“What?” I rub my hands over my face. “Two days?” How could I have let myself sleep for so long?
I move to get down from the bed, but my muscles ache from disuse. I didn’t know I was this exhausted, but it makes sense. I hadn’t slept for days before setting out on my twenty-mile trek to Fort Black. How often had I even stopped to rest?
Jacks tilts his head. I can see the tattoo of the snake, where it peeks out from under his collar and winds around his neck. “You were having nightmares. Whimpering in your sleep. I was almost afraid to leave you when I went to work yesterday, but Doc said that your body needed rest. That’s why you shut down.” He hands me a fork and a can of baked beans. “I thought you should eat.”
“Thanks.”
I’m ravenous. I pull the can tab, my mouth watering at the sweet, tangy smell, and begin to shovel the beans into my mouth. Every bite is delicious.
Jacks takes a step back and sits at the small table. The room looks a little less messy today. Although the walls are still covered with sketches, the floor has been cleared up.
I pause midbite. “Where’s my pack?”
“Here.” He retrieves it from under the bed and tosses it up to me. “I didn’t look in it or anything.”
I put down the can and quickly check. Nothing missing. The emitter is safe. Its battery is dead, so I switch it off and quickly close the bag. I’ll have to remember to charge it. It’s solar-powered, so I’ll just need to place it in the window during the day.
I go back to my beans and begin to eat, more slowly this time. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to accuse you or anything. I see you’ve cleaned up.”
“Yeah, it’s good you slept so long. It took me awhile.”
I think of Baby again, my stomach turning. I hate myself for wasting so much time.
“Well,” I say, “I’ve got to get out there. Ken’s not coming to me.”
“Wait.” His tone surprises me—almost nervous. I glance up, and we lock eyes for a moment. “I got you something.”
Jacks picks up a large book from the table and hands it to me.
I touch the smooth, worn cover. “The Complete Works of William Shakespeare,” I mumble. I open it and thumb through the pages, stopping at one of my father’s favorite plays, The Tempest. My eyes catch a line that gives me chills. “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
I close the book and stare at the cover, desperately trying not to cry.
“Thanks,” I manage, shaken by my conflicting emotions of happiness and fear. Love and heartache. “Where did you find this?”
“The prison library. Well, it’s not the library anymore—people live in there—but all the books are just stacked against the wall. You sounded really sad when you told me that line. I didn’t know it, so I asked the old dude who used to be the librarian. He showed me the book and which pages to read.”
“You read Macbeth?”
“Well, I do know how to read,” he tells me with a hint of a smirk. I look over, thinking I might have hurt his feelings, but he’s impossible to decipher. “Anyway, I thought it would remind you of your dad. I know”—he pauses and looks out the window—“it’s good to have reminders. That’s all.”
I stare at the cover again. “I love it. Thank you.”
“No problem. I should probably admit that I read that part about courage, but then I gave up. It’s kind of hard to understand.”
I nod. I’m anxious to go start looking for Ken, but I know that I owe Jacks. “It really isn’t that difficult if you concentrate. I’ll show you.”
His eyes slide toward me and I think he’s going to say something light. But then he gets up and climbs next to me on the bed. He’s so close to me that for a moment I’m paralyzed. After being alone for so long, it’s nice to have someone close to me, someone who isn’t trying to hurt me. I’d forgotten how good that can feel. His arm brushes mine and my skin burns under my synth-suit. After a few long seconds I adjust my position and move away. If there’s one thing I can’t afford right now, it’s to get close to someone else.
I start to read aloud, and for a tiny moment I forget where I am. I forget New Hope and the Ward. I forget about finding Ken and being in Fort Black. I allow myself to forget everything . . . everything but Baby.
I could never forget Baby.
After a few minutes I stop and Jacks gets off the bed.
“We should continue this later,” he says. “I need to go to work and you should rest some more.”
I’ve been sleeping for two days. What I need now is a plan of action. “No more resting. I’m going to look for Ken.”
“Sorry, you’ll need to stay here, in the cell,” Jacks says apologetically. “Just for a while. I can’t take you with me to work and if I don’t do my hours, I lose this palace you’ve been lounging in . . . no matter whose nephew I am.”
I stare at him. “I’m not actually a prisoner. I can leave if I want.”
“It’s not safe for you to walk around without me. Not until word gets out that you’re with me.”
I nod. I understand, but I hate that he’s locking me up again, even if I have a key. I know I can’t go out in Fort Black without him. I don’t even want to risk it. He clanks the door shut apologetically and disappears.
Before he leaves, he pauses in the entryway. “I left something for you . . . on the table,” he tells me, staring at the floor. “You should know what you’re up against.”
I rush to the table, thinking he has info on Baby or Ken, but the file is about one person: Ellis Lawson. Tank. Deflated, I open it and look at the first page; there’s no mistaking that hard face staring back at me from his mug shot with a creepy, crooked smirk.
I skim through the pages, then start back at the beginning and read through each page one by one.
The second page is an information sheet on his crimes. Sentenced to sixty years to life for the disappearances of two teenaged girls, one seventeen, one fifteen, both of whose bodies were never found.
Next is a court transcript. Testimonial, Daniel Nahon, ten years old:
I threw the Frisbee far, past the trees, and Cordy went to grab it. She was taking a long time, so I followed and saw a big man pulling her by the neck into a green car. I ran at them and shouted, but the man just looked at me. He put his hand to his neck and pulled it across, like he was going to cut off my head if I didn’t shut up. But he had Cordy, so I yelled louder and ran after the car as he drove away. Then I found a policeman in the park and told him what had happened.
I close my eyes, sickened. What a thing for a little boy to witness. A kid just a few years older than Baby. The girl just a few years younger than myself. What happened to her? The body wasn’t found. No coroner’s report to read.
Then there’s a newspaper article in with the papers, dated the year I started high school.
Ellis Lawson was convicted today of the murders of Cordelia Embry and Jasmine Norman. Though their bodies were not found, there was eyewitness testimony, and DNA evidence was found in Lawson’s house. Lawson is suspected of abducting three other girls, but the district attorney did not have sufficient evidence to charge Lawson with those crimes. The families of the girls have pleaded with Lawson to reveal the location of the bodies, but Lawson asserts his innocence. There will be a memorial service for Cordelia Embry at Harrison’s Funeral Home on Tuesday at two p.m.
So Tank was caught, seen snatching one girl, and convicted of murdering her and another, but he was smart enough to hide the bodies. How many other missing girls was he responsible for, ones that the cops didn’t know about? Tank isn’t just a dumb brute; he’s a serial killer.