by Jen Blood
“Word is, Danny Durham never come home last night,” he said to me.
“He was out partying,” I said without missing a beat. “You know kids. He just buried his father—he needed to blow off some steam.”
“Boggles my mind how you can have one brother grow up so good, and one that just seems like he sprung up right out of the devil’s seed,” Jennings said. “But I guess you know something about that, don’t you, Diggs? That brother o’ yours that died ‘cause of your carelessness and lies—the way Wyatt told it, your daddy made it plain he thought he’d laid the wrong boy in the ground that day. Guess that explains a few things ‘bout you, don’t it.”
I saw Solomon clench her fists, clearly preparing to cold cock the bastard.
“What do you need from us, Jennings?” I asked coolly. “We’ve got places to be.”
“You say Danny was out,” Jennings said. “Where was he? Who was he with?”
“I know the way you operate,” I said. “I’m not answering anything without a lawyer. And you’re sure as hell not getting Danny in a room without one.”
“That’s pretty much exactly what I expected,” Jennings said. “Somebody’s gonna catch up to that boy, one way or the other. No way you can protect him this time. So if you don’t have nothin’ to add, why don’t you two just get on home. Let us do our jobs.”
“Are you sure?” Solomon asked. “I mean… we were in the middle of the crime scene. Shouldn’t someone fingerprint us? Compare our shoe treads with others in the room?”
Okay, so she’d definitely been watching too much TV, but she had a valid point. Jennings sighed.
“Sounds like a whole lotta work to me,” he said. “You didn’t kill Roger, am I right?”
“Sure,” she agreed. “You’re right: we didn’t kill him. But wouldn’t it be easier to go through the crime scene if you can rule out a couple sets of prints straight off the bat?”
“You know what kind of man Roger Burkett was?” Jennings asked her.
“Not a great one, from what I’ve heard,” she said.
“That about sums it up. ‘Not a great one.’” Jennings said. “He lied and cheated and stole. Chased skirts and beat on his girl and was just about the laziest SOB I ever laid eyes on. The Lord’s siftin’ through—that’s all this is.”
“I’m pretty sure it wasn’t God who tied that guy up, slit his throat, and carved his chest to pieces,” Solomon said. “Did you see him?” She was getting that take-no-prisoners look in her eye that makes most men run like hell. It has an entirely different effect on me, of course.
“I haven’t had the pleasure yet,” Jennings said evenly. “But I got a good idea what I’ll find.” He didn’t look even close to sane. I touched Solomon’s arm, trying to get her to back off. Jennings looked past her, though, fixing his attention on me.
“You two was both there last night when Reverend Barnel gave his sermon,” he said. “You might oughta think about what he had to say. We’re not twelve hours into those last forty-eight he said we had in this world, and the sinners are already fallin’. They’s gonna be a lot more before the end of the day. You can mark my words on that.”
“And on that note,” I said, holding more firmly to Solomon’s arm. “Maybe we should just be on our way.”
“Maybe you should,” Jennings agreed.
We went back to the car. I pulled out without waiting for Solomon to buckle up. Einstein careened across the back seat as I turned around and headed out at a healthy clip.
“That guy is certifiably nuts,” Solomon said. “How is he sheriff?”
“He talks a good game, believe it or not,” I said. “And he used to hide his crazy a little better than he is now. He’s fooled a lot of people along the way.” I thought of Sarah—Jennings’ wife. Funny, gorgeous… and out-and-out terrified, by the time I helped her get out of town.
We were halfway down the road, still talking about Harvey Jennings’ psychotic tendencies, when a black tank of an SUV with federal plates appeared in our path. I looked at Solomon.
“Did you call your boyfriend?”
“No,” she said. “I mean—I’ve talked to him. But I didn’t tell him anything that was going on.”
There wasn’t enough room for us to pass, but based on the way the SUV was keeping to the center of the narrow road, I assumed that wasn’t their intention, anyway. I backed up until I was back in front of the Burkett farmhouse.
