“But Dr. Esterhaus says another lab could do it.”
“Cygnus is the only lab around here with the facilities.”
“You’d be surprised,” said Ratchet, “what the mob can finance.” He closed his notebook. “Let me be honest. We’re not gonna have much luck here.”
“You could polygraph the staff,” said Kat. “That would be a start.”
“It would also be an insult,” said Esterhaus. “To every single one of them.”
“I don’t see that you have a choice,” said Kat.
Adam shook his head. “I hate to do it.”
“It’d probably be inconclusive, anyway,” said Ratchet. “They’ll all be nervous, upset. Chances are, you won’t be able to pinpoint a leak, not this late in the game.”
“What about South Lexington?” said Kat. “Check out the receiving end, Vince. Find out who’s distributing it on the outside. Question the victims’ families and friends. They might know the source.”
“Yeah. We could do that.” He turned as Sykes came back.
“Let’s go, Vince,” said Sykes. “We’re done here.”
“Aren’t you going to question anyone?” asked Kat.
“Later.” Sykes shook hands with Adam and Esterhaus, then he and Ratchet headed for the exit.
“Something’s going on,” muttered Kat, watching them leave. “Excuse me.”
She followed the two cops outside, into the parking lot. “Hey! Lou!” she called.
Sykes turned to her with a look of weariness. “What, Novak?”
“Why the abrupt exit?”
“Because I’ve got my ass to protect, okay? I also got a chief who’s bitching about my wasting departmental time on this case.”
“That was a call from your chief?”
“Yeah. He wanted to know why I’m out saving the world’s junkies when we’ve got murderers cruising the suburbs. And you know what? I couldn’t think of a single good answer.” Sykes yanked open his car door. “Let’s go, Vince.”
“Wait. Who told the chief about it?”
“I didn’t ask,” he snapped.
“But someone must have told him.”
Sykes got into the car and slammed the door. “All I know is, I got orders from above. And we’re out of here.” He looked at Ratchet and barked, “Drive.”
The car took off, leaving Kat standing alone in the parking lot.
I got orders. Whose orders? she wondered. Who had called the chief and told him to pull Sykes and Ratchet away? The mayor’s office? Ed?
Suddenly she turned and gazed up at the letters CYGNUS mounted on the building. It was a possibility she didn’t want to consider, but it was staring her in the face.
If anyone had a reason to halt the investigation, it was him. The man whose company would suffer. The man whose name would be dragged through the mud. The man she’d seen dining and shmoozing at the mayor’s benefit.
Where on earth did you park your brains, Novak?
She turned from the building and headed to her car.
It was hard for Kat to give up the Mercedes, but she had her principles to uphold. She didn’t want to owe Adam Quantrell a thing, not a single damn thing.
She turned in the Mercedes at Regis Rentals and paid the bill herself. Then she walked around the corner to Lester’s Used Cars.
She drove out in a Ford—five years old, with a few rust spots on the fender. It smelled a little stale, and there was a rip in the backseat, but the engine ran fine and the price was right.
And she didn’t feel guilty driving it.
From there, she headed straight to City Hall.
She tried getting in to see Mayor Sampson, but there was no chance they’d let her in—not after that scene in his office a day earlier. So she went instead to the DA’s office. She found her ex-husband at his desk. He kept his work space neat, every paper in its place, every pen and paper clip relegated to the proper slot. Ed himself looked immaculate as always, not a crease in his 100-percent-cotton shirt. She wondered how she’d stood being married to the man for two years.
He looked up in surprise as she came in. “Kat! Is this a social visit?”
“Who whispered in the police chief’s ear?” she asked.
“Ah. Not a social visit.”
“Was it Sampson?”
“What are you referring to?”
“You know what.” She leaned across his desk. “Sergeant Sykes was told to lay off Cygnus. Who gave the order? Sampson? You?”
He sat back and smiled innocently. “Wasn’t me. Cross my heart.”
“Sampson?”
