Southern Cross (29 page)

02:45:46

Since
no one seemed to have any better ideas, I convinced Juarez to come out with me
to talk to Ashley Durham. Blaze agreed—which was proof positive to me that they
were out of leads. No way would she have sacrificed one of her best agents if
she thought there was somewhere better he could be used.

The
investigation was at a standstill.

On
the way, I bounced my knee and looked out the window and tried to ignore the
minutes flying by.

“Did
you have any dinner?” Juarez asked, after we’d been riding in silence for some
time. I had to think about it.

“I
grabbed something for lunch. I’m all right.”

“Lunch
was nine hours ago,” he said patiently. “You should eat something.”

“When
we get back,” I said. I ran my thumb over the scar on my wrist, something that
had become a nervous habit in the past few months. Juarez reached across the
console and put his hand over mine. He has good hands: strong but soft, warm
and gentle.

“Relax,”
he said. “Worrying yourself sick won’t help Diggs.”

“You’re
right,” I agreed. I leaned back in the seat. “Since I don’t know what else to
do, though, it seems to be my only option.”

“Tell
me about Ashley Durham,” he said. We were on the main stretch in Justice; he
took a left onto a back road that presumably led to Ashley’s place, while I
continued to stare out the window.

“What
do you mean?” I asked. “I don’t really know the woman.”

“You’ve
met her before, though,” he said. I thought of George Durham’s whole
proclamation about me being the only reason Diggs married Ashley in the first
place. I wondered if Ashley had ever heard that theory.

“She
came to Boston with Diggs a few times while I was still married to Michael. We
had a couple of dinner parties, that kind of thing.”

“That
doesn’t seem like much of a reason for her to dislike you.”

I
looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Who said she dislikes me?”

“Diggs
may have mentioned something.”

Somehow
I’d known he would. “It might have something to do with one of those trips,” I
conceded. “And the fact that two days into it, he holed up in my apartment for
the night while he helped me with a story I was working on.”

“It’s
nice to know I’m not the only one who’s been relegated to third wheel while you
two do… whatever it is you do.”

Ouch.
“You’re the one who told me to come here,” I reminded him darkly.

“I
know that.” He scrubbed his hand over his face. “And I think I was right—it’s
been important. And good for you to be out in the world again.”

“Even
if that world’s ending?”

He
laughed dryly. “I guess I could have done without that part. I’m just saying
that if Ashley truly isn’t crazy about you, she may have a good reason for
that.”

“Point
taken.”

He
slowed down in front of a pretty brick house with a landscaped front yard and
flowers in window boxes outside all the windows. I could imagine Diggs living
on Jupiter before I could imagine him living in a place like this.

I
started to open the door before Jack had come to a complete stop, anxious to get
on with things. He stopped me with a hand on my arm. “You don’t need to go in
there with guns blazing—wait just a second.”

Once
he’d finally parked the car, I hopped out and waited impatiently for him to
join me. I knocked, Juarez beside me.

Ashley’s
husband answered. He was good looking in a not-terribly-interesting way: fine
blond hair, receding hairline, eyes that weren’t quite green but weren’t… not
green, either. He had a sleeping Angus in his arms, bouncing the toddler
gently. He put his finger to his lips as he opened the door.

“Is
Ashley here?” I whispered.

He
nodded toward a swinging door that presumably led to the kitchen. To my
surprise—and borderline dismay—Juarez told me he was gonna hang out with Terry
and the kid, leaving me to deal with Diggs’ ex.

“If
I’m not out in ten, send reinforcements,” I said under my breath.

“Got
it.”

I
went into the kitchen alone.

Mae
and Ashley were sitting at the kitchen table playing cards with Rick and Ida.
At the sight of me, Ashley put her cards down and looked at the kids coolly.

“Do
you mind helping Uncle Terry with Angus?” she asked them. Ida hopped up without
argument—one of the benefits of kids before they hit that angsty tween/teen
stage. Rick didn’t look nearly as happy about it, but he followed his little
sister out of the room. I took Ida’s spot at the table, facing off against Mae
and Ashley. 

“You
heard about them taking Diggs?” I asked.

Ashley
nodded.

“They
still don’t have any ideas where he might be?” Mae asked.

“No,”
I said. “Not yet. The prevailing theory is that they’re taking all these people
to a single location, though: Danny, Diggs, Casey Clinton… and whoever else
they’ve hauled away.”

“So,
they think everybody’s still alive,” Ashley said.

I
nodded. “I need to ask you about your father,” I said to Ashley. “About his
history with Jesup Barnel.”

Mae
looked confused. “George always hated the reverend.” I ignored her, looking to
Ashley. When she hedged, Mae piped up. “Didn’t he?”

“They
grew up together,” Ashley said. “And when Barnel first started out, they were
actually best friends.”

“Did
George ever say anything to you about Billy Thomas?” I asked.

“The
boy that killed all those girls back in the ‘60s?” Mae asked. Ashley stayed
quiet. I fixed her with a long look.

“Daddy
never said anything,” Ashley said. “But I remember the first time I ever heard
that name. He and Mama had a fight—I think it was about the reverend, but I
remember him saying something about him learning his lesson with Billy. That
the reverend didn’t have any special powers… I just remember because Mama got
so angry.”

“And
he never mentioned the name again?” I asked.

“Not
that I heard.”

I
took a minute to consider that before I continued, switching tacks. “Have you
heard from George since he went up to the mountains?”

“He
doesn’t have a phone up there,” Mae said. “No electric. He likes it that way.”