The cops were in the middle of packing Burkett into the coroner’s van. Everything came to a halt when the SUV pulled up, and a good looking woman with dark eyes, dark skin, and a well-tailored suit hugging curves that would bring any thinking man to his knees, stepped out of the driver’s side. I looked at Solomon. She shrugged.
“Don’t ask me—I’ve never seen her before in my life.”
We got out of the car. Two men got out of the back of the SUV before the front passenger door opened and Jack Juarez himself stepped out. Solomon held up her hands at my raised eyebrow.
“I swear—I didn’t call him.”
The lady agent approached Sheriff Jennings. They spoke quietly while Juarez joined us.
“Hey, baby,” he said to Solomon. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I was in a briefing this morning,” Juarez explained to us a minute later, “and someone mentioned that a Domestic Terrorism team was headed to Kentucky to investigate some recent activity. Naturally, my first thought was, ‘Kentucky is a big state. What are the chances this has anything to do with my girlfriend?’”
“How long did that thought last?” I asked.
“Not that long,” he conceded. “I managed to convince Agent Blaze to bring me along, since I’ve worked with the unit before.” He lowered his voice, glancing back at the agent before he returned his attention to Solomon and me. “I didn’t expect it to be a problem, though, since I didn’t think you were directly involved.”
“I’m not directly involved,” Solomon said. Juarez looked at her doubtfully. “I’m not,” she insisted. “Diggs is.”
Agent Blaze joined us before we could continue the conversation. Sheriff Jennings clearly hadn’t been happy about whatever she’d said to him, because he and his men took their toys and went home, tearing out of the driveway without a word to any of us. Blaze didn’t seem fazed. Juarez made introductions, and she eyed Solomon and me speculatively.
“There’s been a lot of activity here in the past week,” she said. “I’ll be working with the local and state police, but I’d love to get your perspective on things.”
“Sure,” I agreed. “But right now my main concern is my nephew—he hasn’t been seen since sometime last night.”
“You have reason to believe he might be involved with recent events?” She watched me closely. That added vigilance in her eye made me think she knew a hell of a lot more than I did about what was going on in Justice.
“Not involved,” Solomon said quickly. “But possibly a target. Apart from the shootings last night, the victims—”
“Had been part of a ritual Barnel performed illegally in his church,” Blaze finished for her. “As were you, Mr. Diggins, I believe?”
I hesitated. “Uh… Yeah, that’s right. But I’m not worried about myself right now; I think my nephew’s the one in danger.”
“That’s noble of you,” she said. “But it’s too early for you to make that determination—and not really your place to do so, besides.” She looked at Juarez for a second, as though trying to decide whether or not she should keep talking.
“They’re all right,” Juarez said.
She nodded. “Barnel performed rituals on roughly twenty-four hundred boys over the course of his career. In the past fifty years, three that we know of have now been found with the same inverted cross your friend Wyatt Durham had. Given that very low percentage, I don’t believe now is the time for those carrying that mark to panic. How old is your nephew?”
“Seventeen,” I said. I already knew where we were headed from here:
nowhere. Chalk it up to impetuous youth, and move on.
“Well… there you go. Seventeen-year-old boys are unpredictable—I have a teenage daughter, and I’m tempted to plant a tracker on her half the time. I’m sure he’ll turn up. In the meantime, we’re more concerned with finding Reverend Barnel.”
“What do you mean, finding him? You lost him?” Solomon asked.
Blaze shook her head. “It looks like he went underground after the shooting.”
“Do you think that whole Armageddon business he was spouting last night is something to worry about?” I asked.
The agent considered the question before she answered. “We’re here to assess the threat. It’s never wise to dismiss something like this outright, but I highly doubt a man like Reverend Barnel or his followers are organized enough to pose a significant threat to national security.”
“That’s super for the country,” I said. “But it doesn’t offer much reassurance of my nephew’s safety right now. If you don’t mind, I’ll keep looking for him.”
