One of Us Is Next(80)
“Okay, so that’s D’Agostino,” I say. “What does it say about Jackson?” Both our eyes race over the page, but mine are faster. I almost gasp when I see it. “Ironically, one of the at-risk youths receiving peer mentoring was Ray Jackson’s younger brother Jared, 19, on probation last year for petty theft,” I read. “Program officials said Jared Jackson excelled in the program and now works part-time for a local construction company.” I turn toward Knox. “Is there a picture of Ray Jackson anywhere?”
“Yeah, not in this article, but…” Knox pulls up another news story with thumbnail photos of each of the accused officers. He clicks on the one marked Ray Jackson, then enlarges it until it fills half the screen. At that size, even though it’s a little blurry, there’s no mistaking the similarity around the mouth and eyes between Ray Jackson and the guy we trailed to and from Callahan Park.
“Intense Guy is Jared Jackson,” I breathe. “Ray Jackson’s brother. He must be. The age is right, and the face is right. They’re definitely related.”
“Yeah,” Knox says. “And the note he left for Phoebe is identical to the ones we’ve been getting at Until Proven, so…Jared Jackson must also be the person who’s been sending threats to Eli.” His brow furrows. “Which makes a twisted kind of sense, I guess, since Eli put his brother in jail. But what’s his problem with Phoebe?”
“I don’t know, but we’d better tell Eli,” I say. Knox reaches for his phone, but I’ve already pressed Eli’s number on mine. Within seconds his voice fills my ear: This is Eli Kleinfelter. I’m not checking voice mail until Monday, March thirtieth. If you need immediate assistance with a legal matter, please call Sandeep Ghai of Until Proven at 555-239-4758. Otherwise, leave a message. “Straight to voice mail,” I tell Knox.
“Oh right,” Knox says. “He promised Ashton he’d shut his phone off all weekend. So they could get married in peace.”
Unease nips at my stomach. “Guess we’ll have to tell him in person, then. It’s almost time to leave for the party, anyway.”
“Hang on.” Knox’s fingers move across his laptop’s trackpad. “I just plugged Jared Jackson into Google and there’s a lot here.” His eyes flick up and down the screen. “So, yeah, he was arrested for stealing from a convenience store right after he graduated high school. Got probation, did that mentoring program, started working for a construction company.” Something tugs at my subconscious then, but Knox is still talking and the fragment disappears. “He doesn’t seem to have had any run-ins with the law since. But there’s a bunch of stuff here on the fallout from his brother’s arrest…”
He goes silent for a minute as he reads. “It doesn’t mention their dad by name but I’ll bet that’s David Jackson. He has lung cancer, and they lost their house after Jared’s brother went to jail. So, that sucks, obviously. Understatement. And their mom…oh shit.” Knox sucks in a sharp breath, raising troubled eyes toward me. “The mom killed herself on Christmas Eve. Well, they think it was suicide. She overdosed on sleeping pills, but she didn’t leave a note.”
“Oh no.” My heart drops as I stare at the Jacksons’ house, dark except for the yellowish glow of a lamp silhouetted in a first-floor window. Everything about the house looks forlorn, from the crooked lampshade to the lopsided blinds. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah, it is.” Knox follows my gaze. “Okay, now I feel bad for Jared. He’s had a shit time. Maybe this is all just some twisted way of blowing off steam.”
“Maybe,” I say, and then I jump as the lamp in the Jacksons’ window suddenly goes off, plunging the house into darkness. The door opens, and a shadowy figure emerges. Knox pushes his laptop to one side and fumbles with the zipper on his backpack, rooting around in it until he pulls out his binoculars. “Seriously?” I ask as he brings them to his eyes. We’re the only ones in the coffee shop except the barista, who’s been ignoring us since we got our drinks, but still. This is not exactly a stealthy way to keep tabs on your nemesis. “You brought those?”
“Of course I did. They have night vision mode.” Knox adjusts the outer lenses and leans forward, peering through the window as the figure steps onto a section of the driveway illuminated by a nearby streetlight. “It’s Jared.”
“I could tell that without binoculars.”
“He has a backpack and he’s getting into the car.”
“Knox, I can see him perfectly fine—”
A PingMe alert flashes across my screen. The website you are monitoring has been updated. I minimize the document from Mrs. Myers’s computer and navigate to the Vengeance Is Mine forum.
Tick-tock, time’s up. Guess I’ll just fucking do it myself.—Darkestmind.
My blood chills. I don’t know what the words mean, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they can’t be good. I slam my laptop closed and stuff it into my bag. “Come on, we need to follow him,” I say. “He’s up to something.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Knox
Friday, March 27
Maeve shoved her bag at me before she got behind the wheel, and now I’m holding too much crap to put my seat belt on as she tears out of Jared Jackson’s street. I drop my backpack by my feet but keep hold of Maeve’s bag. “You need anything in here?” I ask.