Free The Soulkeepers by G. P. Ching

But it didn't make
it any easier to hear it.
    "Do you know…can I have what was in her
purse? I mean, there were pictures and things in her wallet," he
said, but what he was thinking was that somewhere, near the bottom,
there might be a small key: a key that might open up a jewelry box,
a box that might hold a clue to her last days. He couldn't say that
to Uncle John though because the box was his mother's secret, a
secret she'd kept even from him, and Jacob would keep it from
everyone else, until he knew what it was and if it could help find
her.
    "I honestly don't know. I think all of that
stuff is locked up as evidence. I'll ask though."
    John parked in front of a chain of Paris
businesses with decorative wooden signage. The town had a policy
against electronic or neon signs in favor of hand painted wood. It
was one of the few things Jacob liked about Paris. Another great
thing about Paris was that anywhere you parked you could reach
everything else within a couple of blocks. That was the end of
Jacob's list of things to like about Paris.
    "Meet me at the shop when you're done," John
said before darting out into the drizzle.
    Exiting the truck, Jacob jogged through the
rain to Westcott's grocery. He ducked inside the door and dug into
his pocket for Carolyn's list. Great. Scented hand soap and hair
dye along with a bunch of other stuff. This could take a while.
John had given him an envelope full of cash for the purchases. The
money seemed to get heavier in his pocket and he was tempted to
skim a few dollars off the top. He dreaded his next workday with
Dr. Silva and any amount would make his time with her shorter. Even
as he thought about it, he knew he couldn't do it. All Jacob had
was himself and he knew deep down he wasn't a thief.
    He absent-mindedly thumped and sniffed a
cantaloupe. How did you tell if a melon was ripe? He had no
idea.
    A flash in his peripheral vision brought his
head around. He watched her duck behind the dairy section, her hair
down today in long layers that fell around her face and down her
back. Jacob dropped the melon and turned the corner to follow. She
was working her way down the cereal aisle. He pursued, riding the
grocery cart like a scooter to make up for lost time. He caught up
with her in front of the Cocoa Crispies.
    "Malini?"
    "Jacob! Hey, it's good to see you." She
smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes lit up.
"What are you doing here?"
    "Shopping for my Aunt Carolyn." He frowned.
"I'm not exactly a pro at this. How do you tell if a cantaloupe is
ripe?"
    "You've come to the right place, actually,"
Malini said, taking the list from his hand. "I'm a natural. Leave
it to me. You do have money for this?"
    "Of course."
    "Good. No problem then." Malini walked ahead
while Jacob pushed the cart.
    For some reason, he became concerned about
the wrinkles in his shirt and the fact that he'd forgotten to use a
comb after falling asleep at Dr. Silva's. Behind her back, he ran
his fingers through his hair, over his face, and down his shirt.
Malini's slender fingers reached for a cantaloupe and he noticed
the soft pink crescent of her nails against the silky bronze of her
skin. Funny, he'd never noticed before.
    "Don't you have your own shopping to do?"
Jacob asked.
    "No. Not really." She blushed. "I sometimes
come here when there's nothing else to do."
    "Don't be embarrassed. I understand. You
don't like it here either."
    "Not particularly. It's a bit rural for my
taste. I miss the culture of London."
    It came as a sudden surprise to Jacob how
little he knew about her personally. He spoke with her every day.
They ate lunch together and studied after school. But it seemed
like their conversations had hovered around their classes and the
people of Paris. He'd neglected to ask Malini about herself.
    "Is there anything you like to do here, in
your free time?"
    "I read, listen to music, that sort of
thing. In the summer, I water-ski. I used to play soccer, at my old
school. They