by Nikki Duncan
Could trust and possibly a friendship really be so easy? Kami still worried about giving Ava too much, but she was after a huge reward, which meant taking big risks.
Kami told Ava about Channing’s death, how she’d found him and how he’d made arrangements for a romantic date an hour before. She filled Ava in on the scene in the lab leaving out the gruesome details. “I know it looks bad.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“The part I’m struggling to get straight in my own head.” Kami looked back to the mansion and bit her lower lip. This was the risky part. Ava had arrived at the mansion shortly before Kami. Her loyalties could rest with Madame V.
“Talking things out always helps me get them straight in my head.” Ava tightened her grip briefly. “Try it.”
If she was making a mistake… Worst case, she got killed. Upside, her death might capture the attention of the locals enough to give her theory credence. Not that the death scenario was her preference, or the thought that Ava would betray her. Still they were options she couldn’t ignore.
“Kami.” Ava took her hand. “Think of this as a vault. Anything you say ends here.”
No risk, no reward. She owed it to Channing. “All right, tell me when I start to not make sense.”
“You got it.”
“Channing was working on the negotiation of a contract. I don’t know the details of the terms, but I do know he was hesitant. Partly because of the way the contract was written. Partly because the product was still in the concept stage. I think he created a prototype, but he kept saying they wouldn’t work. And the company trying to buy his research claimed to be a private R&D firm, but when he dug deeper, cashing in favors with major connections, he realized they were closely connected to a dark side of the government.”
“What kind of work did he do?”
“Some DNA work. Mostly robotics for medical advancements. There was this soldier a few years ago that lost part of his leg in battle. Channing saw his story on the news, did some research and contacted him to see if he’d be willing to test a new prosthetic he’d designed. The robotic leg was grafted to what was left of the soldier’s leg. He’ll never be allowed back in the field by the military, but as far as the soldier’s concerned the prosthetic is just as good as his original leg.”
“I remember that story.” Ava shook her head. “Dr. Channing Harris was your stepbrother? He was all over the news with the soldier.”
“That was him.” Pride swelled in Kami’s chest at the memory of the great things Channing had done with his life. He’d left an impressive legacy that would only have been bigger if his life hadn’t been cut short. “Needless to say the military began keeping a close eye on him. A few times they even planted spies in his company.”
“And the contract? Do you know what it was for?”
“Super-spy lenses.”
“Excuse me?”
“Kidding. Sort of.” Kami laughed. “Channing called them that. I didn’t understand fully how they worked, but they were powered by a laser and basically gave the person wearing them x-ray vision. He claimed they’d feel like a regular contacts.”
“I can see why the military would want those.”
“Yeah. Except he didn’t want the military to have them, knowing they would take his invention and corrupt its purpose.”
“What was his intended purpose?”
“For them to be used for medical diagnostics.”
“How so?”
“There’ve been a few reported cases of people who have the ability to see into other people like an x-ray. They can see things like cancer or other tumors inside the body. Channing wanted to find a way to make the lenses affordable enough to be widely used in hospitals.”
“But the government discovered him.”
Kami squeezed at the tension building in her neck. “He had no illusions that people would get their hands on his research and twist his invention to suit their own needs, but he was taking steps to protect it and ensure it was used correctly.”
“That sounds like the man I read about.”
“He was one of those what-you-see-is-what-you-get people. Channing never considered selling out for a high dollar amount. He had no qualms turning down contracts, and he’d come to the decision just before signing the contract that he couldn’t reproduce the contacts without selling out. The laser that powered them, however it worked, is extremely expensive and too easily weaponized.”
“No doubt another reason the government wanted in on the deal.”
“That was his opinion when we met for dinner two nights before his death. He was going to scrub the project.” She squinted a little, wishing she’d brought out some sunglasses. After a night of little sleep, the brightness of the sun was giving her a headache.
“If he’d decided the lenses wouldn’t work, he had to have a prototype.” Ava sat cross-legged. “Where are they now that he’s gone?”
“I don’t know. Max, Channing’s partner, is still getting the feel of the company and shifting through everything. He hasn’t found them. There was a model of an eye and contact beside his body, but no lenses.”
“Kami, you’re talking about giving someone the power to see through things. Like Superman. Do you realize how cool that would be?”
“Sure. And deadly in the wrong hands.” If there was a prototype and if she knew Channing as well as she thought, he’d selected someone in the medical field to test it. If the prototype was going to be found, Channing’s tester needed to be identified. She had no clue where to start with that, and frankly it wasn’t something that concerned her. If someone had the lenses, she hoped they destroyed them.
“You’re right, and I can see how that could turn into a volatile situation.”
“Again, deadly.” Kami stretched her neck to loosen the tightening muscles that would build into a headache. Stress had never agreed with her, and she was suffering for it. “Channing signed the contract before he died.”
“Shit.”
