The Collector

Eleanor's POV

The old phone in my study rings exactly three times before I answer it. Just like always.

"She took the bait," I say into the receiver.

The voice on the other end is cold and dead. It doesn't belong to any person. "Good. The officer believes the child is here."

"Sofia Mendoza has been very useful, even in death." I touch the small glass jar on my desk. Inside, something glows with a soft blue light. "Her voice sounds so real through the phone, doesn't it?"

"You have done well, Eleanor. But the cop is dangerous. She sees things others cannot."

I hang up and walk to my window. Down below, I can see Detective Rivera's car parked outside Murphy's Diner. She's probably asking questions right now. Nosy questions that could ruin everything.

But she doesn't know the truth yet. She doesn't know that Sofia Mendoza never left Los Angeles. She doesn't know that the voice on the phone belongs to a little girl who died in Tidewaters fifty years ago. She doesn't know I've been saving children's souls for decades.

My hands shake as I open the wooden box beside my desk. Inside are dozens of glass jars, each one glowing with caught light. Each jar holds a child who asked too many questions or saw too much. Each jar holds a soul that tried to leave.

I pick up the newest jar. The light inside beats faster, like a heartbeat.

"Calm down, Marcus," I say. "Your pain will end soon. Just help me get rid of the detective first."

The light flickers angrily, but Marcus Thorne has no choice. Dead children must follow me, whether they want to or not.

I dial the emergency council number. Four rings, then Mayor Davidson answers.

"She's here," I say. "The detective from Los Angeles."

"Are you sure she's the one from the vision?"

Three months ago, the old spirit that lives under our town showed me a dream. A woman with dark hair and sad eyes would come to Tidewaters. She would try to destroy everything we've built. She would free the children I've gathered over the years.

But the vision also showed me how to stop her.

"It's her," I say. "Detective Samantha Rivera. She lost a case involving a stolen child. She's broken inside, full of guilt. Perfect for our needs."

"What do you want us to do?"

"Nothing yet. Let her settle in. Let her think she's safe. But watch her carefully. The moment she gets too close to the truth..."

I hang up and call Dr. Carver.

"Eleanor?" His voice sounds scared. It always does when I call.

"The officer is asking questions about recent accidents. Make sure your death papers are perfect. No mistakes this time."

"They're clean, I swear. But Eleanor, I don't think I can keep doing this. My hands shake every time I hold a pen. People are starting to notice."

"Your hands shake because you're weak, James. But you'll keep doing your job because you know what happens to people who fail me."

I hang up before he can argue. Dr. Carver has been useful for fifteen years, but he's getting soft. Guilty. Dangerous. I might need to add his soul to my collection soon.

My cell phone buzzes. Text message from an unknown number: "Stop calling me. I know you're not Sofia. Leave me alone."

Detective Rivera is smarter than I thought. She found out the phone calls were fake already. That's a problem.

But I have other ways to break her mind.

I open my laptop and put in Detective Rivera's social security number. Within minutes, I have access to her bank account, her credit cards, her entire life. She has $847 in funds and a mountain of debt. Perfect.

I make a few phone calls to friends who work for banks and credit companies. By morning, Detective Rivera will have no money and no way to leave town. She'll be stuck here, just like all the others.

My doorbell rings. I check the security camera and see Chief Kellerman standing on my porch. She looks nervous.

"Come in, Patricia," I say as I open the door. "You look upset."

"The detective came to see me today. She asked about Marcus Thorne's death."

"And what did you tell her?"

"What you told me to say. That it was an accident. But Eleanor, she didn't believe me. She kept asking about the cuts on his chest."

Patricia Kellerman has been my doll for fifteen years, ever since I added her daughter Sarah to my collection. She does everything I say because she's afraid I'll hurt her too. Fear is such a useful tool.

"Don't worry," I tell her. "Detective Rivera will be gone soon."

"You're not going to... you know... add her to your collection, are you?"

I smile. "Oh, Patricia. Detective Rivera is far too useful to simply kill. I have much bigger plans for her."

"What do you mean?"

"The old spirit under our town is getting hungry. It's been five years since our last big feeding. Soon, we'll need to give someone special. Someone with power. Someone the spirits will find... tasty."

Patricia's face goes white. "You can't. She's a person, not a piece of meat."

"She's exactly what we need to keep Tidewaters safe for another decade." I pat Patricia's shoulder like she's a scared kid. "Don't worry. When it's over, I'll let you keep her soul in a jar. You can talk to her whenever you want, just like I talk to all my other friends."

Patricia runs out of my house like the devil is chasing her. Which, in a way, he is.

I walk back to my collection of jars. Fifty-three lives, all trapped and glowing. Fifty-three children who thought they could flee or fight back or tell someone about our secrets.

But Detective Rivera will make fifty-four. And her soul will be the strongest I've ever gathered.

My phone rings again. The old spirit calling back.

"Yes?"

"There is a problem, Eleanor. The detective has cover we did not expect."

"What kind of protection?"

"She is not alone. Someone watches over her. Someone very old and very angry."

My blood turns cold. "Who?"

"We cannot tell. But beware. This agent may be more dangerous than we thought. She may have friends among the dead."

The line goes dead, and for the first time in decades, I feel afraid.

I rush to Marcus Thorne's jar and hold it up to the light. The blue glow flickers briefly.

"Who is helping her, Marcus? What aren't you telling me?"

The light flashes once, twice, then something impossible happens.

Marcus's voice comes from inside the jar, clear as day: "You should have left her alone, Eleanor. Now you've made them all very, very angry."