“It’s Franklin, he’s done something,” were Derrick’s next words.
Anger and frustration tangled together in my throat, propelling forth a volley of fury. “What do you mean?! I’m tired of this bullshit! Who the fuck is Franklin? Why is he dangerous?!” I drew a shuddering breath and heard myself wail, “What has he done with Ruthann? Where is my sister?!”
“Listen to me!” Derrick yelled in an attempt to elevate his voice over mine. “I am so sorry I can’t even begin to tell you. I should have told you these things a long time ago, but I was fucked up. I didn’t know what to do, I didn’t want to betray my family…”
“What things are you talking about?!”
Derrick spoke in a quaking rush; in my mind bobbed an image of his face, pale and glossy with sweat, one hand gripping his forehead. “Franklin is Fallon, they’re the same person. His real name is Fallon Corbin Yancy and he was born in 1853, in Pennsylvania, to Thomas Yancy. He can travel through time, Tish, and does often. He’s made millions for Father and me, and Ron-fucking-Turnbull, since the nineties. I met him for the first time when I was about ten or so, and he’s been in and out of my life since then. My father reveres him, it’s like he’s a god. Franklin can do no wrong in Father’s eyes but he’s incredibly dangerous, like I’ve told you. I’ve known for a long time but I’ve never dared to speak out against him.”
I absorbed this tirade in semi-shocked silence, finding room to be ashamed that I had not guessed earlier. The truth had been right in front of us many months ago. A picture formed in my memory, blotting out the parking lot of The Spoke – I saw Ruthann sitting at my kitchen table, winding spaghetti noodles around her fork while laughing at something Marshall was saying, her beautiful hazel eyes flashing with love and adoration as they rested on him, seated to her immediate right. Their first date, last August, during which I’d convinced them to come to dinner at our trailer because Case and I were so excited they were finally dating and because we missed them. I ached from the inside out with the desire to return to that particular yesterday, to that very evening, and scream out the knowledge I now possessed.
I collected my voice. “How many people know this? Did Robbie know it? Was that why he was killed?”
Derrick’s voice was hoarse with conviction as he ticked off names. “Father, myself, and Ron Turnbull. No one else to my knowledge but I’ve always suspected Christina. It’s our most carefully guarded secret, so it would have been a long shot for Rob Benson to have found out. It’s possible, though. I’m not kept in the loop on everything, I assure you. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am. I tried to get you to leave Jalesville as long ago as last summer. You wouldn’t have been entangled in everything there, if you had.”
“Why now?” I demanded, astounded by the mass of what he was unloading. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this earlier?”
“I couldn’t, don’t you see? For one thing, I’m afraid for my own safety. But now it’s gone too fucking far. Franklin is losing touch with reality. He’s obsessed with causing harm. I’m trying to get my father to see the truth.”
“Harm to my sister? To Ruthie?! Has he seen her in the past?”
“He has, and he hates her, Tish, with a ferocity I can’t explain. It’s on par with his hatred of the Rawleys and the Spicers, families whose interests have opposed his since the nineteenth fucking century.”
“Where is she? How can she get back here? How the hell can we stop him?” Questions tumbled end over end from my lips.
“Your sister somehow ended up around 1882. Time moves differently between then and now, I can tell you that, but I don’t know much else. Not nearly as much as I should. And I have no idea how to stop Franklin. He disappears without warning. He wants to stay here in the twenty-first century more than almost anything, but he always gets…snapped back, I guess, like a rubber band, to his original timeline. To a particular area around Jalesville, which was the first place he jumped through time. Why do you think we’ve been buying up that land for our own? Franklin thinks he can figure out how to close off the time barrier for good.” He heaved a shuddering sigh. “God, I know how insane this all sounds…”
“Derrick, I believe you! Keep talking!” I imagined what Case and everyone else would have to say after I dashed back inside The Spoke and summarized this volcano of a conversation. I was afire with purpose, already envisioning what we could do with such a wealth of information. The phrase ‘close off the time barrier for good’ set every alarm bell within my head to clanging.
We have to try tonight, I realized, thoughts racing ahead. We can’t wait until tomorrow. We have to drive out to the old homestead and try to bring them home before it’s too late.
“You don’t even know how dead I’d be if he knew I was telling you these things,” Derrick was saying. “I’m afraid it’s already too late…”
I froze, startled anew; he’d spoken the exact phrase I’d just been thinking, ‘too late.’ I cried, “What are you talking about?”
“He’s done something terrible. I don’t know what exactly, I haven’t seen him in the flesh since Rob’s funeral outside St. Helen’s. He was ready to kill me that day for knocking him to the sidewalk so you and Case could get away. I haven’t heard from him since then. But he called me tonight,
