The Lilac Code

by Becki Willis

  “I’m serious! What possessed you three—” she encompassed the girls with her fiery glare, “to follow a group of kids you barely know out to an abandoned warehouse?”

  “They said we were having a bonfire,” Bethani defended their actions. “We thought they had permission to be there.”

  “Brash and I gave you permission to go to the Dairy Queen. When you left there, did you tell Brash the location had changed?”

  The teen dropped her blue yes. “No, ma’am.”

  “Is that the way to build trust? To tell us you’re going one place, and then sneak off and go to another?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “We weren’t sneaking,” Blake said, a touch of defiance slipping into his words. “And as soon as we realized what was going on, we tried to leave.”

  “But you knew you shouldn’t have been there in the first place, correct?”

  His mother’s piercing gaze was intense. He dropped his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Madison paused, forcing herself to pull in a deep breath before releasing it slowly. “Who were these kids, anyway?”

  “A bunch of creeps. No wonder Tasha’s dad was worried. She shouldn’t have ever been hanging out with them in the first place.” The words rang of proprietary protection, a sound not lost upon his mother. She would have to ask more about this Tasha girl, but Blake’s love life could wait. His safety couldn’t.

  “Brash?” she asked, turning toward him. “Who are these kids?”

  “It would be easy to say they’re a bunch of thugs,” the law officer admitted, heaving a sigh, “but that’s not entirely right. Most of them are what the system calls ‘troubled.’ They come from broken homes and dysfunctional families. They’ve had brushes with the law, but instead of getting the help they need, they’ve gotten pushed aside and forgotten. A couple of them aren’t bad kids, just bored and easily influenced. They’ve fallen in with the wrong crowd, like Tasha was doing. Easy game for kids like Julio, their so-called ‘leader,’ who needs the attention. He never gets any at home, so he finds it elsewhere.”

  “Let me guess. Broken home, left to fend for himself.”

  “That would be the second-in-charge, Freddie Beach. He spent his childhood shuffled from one relative or one foster home to another. Julio actually comes from a steady, if not crowded, home. His father is a hard worker, holding down three jobs to keep their family afloat. There are five or six kids, including a younger brother with serious health problems and a sister with a rough reputation. She’s been in and out of detention and drug rehab for the past three years but until about a year ago, Julio never caused any trouble.”

  “And you know what they say,” Cutter murmured. “The squeaky wheel gets the oil.”

  “What does that mean?” Bethani asked in confusion.

  “It means no one paid Julio any attention, until he started causing trouble,” her mother said. “Is he still in school?”

  “His mother says yes, his teachers say no. Most days, he skips classes. When he does go, he’s usually sent to the principal’s office or AE.”

  “AE?” Genny questioned.

  “Alternative Education. The school says he’s a distraction and bad influence to the other students. He’s been caught smoking and setting small fires around campus, more than once.”

  “Did they send him to the school counselor?”

  “Like that does any good,” Blake muttered.

  “I hate to say it, but he’s right,” Cutter put in. “Few school counselors are equipped to deal with these sorts of emotional problems.”

  “So, they just ignore his cries for help?” Genny frowned. “The boy was setting fires, and no one thought it might lead to something bigger?”

  “Turns out he’s become quite the fire bug,” Cutter continued. “One of the boys admitted setting fire to a couple of abandoned houses. Said it was a service to the community, burning down the eye sores. He may or may not have a point, but unfortunately, it didn’t stop there. They moved on to bigger things, and each time, they perfected their skills and added new recruits.”

  “I don’t know about the other times, but I’m pretty sure they used explosives last night,” Blake said.

  Madison paled as she put a hand to her chest and squeaked, “Explosives?”

  “There’s this guy named Smokes. He hollered ‘fire in the hole,’ and then there was this huge boom, and the sky lit up like it was on fire.” He used his hands to demonstrate the blast.

  “And when Julio said something about timing it, he distinctly called it a charge,” Megan recalled.

