Flash Point (20 page)

Don't get too comfortable, Grey.

She lifted her eyes back to meet Paul Neary's. ‘Mr Neary, some dangerous criminals are using your library account records as part of some sort of sick scavenger hunt to find them before they hurt anyone else. We got into your account but weren't sure what to take from it. But if you haven't checked out any books with your library card in two years, I think that just changed.'

Jenna, Porter, Dodd, Grey, Paul Neary, and Hattie all huddled around a printout showing all the books he'd checked out from the Suellen B. Holloway Memorial Library since his tenure at the elementary school had begun. The list wasn't long.

But after the tedious journey through the letter's riddles, the short list of books on Paul Neary's library account was refreshing, because it looked like figuring out the next move might be short work after all. It turned out that three books had been checked out since Paul had last picked out a title himself. And all three had been taken out in the past week.

Even stranger, all three had already been checked back in.

Jenna waved away the suggestions flying in her direction, the talk of surveillance footage, interviewing everyone in the building, dissecting the school's visitor logs. They'd get to all of those, but anyone who could convince a team of fourteen people to walk into a bank in broad daylight and use blades to slaughter every man, woman, and child that happened to be in there could figure out how to get three library books checked out of this place without it being traced to him. In fact, if one of those leads led them straight to the killers' leader before this code manifested something that did, Jenna would bet all the duct tape she owned it would be a trap. A killer like this didn't want to be found. A killer like this didn't want to be caught.

Red anger flashed in. And if he
did
, he was too much like Isaac Keaton for her to give him the satisfaction without finding a way to turn the trap back on to
him
first.

‘Other departments are working on those things, which are all very important. But right now, Saleda's orders are to crack this code, so that's what we're going to do. They gave us everything we needed to bring us to this library and this specific library
card
—'

‘And then some,' Porter cut in.

‘—so it stands to reason that along the way, they've given us the knowledge of how to move on from here, too—' Jenna stopped abruptly and looked at Porter. ‘What did you say?'

Porter bowed his head, bent the bill of his cap. ‘I know, I know, I should shut up and concentra—'

‘No, no! Whatever you just said, say it again,' Jenna said, turning her back and walking two short steps away from the group, closing her eyes.

‘You said that the group's letter had given us everything we needed to get to this library, and I said, “And then some,”' Porter said, confusion seeping through his usually arrogant tone.

Jenna ignored him, paying attention only to holding the color in her mind that had flashed as he'd repeated his thought. Light taupe, the same color as those ugly bridesmaids' dresses her college roommate had bought off the half-priced rack from the prior season. Leftovers.

‘Oh, boy, kids,' Dodd said in a tone he usually reserved for only children and those he deemed incredibly stupid, ‘you're in for a special treat today! Usually visitors only get to watch the Peacock of Many Colors strut in her natural habitat. But
you
fine people, well … you might just be about to catch a glimpse of the Color Wonder splaying her tail!'

Jenna ignored him, turned back around.

‘
The Importance of Being Earnest
crack we used yielded eighteen numbers – fourteen for the library card, the other four for the PIN. But remember how when we used the crack on the full list of literary reference numbers Grey took out of the McKenzie McClendon letter …'

As her voice trailed, she fished in her pocket and found the scrap where she'd written the numbers and systematically marked them. She unwrinkled it as best she could and laid it on the counter:

51

5
-
3000

95

14
7

7
-
2
5
21

1

0
-
0
009

274

2
14

3

4-8818

4

11

169

207

‘See? The crack's last direction took the 2 in 214, but then nothing else. It didn't work to repeat it; the numbers didn't work out evenly that way, either. So, we just took the fourteen numbers and figured the rest were for something later,' Jenna said, gesturing at the seventeen leftover numbers.

Porter slid the scrap across the counter so it was next to the printout of Coach Paul's limited book history. After only a moment of silence, he jabbed the printout with his finger. ‘This book. It's library number or sorting number or whatever—'

‘Call number,' Hattie filled in.

‘It matches the first seven of the seventeen leftover numbers. 143.4881!'

Canary yellow relevance flashed in. ‘What are we waiting for? We need that book!'

‘Well, here it is:
Bergson and Education
by Olive A. Wheeler,' Hattie said as she returned from the row of shelves she'd disappeared down. She laid the dusty volume on the counter. ‘The copy looks old, but the actual book's older. The original version was published all the way back in 1922.'

Jenna couldn't take her eyes off the old man staring back at her from the cover of the 2012 reprint edition of the book in front of her. They'd taken monikers from classic literature, left clues from various renowned books and plays, their cemented places on required reading lists proof they'd stood the test of time. Oxford blue flashed in. Obscure.

This book, however, represented a rather large diversion from the other references they'd run into on this orchestrated quest. Sure, it was a book, and in a way, it fit the elitist mold. But not for its acclaim or because of celebrated recognition of its contribution to a genre. Rather, at a glance, it could fit into a group of books that might've been chosen by the elitists in question only because the everyday library-goer would walk right past it. Or, at best, glance at it, assume based on its cover and existence in the philosophy section that it was boring, and put it back.

No, this book didn't fit with the other works of art the terrorists had used in their puzzle so far. Brown the shade of a coconut husk flashed in. This choice was included out of necessity.

‘This book somehow holds the next step,' Jenna muttered mostly to herself. ‘But what?'

‘We still have ten unused digits from the seventeen leftover code numbers,' Porter said. ‘Maybe those could lead to a chapter number, then page, then—'

‘Line number, word number? I know we're grasping at straws, but the letter at least gave us a guide to make the jump to the page numbers. You might be right,' Dodd said, ‘but the reality is we've still got ten digits here and nothing to tell us how to use them in conjunction with this lovely volume on … what
is
it about, anyway?'

