Barkley made another one of his extended moans, this time moving his head up and down along with his jaw.
She grinned. “I knew you’d understand. You always do.” Before she blinked again, a brilliant memory flash took over her mind, bringing a new idea with it.
“Hey, wait a minute,” she snarked before spinning around and looking at the grease board directly behind her—the one not far from the cabinet where the microphone had been stored.
The board was covered in mathematical equations—equations written in marker ink—red marker ink, to be exact, with the number 35 circled at the bottom.
“Holy shit! Red radio thirty-five,” she snapped, realizing the words weren’t random gibberish after all. “That’s what he meant. Red calculations with the number 35. Plus, the radio. They must all be connected somehow.”
Summer flew out of the chair and went back to the file cabinet drawer. When she opened it, she saw the white envelope again, now tucked under the frayed extension cord, both of them pushed to the side where she’d moved them to grab the mic.
She dug past the cord and snatched the envelope, then pulled it out and turned it over to discover that it was sealed. There were also two letters printed on the back in blue ink—an S and an L.
Her initials.
Summer tore her finger into the adhesive strip, prying one end of it loose, then ripped the back of the envelope open with a pull of her hand.
Inside was a piece of white paper that had been tucked into itself using thirds. She opened the tri-fold to see a letter inside. The page was covered with fancy writing, the kind that was filled with loops and curls that connected each word together.
“Shit,” she said, realizing she had no idea what it said since the schools had stopped teaching longhand well before she attended grade school. A letter written in cursive might as well have been in Russian.
Summer peered over at Sergeant Barkley and held the letter up. “You can probably read this better than me.”
The dog moaned, changing the tone of his response along with the position of his jaw to emphasize something.
“Why would he do this to me? He had to know I couldn’t read it.”
CHAPTER 21
Krista waited for Wicks to open the cell door to the brig before she pushed Helena into the bar-lined space. The extra force made the cannibal take an extra-long step for balance. “Let’s see if you can behave yourself for once.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Horton said, standing next to Krista, his hands no longer bound and his face free of the blindfold.
“Oh yes, she does,” Lipton said from the cell next door. “You can see it in her face.”
Krista nodded. “He’s right. We can’t have a Scab running around this facility. There’d be chaos.”
Horton’s face lit up red, his upper lip tucked under. “Jesus Christ! What does she have to do to prove herself? I told you, she’s not who you think she is.”
Krista grabbed Horton by the collar. “You might want to check the attitude, mister. Otherwise, you’ll be in there with her.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, shouldn’t he be anyway?” Wicks said, pushing the cell door closed with a clang before locking it with a rattle of his keychain.
“Misery loves company,” Lipton snarked with a snide look on his mug.
Krista ignored Lipton’s remark, keeping her focus on Wicks. “Be sure the girl gets an extra blanket and something to eat. But no meat. Don’t want her getting any ideas.”
“Right away, chief,” Wicks said, handing the keys to Krista, then turning and heading toward the door to the brig.
“Hey, Mr. No-Neck, why don’t you bring me one of those almond sandwiches while you’re at it? With extra mayo and some of those little sprouts I like,” Lipton said, his face covered in a full-on grin.
Wicks never acknowledged Lipton’s request, continuing his march through the door and out of sight.
Horton put a hand on Krista’s elbow, turning her a few degrees. “We can’t just leave Helena in there all alone.”
Krista pulled away in a twist, aiming her disdain at his hand for touching her without permission. “Sure we can.”
“Then put me in there with her.”
Krista flashed a raised eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s really what you want? You just earned my trust, albeit barely.”
Horton threw up his hands. “Can’t you see she’s scared?”
Krista peered at Helena, seeing the girl sitting on the center of the cot with her arms wrapped around her knees and pulled in close to her chest.
Helena brought her head up from its tucked position and made eye contact.
Krista studied the look in the girl’s eyes, seeing only the feral display of a caged animal. An animal who was used to surviving alone. “She’ll be fine. I think she’s already getting used to it.”
“Open the door! Right now!” Horton snapped, his tone firm and short.
“So now you’re giving me orders? Really?”
“If she’s going to be a prisoner, so will I.”
Krista paused for a beat, then brought the keys up and slid one of them into the keyway of the door. She turned it. “If you insist.” She swung the entrance open, then held out an open hand and invited him to proceed with a wave.
Horton walked in and took a seat next to Helena, who was now rocking forward and back with her eyes focused in a long stare. Horton wrapped his arm around the girl and pulled her close, changing the angle of her rocking.
“Look at that,” Lipton said, breaking into a familiar melody as he sang the words, “Two lovebirds sitting in a tree—”
Krista took out her knife and rapped the handle on the bars next to Lipton’s head. “Quiet!”
Lipton took a step back, stopping his cadence as Zimmer walked into the brig. The gray-haired man with the handlebar mustache stopped his feet before the ping from the metal ran out of steam.
“What did I miss?” Zimmer asked.
Krista closed the door to Helena’s cell and pointed at Lipton. “Just corralling a little attitude.”
“So what you’re saying is same shit, different day.”
“Roger that,” Krista said. “Do you need something?”
“A little chat, if you have a minute?”
Krista ran a visual check of the occupied cells, taking a moment to appreciate her achievements today. At least the ones that outweighed the poor decisions she’d made. “Sure, I think things are under control here.”
Krista followed Zimmer into the hallway outside, closing the door behind her. “What’s up?”
“In case you haven’t heard, Morse didn’t make it.”
Krista’s shoulders slumped as a wave of depression settled in. She took in an extra few breaths, needing to collect herself. “When?”
“Not long after you left.”
“How’s Summer taking it?”
“Not well, from what I hear. She’s pretty broken up. Then again, nobody I talked to has seen her since, so who knows.”
“Shit.”
“Not exactly the kind of response Nirvana needs from its new leader.”
“Those two were pretty close.”
“I get that, but a leader has to be strong in a time of crisis. No matter who they lose on their watch.”
“Do you know if Liz had a talk with her first, or did Summer find out the hard way?”
“I think they talked, not that it should matter.”
Krista paused a few beats to visualize the trauma that Summer must have gone through when she heard the news about Morse.
If Summer was anything like her, and that was a stretch when discussing most topics, then she’d need something to take her mind off the heartache. Busy hands and busy minds help keep the grief from consuming all you are. “Did Summer address the camp while I was gone?”