Southern Cross (13 page)

“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.”

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.

“Hey,”
he said, rapping on the girl’s window. “We need to talk to you.”

Panic
flashed in her eyes. Understandable, since Diggs looked like your garden
variety thug after his beat-down at the hands of Big Jimmy Barnel.

“It’s
all right,” I said. I glared at Diggs. “You’re not in trouble—we just have a
couple questions about Danny.”

“This
is his truck,” Diggs said to me. Which explained the psychotic turn he’d taken.

The
truck was still running, the window up. I thought for a second the girl might
make a run for it. Instead, she nodded.

“He’s
in trouble, ain’t he? Somethin’ happened?”

“Just
get out of the truck, please,” Juarez said in his best FBI voice. “We can talk
inside.”

She
turned off the truck and got out. It was only as she was opening the door that
I noticed the inverted cross carved into the paint.

“Y’all
wait out here,” Casey agreed after a little more back and forth in the front
yard. “I’ll open up the garage, and we can talk there. But I can’t stay long—I
got work, so whatever you’ve gotta ask me, you best make it quick. I can’t lose
this job.”

She
was cute—auburn hair, striking eyes. She was too skinny to be considered a babe
by any self-respecting teenage boy’s standards, but I expected she’d outgrow
that before long. When she did, Casey Clinton would be a knockout.

For
now, though, life didn’t look like it was treating her that well. Once we were
closer, I noticed a bruise on her right cheek that she’d done her best to hide
with concealer. She walked carefully, too, like any unnecessary movement meant serious
pain. I exchanged a look with Diggs, and could tell he’d noticed the same
thing. I couldn’t get a read on whether Juarez had picked up on it.

The
ankle biters I’d seen in the window had emerged from the house while we were
talking. The older of the two was maybe eight, the younger no more than four.
Casey quickly herded them back inside.

Five
minutes later, the garage door rose. Casey reappeared behind it and waved us
in. Diggs whistled softly at the set up: a full drum set, a few guitars on
stands, a couple of horns in their cases, a synthesizer, and a computer.

“Wow,”
Diggs said. “Nice.”

“We
all pooled our money for the building,” Casey said. “I knew somebody who was
sellin’ it cheap. And we always put money aside for equipment when we get gigs.”

“You
play out, then?” Diggs asked.

“Sure,”
she said. “Not much around here—we’re not really Justice style, you know? But
we been getting a few paying gigs a month around Louisville and Lexington. Danny just got us one down in Nashville, and Rick got us a gig over to the
college where he works.”

Now
that Diggs had put her a little more at ease, he nodded back toward the
driveway. “That truck out there…”

“Is
Danny’s,” she finished for him. “He left it here last night. I thought he just
went off with some girl, and he’d be back for the truck when they was done. But
he left it in my daddy’s spot—that ain’t like him. He knows I catch hell when
anybody does that.”

Bruises
explained, then.

“Did
you have a girl in mind when you figured he’d gone off with someone?” I asked.

She
shook her head. “Could’a been anybody, knowin’ Danny. He’s not real particular,
you know? But…”

“But...?”
Juarez prompted.

She
looked at Diggs again. “You’re Diggs, huh? He’s got a picture of you—but you’re
a little younger in it. Not quite so beat up.”

“It
hasn’t been a great couple of days,” Diggs said. Juarez looked frustrated at
the apparent aimlessness of the interview, but he held off and let Diggs take
lead. “You were about to say something before. About the girl Danny might have
gone off with, maybe?”

She
hesitated, gnawing at her bottom lip.