Dragon Dreams

by Chris A. Jackson

  "Oh, hey." Julie gave her a weak smile. She looked terrible. "I'm going home for the weekend. I need to get out of here, or I'll go crazy. And now I can't find my damn barrette!"

  "You okay, Julie?"

  "No!" Julie slammed a drawer and brushed past her. "No, I'm not okay. They guy I was supposed to have a date with tonight is lying on a metal slab in the morgue with his throat torn out! I am so not okay!" She opened the bag, dumped the items in, and zipped it closed. "I'm going home to try to forget this ever happened."

  "I'm sorry, Julie," she said. "If I hadn't set you two up…"

  "I know." Julie wiped her nose and sniffed, then picked up her bag. "You know, we never even slept together? So why am I feeling like this? We dated twice and he never even asked me to sleep with him. Tonight was going to be it. I had it all planned."

  "Oh, Julie…"

  "Yeah, I know. You're sorry." She shouldered her bag and opened the door. "So am I."

  The door didn't exactly slam, but Aleksi felt as if she'd just been blamed for everything; Bob's death, Julie's sorrow, the whole thing.

  "Maybe it is my fault." She went to the kitchen to look for something to eat. In the freezer, the bottle of Stoly sat there next to a package of pork chops. "Perfect."

  The meat went into the microwave for thawing, and the vodka went into a glass with a single ice cube.

  You killed me, Aleksi?" Bob Tomlin stands beside her bed, a disapproving scowl above the gashes that intersect his throat. "You told him you'd rip his throat out, and this is what happened to me. You did it!"

  "I didn't!" She wonders why Bob is in her bedroom. He's dead, in the morgue. "It wasn't me, Bob! I swear!"

  "Who then?" He leans forward, the flaps of torn flesh dangling. "Look at your hands!"

  She pulls her hands from under the blankets. They are soaked with blood, and her nails are long again, longer than she's ever seen them. There are bits of flesh dangling from them.

  "No!" She scrambles back away from him, and falls out of the bed.

  Aleksi hit the floor with a thump, startled awake, still half in the dream. Frantic, she fumbled for the light, though the room seemed to glow with the scant light through the drapes. The light flicked on, and there was no blood. Her hands were clean, the dream vivid only in her mind.

  She gulped a deep breath and leaned against her bed. The clock read just after three in the morning.

  "Goddamn it!" She fought with her twisted pajamas. The fabric tore, and she gaped at her nails; they were indeed long, yellowish in the stark light. She remembered cutting them short only the day before. "What the…?"

  Aleksi lurched to her feet, the dream still lurking behind her eyelids. She went to the bathroom and flipped on the light, looking closely at her nails. They were long, all right. She took the clippers in the medicine cabinet and struggled to cut them short, but it was as if the clippers weren't working right. She managed to cut one, then gave up, throwing the useless things back in the cabinet and slamming it closed. In the kitchen, she pulled a pair of heavy shears from the knife block and snipped her nails into the trash, cutting them down to the quick.

  Back in the bathroom, she looked closely at her hands. Her nails were definitely yellowed, and she could feel little ridges on them. She rooted through Julie's side of the bathroom and found some not-too-bright nail polish.

  25

  Not knowing what else to do, Aleksi went to work early on Friday morning. Hutch had said that everything was on hold, but surely that didn't mean she couldn't continue to work on the bone bed samples. Bob's project. Every time she looked at the fossilized bones, she thought of him, of the cold face in the morgue, of the horrible gashes in his neck, of her dream…

  You killed me, Aleksi…

  She couldn't make herself work on his project, so she did some searches in Genbank with the sequences that Bob had sent her, and started working up a database of relatedness. There was no doubt that one of the sequences was human. They didn't have enough of the genome to get a good fix on who this particular human was, but considering the isotope dating information and the location of the find, it was a safe bet that Asian ancestry was predominant.

  The other sequence was a mystery.

  She did searches on every one of the sequences they had and got zero matches in Genbank. The closest relatedness she could get was human, and that was only a ninety percent match. Considering a chimpanzee has a ninety eight percent match to human, that wasn't very close. The only thing she could think was that the human had a primate with him, something that didn't have a sequence in Genbank. That was interesting, but hardly dissertation worthy.

  She was getting frustrated, and so was almost relieved when her phone rang. She snatched it from her bag, hoping that Hutch was calling to set up a meeting, but the number was not in the phone's memory. Maybe he's calling from another phone, she thought, though it was only eight thirty in the morning, and he wasn't due in until nine.

  She pushed Talk. "Hello?"

  "Good morning, Miss Rychenkna. This is Sergeant Jasper."

  "Hello, Sergeant." She refused to say that it was a good morning. What the hell was good about it? Then a thought came to her. "Did you talk to Derrick Penningly?"

  "As a matter of fact, we did, and that's part of why I'm calling you. There's quite a discrepancy between what he said, and what you told us."

  "That doesn't surprise me at all, Sergeant. Derrick's a liar."

  "Yes, well he pretty much said the same about you, Miss Rychenkna. So, what I'd like to do is have you come down to the station for an interview, a formal statement that we can put down for the record, just so we can try to figure out the details of the case, you understand."

  Why could cops never speak plainly? "I understand perfectly. You know one of us is lying, and you need to figure out which one, because the one who's lying is a suspect for Bob's murder."

  "Well, not exactly, but we do need to hash out some of these details."

  "What time would you like me to come in, and where do I go?"

  "This morning would be great. The Healy Building, on Sixth Street. How soon can you get here?" He sounded way too eager for Aleksi's liking.

  "Well, I don't have a car, and I'd really rather not pay for a cab…"

  "I can send a car. Where can we pick you up?"

  "Um…how about Oxford Street, in front of the MCZ."

  "I'll have a car there in five minutes. Just look for the black and white car with 'Police' on the side in big letters."

  Yep, way too eager. "I'll be waiting." She hung up, shut down her computer, stuffed it in her bag, grabbed her coat, and headed out into the chilly morning.

  Hutch arrived in his office right at nine in the morning in no mood to tackle the deluge of work that had piled up in his absence. Email, he had taken care of while he was in Washington, but there were phone messages, snail mail, and the whole Bob Tomlin situation to deal with. That included priority correspondence with the chairman, the dean, the faculty council, and Bob's parents. The last one was the hardest, by far. He also had a message from the Cambridge Police, asking him to contact a Sergeant Jasper. He called the number and got voice mail, left a message, his cell number, and his lecture schedule.

  He was on the phone to Larry Vandyke, trying to figure out more details and formulate a plan for how to handle the fallout from the murder, looking at his watch and deciding if he had time for an early lunch before his lecture, when an email from Persephone popped up.

  He opened it and read, listening to Larry rant with the other half of his brain.

  "Read about Bob Tomlin in the paper. I'm sorry, Hutch. He was nice, and I made fun of him at dinner. I feel like shit about that now. Call me. I'd like to see you. Life is too short."

  Isn't that the damn truth.

  He finished his call with Larry, shut down his computer, and left his office.

  This is delightful, Aleksi thought as the uniformed officer ushered her into the interview room. The light was harsh and flu
orescent, the décor was four featureless pale green walls, four chairs, and one table, all metal.

  "Please have a seat, Miss." The officer pointed to one of the chairs on the far side of the table. "Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, a tonic?" She could have cut his Boston accent with a knife.

  "Sure. Coffee would be great." She took the seat. It wasn't very comfortable.

  "Cream and sugar?"

  "Just milk, please. Thanks."

  She sat and tapped her foot for five minutes until the officer returned with a small Styrofoam cup.

  "Do you know how long Sergeant Jasper's going to be?"

  "He got held up with another matter, Miss. He'll be along in a bit."

  "Thanks for the coffee." He nodded and left and she took a sip, surprised to discover that it wasn't bad. Unable to simply sit and do nothing, she took her laptop out of her bag and started working on her genetic database. She started an analysis of the two different sequences, looking at sequence differences versus the proteins they would code for. These segments of DNA were junk, and shouldn't code for anything. She didn't know if she'd find anything, but it was something to do. When the door finally opened, she glanced at the time on the computer screen, it was after nine.

  "Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Rychenkna." Jasper came in with a thick folder, his own Styrofoam cup, and an apologetic smile. "We got held up."

  "Held up as in delayed, not mugged." Detective Willis grinned as he followed his partner in. "That would have been wicked embarrassing."

  "No problem." Aleksi shut her computer down, unimpressed with the attempted humor. "I had work I could do."

  "Work. You mean your research?" Jasper sat and arranged his folder and coffee. "The research you were working on with Bob Tomlin?"

  "Yes. Without Bob on the project, I'm in real trouble."

  "How so?"

  "Bob was very good at molecular biology and genetics. He was handling the analysis of the samples. Without him, I'll have to do it myself or find someone else to help me. I need to have my doctoral dissertation proposal in and approved by the end of this semester, or I'm out of the program."

  "So, whoever killed him might have been trying to ruin your chances to get your proposal in on time?" Willis' eyebrows arched.

  "I suppose."

  "Academic competition usually isn't a motive for murder, but that could be the case," Jasper said. Aleksi was beginning to think their questions were carefully choreographed. "Any idea who might have a motive to run you out of the program?"

  "Yes. Derrick Penningly." She stared at him without blinking, suppressing the surge of adrenalin racing through her veins, the urge to lash out. "Without me or Bob, he would be primed to step into both projects and be Dr. Hutchinson's star student."

  "Both projects?" Willis looked almost comically confused. "What other project? I thought you were only sharing one."

  She described the projects, the discovery of the mystery sample, the agreement with the MCZ to work it up, and the funding they'd gotten. "So, Dr. Hutchinson agreed that I would use the Kamchatka sample for my dissertation, and Bob would help with the genetics, then he would get the bone bed project, and I would help him with working up the samples and doing the morphology. We both win. We were really excited about it, and we were getting some interesting data. Then Bob was killed."

  "So, what happens now?" Jasper asked.

  "I don't know. It's not my call."

  "Whose call is it?"

  "Dr. Hutchinson's."

  "What about the funding he just got for this project?"

  "It was from a private source."

  "Private?" The two men looked at one another. "Do you know this private source?"

  "Yes, Dr. Hutchinson's ex-wife, Persephone Terris." She didn't really see how this was pertinent, but it was no secret. "She's a fan of cryptozoology, and he thought she might be interested. We all went to dinner with her, Hutch asked her to donate, and she agreed."

  "His ex-wife?" The two cops shared another glance. "How much did she donate?"

  "Twenty thousand dollars."

  "Holy—" Detective Willis blinked and laughed. "Sorry, but twenty grand's a lot."

  "Not to her. She's got money." Aleksi shrugged. "Does it really matter?"

  "It might. We don't know until we ask." Jasper consulted his file. "And was Derrick Penningly there, at this dinner?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Because he told us that he was the one who got funding for the project, from a Congressman Twain."

  "He what?" Aleksi felt a familiar flush of rage and fought it down.

  "He said he got the funding for the Kamchatka project in a meeting with Congressman Twain and Dr. Hutchinson. He never mentioned Dr. Hutchinson's ex-wife."

  "That was after the dinner with Persephone. Her donation was to do the preliminary work. Congressman Twain offered to fund the project. Derrick was there but he didn't get the funding. That was when he lied to Dr. Hutchinson and told him that I'd given him the data." Aleksi glared at the two men, who simply stared back. "Next Derrick will be telling you he discovered the sample in the first place."

  "He didn't say that, Miss Rychenkna, but he did confirm that you scratched his car and threatened him with violence."

  "I told you that."

  "Yes, you did, and we had a look at the car." He produced a large color print of a picture of the scratches she'd put in Derricks car. "Look familiar?"

  She looked at the picture and cringed. There were four parallel gouges in the paint, and the metal of the hood was creased. "I don't remember doing that much damage. I had my keys in my hand and scratched the hood."