“No comment. But you know the pressure he’s under. The police start digging around, it turns into a media event. We don’t need that kind of publicity, not now.”
“Did Quantrell have anything to do with it?”
“What?”
“Did he ask Sampson to call off the cops?”
Ed looked perplexed. “Why would he? Look, I don’t know why you’re getting worked up about this. Or are you back with the old underdog crusade?”
“I was never on any crusade.”
“Sure you were. Hell, you think it was easy for me, living with you? Putting up with that attitude of yours? I don’t recall taking a vow of poverty when I married you. But I’d buy a BMW or … or join a racquetball club, and you’d wince.”
She looked at him in mock horror. “I didn’t.”
“You did. And here you are, still at it. Kat, no one gives a damn about junkies. We have tourists getting mugged out there! Nice tourists, from nice places. Those are the people we should be protecting. Not the trash out on South Lexington.”
“Oh, Ed.” She shook her head and laughed. “Ed, I have to say that, until this very minute, I never realized.”
“What didn’t you realize?”
“What a kind and sensitive bastard you are.”
“There’s that attitude problem again.”
“Not an attitude, Ed. A principle.” She turned for the door. “Maybe you’d recognize it. If you had one of your own.”
Seconds after his ex-wife left the room, Ed Novak picked up the telephone and dialed the mayor’s office. “She was just here,” he said. “And I don’t think she’s too happy.”
“You don’t think she’ll go to the newspapers, do you?” asked Sampson.
“If she does, we’ll just have to stonewall them with no comments. Or deny there’s a crisis.”
“That’s the strategy we take. Make her look like a loose cannon. In the meantime, do something about her, will you? She’s getting to be a pain in the ass.”
“I’ll be honest, Mayor,” said Ed with a tired sigh. “She always was.”
All afternoon, Adam waited for Kat to call. A nice meal to hash things out between them—that’s what they needed. He was optimistic enough to make dinner reservations for two at Yen King. There he could make it clear that he was on her side, and that he intended to see more of her. But as the day wore on toward five o’clock, there was still no phone call.
When finally a call did come in, it wasn’t from Kat. It was from his butler, Thomas.
“Dr. Novak returned the Mercedes,” said Thomas. “I’ve just spoken with Regis Rentals.”
“Yes, she said she was going to buy a car today.”
“The reason I’m calling, Mr. Q., is to tell you she paid for the Mercedes rental. The entire bill.”
“But the bill was supposed to be sent to me.”
“Precisely. And they explained it to her. But she insisted on paying it herself.”
“They should have refused her payment.”
“The staff at Regis tell me it was quite impossible to change her mind.”
What was going on with that woman? Adam wondered as he hung up. Just last night, she’d seemed pleased about the car. There had been no question that the rental was his gift. Why her sudden insistence on paying the bill?
At five thirty he left Cygnus and drove north. The Bellemeade turnoff was right on his
way home; he decided to pass by Kat’s house, on the off chance he could catch her.
There was no car in the driveway, no answer to his knock on the door. He got back into his car and decided to wait.
Twenty minutes later he was about to give up and go home when he spotted a gray Ford coming around the corner. Kat was behind the wheel. She pulled into the driveway.
At once he was out of his car and moving toward her. She stepped out, holding a bag with HOP SING TAKEOUT printed on the side.
“Kat!” he said. “I tried calling you—”
“I’ve been out all day.” Her tone was matter-of-fact and none too warm. She started toward her front door with Adam right behind her.
“Why don’t we go out for some good Chinese food?”
“I happen to like Hop Sing,” she snapped, stepping through the door.
Determined not to be shut out, he followed her inside, into the kitchen. “I don’t understand what’s happened—”
“I understand perfectly, Adam. If Cygnus were my company, I’d block the investigation, too.”
He shook his head. “I didn’t block any investigation.”
“I mean, think of the PR disaster. The headlines. Cygnus Manufactures Killer Drug.”
“You think I’d go that far to protect Cygnus?”
