Her tongue stud ran along her lip again. “They call it Devil’s Backbone, say it’s in ‘bullet country,’ past the gorge, and you can’t even take one of their vans back there. Accessible by bike only.”
Ryder spun to Parker, his eyes wide and imploring, asking if that was enough to find a location somewhere in Iowa. If anybody could do it, Parker could, but Seven was right. That wasn’t a lot to go on.Folklore and local vernacular.
“See, how do you even build a compound when you can’t get a truck back there much less, I don’t know, a bulldozer or something?”
“That doesn’t matter.” Parker typed. “They could easily close off a passageway after the fact.”
“Well…” she mumbled.
“Not critiquing, just saying,” he followed up.
“Like I said, I don’t know anyone who’ll admit to being there.”
The speakers cracked and squawked. White noise garbled into the conference room. “Trying again—for fuck’s sake.” The speakers squealed, but the room held its breath as Winters’s voice bled into the static.
One person accounted for. Everyone waited for more. Parker grabbed the speakerphone set, looping in the comm system for everyone to hear. “Winters, we read you. What’s your status? Over.”
“Everyone is safe and accounted for, minus one comm system.” Winters laughed, and the room cheered.
“About damn time for good news,” Brock said.
Sugar gripped the sides of her chair, muttered what looked to be a prayer. Then she stood and clapped, joining in with the rest of the raucous happiness.
“We read you,” Parker said. “Glad to have you back online.”
“For the most part, I’ve got this shit kinda working.”
The room calmed, and a huge weight lifted off of Ryder’s shoulders.
Static and white noise returned, squawking into the speaker again. “—Headed to—civilization—cell phones—”
Brock ran his hands flat back and forth over the table in front of him. “Suffice it to say, when they get somewhere where they can pick up a phone, they’ll call in.” He pressed his hands together and turned his head toward Ryder. “We’ll get the details when we debrief, but it seems as though Victoria and Mayhem might’ve saved their asses by a hair.”
“Was close enough, with enough reverb or interference to burn out their comms,” Parker said in agreement.
“Now we’re calling them good guys?” Javier stood up, pushing away from the table as though somehow angrier than before. “I’m gonna hit the head. Be back.”
As Javier stormed out, Ryder tried to make heads and tails of that, the complicated situation with Mayhem, and Sugar’s questions about Jax.
“I’ve got something,” Parker said.
On the flat screen, a dated architecture drawing labeled “Schoolhouse” replaced the cooled heat map.
“You think Mayhem overtook some old classrooms,” Colin snickered. “Someone would probably notice if they had Victoria trapped in kindergarten.”
“Take a closer look, jackass,” Parker said.
The screen zoomed in on what looked like the row of classrooms. They were adjacent to a larger section with other large rooms off the other side. “Use your brains, and tell me what’s not right.”
“The square footage,” Trace muttered and then leaned back in his chair as the rest of the room leaned forward.
“Ding, ding, we have a winner,” Parker said.
Each room that was set up in a style that looked like a classroom if you assumed the drawing labeled as a school was correct, except it was only about the size of a bedroom.
“Devil’s Backbone,” Seven whispered as if in awe of the mythical folklore that had been found. “Holy shit.”
The speakers crackled and cleared, then Winters sounded, clearing his throat, “Let’s try this: testing, testing, one, two.”