Chapter Fifteen

Wisconsin was not known as a hotbed of radicalism. Jarvis went to the postal service storefront where Azad had collected his packages but they were closed. It was getting on to ten pm and there wasn’t much that would be open and useful in the investigation. He thought about calling Rayford but there was nothing to say. Instead he pulled into the only Whole Foods market in the San Fernando Valley and used a hand basket to weave in and out of the yoginis, hippies, and painfully hot actresses who spent more time in the aisles here than on auditions. Very different vibe from the Ralphs where the old woman had been murdered. Jarvis picked up an organic, locally-grown, hand selected, lovingly packaged and displayed ready-to-eat salad along with a small carton of some brown tofu gunk. He sat on one of the benches out front and watched them start to shut the store down. Several patrons looked almost lost as they were gently ushered out into the parking lot and real world. Firing up the iPad and typing with one hand as he ate with the other, he peered at the receipt in the dim light and typed in the address of the sender. Google Maps gave him an intersection in Racine, Wisconsin, that looked about the same as any within ten miles of where he sat. But no business name. He switched the view from diagram to satellite and instantly the images went from the equivalent of stick figures to live portraits; the satellite images brought the neighborhood to life. Jarvis zoomed in and could easily make out a small strip mall. Even without a lot of detail, he was able to recognize a sandwich shop, nail/hair salon, and postal service office. Whoever had sent the packages to the kid did so from their own anonymous location.

 

Jarvis pulled up the Orbitz web site and did a search on flights from LAX to Racine. No non-stops – why would anyone want to get there quickly? He reserved a ticket for the next day and forced down the last two bites of tofu mud.

 

Back home he watched half an hour of late news, then played some online chess while Conan chattered with a girl Jarvis didn’t recognize who was starring in a film he hadn’t heard of. It was close to 1:00 a.m. when the first pangs of tiredness emerged, but not enough to be a distraction. He thought about Brin and how different life would have been if things in Afghanistan hadn’t gone sideways that day. The bond wouldn’t have been created and there were probably half a dozen times in the last ten years Jarvis would have come out on the wrong side in a fight or tough situation without his friend being there. It was time to return the favor, even if Brin felt he was still in debt.

 

Jarvis went into the bedroom and packed a light overnight bag. Mostly gym clothes and clean underwear. He didn’t want to be in Wisconsin any longer than necessary. The clock flipped over to 2:15 a.m. and he stripped down to boxers and lay on top of the bedcover. He pulled out the journal and perched it on his stomach, clicked open the pen, and flipped to the page held by the bookmark. Jotting down the time, he closed his eyes and pictured Brin, pale and weak as he’d never seen him. He wrote out the night’s prose.

 

Fuck Racine.

 

Jarvis put the journal on the other side of the bed and killed the light. When he opened his eyes the green illumination from the clock read 3:47 a.m. and he rolled out of bed, refreshed, rejuvenated, and ready for revenge.