Disentangling himself from the gearshift, he uncoiled from his seat. He did so not without reluctance, even though he knew she was right. But he recognized the time for a rapid exit, so he made one.
IF ONLY SHE COULD HAVE said yes, Nora thought.
She’d have raced Sam into the house and left a trail of clothes through the living room. They’d have steamed up the bedroom windows in record time. How delicious to feel that powerful man throbbing inside her.
And then, sooner or later, ugly reality would rear its head. Demands. Arguments. Recriminations. She’d been there once, and she remembered all too vividly how it felt. When she found the right man, surely she wouldn’t have these reservations.
Nevertheless, that night Nora had a hard time falling asleep. She kept thinking about Sam, missing his scent and the rumble of his voice. Liquid heat stirred inside when she remembered his palm closing over her breast in the car.
Better not to think about that. Better to distract herself by counting sheep or police cruisers.
Finally she went to sleep. The next thing she knew, the cell phone shrilled on the nightstand.
Nora groped for it, registering at the same time that somehow the night had passed and now morning light filled her bedroom. Saturday. No wonder her alarm hadn’t gone off.
“Keyes here,” she answered.
“Sergeant Keyes?” a frightened female voice said into her ear. “Please help me. I don’t want to die.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ON SATURDAY MORNING, the sharp jab of his doorbell brought Sam out of a sound sleep. This had better be good, he thought irritably. Although he’d planned to work today, he didn’t appreciate being rousted at—he checked the clock—7:46 a.m.
Clad only in striped pajama bottoms, he stumbled into the front room as his uninvited visitor began pounding on the door. What the heck?
Sam opened up blearily. “Yes?”
A much-too-perky Nora, clad in businesslike slacks and a jacket, studied him with interest. “Nice sleeping duds, Prophet.”
He scratched his bare chest. Let her ogle to her heart’s content; he refused to retreat. “What gives?”
“Ever heard of answering your cell phone?” she demanded.
“I always answer my…” He stopped, remembering that he’d left it on vibrate and tossed it on the couch. “Sorry. You could have called my other line.”
“It’s unlisted.” Nora didn’t bother to tear her gaze away from his naked torso. “Never mind. Rose Chang’s meeting us at the station in half an hour. My message scared the dickens out of her.”
So the president of Speedman had decided to help save her own life. With luck, she could save some other people’s lives as well.
“Good,” he said. “Come on in while I clean up.”
As Nora edged past him, Sam registered her light herbal fragrance and his own state of undress. He remembered holding her last night, feeling her body throb against his. Heat washed over him.
Rose Chang. The station. Right.
Within fifteen minutes, Sam and Nora were on their way, caravanning in their cars. He noticed how peacefully the city of Courage Bay dozed in the June sunshine, giving no hint of the disasters that too often struck this idyllic setting.
The ten-mile half-moon strip of beach and coastal plain, which gave way inland to forested mountains, had earned its name back in 1848. After a warship called the Ranger caught on fire and sank in the bay, Native Americans had defied a storm in their small boats to rescue the sailors.
Local legend held that every one of the braves who’d set sail that day had returned safely to shore. He wished the same were true for all the men and women who’d followed in their symbolic footsteps, especially his father. At the same time, he was proud to be part of such a noble tradition and knew his dad had been, too.
When they reached the police station, they found a woman in jeans and a sweatshirt sitting stiffly on one of the lobby benches. She got to her feet when she spotted them.
The president of Speedman Company, fortyish, with chin-length black hair, gripped her purse so tightly her fingertips turned white. Nora made introductions and they adjourned to her office.
“I didn’t dare go home to put on business clothes,” Ms. Chang told them.
Sam remained standing, since there was only one guest chair. “The main danger isn’t a direct assault.” He explained about the bombs being placed inside cell phones.
Ms. Chang quickly handed hers to Nora, who checked the battery compartment and found it clean. Their visitor relaxed slightly. “What does this mean?” she asked. “What can I do?”
