Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
But I needed to know now.
He seemed to think about it. “No. I don’t think anyone does. I’ve never been around him without it on.” He frowned.
“What do you know about him?”
He still looked mad, but he answered. “He’s been here since before I was born, but I don’t know who he came here with or who his family was. I don’t know if my family made an exception for him. As far as I can remember, it’s only been him.”
That was so sketchy.
“He hasn’t really aged at all in all the time I’ve known him. I think he’s a long-lived being,” he added thoughtfully. “He never talks about his past. I can only tell you he’s been reliable while he’s been here, and I’ve never had a reason not to trust him.”
I nodded at Henri, disappointed he didn’t know anything important either. “Thank you.” Setting my shoulders, I glanced down at Duncan, who had lost interest in Henri and me arguing and had… he was halfway done with his beef trachea. I didn’t even remember giving it to him. But his bright eyes were on me, his little mouth pulled into that partial perma-smile. “Donut, when you’re done, will you come with me to talk to Franklin?”
“Yes,” he answered at the same time Henri said, “I’m coming too.”
I thought about telling him that wasn’t necessary, but Henri gave me a look that kept me from actually saying it out loud. I didn’t feel like arguing with him anymore.
So I guess he was coming too.
We were going to find out what Franklin had to say.
Chapter
Twenty-One
“You don’t need to come with me,” I told Henri under my breath as we made our way to Franklin’s bedroom.
He peered down at me, that frowl-scrowl still plastered on his profile. Murder Henri was gone, but I wasn’t sure how much better Grumpy Bear Henri was in his place. “Yes, I do,” he argued.
“No.” Between us, Duncan stepped on his foot, capturing both of our attentions.
I blinked. “Even Duncan said no.” Why was he saying no though? There weren’t many things he had a strong opinion about, but this….
“You’re wrong this time, pup,” Henri disagreed, his expression lightening just a little as he focused on the donut. A hint of a smile crossed his face as he looked down at him, but all that wiped away the second we made eye contact. “I could tell he’d been anxious the last few weeks, but I thought he was concerned about you.”
“You mean afraid,” I clarified.
He gave me a look that might as well have been an eyeroll. “Wary,” he compromised. “Now, I’m rethinking every conversation I’ve had with him about you and what it might mean. Ilya didn’t say anything else?”
That perked me up. I shook my head. “That’s all. What has he told you? Franklin, I mean.” I didn’t bother trying to keep my question a secret. I was coming for him, and I didn’t care if he was sleeping. If he’d been purposely hiding something from me, I deserved to know what it was, and we both knew it.
“Nothing that would’ve set me off. What I knew about you, your relationship with Matti.” Henri gestured toward the door to our left.
We were here. At Franklin’s.
I clenched my fist.
“I can hear you in there,” Henri called out, not even bothering to try and press his ear to the wood. “Are you going to open the door or are you going to make us knock?”
The doorknob turned and the elder appeared in button-down flannel pajamas… which were an odd choice because most people after a certain age used the buttons that popped together, or didn’t use buttons at all. Just like his shirts….
But the strangest thing was the resigned expression on his face. The hair he usually had neatly combed was all over the place, kind of scruffy, pretty messy. Somehow it made him look younger.
A lot younger.
Nervousness seemed to lurk in the corners of his eyes as he stood there. “I was expecting this, come in.”
I glanced at Henri, who gave me a squinty look.
I still couldn’t believe how much of a hissy fit he’d thrown over Ilya inviting us to Alaska, and I definitely couldn’t believe what he’d said to him about it.
He’d been so… possessive.
But I couldn’t think about that now, I told myself, walking into the room first, with Duncan following next, and Henri taking up the last position.
The room was larger than mine, but instead of a full-sized bed like Agnes had, Franklin’s was much more modest. His frame was a twin, and next to it was a comfortable recliner. There was a television on the opposite wall, framed by huge bookshelves—four of them, stuffed full with all kinds of paperbacks and hardcovers and more.
In front of those books were knickknacks in bronze, some that glittered like they were gold, and a few that looked… ancient with how faded and in poor condition they were.