Don't Look Now (9 page)

“Huh,” Zeke said quietly. “That’s good.”

“Why is that good?” she asked, puzzled.

“We’re almost there,” Crystal announced, suddenly poking her head between them. “The turnoff is about a mile ahead on the right.”

“Great,” Zeke said, a little too brightly. “Stay close so we don’t miss it.”

“Sure.” Crystal glanced into the backseat and shuddered. “I can’t wait to get rid of . . . it. It’s starting to stink back there.”

“You’re sure this place is abandoned?” Noa asked, grateful for the change of subject.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s been empty since I was a kid.”

Noa resisted the urge to point out that Crystal was still a kid, barely sixteen years old.

“There’s the turn,” Crystal announced.

Zeke eased the van onto a long dirt driveway that wound off into a stand of trees. In the distance Noa could see the remains of a farmhouse, gray and slumped like some sort of dying elephant. A barn in even worse condition hunched a few hundred yards away.

“So you grew up here?” Zeke asked.

“Yeah, a few miles away. We used to come here to party.”

“I thought you said people never came here.” The words came out more sharply then she’d intended, Noa realized, as a wounded look crossed Crystal’s face.

“They won’t find anything,” Crystal mumbled. “There’s a well, or at least there used to be one. We can leave him in there.”

“Good idea,” Zeke said. “Nice job, Crystal.”

“Yeah, great,” Noa said, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet the girl’s eyes.
We’re going to dump the guy down a well?
This was turning into something out of a horror movie.

The other kids started to chatter, palpably relieved that the worst part of the journey was almost over. Their voices grated on Noa, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at them. Suddenly all she wanted was to get away. The guy had been right. She should have run when she had the chance, and taken care of herself. She could have reestablished herself under a fake name in Canada somewhere, and gotten more freelance work for IT companies. Instead, she was the den mother for a group of kids who could kill someone and dump him down a well without blinking.

“Noa.” Zeke had stopped the van. He looked at her across the seat, his brow furrowed with concern. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You know what?” she said under her breath as she climbed out. “It’s not. There’s nothing okay about any of this.”

Mouse was late as usual. Amanda sipped her tea, trying to repress a swell of aggravation. Of course, it wasn’t as if the kid had a watch. Still, she’d been waiting in the diner for over an hour, and all the caffeine she’d consumed had heightened the edginess she’d felt at the Coalition.

She’d read the same page in the textbook that lay open in front of her at least ten times, and still had no idea what it said. Which was worrisome. She’d always been an excellent student, and practically had a photographic memory. But recently, Amanda was having a hard time remembering the most basic words. Last week she’d spent five minutes trying to describe something to Diem, who finally looked at her as if she were insane and said, “Are you talking about a parking meter?”

Her grades were slipping, to the point where she was seriously concerned about passing all of her classes this semester. And her parents would kill her if she failed.

Too much stress
, Amanda thought, running a hand through her hair. She wasn’t sleeping well and had no appetite. Diem had recommended that she go to the medical center, brightly adding that she’d heard Ritalin was a wonder drug for studying. But Amanda hated the thought of taking any medication. Her brother had been a drug addict, and ended up dead because of it. She had no intention of following in his footsteps.

“Hey.”

Amanda looked up to find Mouse staring down at her. She had on the same ratty jeans she’d been wearing last week, more holes than denim. Over them she wore one of Amanda’s old sweaters and a thick down jacket that Amanda had bought for her at REI—it was only a few weeks old, but already looked like it had been through a war.

“Hi.” Amanda handed over a plastic bag and said, “I was going through my stuff to get rid of some things, and thought you could use them.”

Mouse took the bag but didn’t answer. Internally, Amanda sighed. She’d given practically half her wardrobe to the girl, and had yet to get so much as a thank you.
Of course, that isn’t why I do it
, she admonished herself. Passing along old clothes was the least she could do.

“You hungry?” she asked as Mouse slid into the booth across from her.

Mouse nodded and tugged at her sleeves, a nervous habit that Amanda recognized. So Mouse was using again.
None of my business
, she reminded herself. It wasn’t her job to get the girl clean. They were working together to help save other kids. Although at some point, if Mouse seemed amenable, maybe she could gently refer her to a treatment program. . . .