“Of course,” she agreed. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d let us know if you find anything you think might be pertinent to our investigation. And I’d love any input you might have on Barnel’s whereabouts.” She paused, her eyes intent on mine. “I understand the two of you have a history. Your perspective could be helpful.”
“I guess it’s safe to assume that if you’re looking for advice from a civilian, you’re expecting rough seas ahead?” I asked.
She looked at the Burkett farmhouse, then back at me, and frowned. “Honestly? I’m not sure what to expect right now.”
Chapter Twelve
SOLOMON
Juarez’s super-agent boss told him it would be all right to stick with Diggs and me and ask a couple of questions about Danny while she went into town to set up Command Central. There was a brief debate about who would sit where in the car, before I took the back seat with Einstein—who was happy enough to see me, but wasn’t crazy about sharing his space. Diggs took the wheel, with Juarez riding shotgun. I expected things to be awkward between the three of us, but the fact that the country seemed to be under attack by a bunch of rogue rednecks bent on forcing the end days went a long way toward diffusing that.
Our first destination was the Durham house: Diggs wanted to check in and, ideally, get a better sense of where Danny might have gone since we’d seen the kid last. Diggs went in first when we got there, giving me a minute with Juarez. He pulled me closer when he was sure we were alone, with a bemused smile.
“I can’t leave you alone for a minute,” he said. I stood on my toes and leaned up to kiss him. He met me halfway, his body warm against mine.
“This one wasn’t my fault.”
“No,” he agreed. “Probably not. But still… you do seem to attract more trouble than any woman I’ve ever known.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, studying me. “Are you all right? You look a little tired.”
For a split second, I thought of the night before. Most notably, I thought of the kiss between Diggs and me the night before—the kiss to end all kisses, the one that jarred my front teeth and melted my under-things and had me tossing and turning in the back of the rental car all night long. I pushed that thought far, far to the back of my brain, and shook my head.
“Just didn’t sleep that well last night,” I said. It wasn’t a lie, exactly. It felt a lot like one, though. “And there’s a lot going on.”
“True,” he agreed. “We should get in there. If Diggs’ nephew really is missing, time is an important factor. And Allie will want us back at the station soon.”
“Allie?”
“Agent Blaze.”
Right. He hesitated, still studying me. “Are you sure you’re okay? I know I’m working, but I can make time if you need to talk…”
I had a choice here: I could tell him what had happened between Diggs and me the night before, thus ensuring the bromance between Diggs and Juarez was effectively ended, or I could keep my mouth shut. Chalk Diggs and my exchange up to the heat of the moment, and vow that it wouldn’t happen again.
I chose the latter.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’ll feel better if we can get Diggs’ nephew back home safely, though.”
I got the feeling he didn’t completely believe me, but he nodded all the same. “Then let’s get in there, and we’ll see what we can do.”
Things hadn’t gotten better at the Durhams’ in our absence. Mae was frantic. Ida was crying. Angus—Ashley’s kid—was screaming bloody murder. Rick had either shotgunned a bottle of Nyquil or he was entering some kind of fugue state. The second we got through the door, Ashley started yelling at Diggs: something to the effect that this was all his fault because he told Danny it was okay to leave, when Mae had expressly told the kid to stay. I had no idea if this was true or not, but based on Diggs’ expression, she wasn’t completely off base.
Clearly, it wasn’t Diggs’ best day.
Finally, at the height of the insanity, Juarez put two fingers in his mouth and whistled so shrilly that the whole house went silent.
Impressive.
“I know this is a tense time,” Juarez said, calm as you please. “But arguing and casting blame doesn’t help things. What we need to do right now is talk to any friends who may have seen Danny and establish a timeline for his last-known whereabouts. So, I’m going to ask everyone to take a deep breath, and recognize that sticking together and supporting one another is the best way to get through the next twenty-four hours.”
Everyone went quiet. Juarez met Mae’s eye and waved her over. “Is there somewhere we can speak privately?”
She nodded wearily, and led Juarez, Diggs, and me to the now-unoccupied sitting room. As soon as we were alone, she looked at Diggs.
