by Karen Rose
“Tanya knew,” Nate said flatly. “Did you see how she went pale when Harris opened Darrell’s notebook yesterday morning? She knew something. And now she’s gone, too. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to connect the damn dots.”
“Christopher said that nothing you were working on was secret. There would have been no reason for her not to talk about it. Perhaps she said something innocently.”
“To who?” Ian wanted to know. “We’re working with dirt here. It’s not exciting. Not a bit of intrigue. It’s not like the newspapers or anybody else is standing in line to get a peek at our data. The only people who care are at the USDA’s office. Bloody hell.”
“This new test of yours,” Emma said, ignoring his impatience. “It replaces somebody else’s test, right?”
Nate nodded. “Yeah. But if you’re thinking that the somebody who owns the right to the old test is pissed off about being superseded, you’re wrong. The tests aren’t like your book,” he said, his own impatience combining with a condescension that annoyed her. “It’s not like every time somebody uses it to test soil you get a royalty. The test is published in USDA literature. In this business there are no secret tests that could make somebody rich. They just don’t exist. So there’s no motive there.”
“What about the samples themselves?” she asked. “You said it was soil samples that were destroyed last month. Where were the samples taken from?”
Ian’s tone was downright cross. “We’ve already looked at that as well, Dr. Townsend. I know you’re trying to help, but you’re not. Whatever you could think of to ask, we’ve asked.” He stopped short of asking her to leave, but his intent was clear.
Emma glanced across the room. Christopher had stopped typing and was watching the conversation with narrowed eyes. He opened his mouth as if to rebuke his students, but Emma shook her head. “Gentlemen. I’m not just `trying to help’ here. I am involved, whether you like it or not. Somebody thought I knew something yesterday. He broke into my house, tied me up, and tore my house apart. I don’t know that I wouldn’t have ended up like Darrell if I hadn’t managed to call the police.” She let the statement hang, saw their eyes drop. “My house is a crime scene, and I won’t feel safe going back there until this thing is cleared up. So if I annoy you by asking questions, that’s just too damn bad. Now it’s late. I assume you’re as tired as I am. Why don’t we all get some sleep and come back tomorrow and try this again?”
Nate bit the inside of his jaw. “I’m sorry, Dr. Townsend. You’re right. We’re tired, but that doesn’t excuse us being rude.”
Ian jerked a nod. “Ditto. Ow.” He winced when Nate elbowed him, hard. “I’m sorry, all right?” He rubbed his side. “Dammit, Nate.”
Emma inclined her head. “All right. Tomorrow, then, gentlemen.” She waited until they were gone, then turned to Christopher. “Sorry. Your grad students pissed me off.”
One corner of Christopher’s mouth lifted. “Do your worst. Nate tends to have a temper and Ian whines. Darrell yelled at them at least once a day. They were due.” He came to stand behind her, his hands gently massaging her stiff shoulders. “My students get a stipend for their work here. How will I pay you?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had a massage. Feels good.” She dropped her head to give him access to her neck, lifting her eyes to the long row of samples yet to be tested. “Were all these bottles here the night Darrell was killed?”
His hands stilled. “Yes, why?”
“Why didn’t whoever killed him destroy them? They destroyed them before, when they broke in, why not destroy the samples when they killed him?”
Christopher’s hands slid from her shoulders. “They wanted it to look like an accident. If they messed up the lab, it wouldn’t. Darrell gathered all these samples.”
“How do you know where he took them from?”
“Each one is labeled with a code. Darrell kept a list of the codes along with map coordinates. Some of these came from around town. Some came from other parts of the state. I gave the map coordinates to Harris yesterday morning.” Christopher frowned, looking at the codes of the untested samples, then at the codes on the empty bottles tested throughout the day. “There’s a block of numbers missing.”
“What do you mean, missing?”
“The codes go along with geographies. All the numbers starting with one came from here in Pinellas County. All the numbers starting with two came from the county next to us and so on. There are no codes starting with seven. Not one.”
