Buried Agendas

by Donnell Ann Bell

  “Subterfuge?” He white-knuckled the steering wheel. “Thanks to your silly stunt, that woman will never, ever forget us. She’ll tell every man, woman, and child from here to Houston about the strange couple who came looking for Leo.

  “And speaking of Leo,” Brad continued, “I can just imagine what he’ll think when Mrs. Tillman tells him his cousin dropped by to see him.”

  “You may think my stunt was stilly, but it was working until you dragged me away from there. It wasn’t me that Mrs. Tillman thought was strange, it was you, cowboy,” Diana said, pointing to his hat. “What’s with you? You used to be good at ad-libbing.”

  “Maybe during a karaoke session or a game of charades.” He removed the sunglasses, tossed the Stetson onto the backseat, and ran his hands through his hair. “I thought the old lady was getting suspicious. I’m mayor of this place. I’m engaged to be married. I don’t need suspicious.”

  Diana blinked. Then, nodding, she looked out the passenger-side window. “Which is why I should be doing this alone.”

  Brad shook his head. Was that hurt he’d read on her face? How the hell would he know? Why hadn’t he ever seen she was so good at deceit? She was also a firebrand, and even though her outlandish routine had floored him, he admired her grit and determination. Was she right? Had it been working until he overreacted?

  “Now what?” Facing him again, Diana blew out a breath. “Where do you think he could be?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. What I do know is that it’s crazy for us to be together. I also should’ve trusted my gut and made sure you checked into The Diamond Inn.” He sighed and lowered his voice. “Look, we know who wrote the letter. Go catch up on sleep, and get back to Dallas. I promise I’ll talk to Leo, and whatever it is, I’ll take care of it.”

  Her eyes filled before she turned her head toward the window.

  Gripping the steering wheel, Brad ordered himself not to fall for another one of her ploys. Every second he spent with Diana risked his relationship with Sue.

  “I came all this way to find him. How can you ask me to leave when he brought my mother into all of this?”

  “If I have to put Faith in protective custody, I will.”

  Diana glanced back over her shoulder, and it was too much. At the misery drawn on her face, he pulled her into his arms. Breathing in a scent he’d never forgotten or recaptured since, he held her. Last night’s dream was never far from his mind. Hell, he’d tried everything else.

  He stroked her back. “Did you leave me because you were in some kind of trouble?”

  Her body went ramrod straight, but she didn’t reply.

  He set her away from him. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

  “I need more time. Just . . . give me more time,” she pleaded.

  Clamping down his jaw, he shifted back to his own side of the car. He fastened his seatbelt and started the engine. The only thing he’d learned from this episode was that he couldn’t touch her again. He’d come close to kissing her. Brad put the car into drive.

  “You may think you can handle this by yourself, but you can’t,” Diana said. “You still need me.”

  His foot on the brake, he stared straight ahead. “And why’s that?”

  “You’re Neil Jordan’s brother. In Leo’s mind, you are Jordan Industries. Why would he trust you?”

  Brad was getting damned tired of that constant reminder. Still, she might have a small point. He threw up his hands. “You want to leave him a note? Let’s go leave him a note.”

  Diana winced as though hesitant to ask. “I have a better idea. Mrs. Tillman’s under the dryer. Leo’s not home. We’ll never have a better chance.”

  “Diana . . .”

  “You broke into my motel room last night. It’s not like you couldn’t get us into the place.”

  “And if he has an alarm?”

  “Leo rides a bike to work. Something tells me he’s not worried about security.”

  Groaning, Brad put the car back into park then banged his head against the headrest.

  “It’s almost over. One thing should make you happy. Now that we know Leo sent the letter, I don’t have to go back to the plant anymore.”

  Brad was nothing but a sap. He sighed and switched off the engine. “Ten minutes. We look around for ten minutes, and then we’re outta there.”

  “Thank you.” Twining her fingers, she rested them under her chin.

  Brad shook his head. When she smiled, disguise or no disguise, like every time before, it was all over for him.

  Chapter Twenty

  HER MIND IN turmoil, Diana fought to overlook what Brad must think of her. When he’d pleaded with her to talk to him, she’d almost given in. He was right; they were spending too much time together. What he didn’t realize was that she was taking as big a risk as he was by being seen with him.

  Heaving a strengthening breath, she pulled herself together while Brad parked down the street. Then, on foot, they skirted the rear of 1235 Tyler Lane. When all appeared quiet, they approached Mrs. Tillman’s backyard. A detached carport stood beside the house, and a fire escape led to an apartment below and the apartment upstairs.

  Leo’s rusty yellow Volkswagen occupied the first parking space. The other lay vacant. A bike, which looked like it was in far better condition than the Beetle, leaned against the fence, padlocked to a post beside the carport.

