Apparently the something was the closing of the door. Seconds after it clicked shut, a section of the far wall swung out to reveal an entirely different variety of merchandise. I’d been to the police supply shop with Marcus a few times, but this place was that times a dozen—an absolute bonanza of tactical equipment and electronics and protective gear and clothing and all sorts of other stuff that I had a feeling was illegal to sell without all sorts of licenses and background checks, which pretty much explained the whole secret door thing.
I quietly browsed and touched things I wasn’t supposed to touch, while the other three went on their secret agent shopping spree. When they finally finished, I did my best not to openly goggle at the amount of cash Naomi handed over, then I helped carry the bags—marked “horse feed”—out to the car and into the trunk. Philip quietly informed me that we’d transfer the purchases into our suitcase and duffels only after we’d been on the road at least an hour and were certain of privacy. I gave a sober nod of understanding, as if I did this only-in-the-movies shit all the time. Hell, zombies were real, so why not secret black market stores?
After we finished loading the car, the boys took the front again, and we continued on our way. Naomi reached into her purse and pulled out four new phones that were a lot nicer than my old one. “I’ve already loaded our numbers into each phone in the contacts,” she said as she handed them out. “No calls to anyone besides the four of us unless it’s an emergency.” I expected a Significant Look from her, but she was nice and kept it to herself.
I waited until we were back on the interstate before asking the question that had been nagging me since we left the very odd store.
“Do we have a plan?” I asked. “Or are we going to go knock on Saberton’s door and say, ‘Yo, dude, you got my homie?’”
“Saberton Tower would be a hard nut to crack,” Kyle remarked.
“We can check out some things when we get there,” Naomi said as she fiddled with the charger for the computer tablet she’d bought at the secret store. “It’s Thursday, and the weekend would be best for getting in there if we decide that’s the way to go. Would be tough on a weekday with so many people around.”
“What kind of things will we check out?” I asked.
“Kyle will see if he can pick up any info or chatter on their security channels,” she said. “No point in hitting the building if nothing we want is there. Philip will look for any chinks in their system that might allow us to slip in, and I’ll make some calls and see if I can track down Andrew’s and my mother’s schedules.”
I waited a few seconds before speaking in case she had more to say. “What do you need me to do?”
“There’s nothing you need to do initially,” she said with a light shrug. “Not until we have some information and a direction.”
In other words, I can make the coffee, I thought with a mental sigh. “What’s the deal with your mom’s and brother’s schedules? How will that help?”
“Don’t know yet, but it sure can’t hurt to know where they are, at least in general,” she replied, eyes on the screen in her lap. “Getting into one or both of their homes might be useful too.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” I racked my brain for some way I could help and came up with nothing. Hey, making coffee is important, dammit. “Do you think Andrew’s involved in all this?” I asked. “I guess if he’s second in command, he must be.”
Naomi grimaced. “I know he was involved with the zombie research before,” she replied. “I saw him on those videos, right there with my mother. I wish I could say he wasn’t, but . . . yeah, he probably is.” She swallowed and looked out the window. “He sure is stupid for being so smart.”
“I’ll smack him and tell him so when I meet him,” I said, trying to get a chuckle or smile from her and failing.
“I’m not going to see him, am I?” she said quietly, still looking out the window.
“You’ll see him,” I told her firmly. “He won’t see you, but that was his own stupid choice.”
“I hate him,” she said, voice catching, and it was obvious she didn’t mean it.
I gave her a light punch in the arm. “Yeah, I’ll definitely smack him for being such a poopoohead.”
“We’re never going to talk again,” she said, voice growing less steady. “Even after he gets smacked.”
The whole thing was really hitting her hard. Now that we were heading into his turf, her loss grew more and more real. Her ties to her family were cut and gone, and the grief was beginning to set in. She was almost certainly right—she would never again speak with her brother. And I had no idea what to say to make it better.
But sometimes nothing needed to be said. I hit the release button on my seat belt, scooched over, and wrapped her up in a big, obnoxious, smushy hug. A laugh hiccupped out of her, and then it turned into a total bawling sobfest. I knew all about crying and emotional release and shit like that, and I ke
pt on holding her and generally being there for her.
I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder. Philip, silently handing a packet of tissues back to me. I took them with a grateful smile, then returned to the holding and soothing noises thing.
Naomi finally sniffled and lifted her head. I had a tissue ready for her, which she noisily blew her nose into.
“Thanks.” She took another tissue and wiped at her eyes. “Before, I could pretend I was off on a job, that’s all. But now I’m going to where he is . . .” Her voice caught again, and she snatched at another tissue.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I know you’ll get through this. We all have your back, and you’re a total pro.”
She blew her nose again. “Sure, I’ll get through it. Andrew got through it.”
“And you’re a lot tougher,” I stated firmly.