Virals tb-1

by Kathy Reichs

  “We’ll discuss this again,” Kit promised.

  The meal ended in silence.

  Safely locked behind my bedroom door, I booted my Mac. Two mouse clicks launched iFollow with a flourish of colors and dance beats.

  When the GPS function opened, seven glowing circles dotted the Charleston map. One hovered over Mount Pleasant.

  Hel-lo, Jason. How’s the water?

  I changed my online status to away. No time for sparring with Jason tonight. My island crew had urgent business.

  I switched from Bolton Lacrosse to Bunker. We really needed a better group name.

  The GPS screen now showed four dots stacked over Morris Island. Even online, our neighborhood looked sadly alone.

  Ping. Ping. Ping.

  One by one, the gang checked in.

  “Go to video,” I typed.

  My screen split into quarters.

  A face filled each square, Brady Bunch style. My own was on the upper right. Embarrassed, I smoothed corkscrew curls gone wild.

  “Stop primping, Miss America,” said Hi.

  “Maybe you should start,” joked Shelton.

  Hi was top left, wearing Chuck Norris PJ’s buttoned to his chin. His bedroom light was off. He was flying under Ruth’s radar.

  Ben’s face hung below mine. He was in his bonus room beside a dilapidated pool table.

  Shelton gazed from the final square, backdropped by his bedroom Star Wars posters. His hair was wet and he looked tired.

  I cut to the chase. “Someone at the library spied on us.”

  Shelton’s eyes widened. Hi and Ben nodded.

  “Makes sense,” said Ben.

  Hi agreed. “We know about Heaton for one day, and someone snatches her bones? Can’t be a fluke.”

  “How’d the spy know we planned to dig?” Shelton asked. “Or where? We never said that in the library.”

  Good questions. I had no answers.

  “Maybe someone copied our research?” I offered. “They could’ve shadowed our work in the library.”

  “The killer,” Hi said. “Get that straight. We’re talking about the killer. Who else would know about the grave? Whoever followed us probably murdered Katherine Heaton.”

  That stopped the conversation.

  Impressions flashed in my mind. Dark shapes in a very dark forest. Two loud bangs.

  “The librarian?” Shelton offered. “He got weird, quick.”

  “Heaton disappeared in 1969,” I said. “Limestone’s too young. Besides, my gut says he’s too much of a weenie.”

  But Limestone’s behavior bothered me. Filing him away for later consideration, I shared my second theory.

  “Karsten was furious today.”

  “He’s always mad,” Ben pointed out.

  “True,” I agreed. “But he was over-the-top out there. Like he was hiding something. And he seemed almost distraught that we brought a cop.”

  “Karsten has controlled Loggerhead for years.” Hi was following my line of thought.

  “He keeps everyone out of those woods.” So was Shelton.

  “The guy’s running secret experiments.” Ben was catching on.

  “Three gold stars,” I said. “Think about what he did to Coop. And Karsten has access to monkey bones.”

  “Who else could move heavy equipment in and out of the woods so fast?” Hi asked.

  An uncomfortable silence followed. Shelton broke it.

  “So you think Karsten is the killer?”

  “He’s a prime suspect,” I said. “We need evidence.”

  “This is pointless.” Hi ticked points off on his fingers. “We don’t know who followed us. We have no evidence against Karsten. And we’re in enough trouble as it is.” His hands dropped to his desk. “Plus, I’m not looking to get myself shot.”

  We’d come down to it. The reason I’d called this meeting.

  Hi was correct, every single word. But I didn’t care. I felt a connection to Katherine Heaton that I couldn’t ignore. She needed an advocate. Me.

  “I’m not giving up,” I said. “Katherine lost her mother, just like I did. Then she lost her father. I won’t abandon her.”

  She was tough like me. She’d never quit. I feel it in my soul.

  “I’m in,” Ben said. “Heaton was murdered. No one’s fighting for her. We should do it.”

  Simple. To the point. Ben Blue in a nutshell.

  “I hate being the non-heroic, practical guy, but we can’t just quit.” Shelton tugged his earlobe. “The killers may know who we are. We need to nail them before they nail us.”