  "Do you have those keys?

  "Sure." She produced the keys, half a dozen of which were the heavy industrial type issued to fit sturdy lab doors.

  "Would you mind if we borrowed them for a few minutes, just so our lab guys can look for paint residue on them?"

  "I need them," she said, reluctant to hand them over, not only because she needed them, but because she knew they would find no paint residue on the keys.

  "It'll only take a half hour or so. We'll bring them right back."

  "Okay." She handed the keys over, and Willis left the room with them.

  "Now, about the data that you say Derrick Penningly stole from you. What exactly did that consist of?"

  "I don't know, exactly, but the data files on the sample, the schematics, the CT scans, and the translated journal; Hutch mentioned those."

  "Hutch. You mean Dr. Hutchinson? You call him Hutch?"

  "Oh, yeah. That's his official nickname among his students. If you think I'm lying about that, please talk to Dr. Hutchinson."

  "We intend to, Miss Rychenkna. Now, are those data files on your computer?" He pointed to her bag. "That computer?"

  "Yes, but I'm not going to let you take my computer, Sergeant." Her life was on that computer, and although the data was backed up, she would not hand it over willingly. "Not without a warrant from a judge. Speaking of which, shouldn't you have asked me if I wanted a lawyer?"

  "No, Miss Rychenkna; that's only if we arrest you, which we're not going to do." He smiled thinly. "At least not today. But about the computer. If someone hacked it, there may be some trace, some evidence that we can use. Would you mind if I called one of our IT guys in here to have a look at it just to see what he can find? We might be able to confirm if Derrick Penningly did steal your data, and that would help you."

  "Okay." She pulled the computer out of her bag while Jasper made a call on his cell.

  "Johnny? Hi, this is Jasper. You busy? Good. I need your help in interview two. Thanks."

  In less than a minute a knock sounded at the door and a young man walked in. He looked barely old enough to be out of high school, let alone college. He was dressed in loose jeans and a tee shirt advertising a heavy metal band named 'Tool'. He had tattoos on his arms, and big disc ear piercings.

  "Hey, Johnny. This is Aleksi Rychenkna. She thinks her computer's been hacked, and I'd
like you to have a look at it."

  "Sure! Hi." He sat down and squinted at her laptop. "Hacked how?"

  "I have no idea," she said. "Just don't delete anything, okay?"

  "No problem." He hit the on button and arched an eyebrow as it booted up. "No password? This isn't a school computer, then."

  "No, it's mine, and I've never used a password."

  "You should." His fingers started dancing over the keys and mouse pad so fast that Aleksi couldn't follow. "These files?" he asked, pointing to two folders.

  "Well, that's where most of my data is, but…" she looked at him. "How'd you know?"

  "We asked Derrick Penningly," Jasper said without apology. "He showed us the files he said you gave him."

  "Yep, and he took them at exactly ten twenty-six PM, two weeks ago, Friday." Johnny made a sign with his fingers that she had no idea the meaning of. "That's when his stick drive accessed your computer for the first time, and that was the last time most of these files were accessed."

  "So, any idea where you were at that time two weeks ago Friday?"

  She thought back. "Yes, I was out with Dr. Hutchinson, Dr. Vandyke, and Congressman Twain."

  "And where was your computer while you were out?"

  "In my lab." Her eyes widened. "He must have gotten in somehow and took the files. That bastard!"

  "Relax, Miss Rychenkna. That just confirms that he stole your data, and frankly it's not my problem. It's a matter for the university, but we'll be happy to help you confirm the truth. Johnny, can you save that and log it as evidence?"

  "Sure!" The kid grinned, produced a stick drive from his pocket and popped it into a USB port. His fingers danced again. "Done!" He pulled the jump drive and grinned. "Thanks! Oh, and put a password on your computer. If you had, he wouldn't have been able to do jack."

  "Thanks, Johnny," Jasper said in dismissal. The kid left, and, as if it was choreographed, Detective Willis walked in with Aleksi's keys. He handed them over and took a seat.