Southern Cross (33 page)

00:40:35

Something
clicked as soon as Cameron left my room. I grabbed Diggs’ portfolio of photos
and flipped back to the prom picture. One look was all it took to confirm what
I should have recognized when this whole thing began: The Goth girl beside
Danny in the photo was Sophie. Rick’s date was the one I was interested in,
though:

It
was Jessie Barnel.

I
found Agent Keith in the lobby and forced him to surrender his satellite phone,
since cell towers were still down and reception minimal.

“It’s
a misdirect,” I said as soon as Juarez picked up.

He
didn’t say anything for a second. “I need more than that,” he said when I
didn’t elaborate. “What’s a misdirect?”

“This
whole thing. They’re not in Justice.”

“We
have to go,” I said to Keith. 

“Go
where?” Juarez asked.

“Not
you—you meet me at Ashley’s. We need to talk to Rick Durham. But I’m telling
you: they’re not here. If they were here, we would have found them by now. The
reason they keep disappearing is because, somehow or other, they’ve found a way
out of Justice.”

It
was still raining outside. I followed Keith out to the car, chafing at the
thought of sitting idly in the passenger’s seat while someone else took the
wheel yet again.

“Erin—”
Juarez started.

“I
don’t have time to explain, okay?” I said. “Just… start looking at other
targets—ones that Jenny Burkett has ties to, rather than just Barnel. It won’t
be too far off, because it has to be within driving distance; someone would
have noticed if they were flying people out of here. Two or three hours away,
max.”

I
heard him shout something to Blaze. Relieved that I wouldn’t have to fight him
on this, I said a quick goodbye and told Keith to put the pedal to the floor,
half expecting a fight. Instead, Keith got a gleam in his eye, hopped in the
driver’s seat, and glanced at me.

“Buckle
up.”

I
did. The thought crossed my mind, suddenly, that as much as Juarez might trust
this guy, I didn’t know a damned thing about him. And if Cameron’s people were
watching me, who was to say they didn’t have someone on the inside? Or Barnel
didn’t have someone on the inside? In fact, that seemed likely—through this
whole thing, it seemed like Barnel and his people were three steps ahead of us.

“How
long have you been with the Bureau?” I asked, trying to sound casual as we
squealed out of the parking lot.

“Twelve
years,” he said promptly.

“So
you’ve been around the block, I guess.”

“A
few times.” He glanced at me, then back at the road. “You have something you
want to ask, Ms. Solomon?”

I
hesitated. “How long have you known Agent Juarez?”

“About
a decade.”

Not
the answer I’d expected, but I should have known Juarez wouldn’t just send me
off into the night with some stranger. I looked at my watch again. It didn’t
make me feel better about life. I decided to use the time to my advantage.

“So
you knew his wife,” I said. 

He
nodded. So far, he didn’t seem all that surprised at my questions. “I did.”

“Did
he ever mention his… childhood to you?”

“You
mean those missing thirteen years?” he asked promptly.

That
was a surprise. I took a second, trying to figure out how to pose my next
question. “But he’s never really talked about looking into that, huh? It’s just
kind of an accepted fact?”

He
glanced at me again, with a small smile. “Not everyone wears their obsessions
on their sleeves,” he said. “Doesn’t mean they don’t have ‘em.”

We
fell silent after that, since I had no idea how to follow it up. While Keith
continued hurtling us toward Ashley Durham’s house, I rummaged in my bag for a
notebook and pen. Keith eyed me warily.

“What
are you doing?”

“I
need to think,” I said. “I think best when I write shit down.” Instead of my
notebook, however, I came up with a dog collar. I vaguely remembered stuffing
it in my pocket when Diggs and I first found Roger Burkett, then tossing it in
my bag when I was packing at the Durhams’ place. That felt like a lifetime ago.