A waitress approached the table, looking less than delighted to see Mouse sitting there. They’d become regulars, meeting at the same diner once a week. Amanda always tipped well, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. Mouse usually smelled terrible, which provided the added bonus of keeping the tables around them clear so they couldn’t be overheard.

Mouse muttered her usual order: a heaping stack of pancakes with extra whipped cream. Amanda bit her tongue. Once she’d made the mistake of suggesting that Mouse try some protein instead, maybe eggs or a sandwich, and the girl had just glared at her. Sighing, she asked, “So, how is everything?”

“Fine.”

By now, Amanda was acclimated to their monosyllabic, largely one-way discussions. She pressed, “I mean, did you manage to talk to any of the kids on the list?”

Mouse shrugged. “A few. Everyone pretty much knows now, anyway.”

“About the . . . guys?” Amanda scanned the diner quickly, keeping her voice low. No one seemed to be paying attention to them.

Mouse nodded. She pulled a piece of hair into her mouth and started sucking on it, a habit that always turned Amanda’s stomach.

She cleared her throat and said, “And no one has gone missing recently?”

“No.”

“Has anyone seen anything suspicious?”

“No.” Mouse pulled the hair out of her mouth, studied the wet tips, and reinserted it before adding, “We think they’re gone.”

“They’re not gone,” Amanda said impatiently. “They’re still collecting names. They wouldn’t do that if they were stopping.”

Mouse shrugged as if it was a moot point.

“Anyway, I’ve got some more for you.” Amanda drew the slip of paper out of her pocket and slid it across the table, feeling as if every eye in the room had suddenly homed in on her.
Which is silly
, she told herself. Paranoia. There was no reason for anyone to suspect her of anything.

Mouse picked the paper up and tucked it into her jacket pocket. Watching, Amanda asked, “Aren’t you going to read it?”

“Later.” The waitress came back and placed a round plate stacked high with four pancakes and an alarming tower of whipped cream in front of Mouse. The plate had barely touched the table before Mouse dug in with her fork, shoveling a huge bite into her mouth.

“You’re not eating,” Mouse observed, chewing with her mouth open. Her eyes narrowed as she examined Amanda. “You look sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Amanda grumbled.
Why was everyone saying that lately?
“I’m fine.”

“Well, you look like crap,” Mouse said matter-of-factly as she piled more food on the fork. Whipped cream smeared the corners of her mouth.

“Thanks,” Amanda said. “Really.”

Mouse shrugged again, an action that comprised roughly half of their conversations.

Amanda suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to get out of there, certain that if she spent another minute watching Mouse gobble down food, she’d vomit. “Here,” she said abruptly, pulling a twenty-dollar bill out of her wallet. “This should cover the check. I’ve got to go.”

“Whatever.” Mouse’s hand darted out and seized the money, tucking it away quickly.

“So . . . same time next week?” Amanda said as she stood.

“Yeah.” Mouse didn’t bother glancing up as she left. Amanda got the distinct feeling that the waitress wouldn’t be getting much of a tip this time.

Teo sat silently in the back of the van. By now he knew everyone’s name. There was Remo, a skinny kid whose jet-black hair hung over his eyes, and Janiqua, a girl who looked far older than her seventeen years. Crystal, Danny, and Hopper were all around his age. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk to them, but they seemed all right.

And of course, Daisy. Back in Oakland she’d slid into the van and sat beside him, so close their thighs were touching the entire ride. Although that might have been by accident; they were hunkered down as far as possible from the back of the van.

Once they’d left the farm, the atmosphere had cheered up considerably. The kids passed around a bag of chips and cans of soda and teased one another about how freaked they’d all been by the dead guy.

Teo didn’t join in. It was still bothering him. Remo and Janiqua had helped Noa and Zeke unload the body. Ten minutes later they were back, which definitely wasn’t enough time to bury someone. He couldn’t stop obsessing over what they had done with it, but didn’t want to ask. He had the feeling he wouldn’t like the answer.

Daisy bumped against him every time the van took a turn. She was smiling and laughing along with the others now, which just made him feel even more left out.

