Dying by the Hour (A Jesse Sullivan Novel Book 2) (31 page)

Delaney. “There is an AMP working for Caldwell. Micah Delaney. Is he related to our Delaney?”

Jeremiah’s eyes narrow. “Not that I’m aware of but I will find out.”

I backtrack. “If Chicago blacked out, it would have been on the news.”

“The blackouts haven’t reached Chicago yet. They’re originating outside of the city.”

He pulls the papers from under his arms and makes liberal use of my coffee table. Because he is much bigger than me, he pushes my armchair back trying to fit into the small space between the coffee table and furniture.

The bunch of paper is actually a single large map rolled several times. “Why do you have a map?” It seems so old-fashioned.

“There isn’t satellite in this area. We’re having a hard time getting detailed images. It’s just a small town in Illinois called Minooka.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, still wrapped and lowering myself beside him. “Satellites can see everything.”

He glances at me over the rim of his glasses. “No, not everything.”

I look at where his thick finger points. It’s a series of circles inside of each other. A small one surrounded by a larger, then a larger and a larger circle, like ripples frozen mid-quake on the surface of a pond. On the edge of each penciled circle is a time, ranging from four to six hours apart.

“The blackouts occur in timed intervals.”

“Maybe the city is testing something?” I ask.

“No.”

“What makes you think this is Jesse? In
Minooka
?”

His expression softens as he looks away from the map to meet my gaze. “Can you think of any reason why Jesse could be at the center of these blackouts?”

I think of Regina Lovett’s accusation that Jesse ruined her husband’s office. I think of the number of light bulbs I’ve replaced in her house in the past year alone and the latest power outage caused by a serious surge.

“Maybe.”

He frowns. “Minooka has less than 12,000 people. The surrounding areas are rural. The blast radius is just now reaching the outskirts of Chicago. This morning, power was lost to half of LaGrange. If it continues to grow, people will notice. If people notice, it will bring unwanted attention.”

I tuck my hair behind my ears. “You think he’ll finish her off, if she starts to draw attention.”

“So you do think she is causing this,” he says.

I look away.

“Alice,” Jeremiah says. “I know you haven’t worked with me for very long and I know you only joined because you were looking for the tools and means to protect Jesse. But you are going to have to trust me. Or at least, trust that we want the same thing.”

“But we don’t want the same thing, do we?” I ask. “You want to throw her in front of Caldwell. I want to keep her as far away from him as possible.”

He sits back on his heels. “You aren’t doing a great job of that, are you?”

“That wasn’t my fault!”

“I just think that if we collaborated with each other we would be more effective and ultimately, Jesse would be safer,” he says.

“Okay, tell me what you want with her. Tell me the real reason why you’ve been pushing so hard to recruit her. If you don’t need her as a cure-all, then what do you want her for.”

“It will take everything we have to defeat him,” Jeremiah says. The lines around his mouth deepen and I notice the faint purple under his eyes for the first time. “And even that might not be enough.”

My brow furrows. “But you seem so confident, so sure that it’s only a matter of time before he’s dead.”

He gives me with a brief smile. “Have you never heard of the importance of morale?”

“But you do want her to fight,” I say.

“I know you want to protect her,” he says. His eyes soften, sympathetically. “I understand that, but I won’t deny that we need her. I think he is like her.
Special
. Am I right?”

“What makes you think Caldwell is special?” I’ve barely accepted the possibility that Jesse is something else. I never considered the possibility that Caldwell is too.

Jeremiah removes his glasses and pinches his eyebrows. “Just this Saturday he gave a speech at 10:00 A.M. in New York. Then at 11:00 A.M. he had a breakfast in San Diego.”

“The speech could have been recorded ahead of time and there are the time zones.”

“It wasn’t recorded, which leaves us wondering how a man can give an hour long lecture in New York and then turn around and walk into Buca di Beppo in Mira Mesa. That’s less than a minute from when he walked off the stage and into the restaurant, Alice. It was actually 8:00 A.M. there.”

I don’t know what to say. Caldwell is already scary as hell. I don’t want to consider him with more at his disposal than an extremist fan base, trained killers, and a lot of money.

“We need her,” Jeremiah says again. “It increases our odds of winning.”

I consider this for several heartbeats. Caldwell marked Jesse as a target, not the other way around. And he will keep coming after her until one of them is dead. What if I cannot prevent it? Caldwell and Jesse. She
is
different. It’s more than the NRD, it’s the other things. Gabriel. What if all I can do is stay by her? Can I accept that?

Jeremiah senses my hesitation. “You can’t be her human shield forever.”

“As long as I’m breathing I will be,” I reply, irritated.

“Do not be angry with me,” he counters. “I don’t want her to get hurt, but she is an integral part of this and
this
is bigger than just Jesse.”

I want to test him, with something small. He’s been spying enough to know Jesse is different. What else does he know? “Caldwell is her father. Did you know that?”

His brow furrows. “No, I didn’t and that is important information, which is just further proof we need to stop dividing our resources. We’ll never win that way.”

He’s right. I know he is. Divided we won’t get anywhere. It’s better to pool our resources and present a united front to Caldwell. And if I’m going to protect her, I’ve got to be willing to go all in.

“I have some people you should meet,” I say. “If we really are going to do this, then we need to put everything on the table. It should all be out in the open.”

“I agree,” he says, his palm still open and waiting.

“Come with me.”

Brinkley is already at Gloria’s when we arrive. I’m not surprised to find Gloria packing a small duffel bag, with clothes and toiletries spread across her bed. She has her sketchbook open on the floral quilt with several sheets jutting out from the neat square edge. I briefly touch her shoulder before returning to the kitchen.