Emma sat up straighter, suddenly awake. “Maybe they were taken.”
He turned, his brow furrowed. “No. I checked the samples myself against the list Darrell had been working on, after Harris left yesterday morning. I hadn’t really believed Darrell had been murdered before that. It was too crazy an idea to be true. I don’t think Darrell had finished gathering all the samples.”
“So somebody stopped him before he could get to geography number seven?”
Christopher was back at the computer, frantically tapping keys, pulling up the scanned copy of Darrell’s last notebook, the one that was missing. The one the murderer had taken with him. “Here are the areas where Darrell was collecting samples. Number seven was an area about a hundred miles north of here.”
“Then I guess we’re making a trip up there tomorrow,” Emma murmured, looking over his shoulder. “Should we take Megan with us?”
“No. She’ll be safe in school with the resource officer.” He shut off the computer. “Let me wake Megan up so we can get her home and into bed.”
* * *
Tuesday, March 2, 2:30 a.m.
“Did she ever wake up?” Emma asked when Christopher walked into the kitchen. She was making herself a cup of herbal tea, a ritual she’d developed during her year on the road. She was exhausted, but too wired to sleep.
Christopher pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Nope. Kid can sleep anywhere, anytime, even on her feet. When Mona was on the road I’d sometimes take Megan into the lab if I needed to check on an experiment that had to run all night. She’d always curl up and sleep on the sofa. Getting her to sleep has never been the problem. Now, getting her to wake up in time for school, that’s always fun.” He eyed the tea now steeping in a sturdy cup. “Does that help you sleep?”
“Doesn’t seem to hurt. Want me to make you some?”
His eyes flashed and her skin begin to heat. His gaze was hot, palpable as a touch. When he’d gotten that look before, he’d kissed her, and she wanted him to, right now. There was something both soothing and dangerous about a kiss in a quiet kitchen. Forbidden, even. But he abruptly dropped his eyes to the bottle he held in his hand.
“Emma, do me a favor and take your tea and go to bed.”
Disappointment speared. “Christopher—”
“Please,” he interrupted. “I’m tired and worried.” He blew out a breath. “And I want you so much I can’t think straight, but you said you weren’t ready to go to bed with me and I respect that. I just don’t think I have enough willpower to do the right thing tonight.”
She backed away, unspeakably aroused, the steaming cup of tea hot between her palms, an almost equal heat between her legs. Wondering what the right thing really was. “Good night, Christopher. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She sat down on the spare bedroom bed, conscious that his bedroom was directly next to hers. The house was L-shaped, their bedroom windows facing both the channel and each other. The light in his room came on and she could see the shadow of his body pacing back and forth. Like a large panther stuck in a small cage. She could feel his worry, his anger. One student dead, another missing. His daughter angry and hurt even though he’d done nothing. And then there’s me, Emma thought. A face from his past, the one he’d wanted first, with the ardency of young love. He was a good boy. Now he’s a good man. And Emma knew she wanted him, too.
She
heard his muttered oath through the wall and the light in his room switched off. Senses, thoughts, emotions reeling, Emma climbed beneath the covers. A hundred times she told herself to stay where she was, but still she wished. And finally she slept.
* * *
Tuesday, March 2, 10:00 p.m.
The trip north to Darrell’s area seven was made without incident and with very little conversation. Christopher informed Harris of his plans; then he and Emma drove up the coast, collected samples from the locations Darrell had marked in his notes, then climbed back into Christopher’s old car for a quiet ride back, arriving in St. Pete just in time to pick a taciturn Megan up from school. Through the day Christopher was impressed with Emma’s ability to respect his need for silence. Many women would have needed to fill the gaps with idle chitchat, but Emma had spoken when necessary, assisted him at every stop, often anticipating his needs before he could voice them.
