He looked for security cameras, but didn't see any. Security couldn't be that great in a place that let an abandoned car sit this long, he thought.
Seth balled up his fist, closed his eyes, and punched through the driver-side window, slashing open all of his fingers. He reached his bloody hand into the car and pulled up the knob for the door lock.
Seth opened the door and grabbed the printout with his non-bleeding hand. He squinted. It had been printed in June, almost three months ago, the same day as the riot. The car had been sitting here since then.
Jenny was definitely in trouble.
He hurried along, still trying to find his car. Splinters of glass dripped from his injured hand as the sinew and skin regrew, pushing out the foreign objects. By the time he found his car, the hand was completely healed, though still slick with blood.
Seth drove as fast as he dared through the city. The secure phone that Hale had issued him was back at his apartment, and he would need to call them with this new information so they would know they were looking at a kidnapping. Maybe they could use forensics and find some clues in Jenny's car.
Seth's apartment was actually a rented condo in a French Quarter building, near the waterfront. The building was brick, four stories high, and had begun its life as a dock warehouse in the 1920s. Seth's father had wanted him to live in a dorm his freshman year, but Seth insisted on an apartment. He still clung to the idea that Jenny would one day come and live with him, so he needed a place for the two of them. If he'd moved into a dorm, that would have meant he'd given up hope.
Seth parked in the building's underground garage, then took the elevator up to his floor, pacing back and forth the whole trip. The elevator opened on a hallway that he shared with the floor's other tenant. Seth hurried to his apartment door.
The place had vaulted ceilings and sculpted masonry, with the occasional wall left bare brick for character. His mother had taken the initiative in furnishing and decorating his apartment, before his parents went back to their usual extended retreat in Florida.
Seth found the Hale phone in his bedroom and left a voicemail for Jerome Breisgau, explaining that he'd found Jenny's car. He hoped his voice wasn't too slurred to make any sense.
He sat on a wingback chair in front of a huge window overlooking the harbor, drumming his fingers, half-hoping the man would call him back right away, though it was only about five in the morning. He closed his eyes and waited.
A buzzing sound startled him awake a few hours later, and he raised a hand to block the searing sunrise over the harbor. The buzz sounded again. The front gate.
Seth turned on his television and flipped it to the channel that showed the feed from the security cameras at every entrance. The person buzzing him was a woman in a car, trying to get into the parking garage. Seth recognized her right away, and he suddenly felt very cold. She was the CDC doctor who'd done so much to turn his life, and Jenny's, into sheer hell.
He walked to the security unit by the door, which also had a small video screen. He pressed the intercom button. “Who's there?”
“Seth?” Dr. Reynard asked. “Seth Barrett?”
“Your name is Seth Barrett?” Seth asked.
“No. Sorry. It's been a long drive. I'm Dr. Heather Reynard with the CDC. Can you buzz me? We need to talk.”
“Oh, I remember you,” Seth said. “I'm not supposed to talk to you without a lawyer.”
“I just need to talk for one minute,” Dr. Reynard said. “Just let me in. Please? It's really important.”
“Why don't you just have your friends bash down my door?”
“I'm not here on official business. And I didn't agree with how they handled the search of your house.”
“I don't remember you complaining when they were slamming me into the floor. What do you want?”
“It's personal, Seth. Not official.”
“Personally, I think you can go fuck off,” Seth said. “Officially, too.”
“Seth, I need your help!” She looked like she was about to cry, but it could have been an act. “I know you can heal people. That's why you can be with Jenny, isn't it? She spreads disease, you heal.”
How the hell does she know? Seth wondered. He said, “You're crazy.”
“My daughter has leukemia, Seth. She's only four. The treatments aren't working.”
Seth studied the doctor's face. This could be a trick. It probably was a trick. He didn't trust her at all.
On the other hand, she looked desperate and scared...if she was acting, she was good at it.
Against his better judgment, he said, “Okay. You can come in for five minutes. Ten if you brought coffee.” He pressed the button to open the gate.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR