‘She involved in the movement?’
‘That’s what got Cody started.’
Perfect. Lock reached into his jacket for his cell and handed it to Don. ‘Start putting the word out. But don’t say anything to anyone about her being dead, just say that something’s happened. That she’s in a bad way. Oh, and get back in the car, we need to keep moving.’
If they were to find Cody Parker, he wasn’t going to do it in convoy.
Lock drove as Don made the calls in the back, Lock insisting it stay on speaker so he could hear both ends. Six calls in, they were getting warmer. A woman at an unofficial ‘animal shelter’ out on Long Island confirmed that Cody was out getting supplies, but that he’d be back.
As primed by Lock, Don told her to warn off Cody from going to his mom’s place. ‘The cops are all over the place.’
‘You found her?’ the woman asked Don.
‘Pretty much.’
‘Then Cody’ll want to speak to you.’
Twenty-nine
On the way, they dropped off Janice at a neat suburban house in Dix Hills, owned by a woman whose daughter had also suffered from MS and who had met Janice in a support group for families affected by the condition. The woman took one look at Lock and hustled Janice into her home, slamming the door without a backward glance.
Lock called back in to Meditech and got Brand, who informed him with delight that Ty was being held by the Feds, and that both Van Stratens were far from happy bunnies. Lock thanked him for the update. None of it mattered: they were getting closer to Josh. Lock could feel it.
On the way to the shelter, Don filled Lock in on Cody’s background. Run by volunteers, and used to house animals ‘liberated’ by the movement, there were shelters dotted around the country. A kind of Underground Railroad for quadrupeds, Lock thought. When animals were taken, they were still technically the property of the company that had been using them for experiments, so the shelters where they were kept tended to stay off the radar. Only the most trusted of activists knew their location, which made Lock wonder just where Don Stokes fell on the spectrum of extremism.
The shelter they were about to visit was run by a woman with whom Cody had an on-off relationship.
A chorus of barking from the back of the house greeted their arrival. Lock checked his Sig. When he saw the gun, Don’s attitude shifted.
‘No guns,’ he said.
‘What?’
‘It’s one of the rules.’
‘One of the rules for you whackjobs maybe. I’ve got my own rules. And right around number six is, when confronting a wanted felon, carry a gun.’
‘You’re not gonna turn him in, are you?’
‘That all depends.’
‘On what?’
‘If he has Josh Hulme,’ Lock said, failing to add that if Cody did have him, he’d be turning him in as a corpse.
‘He doesn’t. You have to believe me.’
‘Let’s go see, then.’
In truth, Lock had no intention of handing Cody Parker to the authorities. Not yet, anyway. If Cody was arrested, Lock knew the first thing he’d do would be to lawyer up and take the Fifth.
The house had been painted white but had faded to yellow, and the front yard was overgrown. Don led the way round the side. Lock followed a few steps behind. They were greeted by a pack of dogs who bounded up to them, a blur of wagging tails and lolling tongues. A boisterous yellow Labrador Retriever, shaped like a bowling ball and carrying about the same momentum, shoved its nose into Lock’s crotch. The top of the dog’s head showed a rectangular scar pattern where its skin had been peeled away. Lock wondered if it was the poster dog for the Meditech protests. He scratched behind its ears and it nuzzled in even closer to him.
‘That’s Angel. She was pulled out of a lab in Austin.’
They turned the corner to find Cody Parker, lugging an industrial-size bag of puppy chow. He stared at Lock for a second before turning to Don, but made no move. Nor did he seem to register any grief. Maybe the woman Don had spoken to hadn’t yet broken the bad news.
‘They got her, huh?’ he said to Don.
Uh-oh, thought Lock, here we go. All aboard the paranoid express.
Cody threw down the sack of chow. ‘Who’s this?’
‘Ryan Lock.’
Cody was a big guy with a hooker-blonde ponytail that snaked halfway down his back. Six four and two hundred and ten pounds, none of it fat.
‘I remember now. Meditech. Come to kill me too?’ Cody asked, shifting another bag.
‘You don’t really believe that?’ Lock said, caught flat-footed by the question.
‘That my mother was murdered or that you’re here to kill me?’ Cody stood, feet apart, arms by his side, way too relaxed to believe the second part. ‘If it’s the latter, I don’t see why you’d have brought a witness.’
‘OK, so why would someone have wanted to murder your mom?’
‘Because they think I’ve got something.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I said they think I have, not that I do.’
‘One of the places Cody was staying got robbed a few weeks back,’ Don said, filling in.
Lock thought back to the apartment in the Bronx. How low did a burglar’s ambitions have to be to target a shithole like that, never mind kill an old lady?
‘What’d they take?’
‘Papers mostly.’
‘What was in them?’
‘Details of places they torture animals.’
‘You mean laboratories?’
‘Among other places.’
‘But Meditech are discontinuing their animal testing.’
‘That’s what they all say.’
‘Listen, I’m here to find Josh Hulme.’
‘He thinks you took him,’ added Don.
Cody didn’t blink. ‘And why would I want to do that?’
‘Because you’re capable of it,’ Lock interjected.
‘Everyone’s capable of some serious shit if they’re pushed hard enough.’
‘So would you mind if I had a look around?’
‘Go right ahead.’
Lock crossed to the screen door at the back of the house. Cody, Don and the Labrador followed him inside. He tried to shoo the dog away but it plodded on after him.
‘Must be more messed up in the head than we thought,’ Cody mused, with a nod to the dog.
Lock scratched at her scar as she rubbed against his legs. If Cody had Josh here, he was remarkably calm.
‘You know a girl called Natalya Verovsky?’
‘Know the name, sure. Same as I know the name of Richard Hulme. And his son. Been all over the news.’