Back at his house, Emma made dinner as she had the evening before, and as she had the evening before, Megan declared she’d rather starve than eat with them. But unlike the evening before, Christopher stood firm. Megan would eat with them, or not at all, so the girl sat at the table angrily eating a grilled pork chop. But Christopher noticed the bone was gnawed clean and not a morsel of vegetables remained on Megan’s plate. However Megan felt, she appreciated Emma’s culinary skills. That was at least a start.
After dinner the three of them were back at the lab. It was quiet when they arrived, Christopher having called ahead to tell Ian and Nate to go home and get some rest.
“I don’t see why I have to come with you again,” Megan muttered, throwing herself down on the sofa in the lounge, her algebra book under one arm.
“Because I said so,” Christopher returned sharply, then drew a deep breath. “Megan, I know this has been difficult for you, but please put yourself in my place. Darrell is dead and Tanya is missing. Emma was attacked. I need you to be safe.”
His daughter’s face paled as she fully comprehended the implication. “I could have gone to Uncle Jerry’s.”
“I should have asked him to come and stay with you, but I didn’t think of it. Megan, please. Just do your homework.” He sent her a look of paternal entreaty. “Please.”
Her teeth gritted, Megan gave a curt nod. “Fine.”
Emma was already in the lab, goggles and gloves in place. “Let’s get started.”
Christopher took the glass bottles filled with dirt samples from the box in which he’d been carrying them. “What if none of these are unusual?”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” she replied evenly.
Three hours later she put her pen down. “I’ve botched this or I found something.”
He was at her side in a flash, frowning at the numbers she’d neatly printed in the notebook. “That sample came from where, Emma?”
She consulted her list, then looked up, her eyes deeply troubled. “It was the construction area we visited before lunch. They’d already put up two high-rise condos and had a third building mostly done. The sign said it would be a medical center.”
Christopher closed his eyes, not wanting to accept the numbers on the page. “Built on land with dioxin levels a hundred times higher than the safe limit. My God. That land is worthless. No one should have built anything there.”
“Somebody knew,” Emma murmured. “And didn’t want you all to find out.”
“I need to call Harris,” Christopher said.
* * *
Harris was a hard man, Emma thought. He reminded her of the detective that had worked Will’s murder. She wondered how these men and women dealt with death and the grieving of helpless families day after day. Some turned off their emotions, she supposed. It was purely self-preservation to do so. Now he stood before them, his expression unreadable as he looked at their findings, penned in Emma’s own hand.
“This testing should have been done as part of issuing a building permit,” Christopher said. “We should look into the company that did the testing. Somebody there should know about this. It could be one tester who was paid to keep the results a secret. It could be the testing company is crooked. Either way, there’s no way any test could miss dioxin levels this high.”
“What would cause this kind of contamination, Professor?” Harris asked.
Christopher shrugged wearily. “Dioxin is a by-product of a lot of industries. Was, anyway. Most industries have found ways not to produce it, or heavily control the way they dispose of their factory waste. This contamination could have been there for thirty, forty years. Darrell’s area seven hit a population boom recently. The land was probably not being used before, but when somebody wanted to build on it, this showed up. I can give you our samples and draw you a map showing where we took these from.”
“I’ll take the map now, but I think I’ll request our lab send someone out for the samples,” Harris said. “I don’t even like looking at that stuff in the little bottles.”
“Think about your kids playing in it,” Christopher said, his jaw clenched as he sketched the map. “Sonsofbitches, keeping this secret. Entire towns have been evacuated with dioxin levels this high.” He folded the paper with vicious creases. “Well, at least this made your trip out here worthwhile for once.”
Harris pocketed the map with a sigh. “Professor, I was actually going to come by here tonight anyway.”
Christopher flinched, his face going gray. “Tanya?”
“We found her body,” Harris said heavily. “I’m sorry.”
Emma slipped her hands over Christopher’s shoulders as he sagged onto a stool in front of her. He cleared his throat harshly. “Where did you find her?”