How could they all act like nothing had happened? They’d been forced to ride in the back of a van for hours with a dead body. Not that he felt sorry for the guy, exactly—after all, he’d been hired to deliver Teo to people who would kill him.

Teo wrapped his arms more tightly around his knees. The way the others were acting reminded him a lot of his house growing up, before Child Services took him away. His mother had a similar high, frantic energy as she babbled on, like words alone would keep his dad from beating on them. It never worked.

“Want some?”

Teo lifted his head; Daisy was rustling the bag of chips at him.

“No, thanks,” he muttered.

“You okay?” she asked.

“I get carsick.”

“Oh, crap, sorry.” She pulled the bag away. “That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence while everyone clamored around them. Teo had noticed that it was pretty quiet in the front seat, though. Noa’s mouth had been set in a grim line as they hauled out the body.

“Why are we going to Phoenix?” he asked to get his mind off it.

“We’re gonna raid one of the facilities,” Daisy said. Her voice was low, but excitement hummed through it. “We’ll rescue more kids, and shut the operation down. Noa and Zeke are really good with computers, they’ll get information off them, then make them crash. It’ll be awesome.”

“Yeah?” He regarded her thoughtfully; her eyes were shining. “So you’ve done it before?”

“No, not me,” Daisy clarified. “I mean, I’ve only been with them a few weeks, you know? But I heard all about the raid they did in San Diego.”

“It sounds dangerous,” Teo pointed out. “Especially if we don’t have guns.”

“Oh, they always have a plan to handle the guards so no one gets hurt,” Daisy said dismissively. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see.”

“Guards?”

“Rent-a-cops,” Daisy explained. “Zeke says they’re better than most, but still pretty easy to trick.”

“Oh,” Teo said faintly. “So who else has done one of these before?”

“Janiqua,” Daisy said, indicating her with a tilt of her chin. “And Remo and Danny. I think Turk did all of them.”

Her voice dropped a notch when she mentioned Turk, as if even saying his name was a bad idea. Teo was finding it hard to repress a growing sense of anxiety. He scanned the animated faces around him; it struck him forcefully that they were just a bunch of kids. Not a real army, not trained to fight guards with guns. All those stories that had impressed him so much . . . this was the reality. They took chances, and they’d been lucky—so far. But what if they weren’t this time?

“It’s always okay not to go,” Daisy said, eyeing him with concern. “They’re totally cool with that.”

Teo flushed, feeling like a coward. “Yeah? How do you know, if you haven’t done one of these before?”

“Janiqua told me,” she said with a shrug. “Chill. It’s really not a big deal. And think about the kids in there. Don’t you want to save them?”

“Yeah, sure,” Teo said. But the truth was, he didn’t really care about some kids he’d never met. He shuddered, remembering the stack of trash bags at the back of the van, that weird heavy thud they’d made against the back door whenever they hit a bump. He wasn’t going to end up like that. Teo decided he’d slip away as soon as they got to Phoenix, like he’d planned.

Peter slammed shut the laptop, frustrated. A full day of monitoring Mason’s computer, and he had nothing. Less than nothing, really. The guy had done one Google search for a restaurant in the North End, and that was it. No emails sent or received, nothing private at all. He wasn’t even surfing porn sites.

And if Mason had an iPhone or Blackberry, he wasn’t syncing it with the desktop, something Peter had counted on. He was probably conducting most of his nefarious business on that device. Short of developing pickpocketing skills, Peter had no way of accessing that.

Which meant he’d have to break into Mason’s apartment again and install the other surveillance tools. They were scattered across the desk in front of him—a couple of really cool tiny cameras that were supposed to provide a 180-degree view, although they didn’t record sound, so he wasn’t sure how useful they’d be. He had bought sound bugs, too, although those were trickier; Mason’s apartment was huge, and Peter had no idea which rooms he spent most of his time in. The last thing he wanted was an earful of whatever happened in the bedroom. The office and living room would be the best places, he decided.

But to do it he’d have to get inside again, an additional risk he hadn’t counted on. Peter reflected on how close he’d come to being discovered the last time and shivered. If Mason had caught him . . .