“Haven’t you?” She set the take-out bag on the counter and began to unload the contents. “Look, I’m starving. I’d like to eat this before it gets—oh, damn.”
“What?”
“I left the fried rice in the car.” She spun around and headed back out the front door.
He was right on her heels, following her across the lawn. “Come on, let’s go out.”
“No, thanks.” She reached into the car and retrieved the second take-out bag. “Tonight, I’m a solo act. Dinner. A hot bath. And absolutely no excitement of any kind.” She turned away from the car.
A deafening blast shook the house. She felt the sting of flying glass as she was hurled backward by the violent pulse of the explosion. She landed on her back, in the grass. Chunks of wood, flakes of asphalt tile rained down on her.
Then, like a gentle snowfall, a cloud of dust settled slowly from the sky.
KAT WAS TOO STUNNED TO MAKE SENSE OF what had happened; she could only lie on her back in the grass and stare dazedly at the sky. Then, gradually, she became aware that someone was calling her name, that someone was brushing the hair from her eyes, stroking her face.
“Kat. Look at me. I’m right here. Look at me.”
Slowly, she focused on Adam. He was gazing down at her, undisguised panic in his eyes. He was afraid, she thought in wonder. Why?
“Kat!” he yelled. “Come on, say something.”
She tried to speak and found all she could manage was a whisper. “Adam?”
Through her confusion, she heard the sounds of running footsteps, shouting voices, calls of “Is she okay?”
“What happened?” she asked.
“Don’t move. There’s an ambulance coming—”
“What happened?” She struggled to sit up. The sudden movement made the world lurch around her. She caught a spinning view of bystanders’ faces, of debris littering the lawn. Then she saw what was left of her house. With that glimpse, everything froze into terrible focus.
The front wall had been ripped away entirely, and the inner walls stood exposed, like an open dollhouse. Shreds of fabric, couch batting, splintered furniture had been tossed as far as the driveway. Just overhead, an empty picture frame swung forlornly from a tree branch.
“Jesus, lady,” murmured someone in the crowd. “Did you leave your gas on or something?”
“My house,” whispered Kat. In rising fury she staggered to her feet. “What did they do to my house?”
Then, as if there hadn’t been enough destruction, the first flicker of fire appeared. Flames were spreading from what used to be the kitchen.
“Back!” shouted Adam. “Everyone back!”
“No!” Kat struggled forward. If she could turn on the garden hose, if the pipes were still intact, she could save what little she had left. “Let me go!” she yelled, shoving at Adam. “It’s going to burn!”
She managed only two steps before he grabbed her and hauled her back. Enraged, she struggled against him, but he trapped her arms and swung her up and away from the house.
“It’s going to burn!” she cried.
“You can’t save it, Kat! There’s a gas leak!”
The flames suddenly shot higher, licking at the collapsing roof. Already the fire had spread to the living room, had ignited the remains of her furniture. Smoke swirled, thick and black, driving the crowd back across the street.
“My house,” Kat sobbed, swaying against Adam.
He pulled her against him and wrapped his arms tightly around her as though to shield her from the sight and sounds of destruction. As the first fire trucks pulled up with sirens screaming, she was still clinging to him, her face pressed against his shirt. The roar of the flames, the shouts of firemen, seemed to recede into some other, distant dimension. Her reality, the only one that mattered, was the steady thump of Adam’s heart.
Only when he gently released her and murmured something in her ear was she wrenched unwillingly back into the real world. She found two uniformed men gazing at her. One was a cop, the other had an ALBION FIRE DEPARTMENT patch on his jacket.
“What happened?” asked the cop.
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“She’d just gotten home,” said Adam. “We went inside, came back out again for a minute. That’s when the house blew up. She caught the worst of it. I was standing behind her—”
“Did you smell gas?”
“No.” Adam shook his head firmly. “No gas.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. The fire started after the explosion.”
The cop and fireman looked at each other, a glance that Kat found terrifying in its significance.