  “What were they timing?” Genny asked.

  Cutter drew in a sharp breath and looked at Brash. “We’ve got to find those kids. There’s no doubt in my mind what they’re planning next.”

  “Wait. Those kids aren’t in custody?” Madison gasped. “They’re still running around, free to set something else on fire?”

  “Three of them—one girl and two boys—were located and brought in for questioning, but they refuse to cooperate. One admitted to burning down the empty houses in Riverton and one hinted at something big in the works, but that’s all they’re saying.”

  Brash added what little he could. “There’s a warrant out for the one they call Smokes. He’s the only one of legal age. His father has a military background in explosives, and apparently, the kid picked up a few tricks of his own.”

  “How many others are there?” Madison asked. Her forehead creased in a frown.

  “Five are unaccounted for. The three main firebugs, Smokes, Julio, and Freddie, plus another girl, and a boy they call Django. No one knows his real name.”

  Megan nodded. “He was the one with the timer.”

  “I still don’t understand the point of the timer,” Bethani admitted.

  Genny turned toward her fiancé. “You said you know what they’re planning next. What is next?”

  Cutter’s worried gaze met Brash’s, darting briefly to the teenagers in the room. With a slight nod of his head, the lawman gave his approval to continue.

  “This is to go no further than this room,” he cautioned. “Blake, Bethani, Megan, you can’t share this with your friends. Not even with Tasha. Understood?”

  After all three teens pledged their silence, the fire chief continued, “Again, this stays between us. We don’t want to cause widespread panic, or to tip our hand with Julio by letting him know we’re on to him. I’ve been studying the fires and I see a pattern of progression. I shared my concerns with law enforcement, and they’re in agreement. Given the fact most of the kids involved are juvenile delinquents who have either dropped out of school or who have a history of problems with teachers and other figures of authority, I have no doubt their ultimate target is a school.”

  “They’re going to burn down a school? That’s sick!” Blake proclaimed.

  Madison stood from the couch and paced the room, rubbing her arms to ward off the sudden chill she felt. “I can see that,” she murmured. “Julio feels left out at home, however unintentional that may be. His parents’ attention is stretched thin, focused on the sick brother and the troubled sister, not to mention several other siblings. He turned to the school for help, hoping to draw their attention by setting small fires, but no one recognized his cry for help. Instead, he was ostracized and sent to AE for even more isolation. He feels angry and betrayed, so now he’s lashing out.”

  “Are you a shrink or something?” Megan asked, clearly impressed by her assessment.

  “I minored in Psychology. For a while, I considered becoming a counselor.”

  “You’re good. And that makes total sense.” Megan bobbed her head. “A school should be a place to find help and support. It shouldn’t be a place to be bullied, or where you’re labeled a distraction and beyond help. It should be a safe place, physically and emotionally. I can see where Julio thinks it let him down.”

  “Let’s be clear. Normal, healthy minds don’t automatically seek revenge,” Madison pointed ou
t. “Betrayed or not, most people don’t retaliate, particularly on such a drastic level.”

  “I think this boy has more emotional problems than anyone realized,” Brash stated, his tone ominous.

  Blake’s forehead puckered as he considered his words. “You think he’ll become another school shooter?” he asked worriedly.

  “When you’re as troubled as these boys, the issue isn’t which weapon they’ll choose. They could use a gun, a car driven into a crowd, or a bomb. Or fire. According to Cutter, Julio set an office on fire, knowing there were people inside.”

  Bethani’s face lost all color. “You mean… he’s going to set the school on fire with people inside? Is that what the timer is for, to see how long they’re trapped inside?”

  “It’s a very real possibility.”

  The teen clutched her stomach. “I feel sick. We—We actually hung out with the creep!”

  Megan flew to her feet. “He liked me! He tried coming on to me!” She shimmied her shoulders and stomped her feet, as if to throw off his unwanted attention. “I feel dirty. Smutty.” It seemed a more appropriate word.