“Is what Ashley said true?” she asked. “She said Rick told her what you did. Danny wasn’t supposed to leave the house; you told him to go on ahead. That’s right?”
Diggs nodded without hesitation. He’s never slow to take the blame for anything—hell, at this point I expect he’s found a way to claim credit for global warming and the national debt. Suddenly, I had a much clearer understanding of what had been going on in his head all morning:
Guilt, of the slow-killing, soul-numbing variety.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m sorry, Mae. I didn’t see the harm in it—I saw what the kid was going through. It just seemed like if he could get a little space, it might do him some good.”
Her eyes filled with tears, but there was a hardness I hadn’t seen before. She turned her back on Diggs without another word, and looked to Juarez.
“What do you need to know?”
“Did Danny have any interactions with Reverend Barnel beyond the… uh, ceremony he went through?”
She shook her head quickly. “No—Danny never cared much for the reverend. And after he got the cross, well… he had even less use for him then.”
“And when was that?” Juarez asked.
“He’d just turned fifteen.”
Juarez nodded. For someone who didn’t think Danny was in any real danger, he played the part of the concerned Fed awfully well.
“I know you’ve called most of his friends at this point,” he asked. “Is there anyone you haven’t spoken with? Someone he’s more likely to have visited than others?”
“I already talked to the teachers at school and all his friends while I was there,” Mae said. “Nobody’s seen him.”
Rick peered into the room, knocking hesitantly on the doorsill.
“What is it, honey?” Mae said. “We’re in the middle of somethin’ right now.”
“I know,” he said. “That’s why I’m here. I think maybe I know where Danny could’ve been last night.”
“Come in,” Juarez said. “Sit down.”
Rick sat stiffly on the couch beside his mother. Diggs might not have much use for him, but I really felt for the kid. He kept his eyes on the ground, looking miserable.
“What do
you mean, you know where he could’ve been?” Mae asked. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“’Cause Danny didn’t want you and daddy to know,” Rick said. “You told him to quit the band—”
“He did quit the band,” Mae said.
Rick shook his head slowly, eyes still on the ground. “Nah, he didn’t. He just told you he did. He’s been sneakin’ out most nights to practice—”
“And you never said somethin’?” Mae demanded.
Juarez held up his hand. “If you don’t mind, maybe we can just focus on the story for now. The fact that your son is coming forward is what’s important. Who else is in this band?”
“This girl—Casey,” Rick answered. “Her and Danny are real tight. She plays bass. They practice in her garage.”
“And you think that’s where he went last night,” Juarez said.
“Yes, sir. But even if he was taking the day today, he should’a called by now. I figured I could just ask Casey, but she wasn’t at school today neither. I didn’t think too much about it—she misses a lot, you know? Was barely there at all this fall, missed a whole month back at the start of the year.”
“Do you know where Casey lives?” Diggs asked.
Rick nodded. “Yes, sir. Just on over to the other side of town, at the Shadyside Trailer Park. I would’ve gone over there myself after school, but Mama picked us up straight after last bell.”
“That’s all right,” Juarez assured him. “Right now it’s better if you stay with your family. Let us handle this.”
As we were leaving, Rick grabbed Diggs’ arm. “I’m sorry I told Aunt Ash,” he said. “I didn’t know she was gonna twist it all around—I was just tryin’ to explain that Danny hadn’t been trying to do anything wrong. That you said it’d be okay.”
Diggs shook his head. “Don’t worry about it—it’s on me, not you. Now, you hang back here and hold down the fort. We’ll have Danny back before you know it.”
I hoped he was right.
<><><>
When we got to Danny’s friend’s place, Casey was just pulling out of her driveway in a cherry red pickup with mud on the tires and the undercarriage. As trucks go, it bore more than a passing resemblance to the one I’d seen speeding out of Miller’s Field after the shooting the night before. Diggs skidded to the side to block her path, and jumped out before he’d said a word to us. Two little kids peered from a window inside the trailer as Juarez and I strode after Diggs.
