by Jen Blood
I stopped, trying to maintain control. Barnel turned off the camera. He looked very old, suddenly.
“Why are you doing this, Jesup?” I asked. “You’ve lost your family. Your congregation. Your friends. You clearly don’t believe the world’s really ending at midnight. So… why? You honestly believe this is what your god would want?”
He scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “The end may not be comin’ tonight… but it’s on its way. The Lord’s been walkin’ softly too many years. My time’s up—and I ain’t leavin’ those I love for the hell that’s to come. There’s nothin’ keepin’ me here. Once I know I done my duty for Him, I’m takin’ my loved ones and we’re gonna retire to those streets of gold.”
“And you don’t think any of this goes against those messages of peace and good will other followers of Christianity preach?”
His face darkened like a storm cloud had fallen. “There ain’t room for mercy or coddlin’ anymore. No room at all. The Guard taught me that.”
There was a light knock on the door. I thought about his words as Jenny came in without waiting for a response from Barnel. The storm cloud on his face darkened.
“We need to get moving, Reverend,” Jenny said.
He glowered at her. “I ain’t finished here—I told you I’d come for you when I’m good and ready. Your people might not think so, but I’ve still got the reins.”
She ignored him and looked at me, a spark of interest touching those deadly brown eyes. Everything I thought I knew about what was happening had turned upside down.
“Don’t get testy, Reverend,” she said. “I just wanted to keep you in the loop.”
She left. Barnel stared at the door for a second afterward, seething.
“Looks like they’ve got you on a pretty tight leash,” I said casually. “Just who, exactly, are Jenny Burkett’s people? What’s this Guard you just mentioned?”
He looked shaken for a moment. “It ain’t none of your concern. You’re gonna be long gone. Trust me, son. I’m doin’ you a favor.”
He took the video camera off the tripod and went to the door, refusing to answer anymore of my questions. “Everybody’s got an agenda these days, boy,” he said as he stood at the threshold, eyes on me. “I reckon the best you can hope is that you find somebody willin’ to foot the bill for yours ‘til you can bow out o’ the whole dang mess.”
He pulled the door open viciously and left, slamming it behind him.
I was more confused than ever, except for one sobering thought: I was suddenly positive that Jesup Barnel’s private battle in Justice, Kentucky, was just one front in a much larger war.
Chapter Twenty-Six
SOLOMON
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 u
p. “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.
I pulled myself together, brushing the remaining tears from my eyes before I let them fall. Freaking out wouldn’t do Diggs any good.
“Okay,” I said, nodding. “So, it’s not the Wilson Club. What’s next, then?”
He took my hand and led me out, pausing to slide the door shut behind him. I looked back over my shoulder, taking one last glimpse inside. The door was almost closed when the moonlight hit something on the wall high up—level with the second story windows. I held the door.
“Hang on—what’s that?
” I pointed up, pushing the door open again as I stood inside. Juarez followed my gaze, shining his light on the spot I indicated.
“I don’t see anything,” he said.
“It was the way the light played off it a second ago,” I said. I paced, playing my light along the wall, trying to get the angle right. After half a dozen passes, I finally succeeded. I froze, keeping the light fixed where it was. My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
“Do you see?” I asked.
He nodded, suddenly serious.
A Latin cross.
Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to remove it, but it was obvious once I had the right spot.
“That has to be at least a few weeks old,” I said. “They were here, Jack.”
“But they’re not here now,” he said.
“It’s a lead,” I said stubbornly. “I know it is—there’s something about this place. It has to mean something.”
“I’ll send someone out to look into it.”
“Look into who owns the place, too,” I said. “They’re not from around here—I think Mae said they were out in California. Whoever it is, I bet they’re the ones working with Barnel.”
“Maybe,” Juarez agreed. He was still quiet. He shut the door again and I double-timed it back to the truck, Jack two steps behind. I took the wheel this time, tired of being the co-pilot, and revved the engine. As soon as he was in, he turned in his seat and looked at me seriously. I knew exactly what he was going to say; I didn’t want to hear it.
“I’m not preparing myself for the worst,” I said.
“How do you know that’s what I was about to say?”
“Because you’ve got a very ‘Prepare yourself for the worst’ look in your eye. And I’m sorry, but I’m not gonna do it. He’s out there somewhere, and he’s not far away. So buckle your goddamn seatbelt, and let’s go find him.”
He smiled a little. “Yes, ma’am.”
I may have laid a little rubber tearing out of the worn-down parking lot, but as far as I was concerned, it was totally justified.
Part III