  Noise blared from inside the Victorian, and before climbing the fire escape, Diana dared a peek inside. With Mrs. Tillman’s back to them, her head still tucked under the dryer, she’d turned up the volume on an afternoon talk show.

  Acting as lookout, Diana followed Brad upstairs, where it took him all of ten seconds to jimmy the lock and gain entrance to the apartment. Once inside, he locked the door behind them.

  She walked into the center of the room and pivoted. “Leo’s not much on the finer things, is he?”

  Brad didn’t answer. He’d already moved to the kitchen and begun opening cabinets and drawers.

  While he searched the living room, Diana entered the bedroom. This room was comprised of a bed and a desk, but like the rest of the efficiency apartment, it lacked curtains on the windows. She circled Leo’s bedroom. Who was he? An eccentric, a zealot? Did he give his money to causes? She found herself wondering about a hermetic man who required so little to live on.

  She turned her gaze to a twin-sized bed and the open book upon the worn spread. The book looked familiar, and as she neared, she knew why. It was her senior yearbook, the one she’d spent countless hours compiling as a member of the yearbook staff.

  Skimming the open page, a choking sensation took hold. Goosebumps skittered their way up her arms. The volume lay open to the R’s, displaying her senior picture.

  Brad entered the room. “Find anything?”

  “Over here,” she said, picking up the yearbook. “Found this on his bed.”

  He peered over her shoulder. “Damn.”

  She flipped through the rest of the annual, searching for a picture of Leo. He’d been a pimpled-faced, scrawny boy with dirty blond hair and glasses. But at last she could put a face to a name. She seemed to recall having a couple of classes with him; what she couldn’t remember was ever saying more than “hi,” or “goodbye.”

  Knowing she couldn’t close the book without a glimpse of the boy she’d fallen in love with, she thumbed to the J’s to find Brad’s image. But when she reached the page with his senior picture, she frowned. There, as expected, were all of her other classmates, but where Brad’s picture should be, an empty square filled the space.

  She flipped to other sections she knew by heart. Brad’s photo with the class officers, the spread of him poised to run with the football, the one of him speaking at the Debate Club. Any activity that had featured Brad, Leo had taken scissors and meti
culously removed Brad’s picture and name.

  “He cut out every single one of your pictures. Why would he do that?”

  “You have to ask?” Brad lifted a brow. “He’s fixated on you, which is why he contacted you in the first place. As for me, Leo must have done this some time ago, when you and I were together. I’d say he wanted me out of the picture.”

  Diana gaped. How could he be so cavalier? Who cut out someone’s pictures because he was jealous? Clearly, Leo had issues. Brad might not see Leo’s obsession as dangerous, but in her line of work, she’d often seen envy morph into hatred. Panic gripped her. What if Leo walked in the door and found Brad in his home? How deep was his hatred?

  She returned the book to the bed. “Okay. We know it’s him. We can leave now.”

  “WHOA.” BRAD CAUGHT hold of Diana’s arm before she made it to Leo’s front door. “You got me here. Let’s see if we can’t get to the root cause.”

  Before he did something crazy like hold her again, he dropped his hand. Then, leaving Diana where she stood, he reentered Leo’s bedroom and opened his closet.

  Shirts and pants were divided on hangers, shoes in a perfect line, and a couple of sweaters lay folded on shelves. He thought of Leo’s precise block printing and the wording of his letter. Noting his scant possessions, and the order in which he kept things, Leo exhibited signs of an obsessive-compulsive personality.

  Brad had never represented a mentally ill client, but he’d studied case histories of people like Leo. The man’s home and his belongings spoke epics about him. People who possessed traits such as Leo thrived on order. Change or things in disarray disturbed them. Too much chaos, they couldn’t function. Many turned their disorder within and developed anxiety. Others snapped and took it out on others.

  Brad’s stomach knotted. Obviously, Leo had been infatuated with Diana since high school. It would also explain the removal of her boyfriend’s picture, so as not to be reminded that he had competition.

  But this wasn’t a high school crush that the chemist had thought about over the years—this was obsession. Suddenly, Brad wanted to get everything he could on this guy.

  The ten minute deadline over, Brad kept going, running his hand along the closet’s upper shelf. His fingers wrapped around a three-ring binder shoved in the back.

  Diana, who’d been standing at the door up until now, joined him at the closet as he pulled it out.

  He paged through the notebook’s dividers. “Computer printouts of test results. One thing’s for sure, Leo wasn’t a happy chemist. ‘No!’ follows every equation.”

  “What does it mean?”

  “Beats me. I went to law school. This isn’t my field.” Brad continued to read. On the top right-hand corner of each sheet was the notation, PR50 Analysis, Allen Murdock, Senior Chemist, Lab Ten.

  “PR50 doesn’t sound like any of the chemical names I copied today,” Diana said, looking past Brad’s shoulder.