“We’d like you to help us narrow down a motive,” he said. “We need to identify this guy.”
“How much do you know about the killings?” Nora provided cups of coffee for her two visitors.
“I must seem ignorant, but I don’t pay much attention to crime news,” Rose said after thanking her. “The first time I realized there was a problem was this week when Atlanta sent out an e-mail. They told us not to provide local authorities with any of the company’s inside information unless we cleared it with headquarters.”
“They didn’t give details of the attacks?” Sam asked.
“I had no idea my life might be in danger until I heard your message.” She shuddered.
“I’m glad you’re willing to cooperate.” Nora picked up a file from her desk. “We’d like to run over some information with you that might help us figure out who’s doing this and why.”
“Sure thing.”
“What can you tell us about Patty Reese?” she asked. “We understand she used to work for you.”
“Patty was murdered?” Rose regarded them in alarm. “I heard she died in a fire.”
“She did.” Sam could still see and smell the smoky, bomb-scarred basement littered with glass from the artificial lights installed to nurture orchids. “A plastic explosive hidden in her phone ignited a fire. We didn’t discover the cause of the blaze until later.”
“We believe her death had something to do with a computer chip Speedman was testing,” Nora said. “It was called the Chiseler.”
“Oh, yes.” Now that she no longer felt immediately threatened, Rose spoke with more ease. “It was developed and tested shortly before I moved here from a Wonderworld subsidiary in New York.”
“What was Patty’s involvement with the chip?” Sam asked.
Ms. Chang placed her empty coffee cup on the desk. “I wish I could give you more detail from memory, but as I said, it occurred before I arrived. If you like, we can swing by my office to access the records.”
No need to confer. Both Sam and Nora knew it had to be done. “What are we waiting for?” Nora said.
TOO BAD SAM COULDN’T spend all day driving around in his pajamas, she reflected mischievously as they followed Rose’s SUV to the Speedman facility. He’d looked so touchable this morning in his pajama bottoms and bare chest that she’d nearly pushed him straight into the bedroom.
Nora kept her eyes trained ahead, although Sam was the one at the wheel. She didn’t want to risk having her gaze stray to any of the more intriguing parts of his anatomy. It had been embarrassing enough the way she’d eyed him earlier.
Not that she intended to follow up on last night’s reckless embrace. But couldn’t a woman appreciate a man from a purely aesthetic perspective?
At the Speedman gate, a guard spoke to Rose and then waved them through. As they drove across the empty lot and around the side, Nora saw that the grounds included a racing track and what appeared to be airplane hangars.
Rose parked in a space marked Reserved and indicated the one beside it, which bore an identical sign. Sam pulled in.
“We can enter this way.” The president pointed to a small door nearby. “It’s more convenient than the front.”
“What’s in the hangars?” Sam asked.
“Cars.” She strode briskly along the walkway. “We used to develop civilian airplane engines, but the market�
�s been weak. The big buzz is in automobile hybrids, alternative fuels, that sort of thing.”
Producing a key, she ushered them inside, down a hallway and into her office. It had a lived-in feel, with engine diagrams tacked to the walls between framed posters of racing cars.
“Let me fire up my computer and I’ll answer your questions.” Rose seemed to have recovered from her earlier attack of nerves.
“If you need anyone to test your racers, I’d be happy to volunteer.” Nora studied the posters admiringly. “I’ve always wanted to do something like that.” She and her brothers used to go hot-rodding in the desert during vacations, to the dismay of their mother.
“I’m afraid our insurance wouldn’t allow it.” After a few more keyboard clicks, Rose said, “Okay, here’s Patty Reese’s file. Now, what were you looking for?”
“The chip,” Sam said. “Was she directly involved with it?”
As it turned out, she had been. According to the file, Patty Reese had concurred with Esmee Engines’ recommendation that the company install the Chiseler and the questionable cooling system in a car despite the risk of a failure at high speeds. To her, the potential profits had made it worth a try.
