“All systems check out. We are clean,” Sam says as he taps on his tablet. “What’s the plan?”
“We need to find someplace we can log into the network anonymously,” I say. “We need to find out exactly what happened to Klaus.” My hands tighten on the steering wheel. “And find Jovana.”
“Yeah, about Klaus,” Sam says with a singsong lilt. “I’m not sure he’s actually dead.”
“What?” I stare at him. Is he joking? “I saw the record. He died at the Tennessee safe house. Mia’s house.”I even thought for a while she had done it, I add silently.
“Yeah, but something’s not right with that record,” Sam replies. “When you sent that message, I was shocked and starting digging. I couldn’t figure out how Colette and I had not seen that before.”
“It was hidden,” I say. “Carter, the director of that silo, had to search for editing flags to even find it.”
“And that’s just it,” Sam says. “Why hide something like that?”
I start to reply but stop. Sam’s nod tells me he’s already been down this path.
“So if you want to make someone disappear,” Sam continues, “a faked death is one way to do it. But the records are still there, so you have to hide those, too.” His face is solemn. “That’s some high-level shit, Jax. And why go to that trouble if the person is really dead?”
Of course.
7: Mia
We arrive at my aunt’s house in the early evening. Colette has been witty and funny despite the fact that we had to limit our topics of conversation. We ate at a burger joint and she made fun of the French fries.
I’m glad to be out of the car for a while. My life has been nothing but long drives and difficult conversations for what seems like ages.
Colette pulls up in front of the porch. Nothing about the house looks any different, but my perspective of it certainly is. Everybody says it’s a safe house for Vigilantes. They can’t all be wrong.
I must be the one who’s wrong.
I realize I don’t have any keys and the front door has all six deadbolts in place. I can’t remember if Jax locked the back door or not. Seems like he would have given me the keys if he’d had them.
“We’ll have to go around back,” I tell Colette.
She walks from the car and smooths her smart beige sweater, making sure the navy stripe along the bottom edge is flat. Do all these Vigilantes dress like models?
She follows me around the house. “I’m guessing Jax stole you and snuck out the back like a common criminal.”
“Something like that,” I murmur, remembering my tattered gown and the red ropes.
The back door is closed but unlocked.
“Let’s take some care going in,” Colette says. “Let me go first.”
She pulls a gadget from her pants pocket. It looks like a Swiss army knife, but when she flips it, something that resembles the barrel of a gun pops out.
Colette eases the door open. I wince when it squeaks on its hinges.
She steps inside, then pauses, listening.
Once we’re in the kitchen, she shakes her sleeve so that it falls back, revealing a watch a lot like the one Jax had before we went to the silo. With one tap, it scans the room with a strange gold light. Certain things turn red. The coil beneath the refrigerator. My radio clock with its digital display. Then a strange lump below the oven.
“What’s that?” I whisper.
“I think you have a mouse,” she says.
I suppress a squeal. “I do not.”
She moves to the door, but I continue to stay by the oven, feeling freaked out. I tap lightly on the side of the stove. A tiny scuffle below makes me want to jump on a chair.