“Well, according to his partner, the terms of the contract have been fulfilled.” The muscles in her neck tightened the more she thought about what might have happened to Channing. “All available research has been turned over.”
“You think he deleted any of it?”
“From what Max has said it sounds that way. Any information on how to create the lenses and who has the prototype went to the grave with Channing—in his head.”
“Then there’s no proof they exist.”
“The only proof is a brief mention of them in his notes.” And that he talked to Max and me about creating them. “The thing is… Channing wouldn’t have turned over his research and notes if he’d been in control of himself.”
“Someone could have forced him.”
“No.” Kami gripped her neck and squeezed the knots. “As long as he had control over his mind, he’d have held out. I think someone else was controlling him. Or had some serious leverage I can’t imagine.”
“Controlled, as in hypnotized?”
“Do you have a better explanation that would explain his actions? Because I’m not buying the leverage angle.”
Ava opened her mouth…closed it….opened it…closed it. She sighed and her shoulders drooped. “I’m not sure I do, but how would someone have hypnotized him without his knowledge? If there was no one seen coming or going around the time of his death, how could they have staged it to appear as a suicide?”
“I told you it didn’t make sense.”
Chapter Five
Black Sabbath wailed through the stereo speakers while Breck drank his third cup of coffee. The note he’d found on top of the Eston White contract demanded his attention.
I’m sorry. It was a great night that ended regretfully.
Thank you.
K
P.S. Stay safe.
He ran his thumb over the paper’s edge and stared out at the sky brightening over the bay. The odd and unexpected words whispered repetitively through h
is head as the floral softness of her perfume lingered in the air. He’d awoken ready and wanting her. Her side of the bed had still been warm, so she couldn’t have been gone for long.
Her side of the bed?
He didn’t get sentimental about much, and never about a woman. But in the twelve hours since she’d walked into the office, Kami had reminded him of what used to be a voracious enjoyment of music. She had him watching the sun bring the outside world to life, because there wasn’t much else to do.
He wanted her with him. He wanted to know if he was imagining her power. Maybe seeing her in a different setting would impact him differently. Maybe without the polish of formal attire she would lose her appeal and he could get back to working his case.
He turned toward the trash bin with the note. Staring at the ivory parchment, he couldn’t drop it. Why would she thank him? She’d been the one getting paid for the night. Not that he’d given that detail much thought after a little time with her.
She’d placed her hand in his and turned… His brain had emptied of most everything not wrapped inside a silken, siren red dress. Was it the dress that held the power?
He’d regained his ability to think around her with massive effort. She hadn’t touched him long before he’d called an end to their first encounter, but her touch had lingered and taunted him at random moments during the party. His skin tingled and the fine hair on his nape quivered. Even thinking about her heated him up. It couldn’t all be the dress.
And where had the regret been?
Once she’d slid his jacket off he’d been her willing captive. When she dropped her dress, the rest of the world had drifted away, swallowing any need for thought. He’d never looked at a sexual encounter as more than a means to release, always staying in his head during the encounter.
Until last night.
Until Kami.
Until his past encounters blurred into a string of meaningless memories without any power.
The minimalistic details he recalled were little better than his own hand and a shower. Now, alone and sure he’d seen the last of her, it was safe to admit she’d likely ruined him for future women. He’d enjoyed her company.
He’d liked her.
She confused him with her instantaneous and seamless shifts from a refined and practiced party hostess to a nervous escort and then again to an experienced seductress. Tossed into the mix were flashes of a steel spine, a fun sense of humor and a determination to get whatever she went after.
Yeah. He’d liked her.
He couldn’t figure her out, but he suspected that was part of her appeal. What sort of escort left a thank you note the morning after? And was the stay safe a general statement, or did she know something about the Eston White contract?
His hunch from the night before reignited. She wasn’t a typical escort.
He slipped the note into his briefcase before heading to the bathroom to shower. He had a long day that needed to start with a visit to Trevor and would hopefully end with some answers about the contract Edwin was so keen on him signing.
In the bathroom, Breck grabbed his toiletry bag from the cabinet under the sink. Setting it on the counter, he noticed Trevor’s brush was missing. Why would anyone have a reason to want Trevor’s hairbrush? Mentally running through the short list of people with access to his office, and going back to the last time he’d seen the brush, he narrowed the pool of suspects.
I’m sorry. Stay Safe.
Kami? What was she apologizing for? Taking a hairbrush?
He tapped his teeth together, thinking, and stepped into the shower.
She awakened something in him. Curiosity. Interest in something beyond work. Watching her during the party, he’d witnessed her animated passion for life along with a glimpse of her grit and determination during confrontations.
But what drove her?
“Why take a hairbrush? Why raise my awareness with a note and bring attention to yourself? Or were you apologizing for something else?” As if talking to the wall was going to net him answers. Something didn’t compute, and it didn’t all pertain to her bedroom behavior.