  Hi’s head dropped to his desktop. Pounded out three thuds. Then, without looking up. “Fine. Who wants to live forever?”

  “We’re a team, guys.” I felt a rush of pride. “We’re smarter than the creeps who did this. We can beat them.”

  “What next?” Hi was once again upright. “We’ve got no leads.”

  I smiled. “What do you gentlemen have planned for tonight?”

  Three groans.

  My grin widened.

  CHAPTER 30

  “Why do all your brilliant ideas involve felonies?”

  Hi looked ridiculous in his long-sleeved black shirt, black pants, and ski mask. I could tell he was sweating up a storm.

  The four of us were crouched in azalea bushes bordering the alley behind the Charleston Public Library. It was 12:42 a.m. If Kit learned I was out, he’d ground me for the summer.

  Earlier, before logging off, I’d outlined my plan. Before the boys could object, Kit knocked on my door. I’d slapped my Mac shut, jumped into bed, and feigned sleep.

  I heard Kit hesitate, then retire to his bedroom. Bearlike snores soon echoed down the hallway.

  I felt bad deceiving my father. For his sake, I hoped we wouldn’t get caught. And for mine.

  Shelton’s whisper came from right at my back. “The library has to be wired for security, right?” Fifth time he’d said it. “It’s a relatively new building.”

  “We won’t know until you pick the lock,” I repeated. “If something goes off, we bolt.”

  The night was hot and sticky. Of course. Clouds blocked the moon and fog cloaked the city. Perfect conditions for a break-in.

  A police cruiser lazily circled the block, then turned east up Calhoun Street. We’d watched it pass three times.

  “Move!” Ben hissed. “Now’s our best chance.”

  We darted toward a secluded alleyway door. I’d hoped the alarm system wasn’t more than we could handle, but both the key lock and deadbolt looked new and formidable.

  “Guys.” Hi pointed ten yards down at a ground-level window.

  A cracked-open window.

  We scuttled along the wall.

  Inserting two hands, Shelton pried up the sash. We held our breath.

  No bells, alarms, or whistles. Big break for the felon squad.

  One at a time, we shimmied through the gap. Ben lowered the window behind us, then thumbed a flashlight to life.

  We were in a square room lined with empty shelves. In the center stretched a single long table. On it laid a dozen books and a half-empty cup filled with sodden cigarette butts.

  “Thank you, Mister Nicotine,” I breathed. The sneaker of cancer sticks had forgotten to close the window. Spitefully, I hoped it was Limestone.

  I refocused on our mission. Someone had looked at the files we’d examined on Monday. How else could they have learned our intentions?

  How to prove it? Maybe even ID the jerk?

  Fingerprints.

  The plan was a shot in the dark. But if we had an enemy, we needed to know. Especially if that enemy had a gun and was willing to use it.

  We followed Ben’s beam upstairs, all the while watching for security cameras. Spotting none, I grew more confident. What we needed would take only minutes.

  Entering the South Carolina Room, we beelined to the microfilm reader. Rarely used in the Internet age, it was unlikely anyone had operated the antique since our visit two d
ays earlier.

  No one but our stalker, I hoped.

  “Here goes nothing.” I switched on the ultraviolet light I’d lifted from Kit’s toolbox and moved it over the controls, searching for a miracle.

  Not so much as a glimmer.

  “What good’s this going to do us?” Ben asked.

  “Fingertips have microscopic ridges and valleys to provide extra grip.” Hi’s voice was muffled by his mask. “The pattern is unique on every person.”

  “I know that much,” Ben said. “What I mean is, how do you pick the buggers up?”

  “Fingers get sweaty and oily, so they leave prints on almost everything.” I was rescanning the controls.

  Still zilch.

  “You can see some with the naked eye, but that’s unusual. Invisible prints are referred to as ‘latent.’ That’s really what I’m looking for.”

  The microfilm reader was made of dark, glossy metal that was ideal for capturing latents. I ran the little blue spot over its surface.

  Zip.

  Moving to step two, I removed a bottle of fine gray powder and a magnetic brush from my pocket. “If a print is present, the tiny particles in this powder will cling to the oil and sweat,” I said. “That will make the ridges visible.”

