Erin Solomon Mysteries, Books 1 - 5

by Jen Blood

  “And you and Jesup Barnel sent him there,” I said. I waited for George to deny it. He didn’t.

  Footsteps approaching cut the moment short. I pulled myself back together, quickly grabbed Biggie’s zip tie and cinched it around his wrists, then did a half-assed job of binding myself again. We situated ourselves in front of our escape route just as Jenny opened the door. The Giant shined his light in. The crowd shrunk back.

  Jenny looked at each of us, appraising us like we were cattle. Then, she began pointing at individuals among the ranks.

  “Him, him—the junkie,” she said, nodding to Biggie. She singled out the professor and both grad students, and then set her gaze on Casey. “And her,” she said. Danny stepped in front of Casey and looked at me desperately, begging me to do something.

  “She’s hurt,” I said. “Badly. Whatever you’re doing, she’ll only slow you down.”

  “We’re not running a marathon, slick,” Jenny said easily. “She’ll be fine.”

  Casey struck me as the kind of girl who could hold her own in most situations, but the bombing and the circumstances had taken their toll. Danny didn’t move, shaking his head.

  “If she goes, I go,” he said.

  Jenny shrugged. “Fine. Come on.”

  I stepped between them, lowering my voice. “Hang on. I had a deal with Barnel… Just pick someone else, all right?”

  “Sorry,” she said. “But Barnel doesn’t have the authority to make deals right now.” She nodded to the Giant, and he grabbed Casey. Then, she pressed her gun to Danny’s temple. “Come on, lover boy. You wanna play Romeo and Juliet, be my guest.”

  She stepped aside, nodding to the door. I watched as the kids walked out, Jenny behind them, Casey so scared I could see her trembling from across the room. And there wasn’t a damned thing I could do.

  Chapter Thirty - Solomon

  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 sleeve,” he said. “Doesn’t mean they don’t have them.”

  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’d met when Diggs and I first hit town.

  “Your mother said you did a project about 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. “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 second later I heard him call Blaze over. They conferred.

  “Where are you now?” he asked me.

  “About five minutes from you.”

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

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

  00:30:29 - Danny

  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 till 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 shoved 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.

  00:28:16 - Diggs

  We’d gotten maybe three feet deep with our tunnel when I heard the gunshots—three of them. Glenda screamed. I saw the horror on George’s face, and shook my head.

  “Don’t give up yet,” I said. “We don’t know what that was. Or who.”

  He nodded. Beside me, Sally kept digging without a word.

  By the time Jenny came in to get her next batch, we’d broken through to the room next door—not enough for anyone to actually make it through, but enough to give me hope that we’d get there. When we heard someone coming this time, George plopped down on top of the hole like a nesting hen while I tried not to look like I’d been digging an escape route for the past two hours.

  It didn’t matter, though: Jenny skipped right over George and me, picking Glenda, Riley, Sally, and three others. She smiled at me, and I was grateful for the dim lighting.

  “I’ll be back for you, slick. Just in case you start to feel neglected.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  As soon as she was gone, I set back to work, shutting out the sound
of Glenda’s deafening screams as they led her away with the others.

  00:25:40 - Danny

  Jenny led them to a bunch of seats on the right side of the auditorium. Danny and Casey sat together, both of them still tied. Biggie and a couple of the big flannel-wearing rednecks sat in front of them. Casey let her head drop onto Danny’s shoulder like she was too tired to hold it up anymore. He knew how she felt.

  The reverend was up front, a couple video cameras pointed at him from the center aisle of the auditorium. There were about seventy, maybe seventy-five others in the audience—all of ’em people Danny recognized from the reverend’s church. Maybe a quarter of them were just little kids.

  Another dozen guys were spread out all along the walls. They were all young, maybe a little older than Danny, with buzzcuts and camo pants with pressed white button-up shirts.

  Every one of them carried a rifle.

  “What in hell is goin’ on here?” Casey whispered to me. He shook his head.

  “Hell if I know.”

  Whatever it was, Danny wasn’t loving their chances of getting out.

  A couple people fiddled with the video cameras, and one of them cued the reverend. He straightened out his tie and cleared his throat before he started up.

  “Brothers and sisters,” he said. “The devil is on our doorstep. There’s no more time to waste. We can’t wait another minute before we take that final leap of faith and walk into the arms of the Almighty. We been persecuted and mocked and belittled on this earth too long, friends. The government’s men are on the way, prepared to take our children and say whatever lies they have to say to pull the wool over your eyes.”

  A couple of the ladies in the audience were crying. So were the kids. Danny felt sick. There was a table up front with five pitchers filled with purple liquid, a bunch of crackers on platters beside them.