Behind the wheel of Unit Four once more, Frank got on the horn to Reed Barrows and Vern Rangle in Unit Three. When Vern answered, Frank asked if they were still in the Tremaine Street area.
“Yup,” said Vern, “and making fast work of it. Not many sleepers in this neighborhood once you get past the sheriff’s place. You should see all the For Sale signs. Guess the so-called economic recovery never made it this far.”
“Uh-huh. Listen, you two, Terry says he wants to locate Sheriff Norcross and her son.”
“Their house is empty,” Vern said. “We already checked it. I told Terry that. I think maybe he’s been . . .” Vern must have suddenly realized that what he was saying was going out over the air. “He’s been, you know, a little overworked.”
“No, he knows that,” Frank said. “He wants you to start checking the empty houses, too. I seem to remember there’s a whole cul-de-sac that’s unfinished a little further up. If you find them, just say howdy and move on. But then get in touch with me right away, all right?”
Reed took the mic. “I think if Lila’s not awake, Frank, then she must have wandered off into the woods or something. Otherwise she’d be in a cocoon at home or at the sheriff’s station.”
“Look, I’m just passing on what Terry told me.” Frank certainly wasn’t going to tell those two what seemed obvious to him: Norcross was a step ahead. If his wife was still awake, she’d still be in charge. Therefore, the doc had phoned his son and told the kid to move Lila to a safer place. It was another indication that the man was up to mischief. Frank was sure they wouldn’t be far from home.
“Where is Terry, anyway?” Reed asked.
“I dropped him off at his house,” Frank said.
“Jesus.” Reed sounded disgusted. “I hope he’s up to this job, Frank. I really do.”
“Can that talk,” Frank said. “Remember you’re on the air.”
“Roger that,” Reed said. “We’ll start checking the empty houses further up Tremaine. That section’s on our list, anyway.”
“Great. Unit Four is clear.”
Frank racked the mic and headed for Clarence Court. He badly wanted to know where Lila Norcross and her son were—they could be the levers he needed to end the situation bloodlessly—but that was second on his list. It was time to get some answers about Ms. Eve Black.
4
Jared answered on the second ring. “This is the CDC, Dooling branch, epidemiologist Jared Norcross speaking.”
“No need for that, Jere,” Clint said. “I’m alone in my office. Is Mary okay?”
“Yeah, for now. She’s walking around in the backyard. She says the sun perks her up.”
Clint felt vague alarm, and told himself not to be such an old biddy. Privacy fences, lots of trees; she’d be okay back there. It wasn’t as if Terry and his new second-in-command could send out a drone or a helicopter.
“I don’t think she can stay awake much longer, Dad. I don’t know how she’s managed it this long.”
“Me, either.”
“And I’m not sure why Mom wanted us up here, anyway. There’s some furniture, but the bed is hard.” He paused. “Guess that sounds pretty whiny, huh? With all that’s going on?”
“People tend to focus on the small things to keep the big ones from overwhelming them,” Clint said. “And your mom was right, Jere.”
“You don’t really think a Blowtorch Brigade is going to start up in Dooling, do you?”
Clint thought of the title of an old novel—It Can’t Happen Here. The point being that anything could happen anywhere. But no, it wasn’t a Dooling Blowtorch Brigade he was currently worried about.
“There are things you don’t know,” Clint said, “but since other people do—or suspect, at least—I’ll bring you up to speed tonight.” After that I might not get many more chances, he thought. “I’ll bring you and Mary dinner. Double hamburg, double mush from Pizza Wagon sound okay? Assuming they’re still open for business?”
“Sounds awesome,” Jared said. “How about a clean shirt, too?”
“It will have to be an officer’s blueshirt,” Clint said. “I don’t want to go by the house.”
Jared didn’t reply at first. Clint was about to ask if he was still there when his son said, “Please tell me you’re just being paranoid.”
“I’ll explain everything when I get there. Keep Mary awake. Remind her she can’t eat pizza through a cocoon.”
“I’ll do that.”
“And Jared?”
“Yeah?”
“The cops aren’t keeping me apprised of their strategy for dealing with the local situation—I’m not their favorite person right now—but if I were them, I’d be grid-searching the town and keeping a master list of all the sleeping women, plus their locations. Terry Coombs might not be smart enough or on top of things enough to think of that, but I believe there’s a man who’s working with him who is.”
“Okay . . .”
“If they show up where you are, keep quiet and . . . is there a storage space in that house? Other than the cellar, I mean?”
“Not sure, I haven’t exactly searched it, but I think there’s an attic.”
“If you see cops on the street, you should get everyone up there.”
“Jesus, really? You’re kind of freaking me out here, Pop. I’m not sure I’m following you. Why shouldn’t I let the cops find Mom and Mrs. Ransom and Molly? They’re not burning women here, right?”
“No, they’re not, but it could still be dangerous, Jared. For you, for Mary, and especially for your mother. Like I said, the police aren’t very happy with me right now. It has to do with the woman I told you guys about, the one who’s different. I don’t want to get into the details now, but you have to believe me. Can you get them up to the attic or not?”
“Yeah. I hope I don’t have to, but yeah.”
“Good. I love you, and I’ll be there soon, hopefully bearing pizza.”
But first, he thought, I’m going to take another run at Evie Black.
5
When Clint got to A Wing, carrying a folding chair from the common room under one arm, Jeanette was standing by the door to the shower and the delousing station, having a conversation with an individual who didn’t exist. It seemed to be some kind of convoluted dope deal. She said she wanted the good stuff, the Blues, because they mellowed Damian out. Evie was at the bars of her cell, watching this with what appeared to be sympathy . . . although with the mentally unbalanced, you could never be sure. And speaking of the mentally unbalanced, Angel was sitting on the bunk in a nearby cell with her lowered head propped on her hands and her hair hiding her face. She looked up briefly at Clint, said, “Hello, cocksucker,” and lowered her head again.
“I know where you get it,” Jeanette was saying to the invisible pusher, “and I know you can get it now. It’s not like they close at midnight. Do me a favor, okay? Please? Please? I don’t want Damian in one of those moods. And Bobby’s teething, too. My head can’t take it.”