  I gently dusted the controls. No prints. I tried the machine’s outside surface. Nope. The screen. Zero. We’d struck out.

  “Let’s bounce,” said Shelton. “We’ll think of something less likely to land us in jail.”

  Sudden thought.

  “Where are our prints? On this surface they should have lasted several weeks.”

  “Maybe the janitor cleaned the machine,” said Hi.

  “Or someone wiped it down,” said Ben. “To remove their own prints.”

  Crap.

  We’d broken into a government building for nothing. I was about to concede defeat, then had one last idea.

  “Let’s check the Gazette film before we leave. No one else would’ve pulled that reel.”

  Hi groaned, but hurried to retrieve it.

  “Don’t touch it yourself!” Loud whisper.

  Using his cat burglar mask to cover his hands, Hi teased the correct volume from the shelf and set it on the table.

  Touching only the edges, I crisscrossed the reel with the light.

  Nothing.

  Disappointed, I scanned the opposite side.

  Bold as high noon, an oval glowed white.

  Repressing a squeal of delight, I dusted with the powder. The print emerged in spectacular detail.

  “I’ll be damned,” Ben muttered under his breath.

  “Let’s bag her and scram.” Shelton handed me a roll of scotch tape and an index card.

  Moving cautiously, I pressed a section of tape over the powdered print. Then I pulled it back and stuck it on the card. A gray swirly pattern transferred to the paper.

  Finally something went right.

  For a nanosecond.

  Thunk.

  A car door slammed.

  Hi raced to the window.

  “Damn!”

  Flashing blue-and-red light bathed his face.

  “Outside!” he yelped. “Cops!”

  CHAPTER 31

  I hit the deck, crawled to the window, and peeked over the sill.

  Two police cruisers were parked outside. Three officers stood in a group, flashlights probing the library grounds.

  “How?” I couldn’t muster more. It didn’t seem real.

  We were in major trouble. Those were real-deal cops, and this was a no-joke breaking and entering. Our parents couldn’t bail us out of this one.

  “Silent alarm?” Hi’s head was buried in his hands. “Motion detectors? Psychics?”

  “Oh man, we’re the worst burglars ever!” Shelton lay on the floor, defeated by the roller-coaster ride of the last few days. “Forget it. I give up!”

  Ben popped Shelton on the head, conveying his opinion of surrender. Then, hunched over, he scuttled to the door to check the main lobby.

  “Two more cops out front. We can’t go that way.”

  He moved to a fire exit at the back of the room. Found the door unlocked.

  Like rats fleeing a cage, we scurried down the stairs. Back on the ground floor, we slipped into the room through which we’d entered the building.

  From the direction of the front entrance, I heard keys rattle. Hinges creak. Voices.

  I pulled the door closed.

  “5-0 in the alley!” Shelton hissed. “Down!”

  I dropped like a boulder.

  A cruiser was slowly rolling up the alley, its radio sputtering static. It stopped outside our window. A powerful beam shot through the glass. Red and blue lights swirled on the walls.

  I lay on the floor, motionless, barely breathing. Thanking every deity I knew that we’d closed the window coming in.

  The spotlight sniffed the corners of our hidey-hole. My heart banged like a kettledrum. My cheek pressed deeper into the musty old carpet. My nose inhaled decades of library grime.

  An eon passed. I was sure we’d been spotted. The room seemed far too small to hide four teenagers.

  Finally, the cruiser edged forward down the alley.

  No one budged.

  A knob rattled. Close. Footsteps clicked and echoed in the hallway. Adrenaline did another loop of my body.

  Cops. Inside. Hunting room-to-room.

  The door had no lock. I waved frantically at the others.

  They got the message.

  The blue and red lights faded. The alley went dark as the cruiser turned the corner.

  Ben sprang to his feet and threw up the window. I scrambled out, flew across the alley, and dove into the bushes on the far side.

  Hi followed. Shelton. Ben emerged last. I watched him struggle to shut the window. The sash inched downward, jammed a hair short of closed.

  My pulse went bonkers.

  Move! Get out of there!