“In light of what happened, I consider the experiment ill-advised,” Rose admitted. “Had I been in charge at the time, I’d have recommended trials in a remote-operated vehicle first. However, we were under a time constraint.”
Nora hadn’t heard about this before. “Why?”
“Rumor had it that one of our competitors was testing a similar chip.” Rose made a wry face. “Apparently theirs didn’t work out, either, because it’s never come on the market.”
“You said, ‘In light of what happened,’” Sam said. “What do you mean?”
Nora pushed Play on her tape recorder. She didn’t want to risk missing any details.
“During the first trial on our test track, the chip shut down,” Rose explained. “The car was going maybe ninety miles per hour, faster than most motorists would drive, but of course a failure is still unacceptable.”
Nora cared more about casualties than about the car’s speed. “You said it shut down. Was anyone injured?”
“I’m afraid so.” Rose paused as she read the file. “The racer spun out of control, ran off the course and hit someone in a group of employees who’d gathered to watch. They were in a restricted area, but security must have been lax,” she added.
“Who got hurt and how badly?” Sam asked.
“One woman suffered permanent disabilities.” Rose frowned at the screen. “I believe she’s a paraplegic, although this information isn’t current.”
At last they had a victim whose suffering might have stirred someone to seek revenge. “What’s her name?” Sam queried.
“I’ll have that for you in a minute. There’s a hold on the information, but I think I can obtain it a different way.” Rose zipped through computer files so fast that Nora, watching over her shoulder, could barely track them. “Here we go. Ginny Stone.”
According to a legal department file, Mrs. Stone had been run over and knocked unconscious. Hospitalized for months, the thirty-eight-year-old woman remained partially paralyzed despite extensive physical therapy.
She and her husband, Arthur, had sued. Because she’d ignored warning signs and broken company rules to watch the trial, the company’s lawyers had forced a lowball settlement.
“Is there a physical description of her husband?” Sam asked. “I’d like to compare it to what we know about the Trigger.”
“Sorry, nothing like that.” Rose read for a moment longer before looking up. “It says here he’s a plumber.”
“Good with his hands,” Nora noted. That much at least was consistent with a bomber.
“He’d be able to move around town without raising questions, as well,” Sam added. “No one lifts an eyebrow about seeing a plumber on the premises.”
Rose printed out some data. “Here’s their address and phone number, along with the name of the company Arthur Stone works for. At least, where he worked as of about a year ago.” Task accomplished, she released a long breath. “Now what should I do? I don’t want to spend the rest of my life waiting for this fellow to come after me.”
“You said you moved to Courage Bay after this happened, right?” Nora asked.
The president nodded.
“It’s worth taking precautions, but my guess is the Trigger’s after the people directly involved,” she said. “Who was president of Speedman at the time?”
“Barbara Noot,” Rose said. “She got promoted and moved to Atlanta. If anything’s happened to her, I haven’t heard about it.”
Nora got a prickly sensation, as if the hairs on her neck were standing on end. If the Trigger hadn’t already found Barbara Noot, she was willing to bet he wouldn’t rest until he did. “Is there anyone else Arthur Stone might blame, that he might go after? What about the driver?”
“The lawsuit doesn’t name the driver,” the president answered after checking the computer. “If I recall correctly, he suffered minor injuries.”
“We’d like to talk to him,” Sam said.
Rose studied him uneasily. “You know, I could get in big trouble for giving out this much. Unless the driver’s a suspect, I can’t release that.”
“Everyone’s a suspect,” Nora put in.
“That isn’t good enough.” The woman reacted with narrowed eyes and an outthrust jaw. She’d just switched into get-a-subpoena-or-leave-me-alone mode. She’d seen witnesses clam up that way plenty of times before.
