Hemlock 03: Willowgrove (14 page)

I expected Jason to answer, but it was Kyle who spoke. “It could have been for the blood tests,” he said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Every wolf who passed through that gate was tested for LS. The whole admission process could have been a clinical trial.” He met my gaze. “It’s possible Stephen was sent to check on that and CBP didn’t know anything about the detention block.”

He was grasping at straws, just like I had been.

“A major pharmaceutical company involved with the camp and they didn’t know Sinclair was looking for a cure?” Eve shook her head and ran a hand over her wrist, encircling it with her thumb and forefinger as though remembering the cuffs we had worn in Thornhill. “Sorry, but that requires a little too much suspension of disbelief. Sinclair was smart but it’s not like she magically whipped up a cure in the basement with a chemistry set. Someone had to have helped her.”

After a moment, Kyle nodded, the gesture gruff and a little reluctant.

Jason pushed himself to his feet. His gaze darted between Kyle and me. “You can’t really think Amy’s father would be part of something like the detention block or that he would involve Stephen in it.”

I stopped pacing and let out a deep breath. “I didn’t think Ben was a mass murderer,” I pointed out. “Once you accept something that horrible, it gets a little easier to wonder how well you really know anyone.”

“That’s different. You knew Ben a few months.” Jason
glanced to his best friend. “Kyle?”

It usually felt as though I had known the two of them forever—as though the years before I had met them had been someone else’s bad dream—but there were times when the history they shared was a gulf I couldn’t cross.

It was there now, in the way Jason expected Kyle to back him up because they were best friends. Because they had known Amy and her family practically their whole lives.

Kyle didn’t say anything, but the expression on his face made it clear that he agreed with Eve, that he thought it was too big a coincidence.

Jason turned away from him. To the rest of us, he said, “I’ve known Amy’s dad my whole life. He wouldn’t have signed on for something like this. I don’t care how much money was involved.”

Up in the rafters, a few of the pigeons took flight. For a moment, the only sound was the flap of wings.

And then Trey spoke.

“Because Ryan Walsh was such an outstanding guy, right?” He had been so silent that I had almost forgotten he was in the room.

Jason glared. “You think being Amy’s toy makes you an expert on her family?”

Trey pushed himself to his feet, and Kyle quickly stood and stepped in front of Jason.

“Let me guess,” said Eve. “Amy was the star of her very own love triangle.”

“Not helping,” I muttered. Amy had begun sneaking around with Trey after finding out Jason had feelings for
me. Revenge probably tasted sweeter when it came with washboard abs.

“Amy was miserable in that house.” Trey’s voice held the undercurrent of a growl. The light shining through the stained-glass windows edged his skin in gold. “She wouldn’t talk about it and she tried to hide it, but every time I saw her, she smelled more desperate and more lost.”

“Werewolf powers at their most charming,” muttered Jason. “Who cares about the scent of perfume when you can sniff out desperation?”

“You think I’m kidding?” Trey tried to push past Kyle and almost succeeded.

“Time out!” I moved forward and grabbed Trey’s arm. His muscles tensed under my hand, a reminder that he could toss me around like a rag doll. “
Please
, Trey. Fighting isn’t going to help anything.”

“Maybe not, but it would be satisfying.” Despite his words, he pulled in a deep breath and let me guide him back to one of the pews.

“Even if Amy was unhappy, what makes you think it was because of her father?” I asked, sitting next to him and resisting the urge to glance at Jason. We had made her unhappy, too—Jason because he hadn’t loved her enough and me because I had missed the signs that he cared about me too much.

“I don’t—not for sure,” said Trey, “but something in that house scared her. There were times when I would drop her off and it was like she had to force herself to get out of the car. Once, she called me in the middle of the night from
a strip mall. She had left the house without her jacket or purse. In January. She called me from a pay phone, begging me to come pick her up. A few weeks later, she started talking about running away, saying we should just take off together, but wouldn’t tell me why.”

This time, my gaze did dart to Jason. No matter his feelings for me, Amy had been his girlfriend. Hearing that she had asked Trey to run away with her had to hurt, but his face gave nothing away. Instead, it slid into something cold and hard, as if he’d been carved from stone.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Kyle ran a hand through his hair. “If something was wrong, why didn’t she say anything? Even if she didn’t want to tell Mac or Jason, she could have talked to me.”

