’t think she does, and she doesn’t wish for people to know she does, but she pays attention.
It must have been a half a second, barely a moment’s notice, the veins on the back of Kristoph’s hand bulged with a heartbeat of his pulse.
And the scar on the back of Kristoph’s hand curled into a smile.
The scar was real. It was him.
She had first met the man when he handed her the forged diary page supposedly from her grandfather’s diary. It was the same stitched scar she thought she saw the day everything changed. He was the one who planted the forged evidence and framed his current dad, leading to his disbarment. He was the reason why the ex-attorney didn’t have the time to prove her biological father’s innocence and why he had to run away. All the answers that her father was working to find were sitting right in front of her, and she was sitting in the palm of his care. She needed to find Phoenix, she needed to tell him. Trucy’s spoon slipped from her hand.
The clatter of the spoon in the bowl made her flinch, soup splashed up the walls of the bowl. “Eep!”
Mr. Gavin stopped mid sip, “Is there something on your mind Trucy?”
“Oh! Clumsy me,” She said, flashing a fake smile.
“Just eat your soup.” Mr. Gavin’s voice grew in annoyance.
What did her dad say about catching culprits? They always freak out when they get found out, they throw things and… sometimes get violent, banging their head on walls and scratching apart their own face. What would he do if she confronted him? What does Kristoph know? Does he know she knows? Does he think she knows? Mr. Gavin was lying when he said “I wouldn’t want you to starve,” but Mr. Gavin was so insistent that she eat.
The tomato soup beneath her was starting to look like blood. It wasn’t really but the splashes on the sides of the bowl where she had dropped her spoon started to remind her of her grandpa. She heard they took a picture of his dead body for the court, ones she never got to see. Sometimes she wonders what it looked like? She knows he was shot in the head. Were there blood splatters on the wall? Was his brain like soup in a bowl? His casket was closed at the funeral. What would it be like to be gone, just like that?
Was it just tomato soup in her bowl?
Would she be seeing her grandfather soon?
Trucy wanted to know so badly why Mr. Gavin was here and why isn’t her dad home. Where was Phoenix? By the time Trucy’s last thought finished, she really had lost her appetite.
“I’m not hungry.” Trucy stood up far too quickly and her chair made a terrible noise as it scraped the floor.
“Do you do this every time your father asks you to eat?” Gavin questioned.
Trucy didn’t answer, she just bit her lip.
Mr. Gavin pointed an accusatory finger towards her. “I know that’s not true, I saw you sneaking snacks out of the fridge earlier,” he calmly stated.
“I guess I spoiled my appetite. My bad.” Trucy sucked in a shaky breath as she backed away from the table.
Mr. Gavin stood up suddenly, sending the chair over. “Why won’t you just sit down and eat what I cooked you!? Just eat your fucking dinner!” He walked around the table.
“Why don’t you trust me?”
Trucy walked backwards keeping her eyes on Gavin as he moved towards her, her feet slightly stumbled where the tile met the carpet.
“You’ve never trusted me.” Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you know?”
Trucy bolted for the door. Gavin grabbed her wrist, holding on tight and painful around the skin. Her scream filled the silence of the home. Trucy pulled from the grasp feeling the burn of their skin, she pulled wildly at the hold, leaning her whole body weight against it. Her socks struggled to gain grip on the floor as she pulled away. She saw it again, the devil in his hand.
She bared her teeth and bit down on the devil, ripping his hand away in base instinct.
“You little shit!” he screamed.
Making it to the door, the sweat on her hands slipped on the metal lock. Kristoph came down the hallway, his footsteps heavy and fast against the floor. The door opened inwards, forcing her to back up closer to Gavin as she opened the door.
He grabbed the collar of her shirt, feeling the threads snap against her neck as she was pulled upwards. Trucy reached forward to grab on to anything. Her hand makes contact with the coat rack where her hat and cape was. Gavin towered over her reaching over her to relock the door. It gave her a momentary break to grab her cape and pressed the hidden compartment launching out Mr. Hat towards Gavin. The wooden puppet collided with his chest creating a loud thump. Gavin stayed on his feet, momentarily stunned.
Trucy threw open the door and ran down the stairs into the darkness of night, her socks bare on the concrete, heart pounding in her ears. No shoes and no jacket for the cold night, it was clear to any passerby that was paying attention that she wasn’t supposed to be out there.
Each rock and rough angle felt through her feet as she weaved the streets of the city, hoping she could lose him in the sparse groups of people she would see coming from work. But it never stopped, his voice not far behind her, somewhere where she couldn’t see, trying not to draw suspicion too. “Trucy~ it’s not good to run away. Come home.” No matter how far she ran, Gavin wasn’t too far behind. The worst part about being a child is how much bigger and stronger pretty much every adult was then her, how it was rarely up to her what happens to her day to day. Today she guesses, today someone decided she would be fleeing for her life. And again and again she would pretend the calls for her to come home weren't for her.
There in the distance the glow of a barber shop still open at this hour. Trucy ran into the shop, hearing the ding of the bell above the door. She looked around for a place to hide, the shop’s chairs, the tables before spotting the pay counter at the end of the store. Trucy ducked behind the spot, curling into herself as small as she could.
The barber spotted Trucy as she passed her by. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be back here!” The barber crouched down behind the counter with Trucy. “Where are your parents?”
Trucy puts a single shaking finger across her lips and shushes the barber as quietly as she can. The barber swallowed and stood back up, looking around above the counter.
Trucy recognized the click of dress shoes, as another person entered the barber shop. Closer and closer the footsteps came.