I’d
expected as much. “So you don’t have any way of reaching him.”

“We
can contact the sheriff up there—he usually checks up on him,” Ashley said.

“If I
can get a satellite phone to you, would you call him?” I asked.

Ashley
nodded seriously. “Of course.”

I
wasn’t sure where to go from there. So George had something to do with Billy
Thomas; so he might even be one of Barnel’s captives at this point. What good
did that do me? I still wasn’t any closer to figuring out where anyone was. I
felt myself beginning to flag. We had less than three hours. Something had to
give.

“Out
at Barnel’s compound, his granddaughter said something about going back to the
beginning—where it all went wrong,” I said. “Do you have any idea what that
meant? We’ve turned the whole county inside out. It would have to be somewhere
with some space, considering the number of people they’re taking. But not so
isolated that it wouldn’t shake the town up if something happened.”

Neither
of them said anything. And then, Mae looked up suddenly. “The club,” she said.

I
shook my head. “What club?”

“The
Wilson Club,” she said. “It used to be this factory—years and years ago, there
was a toy company run out o’ here, and that was where they set up their
operation. Half the town used to work there. I think the reverend might’ve even
put in some time, back in high school. I know George did.”

“I
remember Diggs mentioning something about it,” I said. “He said someone bought
the place, though. That it’s not a club anymore.”

“Well,
yeah,” Mae agreed, looking hesitant. “But it’s the only place I can think of
where there’d be space like you’re talking about. And I don’t think that new
owner’s around much—he’s from California somewhere, I think. Nobody could
figure why he even bought the place.”

I
stood, a little flush of hope kicking my heart rate up. This could be it.
“Thank you—I’ll have them check it out. I really appreciate all your help.”

“You
think that’s where they took everybody?” Mae asked. I had the sense she wasn’t
allowing herself to hope for the best right now; too much had happened already.
“You think you’ll find Danny there?”

“I
don’t know. But it’s a better chance than we had when I walked in here.”

Before
I could run out the door to act on this latest shot in the dark, Ashley stopped
me with a hand on my arm.

“I
know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but I’m glad you’re looking for him.
You’re the only person I’ve ever met even half as relentless as Diggs is.” The
way she said ‘relentless’—like it was some kind of fatal flaw—made it clear
this wasn’t necessarily a compliment.  “If there’s a way to survive this, I
expect you two will find it.”

“I’ll
do my best,” I said with an awkward nod.

I
assured them I had to get going since the clock was ticking, then scooted out
before Ashley went completely nuts and tried to hug me or something. I nodded
to Juarez as I breezed past him in the living room, making straight for the
front door.

“Let’s
go,” I said. “I think we’ve got a lead.”

He
didn’t question me until we were back in the truck, then paused with the engine
idling.

“So,
what’s this lead?” he asked.

“This
old factory they turned into a club a few years ago…”

Juarez
nodded. “The Wilson Club.” He didn’t say anything for a
second. I turned to look at him when he put the truck back in park.

“What
the hell are you doing?”

There
was a world of regret in his eyes when he spoke again. “Erin, we’ve already
been there. We took the place apart.”

“You
must have missed something,” I said stubbornly. “I want to go there. Just let
me look around.” I touched his arm, holding his gaze. I could all but feel the
desperation leaking out of my pores. “Jack. I’ve got a feeling about this.
Please.” 

I
expected him to argue. He didn’t. Instead, he put the truck back in gear,
pulled out of the drive, and sped up the road.

We
drove in silence until we reached a private road with a rusted metal gate
across it, just off the beaten path. He pulled in.

“This
is it?” I asked.

“This
is it.”

He
got out, pushed the gate open, climbed back in the truck, and drove through. We
continued on for another half mile before a hulking metal building came into
view, rising out of the dense foliage like some monolithic monster. THE FACTORY
was written in giant block letters across the front. I heard a car engine
start, and a minute later a military Humvee drove over and blocked our path.

Juarez
got out, hands raised, as two armed National Guardsmen
greeted him. I recognized them both from our standoff at the Barnel compound. I
hopped out of the truck and joined them.

“You
mind if we take a look around?” Juarez asked them.

They
both shook their heads. “We’ve been here for a few hours now,” the younger of
the pair said. “No sign of any activity.”

As
soon as I heard the okay, I made for the entrance with flashlight in hand. I
slid a giant metal door open, putting my shoulder into it to get the thing to
budge. There was a whisper of hope in the back of my head: Maybe they really
had missed something.

They
hadn’t.

The
place was covered in dust and cobwebs, moonlight coming through a broken window
high above.

A bar
ran the length of one wall, industrial-looking metal stools in front. It was
the kind of place you’d expect to find in LA; I couldn’t imagine anyone in
Justice, Kentucky, choosing to get their drink on here. Diggs would have loved
it back in his drinking days, though—if only for the paradox.

I
heard footsteps behind me, and turned to find Juarez headed my way. “You were right,”
I said. I shook my head, refusing to acknowledge the tears of disappointment
welling in my eyes. “I thought maybe you’d missed something.”

He
lay his hand against my cheek, brushing a tear away with his thumb. “I’m
sorry.”

“We
have to be missing something.” 

“Everyone’s
out there looking, Erin,” he said softly. “We have two hours—the show’s not
over yet.”

I
realized that through all of this, never once had I heard Jack say,
We’ll
find him
. He’d said they were doing everything they could; that there was
still time. But he hadn’t lied to me, hadn’t placated me with words of comfort
that he knew might not prove true at the end of the day.