“Where would they have taken Wes?” I asked.
Lauren shrugged. “Honestly, ever since I got out of being wrapped up with Donovan’s bullshit last year, I stopped keeping tabs on him. Wes isn’t at the BRS headquarters though. I know that for sure. Donovan must be keeping him somewhere else.”
“I only have twelve hours to figure this out, Lauren. I need more to go on.”
Lauren shifted from one foot to the other, chewing on her lip. “This might be a crazy suggestion, but why don’t you just leave? Just get out of town? That would save Wes, right? I mean, couldn’t you go to your parents or something? Temporarily, at least.”
“My parents are dead.”
“Oh.”
I fought to keep my voice level. As it was, our conversation already echoed through the parking garage. “That note doesn’t say anything about Wes being safe if I leave town. Even if it did, I wouldn’t be able to do it in good conscience. These people—your people—are murderers and crooks, and I’ll be damned if I let them get away with it.”
“Okay, okay!” said Lauren, raising her hands in defeat. “Well, if you’re going to take on BRS, then you can’t keep texting me from your phone. They’ll catch on to that real quick.”
“How the hell am I supposed to reach you then?”
She opened the zipper of her black backpack and extracted a cell phone. “I got you a burner phone,” she said, handing it over. “Prepaid. Untraceable. I have one too. My number’s already programmed into that one. Get rid of your personal phone.”
I made a mental note to ditch my smartphone as soon as I got the chance.
“I dug this up too,” continued Lauren, and she produced a slim, charcoal-black laptop. “It’s safe for you to use if you need to research something. I’m the only person at BRS who knows how to hack into a computer like that, so even if they find out that you have it, they won’t be able to break in. And one more thing.” She pulled another item out of the backpack. It was a petite but professional digital 35mm camera. “If you’re going hunting for clues,” began Lauren, “it’ll be easier to record what you find with this. Back up whatever photos you take to the laptop.”
“Thanks,” I said.
Lauren repacked the computer and the camera then handed me the backpack. Earlier that day, when I was still trapped at BRS’s underground clubhouse, Lauren had protested against my involvement in taking down the society. Her change of heart was refreshing. We could make more headway if we were in this together, and the fact that she came to our meeting prepared made me think that there might be the tiniest possibility of winning this battle. After all, Lauren was the ultimate insider, and I had the best motivation there was: revenge.
“What’s the plan?” asked Lauren as I shouldered the backpack.
“Donovan and his buddies got rid of all my evidence,” I said, thinking back on my ruined apartment. “Everything that O’Connor had researched. All the articles, the information on BRS members, faculty and student profiles. It’s all gone. So first things first, if you could locate that stuff, it would be a huge help.”
“Donovan’s probably already burned it all,” muttered Lauren darkly, “but I’ll see what I can do.”
I nodded. “Next thing: do you know what they did with O’Connor’s body?”
The last time I’d seen my history professor was in BRS’s underground clubhouse, his corpse stuffed haphazardly into a giant freezer chest. The image had been burned into my brain, and it wasn’t an experience that I cared to relive, but exposing O’Connor’s murder was a crucial step in crushing the Black Raptor Society. The only problem? Once BRS realized that I knew where O’Connor’s body was, they moved it.
“Donovan was the one who got rid of the body,” said Lauren. “At my aunt’s request.”
I groaned. As if the situation didn’t involve enough deplorable patricians already, I still had to deal with Lauren’s aunt. Catherine Flynn was just as cold and ruthless as her brother, Orson, if not more. It was no wonder the Black Raptor Society had thrived under their conjoined leadership. Were it not for its fearless dictators, the organization might’ve stuck to the traditional hazing rituals like every other Waverly fraternity or sorority. As it was, Catherine Flynn and Orson Lockwood were more or less the Hitler and Mussolini of the Waverly campus.
“You have no idea what they did with it?” I asked. “Did they just move it? Or do you think Donovan has watched one too many Jeffrey Dahmer documentaries?”
Lauren grimaced, wrinkling her nose. “I have no idea.”
“I’m going to need more from you, Lauren.”
“I can look into it,” she promised.
“Great. Now what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“If you want,” began Lauren, “I know a place where BRS business goes to die. You could check it out on your own, you know, just in case they’ve stored O’Connor’s body there. Double our chances of finding the body. Not to mention, it would be a pretty great place to hide a kidnapped cop.”
My heart leapt into my throat at the mention of Wes. I dug the burner phone out of the backpack again and found the note-taking app. “Got an address? And a little more information?”
“It’s an old storage unit in the industrial area of town,” Lauren expanded. “Lockwood Inc. owns a bunch of random properties. Most of them are abandoned. This car park for instance.”
“Your father owns this garage?” Alarmed, I glanced around, half expecting to get jumped by a horde of BRS members.
“Relax, my father hasn’t had plans for this structure in years.”
“Then why did he acquire it?” I grumbled.
“To hide dead bodies under probably.”
“Not even funny, Lauren.”
Lauren took the burner phone from me and began typing on the touchscreen. “This is the address for the storage unit. Be careful. We don’t use it often, so