“Have you seen this child?” he points toward the picture frame. The tap of Gavin’s nail on a picture frame. Gavin had been able to follow her all this time by taking one of the picture frames off the wall and asking people for where they had seen her go.
The barber glanced down at Trucy and Trucy wildly shook her head. Silently begging for help.
“No, I’m sorry,” the barber answered.
“Thanks anyways for your help,” Gavin sighed. The footsteps became quieter and quieter until the bell above the door rang, signaling his exit.
It only took a moment of the tension releasing for her vision to start blurring with tears. She broke down, started gasping when she couldn’t stop sobbing. The little girl curled into herself, holding her head between her knees. The barber crouched down, not totally sure how to handle the situation.
“Who was that?”
“I-It- It-” Trucy gasped, “He- h-he-” Trucy couldn’t answer through the sobs.
“Do you want me to call the police?”
Trucy raised her head and nodded.
*
The police officer tapped his pencil on his notepad. Trucy sat in the Barber shop seat with a long green coat loosely draped over her shoulders, the barber had lent her coat to Trucy to warm up earlier in the night.
The officer continued, “So let me get this straight you ran from your babysitter into the night-”
“He grabbed me!” Trucy cut in.
“-He tried to stop you,” he corrected. “Then he chased you until you could hide in this barbershop.”
“-He poisoned my soup too?”
“He poisoned your soup.” The officer pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut. “How did you know this?”
Trucy was starting to hear how she sounded. How was she going to describe it to him? That she could see when people were lying, that Gavin had lied about not wanting her to starve and yet still made her dinner, that ever since she met her, she knew something was off? Gavin made not a blemish on her skin, not a bruise around her wrist or a line on her neck from when he pulled her collar. Even if she could articulate it, it all sounded unbelievable through any other person’s perception. Not to mention everything about Gavin’s hand scar. The police who arrived on the scene only saw there was nothing illegal happening.
With a roll of his eyes, he brought out his phone. “Can I call your dad to come pick you up?”
“I haven't memorized his number,” Trucy answered, curling further into the barber’s jacket.
The police officer sighed. “Do you know where you live?”
“Yes… oh it’s- Cuniculus road, the apartment complex next to the big burger on 211.”
“That’s not far from here. I think the best course of action is to bring you back.”
The police officer reached out and grabbed Trucy’s wrist with ease. Trucy stumbled to her feet from the sudden pull, she struggled but the officer’s grip was stronger than Kristoph's.
“Uh Sir!? Sir? Maybe don’t do that?” The barber stands off to the side, close but afraid to touch the officer.
“NO! NO! I don’t wanna go back!” Trucy screamed as the officer grabbed her around the waist, picking her up and heading towards the police cruiser. Her little fists banged on the back of the cop.
Trucy had to think fast or else she’d be stuck alone with Gavin again. Gavin was going to kill her, if she couldn’t escape she would die tonight. Her body in a ditch or buried in the woods. Being sent to wherever her grandfather went when he was shot in the head.
“Gumshoe! I know Detective Gumshoe!” Trucy screamed.
The officer paused.
“Detective Gumshoe.” Trucy took a moment to sniffle. “Mr. Gumshoe is friends with my dad, he can call him. Please…”
The officer sighs, dropping to her floor but not letting go of her arm. Taking out his phone, he dialed a number. “Is detective Gumshoe working today? …Yes? There’s a lost girl here telling me that he can get in contact with her dad…” The officer turned towards Trucy. “What’s your full name kid?”
“Its- It’s Trucy Wright,” Trucy choked out.
“…Tell him it’s Trucy Wright…” the cop answered.
*
When Phoenix stepped out of Gumshoe’s cruiser, he ran to hug Trucy. Trucy tucked her head into Phoenix’s shoulder as began to sob in relief, his embrace was warm and secure. He rubbed her back, telling her over and over that he was so sorry, that she was okay and it was all going to be okay now. Afterwards the Wrights take a drive in Gumshoe’s car back to their apartment.
Kristoph hadn’t been lying, Phoenix had just been caught up in a part of the investigation in which only one of them could leave. They both decided that Phoenix was the better fit to wait for the person with the information since he had more connections in the city’s underground sector. Phoenix trusted Kristoph, he was his friend and they had worked together on a variety of things over the months building a certain trust between them.
Phoenix opened the door to their home, first seeing Mr. Hat lying in their hallway. Trucy made her way to the wooden puppet, picking it up and seeing if her inanimate friend was okay. Mr. Hat had saved her after all. One light illuminated the home, the light in the kitchen was left on. Phoenix sat down on the couch, patting the seat beside him signalling for Trucy to sit next to him. Trucy with her head in her knees, tells Phoenix everything, the scar, the soup, the chase, everything she told the officer.
“It was Mr.Gavin who framed you! The guy- the one who gave me the diary page, he had a scar on the back of the hand and- and so did Mr. Gavin! I know it sounds kinda unbelievable but it’s true.”
“Trucy,” Phoenix gently stated.
“It’s Mr. Gavin! They both had the same hand scar!”
“Trucy,” he restated, this time he laid his hand comfortingly on her shoulder. She looked up at him, expecting the same look of disbelief as the officer.
“I believe you,” her dad says without hesitation.
Trucy felt the pressure drop from the room and dove into her father’s chest and hugged his soft day clothes close, feeling safe for the first time all night. She began to cry again, this time with relief.
Phoenix stared off into the quiet dark of the room and the emptiness left in the space where he had spent all that time with Kristoph. His friend, whom he thought was helping him the whole time. Phoenix sat on the couch stunned with his arms around his daughter.
The pieces silently fell into place. “Oh my god. It’s Kristoph… He knew this entire time.”