“In the park just outside the University.”
“How?”
Harris clearly hesitated. “She was strangled.”
Christopher shuddered under her hands. “Have you told her family?”
“Yes. I just came from her aunt’s house where her parents were staying. They’d flown in from Iowa yesterday afternoon.”
“I should go see them,” Christopher murmured, his voice breaking.
Emma lowered her brow to his shoulder. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”
He jerked a nod, for a moment unable to speak. Then he whispered, “Emma, she was only twenty-two years old. Just a kid. How could this happen?”
Emma jumped when Harris gripped Christopher’s arm. The detective’s eyes flickered with compassion. “Professor, do you know if she was seeing someone?”
“No, I don’t. She could have been, I guess, but she never mentioned anyone.”
“Did she go out a lot, with other friends, maybe?”
Christopher’s laugh was mirthless. “She was a grad student. She didn’t have any money for entertain . . .” The thought trailed off and he sucked in a breath, straightening his spine. “Wait. About two weeks ago, she was heating up a meal in the microwave in the lounge. It wasn’t her usual Chef Boyardee and I remember asking her about it. She said it was . . .” He grimaced. “I don’t remember . . . Some French dish. It was in a foam box, like you get at restaurants. I teased her that I was paying her too much if she could afford restaurants like that and she blushed. Said she hadn’t paid the check herself. Ian teased her about having a boyfriend and that made her really mad.”
“Why would a twenty-two-year-old girl be upset over having a boyfriend?” Emma asked. “Especially one that took her to fancy French restaurants.” She looked at Harris shrewdly. “Why do you ask, Detective?”
“When she disappeared yesterday I went back to check my notes from my interviews with her after Darrell’s death. She’d been home sick the night before. It struck me as a little coincidental that she’d be sick the night he was killed.” Harris shrugged. “Coupled with the fact that her ID had been used to enter the lab when the vandalism was done a month ago . . . It didn’t add up. I
asked her aunt how she got home that night, when she was sick.”
“Tanya didn’t have a car,” Christopher said numbly. “She used the bus.”
“That’s what her aunt said. But somebody dropped her off that night. Her aunt remembered hearing a car door slam just before Tanya staggered in. She had a high fever that night, but the next day was fine.”
“Food poisoning?” Emma asked.
“Maybe. The ME’s doing a tox screen, but if it was garden-variety food poisoning, it won’t show up. Regardless, somebody brought her home. Somebody she trusted. She didn’t call anybody to take her home from your phone here. I checked the LUDs. I’m pulling her cell phone LUDs so we may get a lead there. She was shocked to find Darrell had been murdered on Sunday, Professor. You weren’t looking at her face, but I was. If she knew something, suspected someone, she may have confronted them.”
“And they killed her.” Christopher slowly stood up. “Like they killed Darrell. What about my other students, Detective? Will you have them protected?”
“I’ve got unmarked cars sitting outside both Ian and Nate’s residences.”
Christopher shook his head. “I hope Ian doesn’t see them. He’s so damn sure you’re going to deport him, this will just underscore his paranoia.”
“Why is Ian so afraid he’ll be deported?” Emma asked. “What has he done?”
Harris waved his hand. “Some protests back in Scotland when he was just a kid. His record’s been clean ever since. I’m not INS. I’m not going to deport him. I just want to know who killed two people. Now we know someone stood to gain or lose financially from you analyzing those soil samples, but we still don’t know their connection to this lab or to you. Someone followed you this weekend, saw you pass what they thought was information to you, Dr. Townsend. We still need to know who that person is.”
“Because that person probably killed Darrell and Tanya.” Christopher’s voice hardened.
“That’s my thinking, Professor. Now I’m going to see if I can find somebody who can get into state building permit records after closing hours. I’ll call you when I know something. For now, go home and get some rest.” With a nod of his head, he was gone, leaving Emma and Christopher staring at each other.