Breck hurriedly finished dressing. Before leaving for the hospital, he went to the phone and dialed Elegant Entertainment. Kami was a conundrum, and he wanted answers.
He hung up before anyone answered. Kami was a distraction, and he was pressed for time.
The hairbrush didn’t matter. Getting Trevor back to work did.
When he stepped inside Trevor’s private hospital room half an hour later, Breck nodded to the bodyguard dressed like any other concerned family member. After a return nod indicating things were quiet and unchanged, the guard went on break. He would be waiting in the hallway when Breck left—the Masters’ money and FBI connections meant they could afford the best protection until they were confident Trevor was out of danger.
Breck sat on the end of Trevor’s bed and looked down at his unmoving friend, who’d always been the life of the party and had the biggest heart.
The first few times Breck visited, he’d been too shocked to talk. Then talking without a response from Trevor creeped him out. The doctors and nurses claimed it helped, that coma patients could hear them. True or not, his talking wasn’t going to miraculously bring Trevor out of a coma.
The more time that passed, the more desperately Breck needed him to wake up. He was making no headway on figuring out what had happened to put Trevor in a hospital bed, but no way in hell would he have walked into speeding traffic without looking around. And damn if Breck didn’t suspect Edwin.
There was nothing to back up his suspicions, but the pompous prick had ulterior motives. He kept shoving that Eston White contract his way as if he was getting some sort of kickback.
“If I knew what you were planning with that software and contract I would do it.” Breck dropped his head to his chest and sighed. “Damn it, Trevor. You have to come out of this and get back to work. I’m not built for your life.”
Getting used to the one-sided conversations was impossible, but Trevor’s silent and still form didn’t surprise him. Neither did it help him. He needed a major break of good luck. His investigation wasn’t moving quickly enough for his liking and his stall tactics with the contract and other major business decisions weren’t going to last much longer.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
Breck turned to watch Tyler, the computer genius of their team, step into Trevor’s room and slide the glass door closed.
“Not like I’m hard to find.” Breck had settled into a routine with his visits and he always turned his cell off in the ICU, which meant if his team needed him they either had to call the nurses or come to him. They generally waited outside though. “What did you find?”
“I’ve been running some searches.” Tyler pulled a mini PC from his pocket, one of his own inventions, and started tapping at the screen. “Looking into other suicides within the last two months.”
Each hair on Breck’s arm stood at attention as the excitement of discovery prickled his skin and heightened his nerves. “And?”
“About a week before Trevor’s accident there was a local case of a high-profile executive hanging himself in his lab.” Tyler’s speech sped up as he rolled through the information he’d uncovered as well as the new data no doubt coming in as he spoke. “The responding officers claim a relative has insisted the man didn’t kill himself. To hear them tell it, this woman is a complete pain in the ass without any hard evidence to substantiate her belief.”
“Have they done any checking?”
“No.”
The locals hadn’t bought into his belief about Trevor either. Nor had they bothered to investigate further. Which was why he’d worked as hard at convincing them to give him Trevor’s case as he had at convincing the hospital to admit him as a John Doe and allow guards in the ICU. He understood the need to prioritize cases, and Trevor would have to be moved if they needed the bed, but he’d also learned not to ignore someone’s gut if they
made a compelling argument.
“Have you talked to the relative?”
“I’m still working to locate her.” Tyler slid his finger across the screen before going back to a tap typing thing he did. “According to her neighbors, she hasn’t been home for a couple of weeks.”
“Do they know where she is? Other relatives? Friends? Business trip?” If there was another case like Trevor’s, he wanted every detail. “Have the cops given you anything on her? What else have you found out about the victim?”
“The cops think we’re as off-base as this woman, but they gave me the file. This is where it gets a little strange.” Tyler checked his watch as energy pulsated off him. “The dead man is Channing Harris.”
“Why do I know that name?”
“Couple reasons. Most recently you’d have heard it last night when he won the Miami Heat package.”
“A dead man won at a silent auction?”
“Yeah. And according to my conversation with Jane Ann this morning, the cashier’s check has already been sent in. And before you ask, I don’t know who was there to place the bids.”
“I want to run everyone from last night. Cross reference them with Harris.”
If someone wanted to make a donation in a dead man’s name, why not just do it? Why play secretive games? “Why else do I know the name?”
“Already started.” Trevor slid his fingers across the screen of his handheld. “Harris was founder and CEO of Sirrahmax. He was all over the media for his advancements in medical devices. He worked with the soldier and the skin-grafted prosthetic.”
If there was a computer around during a conversation, the chances of eye contact with Tyler were nil. He never stopped manipulating his little PC to do his bidding, but that worked to their benefit.
Shit. Breck remembered that story. Harris was another CEO from a high-profile company with a reputation for working on groundbreaking developments. How could the cops not see the possibility of a connection? “Thanks, Tyler.”