I
pulled it out and started to set it aside in the possibly fruitless search to
find a pen in the bottomless pit that is my purse. A dozen pudgy penguins
trekked single-file across a winter snowscape on the frayed collar. I recalled
a conversation I’d had with Diggs when we first hit Kentucky:

Why
does a Kentucky college have a penguin for a mascot?

I
snagged the sat phone and dialed Juarez again. Keith glanced at me. “You have
something?”

“Yeah.
I think I do.”

Juarez
picked up immediately. I spoke before he could say
anything.

“I
know where they are.”

We
pulled into Ashley’s driveway and pounded on the front door until Ashley’s
husband appeared, his wispy hair standing straight up. His pajama top was
unbuttoned and his glasses were askew.

“I need
to talk to Rick,” I said.

Ashley
appeared behind him. She took one look at my face and apparently decided
arguing would be futile. Before she could go rouse the kid, however, Rick
appeared at the top of the stairs. He looked exhausted, and hardly the pious,
put-together teen I met when Diggs and I first hit town.

“Your
mother said you did a project on Smithfield College that got you in early. What
was that on?”

He
came down the stairs gnawing on his bottom lip, forehead furrowed. “I did a
project all over the state, mapping out tunnels and passages for the
Underground Railroad. Smithfield played a big part in gettin’ slaves up north
in those days.”

“Did
you ever tell Jessie Barnel about that? Maybe show her the project?”

He
hesitated. “I took her out there,” he said quietly. “They gave me a key—said I
could go wherever I liked, lookin’ at some of those old places while I was
mapping them out. I took Jessie.”

“And
there were passages no one knew about?”

“Yes,
ma’am,” he agreed. Slow realization dawned. “You think Jessie told the reverend
about it? That maybe that’s where they’re holed up now?”

I
nodded. “I think so.”

He
turned around at the bottom of the stairs and ran back up. “Hang on—let me grab
my stuff. We gotta get out there.”

00:30:45

“Smithfield,” I said as soon as I got Juarez back on the line. “I’m sure of it, Jack. The
whole thing’s been a diversion, making us think whatever Barnel was planning
would go down in Justice.”

Juarez
didn’t say anything for another second—long enough for Keith
to pull out of Ashley’s driveway and back onto the highway.

“What
makes you think that?”

I
told him about the classes Mae had mentioned Jenny teaching at the college;
about the secret tunnels and the connection between Rick Durham and Jessie
Barnel.

“But
what does he have against the school?” Juarez persisted, still not sold.

I
asked Rick, who shook his head. “I dunno—it always seemed like he thought they
was godly enough. They got a clinic there, and some of the students run a
residential home for the mentally ill right on campus. He had a lot to do with
that stuff.”

“How
many people are on campus right now?” Juarez asked. “What’s security like?”

I put
him on speaker and made him repeat the question. It was dark on the
road—profoundly so, with no other vehicles, no streetlights, no houses lit up
in any direction.

“There’s
no security there,” Rick said. “It’s a low-residency program. It used to be a
full-time college, but they couldn’t afford it no more. Now, they just run a
few ten-day residencies every semester. They rent Kildeer Hall out for special
events, concerts, that kind of thing.”

I
looked at the clock. It was eleven-thirty. “How long does it take to get
there?” I asked Rick.

“Little
over an hour, maybe,” he said reluctantly. “A little less with no cars on the
road.”

Juarez
still didn’t say anything. “Jack,” I pressed. “This is it.
They’re spreading you thin on this end—you said it yourself. You’ve got all
units on call here in Justice to respond to whatever happens at midnight.
Places outside Hickman County aren’t even on your radar right now.”

I
thought I’d have to argue some more, but a half-second later I heard him call
Blaze over. They conferred.

“Where
are you now?” he asked me.

“About
five minutes from the school.”

“Good.
Rick—you have those plans you made for your project with you?”

“Yes,
sir,” he said with a nod. “If you can get me a computer, I reckon I’ve got
everything you need.”

