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Greenwood,” he said finally. “I knew this day would come. What happened?” It was like he knew it was something bad.
    “Well . . .” Emma cleared her throat. “Well, Sonny Lee is . . . he’s dead. He fell. In his shop.”
    Tyler Boykin swore softly. Then went quiet. Finally, he said, “Did he fall or did somebody knock him down?” Hmm, Emma thought. It seems like both Sonny Lee and this Tyler Boykin suspect foul play. “He was down when I found him,” Emma said, “so I don’t know. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
    “I didn’t say you did.” Seconds passed, and Emma could hear him breathing in the phone. “Where are you now?”
    “I’m in Memphis. At a club.”
    “That figures. What club are you at?”
    “Mickey’s,” Emma said. “Do you know it?”
    “Yeah.” More silence, as if Tyler Boykin were thinking hard. “Look, sit tight, and I’ll come get you. Take me about twelve hours if I drive straight through.”
    “Twelve hours! Where are you?”
    “Up north in Ohio. Near Cleveland,” Boykin said. “You ever been there?”
    “No, never,” Emma said. One thing she knew: she wasn’t going to be getting into a car with someone she didn’t know, even if he came recommended by Sonny Lee. “Give me the address. I’ll drive there myself.”
    “You can drive?” Boykin sounded stunned. “How old are you now?”
    “I’m going to be seventeen,” Emma said. “Next March.”
    “Time flies,” Boykin muttered. “You got a car?”
    “Well. Sonny Lee has—had an old van he’d drive to gigs,” she said. “It’s not much to look at, but it runs good.” That Swas stretching it, but she’d need a car to get around. Emma didn’t worry that the police would be looking for it because Sonny Lee had never transferred the title from the man he’d bought it from. It was kind of an informal deal. “Now, what was that address?”
    “I’d rather come get you,” Boykin said.
    “And I’d rather drive.”
    He sighed. “All right, but you can’t tell anybody where you’re going. I don’t want anybody following you up here.”
    “Why would anybody follow me up there?” Emma said, about to lose patience.
    “Just promise, okay?”
    “All right,” Emma said. “I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want anybody coming after me either.”
    He gave her the address and she scribbled it on the back of Sonny Lee’s note.
    But she wasn’t going to drive all the way to Cleveland without getting some answers. “Look, I know Sonny Lee said I should call you, but . . .” There just wasn’t any other way to put it. “How do you know him? Who are you and what’s your connection to me?”
    Boykin laughed a low, bitter laugh. “Me? I’m Sonny Lee’s son. I’m your daddy.”

Chapter Five

Debriefing
    “Mr. Kinlock!”
    Jonah lifted his head from his desk and peered, blearyeyed, at Constantine. If it was Constantine teaching, it must be calculus. At the Anchorage, the teachers moved from classroom to classroom while students stayed put, to allow some of the more physically challenged students to be mainstreamed.
    But staying put made it that much more difficult to stay awake. And even harder to keep track of what class was in session.
    “Sorry,” Jonah mumbled. “I was just resting my eyes.” All around him, muffled laughter.
    “Well, rest your eyes on your own time. I’m not up here to compete with your dreams, delicious as they may be. I’m up here to teach you a little something about differential equations.”
    Constantine was a recent hire, and a bit less missiondriven than most of Gabriel’s handpicked faculty. And, of course, he knew nothing about Nightshade. What he thought
    She knew about Jonah’s delicious secret life was totally wrong. I will never use calculus, Jonah thought. I won’t live long enough to use differential equations. I have other problems I need to solve. But part of the bargain at the Anchorage was that students cooperate with their Individual