a request for BSU to take a look.”
“I’m already at the Crystal City Hyatt. Just tell me where you need me to be.” She could feel her mother scowling at her. She wanted another sip of Scotch, but set it aside.
“Meet Agent Tully at the FDR Memorial.”
“The monument?”
“Yes. The fourth gallery. The District’s lead on the scene is…” She could hear him flipping pages. “Lead is a Detective Racine.”
“Racine? Julia Racine?”
“Yes, I believe so. Is there a problem, Agent O’Dell?”
“No, sir. Not at all.”
“Okay then.” He hung up without a goodbye, a sign the old Cunningham was still in charge.
Maggie looked at her mother as she wrestled into her jacket and peeled out a twenty dollar bill to leave for the breakfast she hadn’t yet ordered.
“Sorry. I need to leave.”
“Yes, I know. Your job. It tends to ruin quite a few things, doesn’t it?”
Rather than even try to find the correct answer, Maggie grabbed the tumbler of Scotch and drained it in one gulp. She mumbled a goodbye and left.
CHAPTER 20
Everett’s Compound
at the foot of the Appalachian Mountains
Justin Pratt jerked awake at the sudden blast of music, almost falling off the narrow army cot. Had he done so, he would have crashed on top of several members stretched out in sleeping bags. He knew he should be grateful to have a cot in the cramped sleeping quarters that housed almost two dozen men. After his probationary period—whenever the hell that ended—he was certain he would be on the floor with the rest of them.
It wouldn’t matter, with the little sleep they were allowed. And then to wake up to that god-awful music over the loudspeakers. It sounded like an old scratched LP of “Onward, Christian Soldiers.” No, he shouldn’t complain. He needed to remember to be grateful. At least, until Eric got back. Then they could figure out what to do together. Maybe they could hitchhike to the West Coast. Although he wasn’t sure how they’d survive without a fucking dime. Maybe they could go back home. If only he could convince Eric. He wouldn’t leave without Eric.
He rubbed the blur from his eyes. Shit! It felt like he hadn’t even slept. Out of habit, he looked at his wrist before he remembered that the expensive Seiko watch his grandfather had given him was gone. It had been just one of the hedonistic material things confiscated for his own good. Like knowing what time it was would fucking send him straight to hell.
Now Justin wondered if perhaps the real reason Father didn’t allow them to keep anything of value was to make them dependent on him. And they were. For everything. Everything from that buggy rice to the scraps of newspaper they used as toilet paper.
“Get up, Pratt.” Someone shoved his shoulder from behind.
Justin felt his hands ball up into fists. Without looking, he knew it was Brandon. Just once he’d like to slam a fist into that smug, arrogant face. Instead, he pulled a clean pair of underwear and socks from the clothesline in the corner. Brandon had been good enough to share it with him, because it seemed that even something like a cheap piece of fucking clothesline was a rare commodity around this place. The socks were still damp, which meant that once again his feet would be cold all day.
He took his time dressing while the others scurried to get in line for the showers. From the small, single-paned window, Justin could see the line forming. It curved all the way around the concrete building’s corner. He combed his fingers through his greasy hair. Fuck it! Maybe he could sneak in a shower later. He was tired of waiting in line after line. Besides, he was starving, and his stomach reminded him with a rumble that he hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch.
Justin headed for the cafeteria, looking around as he walked across the compound. That’s what they called it, a fucking compound. The only other time he had heard someone refer to a place as a compound was on a cable special about the Kennedy family and their estate; an estate that they called a compound. So, of course, when Eric had told him about the compound, Justin had imagined something similar with servant cottages and horse stables and a huge mansion. But this place looked like army barracks—stark, metal and concrete buildings surrounded by trees and more trees, secluded in the Shenandoah Valley.
Piles of brush and uprooted trees were stacked on the south side where