Could she have? I tried to put myself in Amy’s shoes. “What if whatever was going on was too awful to tell anyone? What if she was scared of getting her family—her dad—in trouble?” The weight I had been carrying since last night grew sharply. “I need to find out what she was scared of. I need to know if it had anything to do with Thornhill.”

“And if you’re right and there’s a connection between CBP and the camp? If it turns out that’s why Amy was scared? What then?” Jason’s voice was the lash of a whip. I flinched, but he continued. “You think Amy would want this? If CutterBrown really was behind what happened at the sanatorium and Amy’s father was involved . . .” He shook his head. “Amy was your best friend and her family was never anything but good to you. Finding proof would destroy them.”

“And might stop what happened to Serena from happening to anyone else,” I countered. “And maybe give us some leverage in case those men come after her again.” I stared at him, willing him to understand. “What happened at Thornhill is bigger than me or you or even Amy. If there’s even a chance we can find out what really happened . . . if there’s a chance we can find proof . . .”

“You saw what they did to Serena in the detention block. How can you think Amy’s dad could be a part of that?” Jason waited for me to say something. When I didn’t, he cursed under his breath and strode from the room.

I rose and started after him, but Kyle stopped me as I reached the door. “I’ll go.”

“But—”

He cut me off. “Even before he and Amy started dating, Jason practically grew up at the Walshes’. Ryan Walsh was more of a father to him than his own ever was.”

“I care about Amy’s family, too.” I didn’t want this; I hadn’t asked for this.

“I know.” Kyle pressed a quick kiss to my temple and then he, too, was gone.

“How much did you hear?” asked Trey, handing Serena a half-empty bottle of water.

“Pretty much all of it,” she admitted.

She had been awake when Trey, Eve, and I had gotten back to the pastor’s office. I had no idea where Kyle and Jason had gone—the grounds or the burned-out manse, maybe. I wanted to go after them, but I was holding myself
back. I had a feeling my presence would just upset Jason more than he already was.

Serena touched my hand as I sat next to her on the battered sofa. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “Jason will get over it.” Her eyes were bloodshot and the hand that touched mine shook a little, but she seemed otherwise okay. Last night’s fever had finally broken. “So what now?” she asked, her gaze going to her brother. “We’re staying, right?”

Trey’s eyes darkened. “Ree . . .”

“You guys need to get to the pack,” I said. “Hemlock isn’t safe. The men who attacked your house are still out there and the rally is tomorrow night.” To say nothing of the National Guard trucks I had seen rolling into town.

“While you stay here and investigate CBP?” Serena shook her head. “No way. Besides, Jason and Kyle are staying.”

I wasn’t actually sure that was true. Jason was furious with me, and I hadn’t had a chance to speak with Kyle privately. Even though I knew the effort would be futile, even though I didn’t really want to do this alone, I had to at least try convincing him to leave town. It wasn’t safe here. For any of the wolves.

Trey glowered at his sister. “Harper and Sheffield aren’t the ones who had a squad of mercenaries show up on their doorstep.”

Serena opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off. “Trey’s right. The best thing for you to do right now is to go back to the pack with Eve.”

“And what makes you think I’m going back?” asked Eve
from her perch on the windowsill. Sunlight filtered through the glass behind her, throwing fiery highlights over her red hair.

I stared at her dumbly. “A: Hank told you to, and B: You didn’t know Amy or her family. Why would you want to stay?”

“You’re joking, right?” She pushed herself off the sill and landed lightly on the balls of her feet. “This isn’t just about your friend. Finding proof of the detention block would be huge. Game-changer huge. It might be enough to make people really start questioning the existence of the camps.”

Trey snorted. “What makes you think anyone who isn’t infected will give a damn about what happened at Thornhill? People already know the other camps are horrible, and they’re still open for business.”

“People have heard rumors,” corrected Eve, the colors in her gray-green eyes swirling like fog. “And what went on in Thornhill was way beyond overcrowding and food shortages. It was torture.” Her gaze slid to Serena. “They were recording the tests. Imagine if those videos got out. Videos of teenagers strapped to tables while guards break their bones? Most people don’t have the stomach for that—not even when it comes to werewolves.”

“Eve . . .” I shot a nervous glance at Serena. Her hands were clasped on her lap and she was staring down at her fingers. Eve’s example hadn’t been random; it was one of the things they had done to Serena, one of the things she couldn’t remember.

