Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [55]
“Has anyone seen Beth?” she asked.
“No.”
“Not since before lunch.”
“She wasn’t in class. . . .”
“Maybe she’s in the infirmary,” someone suggested.
Genna, having just come from there, knew that only one bed in the infirmary had been occupied.
“Maybe she’s been cleansed,” someone else said softly. “Maybe the reverend chose her for a mission. . . .”
The room grew silent, as everyone wondered just what kind of mission young Bethany had been sent on.
Do they suspect? Genna studied the solemn faces of the girls who gathered around Bethany’s bed. Do some of them know what fate awaited Beth? What fate awaits them all?
A sense of urgency spread through her. How could she possibly wait another week before riding through the front gates with Julianne Douglas?
How long would it take her to file the reports that would bring the Reverend Prescott to his knees? To put his shameful network out of business forever? How would they locate the girls who had already been “cleansed” and sent on their way? And once rescued, how badly damaged would those tortured girls be?
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
Burton Connolly tucked the brown bag stuffed with snacks under his arm and pushed open the double doors that led from the food court of the turnpike rest stop to the parking lot, vowing that when this was over, he’d never eat fast food again. The selections here had been limited to burgers or chicken, and today he’d fancied neither. What he really wanted was a big steak, but that would require him to get off the turnpike and search for a restaurant in the Harrisburg area, and he just didn’t have that kind of time today. He figured it would be at least another hour before he arrived at the motel where Archer Lowell was holed up, waiting for him.
Burt climbed into the cab of his new Ford pickup and dropped the bag onto the seat next to him. Before leaving the parking lot, he reached into the bag and pulled out a Snickers bar, unwrapping it as he drove onto the roadway. Traffic was light at this time on a Sunday morning, so he expected to make pretty good time. He took a bite of the candy and turned on the radio.
He sighed deeply, wondering just what to do about Archer Lowell.
Burt had been on his way out of High Meadow to his first taste of freedom in sixteen years when he’d run into his old buddy, Vince Giordano, who was on his way back in for a lifetime stay. They’d had a casual reunion of sorts, and Burt had been ready to leave when Vince called him back and asked him for a favor.
Since the favor would, in the end, benefit Burt far more than it would benefit Vince, Burt had said sure. Of course, at first, Burt had no intention of making good on his promise. After all, Vince, facing several murder charges, would never see the outside of the prison walls in this lifetime, and he would have no way of knowing whether Burt had kept his word or not. Now Burt was driving this fine new pickup, and living in a classy condo, and he had Vince to thank for it all.
All Burt had to do, Vince had explained, was to make sure that Lowell carried out a promise of his own.
“There’s someone who has a job to do for me out there,” Vince had whispered. “I just want you to make sure he does it.”
“That’s all I have to do? Make sure someone does a job for you?” Burt, too, had lowered his voice.
“That’s all,” Vince had said with a nod.
In return, Vince had told Burt where he’d find a metal box filled with cash.
“It’s all for you, Burt-man. No one else knows it’s out there. You just gotta keep this guy honest. Make sure he does what he’s supposed to do . . .”
And Vince had proceeded to fill Burt in on the pact he’d made with Channing and Lowell.
Before Burt had left the intake room, Vince had whispered, “And if you come back with proof that the job’s been done, I’ll tell you where to find the other half of the money.”
Of course, Burt had agreed. And of course, the first thing Burt had done when he left High Meadow was to track down that secret stash of Vince’s, and damn if it wasn’t there, just like