  “And Freddie tried to hook up with me,” Bethani yelped. “He even has my phone number.” She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts.

  “Wait. You have his number?” Brash asked sharply.

  “Only until I can hit delete,” the teen assured him.

  “Don’t. Can I have that number? Maybe we can trace his phone and find his whereabouts.”

  “Here. Take it. I don’t want it. Erase it when you’re done.” She shivered in revulsion. “Crying out for attention is one thing. But trying to kill innocent people is a whole different thing.”

  Chapter 27

  Valentine’s Day dawned clear and cold. It was the perfect day for a wedding.

  With Valentine’s falling in the middle of the week, for much of the town, it was business as usual. New Beginnings, of course, was closed, but schools and most other businesses were in session.

  Bethani and Megan begged to stay home, but their parents insisted they go to class. The swaying argument was simple: the girls didn’t want to miss the assembly that afternoon. As a fundraiser, the Student Council was selling Val-o-Grams and candy and were crowning a Valentine Queen and King before the entire student body.

  If Madison could manage it, she planned to swing by school and attend, but it wasn’t looking favorable. Her to-do list was longer than the hours in the day.

  She and Genny scuttled between the house and church, swamped with last minute details. The church looked magnificent, adorned with white tulle intertwined with green ivy and red roses. Cutter’s sister and sisters-in-law helped decorate, while Granny Bert, Cutter’s mother, and a few friends pitched in to prepare the Big House for the reception. It, too, was filled with tulle and flowers.

  One of Genny’s friends flew in from Boston to make her wedding cake. She worried the elaborate five-tier affair was too fancy for Cutter’s taste, but her friend was a celebrated pastry chef with an impressive resume. If he wanted to create something magnificent and give it to her on her wedding day, she wasn’t about to refuse. Genny herself made the groom’s cake, a decadent chocolate creation shaped as a fireman’s helmet. As a special treat, she was surprising her groom with his favorite apple turnovers.

  Just before two, Madison texted Blake to tell him she was running late for the assembly.

  The teen was on his way from the gym to the auditorium. He read his mother’s message, sent her a thumb’s up emoji, and stuffed his phone back into his pocket.

  A reflection in the distance caught his eye. A chain-link fence separated the school property from a dense grove of trees. In the spring, the trees were green and lush, but in the dead of winter, their limbs were bare and their underbrush sparse. Anything out of place was easily visible.

  He immediately noticed the out of place movement among the trees.

  Blake stiffened. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he recognized Freddie and Django, hiding behind the spindly trunks.

  “Hey, man, I’ll catch up with you in a few,” Blake told the friend walking with him.

  “You sure? You don’t wanna be late. You know you probably have like a dozen Val-o-Grams coming.”

  “I doubt it,” Blake snorted.

  “Are you kidding? Danni Jo, Kaci, Latricia. You’ll probably be crowned King, if they have any say in the matter.”

  “I’ll be there. I just have to run back in the gym.” He turned away before his friend could protest further.

  Blake pretended to head back to the gym, but he slipped around the side of the building, heading toward the dumpsters. From there, he had a better view of the trees.

  Not only was that Freddie and Django, but Nae Nae was there with them. And if they were there, he had no doubt that Smokes and Julio were somewhere nearby.

  So far, the five had managed to avoid the authorities. Brash had no luck tracking Freddie’s phone, and their families claimed the teens hadn’t been home since the incident at the oilfield.

  Blake knew their presence there today could mean only one thing. They were targeting the school. His school.

  He dialed Cutter’s number, grumbling when it went straight to voicemail. He knew it was his wedding day, but this was urgent! He called Brash next, who was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. Frustrated, Blake sent a quick text to both men, alerting them to Julio and company’s presence.

  He glanced up to keep an eye on the trio in the trees but didn’t see them. Panicked, Blake moved along, searching for a better vantage spot. He finally caught a glimpse of Nae Nae’s arm, and the binoculars she held in her hands.