Danny
figured he ought to be happy they weren’t bothering with the hoods anymore.
Instead, all he could think was what that meant. No more hoods: Jenny was
leading them straight to death’s door. They might as well be walking the plank.
Casey leaned on him a little, but she stayed strong, not shedding so much as a
tear. 

“What
do you reckon they’ll tell Dougie and Willa?” she asked. “Once I’m gone, I
mean?”

It
was the first time she’d mentioned her kid brother and sister. Danny shook his
head, a lump in his throat.

“They’ll
be all right,” he said. “We’re gonna get back to ‘em.”

She
got quiet, trudging along beside him with her eyes straight ahead.

“You
never said yours,” he said to her as they topped a steep flight of stairs and
then waited while Jenny unlocked the door.

“My
what?” Casey asked.

“Top
twenty-four,” he said.

The
door opened. They blinked in the glare of fluorescent lights. They were in a
hallway with a cement floor and blank white walls. There was a red exit sign
and metal double doors at one end, and a freight elevator like they had in the
basement of his school. A janitor’s closet door stood open. Jenny walked them
past and down the long hallway, in the opposite direction of the exit sign. He
saw a few stairs leading down to a door marked BOILER.

Jenny
stopped at a stairwell at the end of the hall. Her friend in black opened the
door, and she waved her gun at them.

“Go
on,” she encouraged. She’d been pretty easygoing up ‘til now, but she was
getting tense—he could hear it in her voice.

“C’mon,
Case,” he coaxed when he realized she still hadn’t answered. “Your top
twenty-four albums of all time.”

She
looked at him and kind of smiled. Her eyes were bright and her body was warm
against his side, like maybe she had a fever.

“Top
twenty-four,” she said. Her voice was rough. In the distance, he could hear
music again: Van Morrison… “Sweet Thing.” He’d always liked the song, but it
didn’t much fit what he figured they were headed for.  

“No
Doubt—
Tragic Kingdom
. Janis, of course.
Cheap Thrills
—the cover
art on that one’s as good as the album. Fleetwood Mac. And don’t give me that
look,” she said before he could say a word, bumping into him a little. “You
just don’t give nothin’ a chance if it don’t strike your fancy in the first
minute. You settle in and listen to
Rumours
again with me—the whole
album—and I’ll change your mind.”

He
bumped back into her and nodded. “It’s a date.” He could feel his face burning
when she met his eye and smiled.

“I’m
gonna hold you to that, Durham,” she said.

They
reached the first floor. Jenny pushed the door open. The music was louder now,
the place wired with a sweet sound system. They were in another hallway, but
this one looked more like a building than a basement: linoleum floor, more
cement walls, doors with numbers on them lining both sides.

“Smithfield,” Casey said quietly. Danny nodded. They’d come here for a couple of gigs
before—they were supposed to play here next week, as a matter of fact.

Jenny
poked him in the back with her gun.

“Pick
up the pace, kids. There’s not a lot of time.”

Danny
tried to remember what he knew about the building. Besides the classrooms,
there was an auditorium on one end, and he thought there might be offices
above. He’d kind of dated a girl who went here. She told him Kildeer Hall was
the best place to work because they wired in WKRO.
You just rock out all day
and do your research. Nobody ever bugs you there.

Jenny
stopped them and looked at The Giant. “Take them,” she said, nodding at the
professor and the hot college girls he worked with. “I’ve got these guys.”

The
Giant nodded without an argument, and pulled the three Jenny had pointed out
from the group. One of the girls started crying. Casey started to say
something, but Danny shook his head. The Giant pushed his gun into the crying
girl’s back and pushed them on ahead. He stopped at a doorway, took a key from
the professor, and unlocked it. Danny stood there, frozen, until Jenny pushed
him to keep going.

They
walked another few steps and he heard one of the girls scream. A gunshot went
off. Casey flinched beside him. He wished he could hold her hand. Wished he
could just run off somewhere. Two more gunshots went off.

They
were at the door to the auditorium when The Giant came back, alone.