  Ben gave up and ran for the bushes. He was halfway across the alley when another squad car rounded the corner, spotlight slicing the darkness.

  Ben blasted through the azaleas and kept on running. Shelton, Hi, and I followed. No one looked back.

  Heedless of the dark and the fog, we ran through the night. Even Hi, whose fear of arrest trumped his physical imperfection.

  Two blocks from the library, we heard a siren wail, then saw a squad car zip by. The fog? Who knew. The cops failed to note the frazzled teens bombing through the streets.

  We pumped on. A shame no one recorded our sprint times. Personal bests were undoubtedly set.

  Ten minutes later we were aboard Sewee, gasping and puffing, sweat coating every inch of our bodies.

  Ben started the engine, Shelton untied the lines, and we nosed into the misty harbor. The water was as still and flat as glass. Hushed. Unruffled. A welcome offset to the turbulence of the last hour.

  I was enjoying the serenity when Shelton snorted, then cackled.

  “We may suck at breaking in to places, but we’re money at sneaking out!”

  Shelton’s laughter was contagious. Hi chuckled, then lost his breath and ended up coughing.

  This only made things funnier. I started to giggle. Even Ben got caught up, hooting into the wind as he steered. Pent-up tension evaporated into the night.

  I slid next to Hi.

  “You okay?”

  When Hi looked up, his eyes were pinched, and his jaw was skewed at an unnatural angle. He started to speak, but his lips froze. For a second his pupils glinted in the moonlight. Then his eyes rolled backward into his head.

  “Hi!” I screamed.

  Hi slumped forward, unconscious. I lunged to catch him before his head smacked the deck.

  “Ben!” I yelled. “Something’s wrong with Hi!”

  Ben cut the motor and hurried to join me in the stern. Though Hi was out, he was breathing normally.

  “Did he crack his head on something?” I struggled to remember how to treat a concussion.

&nbs
p; “Hiram, wake up man!” Shelton slapped Hi’s cheeks, then rubbed his arms. Not exactly Web MD stuff. I gently eased Shelton back.

  Hi’s lids rose slowly, revealing eyes that looked very wrong. His soft brown irises were gone, replaced by golden orbs split by dark, black pupils.

  Driven by instinct, I backpedaled, stumbled. Hit the floorboards.

  What was that?!?!?

  “Something happened to his eyes!” I said.

  Ben and Shelton stared in my direction. Neither had been close enough to see. They moved to Hi, expecting the worst.

  Hi blinked. Sat up. His irises were their normal chestnut brown.

  “That felt weird.” Hiram shook his head, trying to realign his thoughts. “Did I black out?”

  “Yep,” answered Shelton. “You okay? Your eyes working all right?”

  Hi raised and lowered his lids. “Of course.” Then his voice went high. “Wait, why? What’s wrong? Is one hanging out or something? Tell me!”

  Shelton and Ben glanced my way.

  “Nothing, Hi, my fault,” I said. “It must’ve been a trick of the light. Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  It was true. His eyes looked fine. Whatever I saw was gone. Or never existed.

  “This is what happens when a jellybelly tries sprinting a mile,” teased Shelton.

  “I don’t see you on the track team, pal.”

  “Let’s get home.” Ben moved to the wheel. “It’s past two, and we’ve got school tomorrow.”

  “Everything’s okay, right Tory?” Hi needed reassurance. I’d frightened him badly.

  “You bet. We got a fingerprint and didn’t get caught. Pretty damn okay, I’d say.”

  Hi leaned back and closed his eyes. “Weird,” he said. “I’ve never fainted before. And now I feel great.”

  I tried to block it, but the image came unbidden. Golden irises split by black pupils. Bottomless. Primordial. Reminiscent of a different creature.

  Suddenly I felt drained. My mind slurred, seemed to bend, then snapped back into shape. Energy coursed through me.

  I struggled to move. Couldn’t. Helpless, I slouched against the seatback. My lids sought each other.

  Deep within my body, links shattered, fell together, were reborn.

  My eyes flew open. Something was different. I could sense it in every fiber of my being. What? A change had occurred. I ran an internal check, trying to understand the alteration. Found nothing.