CHAPTER 28
The following Windsday morning, Monty entered Burke’s office and closed the door. “I think we found the compound owned by the Controller.”
Burke gave him a long look. “Call Dr. Lorenzo. Tell him it’s time for whatever input he’s willing to give. And send a car around to pick up Simon Wolfgard. This time he needs to come to us.”
Monty went back to his desk, made the call to Dominic Lorenzo, and sent Kowalski to pick up the Wolf. Then he sat back, almost swaying with fatigue despite the early hour.
For several days he, Louis Gresh, and Burke had been running on strong coffee, sketchy meals, and little sleep as they tried to narrow down the possible places where the Controller’s compound could be located. An incident room had been set up at the station and was kept locked. Not that a lock was needed. The sign that read RESERVED FOR DOUGLAS BURKE was enough to make other officers in the Chestnut Street station avoid that corridor as much as possible.
Everyone at the station knew something was going on and it was something big, something dangerous. Everyone knew he and Louis were involved and their respective teams were not. Everyone knew it somehow involved the terra indigene.
Everyone knew something bad was about to happen, but not even the station’s chief had asked Captain Burke for an explanation—especially after the report came in that Burke’s friends were run off the road on their way to Lakeside. The two adults and two children suffered minor injuries and were now in some undisclosed location. The assailants, however, suffered fatal injuries when the roadway suddenly turned to quicksand and buried them up to the chest before hardening again.
It was understood that the local wildlife didn’t find the unexpected feast until after Burke’s friends had been taken from the area.
Louis sat on the corner of Monty’s desk and leaned toward him. “Do you think we defused this bomb?”
“Not completely,” Monty replied, rubbing his eyes. “But it will be a smaller one because of what we’ve done.”
Hearing the soft scuff of a shoe, Meg spun away from the front counter and hurried into the sorting room, hoping Simon finally had some news. But it was Jane, the Wolfgard bodywalker, who stood in a spot where she wouldn’t be seen by someone entering the office.
“Hello, Jane. Is there something I can do for you?” Then she thought of one reason why Jane would come up to the office. “Sam! Is he sick? Is he hurt?”
Jane shook her head. “Sam is fine. Did you … have an itch?”
Meg sagged against the sorting table. “No. When I saw you, it was the first thing that popped into my head.”
“Prairie dog thoughts. They can pop up right under your nose.”
The image made her smile.
It felt like she hadn’t smiled in days. It felt like all she’d done was wait for news, for answers, for … something. The terra indigene, on the other hand, had worked and played and hunted as if nothing was happening. Sure, more of the Wolves were patrolling the Courtyard’s boundary, more Crows were on lookout, more Hawks were soaring, but the Others weren’t waiting the way the humans were waiting. They were ready. Until it was time to act, they would simply live.
“I was wondering about the Wolf cookies,” Jane said.
“Did you want something in particular?” Meg asked. “Tess is going to e-mail the order to Eamer’s Bakery today. I’ve asked for smaller cookies for the puppies. The beef-flavored cookies were the most popular, and—”
“The people-shaped cookies,” Jane said.
“Oh.” Meg hesitated. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to have people-shaped cookies anymore.”
Jane looked disappointed. “They were useful.”
“Oh. They could still make chamomile cookies in a different shape,” Meg said.
“Small cookies? I’ve been giving Skippy a little piece each morning, and it calms him down just enough for his brain to work properly. We’ve all noticed the difference.”
“I’ll put in the request.”
“Thank you.” Jane shifted from one foot to the other. “Are there any humans working in the bookstore today?”
“I don’t know. But Merri Lee is working at A Little Bite. Did you want to talk to her?”
“No.” The word was snapped out too quickly, followed by a little whine. “No, I just thought, while I was up here …”
Merri Lee, Ruthie, and Theral had grown up watching scary “wolfman” movies, and they all agreed the real thing was a lot more terrifying. But they also agreed that the Others shouldn’t feel reluctant to shop in their own Market Square just because a few humans worked there—especially the terra indigene who couldn’t go to the human stores because they couldn’t pass for human and would likely cause a panic if people saw them.
Having someone like Jane Wolfgard, a respected bodywalker, go into Howling Good Reads and purchase a book when Merri Lee or Ruthie was at the checkout counter, or sit in A Little Bite to have a drink and a snack, might make other terra indigene feel easier about doing the same thing.
And anything that helped each side accept the other had to be a good thing. Especially now.
Meg touched the side of her head. “No one will mind furry ears.”
Jane studied her, then nodded and went out the back door.
Hearing the Crows who were on watch cawing at someone’s arrival, Meg returned to the counter in time to see a patrol car pull in and continue up the access way. Then she heard someone come in from the back and turned, thinking it was Jane needing a little more reassurance.
Not Jane. Simon crossed the sorting room and stopped at the Private doorway.
“They found the enemy,” he said. “I’m going to the Chestnut Street station to talk to Montgomery and the other police.”
“All right.” Suddenly cold, Meg hugged herself. “Will you tell me …”
Simon cocked his head. “Tell you what?”
“I don’t know.”
He waited a moment, then said, “I have to go.”
Gone.
She waited and watched until the patrol car pulled out of the delivery area and turned right on Main Street, heading toward the Chestnut Street station.
She held out her hands, studied her arms—and wondered if she should be relieved or alarmed that she didn’t feel even the faintest prickle anywhere.
Caught in an uneasy sleep, Jean grimaced, and a split on her lower lip reopened, turning dream into a prophecy that flowed like a movie clip.
The ground shook. The wind roared. The Walking Names shouted and pleaded and screamed. Walls were sprayed with blood, and limbs ripped from bodies littered the corridors.
The girls, locked in their cells, shivered and cried.
Then her door slammed open and she saw …
Jean opened her eyes—and she smiled.