Page 18 of At Midnight Comes the Cry

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. “Kevin left this with me, could you get it back to him? Or to his parents, or whatever. Thanks.” She pressed a book into Hadley’s hands and disappeared around the other side of the reception desk.

“Sure,” Hadley said to the empty air. The elevator dinged.

The chief held the door for her. Evidently, once you’d been letonto the upper floors, you could navigate at will. He jabbed theLOBBYbutton. “I’m going to have to talk with the town’s lawyer about this California idea. No, nope, sorry, I need to talk to Lyle about talking to the lawyer.”

Hadley was looking at the book. No dust jacket. She checked out the spine. “Wow. I did not picture Flynn reading a Nicholas Sparks novel.” She flipped it open. On the title page, in a bold black swirl of Sharpie, someone had writtenI HAVE INFORMATION. MEET ME AT 6 AT APPLEBEES IN RENSSELAER.

8.

“This is idiotic,” Russ said under his breath. “Playing spy versus spy in a strip mall.”

Knox frowned at him across the faux-grained tabletop. “We’re here, so stop complaining. I admit, this is more like something Hudson would come up with. But look at her. She’s, like, sixteen. Maybe she thinks it’s exciting.”

“It’s an Applebee’s. This is where exciting goes to die.” He looked around the dining room. Despite the photos and pennants from local colleges and the seasonal twinkle lights festooned everywhere, the restaurant had the feel of a cafeteria at 3A.M. A pair of women slumped in their booth, surrounded by carrier bags, and one guy at the bar was working on his beer while ignoring a hockey game on the big-screen TV. “The overdramatic note could at least have directed us to a place with decent food.”

“I think that’s the point. Would you expect to see anyone from the AG’s office here?”

“That’s a strong no.”

The waitress stopped by with two menus the size of Russ’s cot in basic training. He asked for a Coke and some water; Knox ordered a hot chocolate. As their server left, he spotted Zhào entering. She crossed to their booth, and Knox slid aside to let her in.

“Hi. Thank you so much for meeting me.”

Russ opened his mouth to tell the kid what he thought of her cloak-and-dagger game, but Knox cut him off.

“Thanks for asking to meet with us. Look, as you can see, we’ve been worried about Flynn. But why are we doing all this”—she waggled the romance book with the not-so-coded message—“super-secret stuff? Why couldn’t you just speak to us in your office?”

“Because I don’t know who there might be in on canceling the investigation.”

Russ could feel his eyebrows climbing. “You think there was a conspiracy to squash the investigation? Into white supremacists?”

“Of course there was. You don’t really think everyone working on the project was reassigned because of funding, do you?”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact, that seems entirely likely to me. Resources get reallocated all the time, especially at the state level. A major corruption case breaks and suddenly guys playing patriot games in the woods just aren’t that important.”

Knox shot him a look before turning to the baby lawyer. “What we’d really like to know, Joy—”

“It’s Yíxin.”

“Sorry?”

“My name. It’s Yíxin. Joy is the white name I use in the office because most of my colleagues ‘can’t pronounce’ Chinese.” She air-quoted “can’t pronounce.” “It’s okay, you can use it, too. I just wanted you to hear, you know, my real name.”

“Yíxin,” Knox said carefully.

“Not bad.”

“Where is Kevin Flynn?”

“He’s undercover with a group of militia types upstate. Way upstate. In the Adirondack Park.”

Russ’s wash of relief almost canceled out his urge to strangle both Kevin and his sidekick.

“Is he okay?”

“Yes. I mean, I think so. I haven’t heard from him lately.”

Knox pulled her phone from her back pocket. “You can reach him?”