  Blake followed her line of sight, and his blood turned cold.

  With a sick twist of his stomach, Blake knew what the derelict teens intended. The entire school was gathering in the auditorium, where they would be trapped and helpless if a fire broke out.

  He paused long enough to text his sister.

  Julio here. Get out. Now!

  As he ran to toward the auditorium, Blake called 911. His words were rushed. “This is Blake Reynolds. I’m at The Sisters High School and I think someone intends to set it on fire. I can’t reach Brash deCordova and Cutter Montgomery, but both know the situation and can give you more details. Send help out here now. I’ll try to clear the auditorium.”

  “Sir,” the dispatcher responded in cool professionalism, “I need more information. Please tell—”

  “Send someone, now!” Blake barked. “People will be trapped in the auditorium. We need firetrucks and police.”

  “Is this a threat, Mr. Reynolds? Are you—”

  Blake’s young voice was strong and authoritative. “Just do it!” He stuffed the phone in his pocket as he rounded the corner and raced up the steps to the school’s main entrance. In his haste, he stumbled and went down hard, banging his knee on the concrete. He hung onto the handrail and jerked himself back up, hardly missing a beat.

  He jerked on the door and found it locked. Growling in frustration, Blake ran to the next entrance. Surely, with parents invited to attend the assembly, the doors closest to the auditorium would be open. But those doors were locked. So were the next ones he tried. Blake banged on each one with both fists, trying to get someone’s attention, but a glance through the glass told him the hallways were empty. Everyone was already inside the auditorium.

  He pulled out his phone and tried his sister. The call went to voicemail, but he left a quick message. He repeated the process with Megan and his best friend Jamal. Nobody answered.

  By the time he tried Brash again, still to no avail, Blake was already at the side entrance of the school. He knew the door was normally left unlocked, for easy flow to and from the athletics department. Finding it locked, Blake knew Julio was responsible. Somehow, the boy had managed to seal all the entrances and trap everyone inside.

  He looked around for something to smash through the glass. There wasn’t as much as a twig nearby, muc
h less a limb. Spotting a trash can down the sidewalk, he hoped it would work. He dumped the plastic lid and half-filled liner onto the grass, muttering an apology to the school janitors. The drum was made of heavy steel, which he awkwardly wrestled up the inclining sidewalk. Back at the doors, Blake hefted the bulky cylinder over his head. The weight almost toppled him backwards. He regained his balance and heaved the can with all his might.

  The drum hit the thick glass with a loud thud, bounced off, and smacked the teen directly in the chest. Blake was knocked to the ground, momentarily stunned. The tempered glass remained unfazed.

  Shaking off the shock, Blake knew he had to try something else. He hoped to have better luck with a classroom window. He raced back down the sidewalk, his eyes searching for the best way in.

  He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but he only had a glimpse of a leg before it disappeared. He thought he recognized the heavy army boot as the kind Julio and Smokes wore. He would have given chase, but something more important demanded his attention.

  There was no mistaking the small stack of dynamite placed at the base of the auditorium’s back wall.

  With a quick about-face, Blake ran back the way he came, grabbed the heavy trash can, and hauled it with him. Working as quickly as his trembling hands and knocking knees allowed, he turned the drum upside down and set it over the dynamite. With any luck, it would take the brunt of the blast and dull its impact.

  His phone rang as he hurried away from the site.

  “Blake! What’s going on?” his sister demanded.

  “Julio and his friends are here. They’ve set at least one blast. You have to get out of there, Beth.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Side door, toward the football field. All the doors are locked. I can’t get in.”

  “You don’t need in!”

  “I’ve gotta warn the others.”

  “I’ll do it,” his sister said stubbornly.

  “No. Set off the fire alarm by the front doors of the auditorium. Then get out.”

  “I’m already headed your way.”