Brinkley leans against the counter eating a fast food burger. The sound of ketchup splatters the plastic wrapper, the condiments escaping out the back as he bites into it. “She’s been packing for an hour but she won’t tell me where we are going.”

I ignore this statement and move ahead as planned. “I want you to meet someone.”

This is Jeremiah’s cue to step from the dark hallway where he’s been waiting silently into the lighted kitchen. When Brinkley sees Jeremiah he straightens his back and makes himself taller.

“Who the hell is this?” Brinkley says, but it’s hardly a threat with ketchup on the side of his mouth.

“You asked me what I’ve been doing to piss Caldwell off enough to make his list,” I say. I gesture toward Jeremiah. “
This
is what I’ve been doing.”

“You’ve been doing this guy?” Brinkley asks. His tone is playful, joking, but there is something in his face I can’t quite place. Relief? Curiosity? Expectation?

I blush. “Don’t be idiotic. This is Jeremiah. He is leading a resistance against Caldwell. And I can see your face, Brinkley, so before you say anything insulting, let me warn you that it isn’t a small operation. He has more connections than you do. Play nice.”

Wiping ketchup from the corner of his lips, Brinkley flashes his best James Dean give-me-what-I-want-grin. “James T. Brinkley.”

“Yes, I know,” Jeremiah says, extending his hand. “You were Jesse’s handler and liaison for the FBRD, before she became a freelancer.”

Another strange expression crosses Brinkley’s face. He looks as if he has more to say, some retort to Jeremiah’s assessment, but he says nothing. And when he catches me watching him, he forces a smile.

“So what is the plan?” he asks.

I tell Gloria and Brinkley about Minooka, Illinois. I have to raise my voice a bit to make sure it carries down the short stretch of hallway to Gloria, who continues to pack in the other room.

“We want to move immediately. It will be us four plus two others,” I say.

Brinkley looks like he is about to object, but Jeremiah handles it nicely.

“Yes, Brinkley? What is it?” he asks the other man. He might as well say See?
I can play with others.

“I have my own guns.”

“Absolutely,” Jeremiah says. “And we have our own equipment too.”

Gloria comes into the kitchen with her duffel bag slung over her good shoulder and her sketchbook tucked under the bad, bandaged arm. I move to take it from her but she pulls back.

“Jeremiah, this is Gloria,” I say.

Jeremiah smiles and it is a sweet and genuine smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jackson. I’m very familiar with your work. You’ve done many great things.”

Gloria doesn’t quite know what to do with this gushing, so keeping one eye on Jeremiah she opens her sketchbook. She sorts through several pictures: most feature a vast field free of power lines, crops or without any signs of civilization. The primary object in the photo is a giant tree.

“I keep drawing this tree,” she says.

“Between your drawings and Jeremiah’s maps, I’m certain we will pinpoint her.”

“Yes, it’ll be so easy to find a tree,” Brinkley says. He crumples up the remains of his wrapper and tosses it into Gloria’s trash. “You can put your things in my trunk. It’s a big trunk.”

“You’re assuming Jeremiah has less gear,” I say. “And don’t forget that we will have six people.”

“I have a large SUV,” Jeremiah offers. “It should be able to accommodate all of our gear and people.”

Brinkley folds his arms over his chest but doesn’t say anything.

“Caldwell has a benefit engagement this afternoon. Live and televised,” Gloria says. “He cannot leave on a whim this evening. We should go now.”

Jeremiah and I exchange a look. Caldwell’s possible ability to leave on a whim is something we should probably discuss.

“What?” Brinkley demands.

“We’ll talk about it in the car,” I say. “Jeremiah, you can take my car to the safe house, get Nikki and load up. I’ll ride with them to my place. I need to take Winston to a friend’s while we’re gone. Then we’ll meet at the safe house.

“We do not want go up against him,” Gloria whispers. Her fingers touch the edge of her sketchbook and her eyes gloss. “Not without Jesse.”

I take Gloria’s hand. “We’ll get Jesse back first,” I say. “Then we’ll get Caldwell.”

She nods and hefts her bag up higher on her good shoulder before looking at Jeremiah.

“Go on,” I tell Jeremiah. “I’m waiting on someone.”

Jeremiah leaves the three of us in the kitchen.

“Who are you waiting for?” Brinkley asks just after the sound of the screen door slams shut behind us. I don’t answer.

Lane enters the kitchen moments later packed and ready.

“No,” Brinkley says.

“He can handle himself.”

“As well as you can.”

“No more solo missions,” I say, my anger rising. I know I’m red in the face. “Get this commando crap out of your head. It’s done. We are all together now.”

Brinkley gives me the death stare. Lane beams at me. I frankly don’t care anymore. I’m tired of everyone, including myself, being so stupid and secretive.

I remember those sad blue eyes and pouty lips and try to see what Jesse sees. Try to see why she wants those arms around her. Why she loves his face, his voice? He smells good. I’ll give him that. And he is symmetrical. But I still can’t imagine her with him
forever
.

Usually I cannot so much as think of him without feeling the raw edge of anger, that burning irritation making me want to poke his eyes out. Usually just his presence agitates me and the sound of his voice grates on my nerves.

But the heat of my anger is gone. I don’t like him exactly, but something has made me let go of the anger.

She chose you,
he’d said. And I can’t argue. She did save my life. For all the good it’s done me.

“Don’t die,” I warn Lane. “I’m not dragging your dead body around.”

Lane smiles. “Thank you for letting me in on this. It means a lot to me.”

“We need the extra hands.” I exhale slowly, releasing the tension in my chest. “And this might get you killed. So hold the applause until the end.”