“Ms. Chang…”
The president didn’t give her a chance to finish. “Not only is headquarters likely to reprimand me for defying their orders, but these people could sue me for releasing confidential information. You’ve got what you came for. That’s enough.”
“What about Barbara Noot?” Nora said. “How do we reach her?”
“I’ll send her an e-mail and let her know what’s going on. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her how much I’ve disclosed.” Rose tapped her way to an e-mail program. “I think you’ll agree I’ve been cooperative.”
“Yes, you have.” Not as much as Nora had wished, but they’d made significant progress. Now they had a suspect with motive and, possibly, opportunity.
Despite Rose’s offer, Nora intended to try to reach Barbara directly. She hoped the Trigger didn’t already have her in his sights.
“We can arrange for a patrolman to escort you home,” Sam told the president. “This guy’s into blowing people up at a distance, so I’d advise you to keep a tight grip on your cell phone and your purse. Keep your car and house locked and report suspicious contact with anyone immediately.”
“I’ll do that,” Rose said. “And I’d appreciate that patrolman.”
While they waited for the officer to arrive, Nora notified Max about the latest developments. “Good work,” the chief said. “Let’s find this guy fast.”
She also checked on Carl Garcola’s condition. There was good news—his coma hadn’t deepened as feared—and bad: he showed no sign of waking up.
For the rest of the day, they tried to trace Arthur and Ginny Stone. Their phone number had been disconnected and, according to his boss, Arthur had quit his job four days earlier, saying he and his wife planned to move to the desert. Nora and Sam found one telling connection to the Trigger cases: according to the plumbing contractor, Arthur had done some repair work for Patty Reese shortly before her death.
After obtaining a license number from the Stones’ landlord, Nora issued an All Points Bulletin for Arthur Stone’s van. Four days! If she and Sam had reached Rose Chang at Speedman earlier, they might have caught the man by now, Nora reflected in frustration.
Barbara Noot didn’t call. Worried that Arthur’s destination might be Atlanta, Nora checked with information and learned there was no phone number for Barbara in that area, listed or unlisted.
Perhaps she relied exclusively on a cell phone or liv
ed with someone who had a different last name. After consulting with Sam, Nora put in a call to advise the Atlanta PD of the situation and asked them to try to locate Ms. Noot for her own safety.
By seven o’clock, Nora was ready to call it a day, or rather, a night. Sandwich wrappers and soft-drink cans lay strewn around her office, and Sam had stretched out on the utility carpet to review his notes. She doubted either of them could concentrate well enough at this point to come up with any bright ideas.
When her cell phone rang, they both gave a start. “Boom.” Sam accompanied his graveyard humor with a crooked grin.
Nora grabbed the instrument. “Keyes.”
“Hey, little sis!” her brother Kyle saluted her. “Randy and I are going to vaporize the old Sunset Shores Hotel tomorrow morning. Wanna watch?”
“What time?” It would take most of Sunday morning to drive the round trip to the aging resort north of Malibu. Her mind clicked, trying to decide if she dared take off a few hours.
“Eight o’clock. We’re going to wake up the neighborhood so everybody can get to church on time.” In reality, the day and hour had most likely been chosen to minimize the risk to passersby.
Nora couldn’t resist. “Unless there’s a major development in the case I’m working on, I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Great!” After giving her directions, Kyle signed off.
“What was that about?” Sam gathered his papers together.
“My brothers are imploding an old hotel down the coast tomorrow morning,” she said. “Want to go with me?”
“Why not?” he said.
“Be at my place by six-thirty.”
“A.m.?” he asked in disbelief.
“We have to get an early start,” Nora warned.
“Okay, I’ll be there.” After a moment, he added, “And we’re taking my car.”
Nora didn’t argue. She had no wish to rub against the man during the drive. “Ever seen a demolition before?”
“Once for training purposes, but it was on the small side.”
“It’s fun!” She gave a little bounce, feeling revitalized by the prospect.
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