“Eve’s right,” said Serena softly. “People need to know
what happened. We need to find proof.”

“Not at the risk of losing you,” said Trey. “If Harper and Sheffield hadn’t shown up yesterday . . .” His mouth twisted around Jason’s name as though the admission left a bitter taste on his tongue.

“All the more reason to stay and find out if those men are connected to CutterBrown. You heard what Mac said about leverage.” She hesitated, then added, “Besides, you want to know what Amy was hiding, too. I know you do.” She stood and put a hand on her brother’s arm. “Eve’s right: finding proof could change everything. And I need people to know what they did to me.
I
need to know what they did to me.”

Next to her brother, Serena was tiny—a mouse next to a lion—but the determination on her face was more than a match for Trey’s physical strength.

She stared at him and waited.

After a long moment, Trey sighed, swore, and then nodded.

“Thank you,” Serena breathed, sitting back down.

“Don’t thank me,” said Trey miserably. “For all I know, this is the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” He didn’t look at any of us. “I think I’ll go check the radio in Kyle’s car, see if I can find out anything about those trucks Dobs saw.”

“You do realize my father is going to kill you, right?” I asked Eve as Trey headed down the hall.

“Serves Curtis right.” Eve toyed with a pewter charm on a leather cord around her neck. The small disc had been engraved with a symbol that resembled three interlocking teardrops. It was the symbol of Hank’s pack. I had worn a
similar one on Amy’s bracelet while in Thornhill. Eve was one of the few wolves who knew about my father’s past. Everyone else believed he was Curtis Hanson, an alias he had adopted after becoming infected. “He’s been keeping so many secrets since the breakout that he can’t say three words without two of them contradicting. Besides,” she added cryptically, “the National Guard and the Trackers aren’t the only ones flooding Hemlock.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” My voice was sharp; I was emotionally exhausted and way too tired for riddles.

“Curtis and the other pack leaders are planning something for the rallies. Something big. He won’t tell anyone what. Not even me. No matter how much I ask.” She kicked at a piece of chipped tile. “He’s never not trusted me before.”

I wanted to tell Eve not to take it personally, that Hank didn’t really trust anyone, but she looked so miserable that I kept the comment to myself.

“Anyway,” she said, “he sent Dex to Chicago and a bunch of wolves to Atlanta and New York. More are headed here. He told them they’d find out what was going on when they got where they were going. That was a week ago. And it’s not just the Eumon. Other packs are sending people to almost every place a rally is being held. Small groups—usually no more than five or six—but if every pack is sending them . . .”

“It would be a small army,” breathed Serena. “Maybe even enough to attack the rallies.”

I shook my head. My father had a lot of flaws, but stupidity had never been one of them. He had to know that a hit on
the rallies would result in an even bigger backlash against wolves. “Attacking the rallies would just make things worse. Hank knows that.” But even as the words left my mouth, I thought about how adamant he had been that I leave Hemlock before Monday night.

Something was coming. Something he didn’t want me anywhere near.

“Things can’t get much worse, Mac,” said Eve. Her expression settled into something hard and sad. “We’re being hunted down and exterminated, and the news is only reporting a fraction of what’s happening. If Hank and the other pack leaders don’t do something . . .” She ran a hand over her wrist, over the scars she had gotten when she became infected. “The way things are going, the wolves we broke out of Thornhill might have been safer where they were; at least Sinclair was only killing a few at a time.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “There’s no way you believe that.”

Her shoulders sagged as she let out a deep breath. “No. I guess not. Not yet. But I’m getting there. Things haven’t been as bad in cities where rallies are planned because the Trackers are trying not to rock the boat too much until they have their moment in the spotlight. Everywhere else, though, it’s open season on anyone who’s infected. Trackers wiped out an entire pack in Miami three days ago. A hundred and fifty wolves dead, and not one news outlet picked it up. I passed through a town on my way here—some two-bit hick place I only pulled into because I needed gas.” She swallowed roughly. “It was dark, but I could see bodies hanging
from trees by the town limit. A dozen of them. Maybe more. Some of them had signs around their necks, but I didn’t stop to read them. I just turned around and drove as fast as I could. I passed two more towns and was running on fumes before I felt safe enough to stop. And that’s just two places. Two stories out of hundreds. The country is tearing itself apart and no one wants to talk about it because no one wants to admit who the real monsters are.”