Jenna turned toward Grey without thinking as Dodd shifted his gaze toward where their amateur literature expert was now leaning with her back against the desk, holding the hardback copy of
Bergson and Education
flat on her right palm and using her left hand to turn pages.

Grey didn't acknowledge she'd been spoken to at first, but the series of blinks that came in soft, quick flicks told Jenna she was aware she had been addressed.

Grey gently licked the tip of her pointer finger and touched it to a page corner, turned it over.

‘Please, it would be better if you didn't—'

Jenna touched Hattie's arm beside her, caught her gaze, and shook her head sternly.

Hattie seemed to fight the urge to argue, but finally, she simply looked down and muttered something about germs as Jenna turned back to Grey. ‘Any good?'

As usual, Grey answered any question but the one asked.

‘It was put between the covers in 1922, so she might not have gotten to read it. Sad,' Grey said, as if contributing to a line of conversation. Whether she was oblivious to the fact it was one she was having in her own head or just didn't care that they were in the dark was anyone's guess, though her tone was light and thoughtful. She cocked her head, looked up as if thinking. ‘Well, then again, I suppose she could've still been alive. The question would be whether or not she'd have heard of it before it was too late or even been interested.'

‘Grey, you're talking about the author of this book, right? What book is it you think she wouldn't have been able to read, and what does it have to do with this one?' Jenna asked, sure to keep her words slow and polite.

Grey looked up from the book and slowly turned her head to face Jenna in an owl-like motion. ‘Education reform. This book is about an evolution philosophy and education reform that would teach it.'

‘Are you kidding me with this?' Porter mumbled behind Jenna.

Jenna ignored him, mustering patience and focus to extract from Grey whatever it was she had put together. Her response may not have answered the question
Jenna
had asked, but the fact that her ex-patient
had
answered Dodd's question bolstered her resolve.

‘OK, and what book are you wondering if the author of this education reform book ever got to read? Why would it have mattered to her?'

Grey shrugged. ‘It might not have. Some people can't stand it, so I suppose she could've gone either way.'

Focus. Eye on the prize.

‘So if it might not have mattered to the author, why wonder if she'd read it?' Jenna asked, choosing the phrase very carefully so that if she actually addressed it, Grey would be all but forced to reveal something about why she had drawn a connection between the two in her mind.

‘Because it's the next piece of the hunt, obviously, and it was on my mind.'

Well, then. That clears
that
up.

‘What is the next piece of the hunt, Grey? Please,' Jenna said, the last word slipping out in a tone of desperation. For all they knew, the bank killers were putting on their masks again, moving to strike some target she had a chance to stop.

‘Your masked men. One of them is Scout, right? From
To Kill a Mockingbird
?' Grey said.

‘Yes,' Jenna said slowly, begging her own wit to be quick enough to foresee any answers or word choices that might bog Grey down.

‘Well, the leftover numbers were this book's Dewey Decimal number. Kinda funny book to have in an elementary school, but I guess maybe the high school kids might need it …' She paused. Shrugged. ‘But elementary school and Scout sitting somewhere back in one of my brain containers that opened up reminded me of a joke. Most people don't even get it, but it's a good one if you don't miss it.'

So much for not getting bogged down on any tangents.

‘A joke?' Porter said in disbelief.

Not now, Porter!

But this time, Grey didn't seem bothered. In fact, she nodded fast. ‘Yeah. Chapter two. “
I'm just trying to tell you the new way they're teachin' the first grade, stubborn. It's the Dewey Decimal System
.”'

‘What?' Porter said, his voice a mix of confusion and distaste.

‘That's something Jem says to Scout,' Grey said. She let out a little laugh. ‘He was trying to sound smart, saying Miss Caroline was annoyed at Scout already knowing how to read and used flashcards to dumb-down her teaching material was just because the teacher was trying out a new technique.'

‘How is that a joke?' Porter asked, no longer annoyed but interested, albeit confused.

‘Because it was Harper Lee sneaking in a little rubber egg—'

‘Easter egg,' Jenna translated.

‘—for her readers.' Grey chuckled again as if she knew Harper Lee herself and thought she was just the bee's knees. ‘Jem was trying to sound smart, because by blaming Miss Caroline's methods on John Dewey, a big talker about educational reform at the time, it made it look like he understood everything they'd heard the grown people discussing about the way schools were changing and might change more.'

Jenna nodded, finally seeing it. ‘But the joke was on him, because John Dewey didn't invent the Dewey Decimal System.'

‘And it had nothing to do with education reform,' Porter filled in.

‘Nope. But because Jem thought it did, I'd say the next place to look would be in
To Kill a Mockingbird
,'
Grey said, turning back to the Bergson book and reading intently as though she'd picked up something light for vacation.

Jenna shrugged and turned to Hattie. ‘
To Kill a Mockingbird.
'

The blonde nodded, already moving. ‘Follow me. I know right where it is.'

When it turned out that the only copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
that wasn't checked out wasn't on the shelf where it was supposed to be, it was actually Hattie Zimmerman's idea to check the shelf that housed the book assigned to a call number matching the only remaining digits they had yet to use from the leftover code-crack numbers.

‘They used the call number to lead you to the Bergson Book,' she said sheepishly as she led them through a side area strewn with squishy beanbag chairs, then through a set of doors leading into a section of the library where the kid-friendly shapes and colors gave way to taller shelves piled with thicker books.

‘I wouldn't have realized it was an option. The Bergson book's call number only had seven digits. We still have ten numbers leftover, so the thought would've never crossed my mind,' Jenna said.