She said, “It was a bomb. Wasn’t it?”
They didn’t say a word. They didn’t have to. Their silence was answer enough.
It was after midnight when they finally pulled into Adam’s driveway. They’d spent two hours in the ER getting their cuts and bruises tended to, two more hours in the Bellemeade police station, answering questions. Now they were both on the far side of exhausted. They barely managed to stumble out of the car and up the front steps.
Thomas was waiting at the door to greet them. “Mr. Q.!” he gasped, staring in horror at Adam’s torn suit. “Not another brawl?”
“No. Just a bomb this time.” He raised his hand to cut off Thomas’s questions. “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning. In the meantime, let’s get Dr. Novak to bed. She’s staying the night.”
Thomas nodded, utterly unruffled. “I’ll prepare the guest room,” he said, and went up ahead of them.
Slowly, Adam guided Kat up the stairs. Her body felt so small, so fragile, as he helped her up the last step and down the corridor. By the time they reached the south guest room, Thomas had already turned down the covers, placed fresh towels on the dresser, and closed the drapes. “I’ll see to your room now, Mr. Q.,” he said, and discreetly withdrew.
“Come. Into bed with you,” said Adam. He sat her on the covers, knelt down to take off her shoes.
“I’m such a mess,” she murmured, staring down at her clothes.
“We’ll clean these in the morning. Right now, you need some sleep. Can I help you off with your clothes?”
She looked up at him with a faint expression of amusement.
He smiled. “Believe me, my intentions are purely honorable.”
“Nevertheless,” she said, “I think I’ll manage on my own.”
Adam sat down beside her on the bed. “It’s gone too far,” he said. “Doing your job is one thing, Kat. And I admire your persistence, I really do. But now it’s turned ugly. This time you were fortunate. But next time …” He stopped, unwillin
g to finish the thought.
But it didn’t matter. Kat had already fallen asleep.
She was still asleep when Adam looked in the next morning.
Quietly he sat down in the chair beside her. Sunlight winked through the curtains, the beams dancing around the walls and the polished furniture. He’d forgotten how charming this guest room could be, how lovely it looked in the morning light. Or perhaps it never had been this lovely before; perhaps, with this woman sleeping beside him, he was seeing the room’s charm for the very first time.
There was a knock on the door. He turned to see Thomas poke his head in.
“I thought perhaps she would like some breakfast,” whispered Thomas, nodding at the tray of food he was carrying.
“I think what she’d really like,” said Adam, rising to his feet, “is to be allowed to sleep.” He followed Thomas into the hall and softly closed the door behind him. “Did you collect her clothes?”
“I’m afraid they’re quite beyond repair,” Thomas said with a sigh.
“Then would you arrange to have some things sent here? She’ll probably need her entire wardrobe replaced. I doubt anything survived the fire.”
Thomas nodded. “I’ll put a call in to Neiman Marcus. A size six, don’t you think?”
With sudden clarity, Adam remembered how slender she’d felt against him last night, climbing the steps to the guest room. “Yes,” he said. “A six sounds about right.”
Downstairs, Adam lounged about the dining room, sipping coffee, picking at his breakfast without much appetite. He listened with amusement as Thomas made phone calls in the next room. A complete wardrobe, Thomas said. Yes, undergarments as well. What cup size? Well, how should he know? Thomas hung up, and came into the dining room, looking distressed. “I’m having a problem with, er … dimensions.”
Adam laughed. “I think we’re both out of our depth, Thomas. Why don’t we wait until Dr. Novak wakes up?”
Thomas looked relieved. “An excellent idea.”
They heard the sound of tires rolling over gravel. Adam glanced through the window and saw a blue Chevy pull up in the driveway. “Must be Sergeant Sykes,” he said. “I’ll let him in.”
He was surprised to find both Sykes and Ratchet waiting at the front door. Apparently they came as a matched set, even on Saturdays. They were even similarly dressed in strictly nonregulation golf shirts and sneakers.
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