  “I’m thinking it’s some kind of trial run.” Brad skimmed the printouts. “All of Jordan’s commercial products have a J before a five-digit number.” In this case, PR50 was the only project referenced. There were several different variations applied on alternate dates, but each variation seemed to contain a common denominator of carbon, hydrogen, and chloride. He memorized those three specific elements, but by Diana’s puckered brow, her reporter’s mind was back at work, and she was doing the same.

  She pulled a piece of paper from her hip pocket. “Something doesn’t jive.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The chemical analysis report I used to confirm Leo’s identity.” She placed the crinkled paper next to the printout. “According to this, Leo’s a chemist in Lab Eight.”

  “So?”

  “If that’s true, what’s he doing with a batch of test reports from another lab?” She focused on Brad. “Do chemists go back and forth?”

  “I can’t be certain it never happens. My guess is, with dozens of processes taking place every day in their own labs, chemists would specialize.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Carmen said Neil demoted Leo. Maybe he worked in Lab Ten before he was assigned to Lab Eight. Maybe this PR50 was Leo’s project before Murdock’s. Do any of those sheets have a date?”

  “They start a little over a month ago. For someone like Leo, work would’ve been his life. So far, it looks like Leo sent you that letter because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, plus, he’s off his jealous rocker. Another man took his job.” Brad returned the printouts to the top of the closet.

  “Why are you putting it back? If he’s as unstable as we think he is, shouldn’t we take that to the police and report him?”

  “And say what? Everything we’ve done to get proof has been against the law. We’re even in the guy’s home illegally. We’re in the wrong here.” Brad crossed to the desk in the corner.

  “I’m scared, Brad. I think we should go.”

  He looked up from the desk. “You’re choosing now to be afraid? If Leo walks in and sees us going through his stuff, we’ll tell him he started it by sending you the letter. Besides, I thought you wanted to talk to him.”

  “I do want to talk to him. And I’m not afraid for me.” Diana rubbed her arms. “Aren’t you bothered by what he did to your pictures?”

  “Not particularly. I think I can take Leo.” Brad yanked open the top drawer, revealing paper, stamps, and other office supplies. He shook his head. She was all over taking risks to herself. But have someone threaten her mother or show animosity toward him, and all bets were off—odd reaction for a woman who claimed not to love him anymore.

  “That stationery . . .” Diana said. “It’s identical to the letter I received.”

  “After all this, you had your doubts?”

  “Of course not. It’s just that, being here, connecting the dots, it’s surreal.”

  “I can imagine.” He eyed her sympathetically. Returning the stationery to the drawer, he studied the rest of the room. “That’s about it. Now we can go.”

  Diana stood transfixed. “Brad?” She pointed to a wastebasket beside the desk.

  He retrieved a piece of crumpled stationery from inside. As he unfolded it, and read Dear Diana, a chill ran down his spine. He tossed the garbage back into the can.

  Her complexion had turned a pasty shade of white. “Now are you bothered?”

  “Yeah.” Crazy or not, he wanted to rip the little weasel in half. “Let’s get out of here.”

  En route to City Hall to pick up his car, Brad handed Diana his cell. “Push three on my speed dial. It connects with the plant. When Carmen answers, ask for Leonard Winters in Lab Eight.”

  Taking it from him, Diana studied the phone. “Okay, but remember, his landlady said he wasn’t there.”

  “Where else could he be? With the storm, and that old clunker out back, he probably had car trouble and caught a ride.”

  Diana did as Brad asked. After a few seconds, she said, “Carmen’s putting me through. I’m on hold.”

  When Diana frowned and said, “Yes?” Brad glanced over. He took his eyes off the road for a second time and saw her frown deepen as she added, “Did he say where he went?”

  She disconnected and handed Brad back his phone. The blood had drained from her face.

  “He’s not there?”

  “Carmen said Leo tendered his resignation early this morning. He accepted another job out of state.” Diana shifted in the passenger seat to face Brad. “Then where was he this afternoon? Why wasn’t he home packing?”

  “It’s not like he had a whole helluva lot to take,” Brad said, no doubt as confused and lightheaded as the woman beside him. “Who knows, maybe he’s coming back for his staff.”

  She squared her shoulders. “After what we found in his closet this afternoon, you believe that?”
r />   Stress knotted between Brad’s shoulder blades as he pulled into a space close to his car. He believed from the bottom of his heart that Leonard Winters was unstable. Brad also knew from his high school years that the man had an extraordinarily high IQ, and hadn’t been saving those chemical test results for his health. Liz’s allegations, Leo’s letters, and the chemist’s sudden resignation; somebody had forced him out. The question was, who?

  “No, I don’t believe it, not for a second.” Brad jammed the gear into park, and for the umpteenth time saw how effective Diana was in that red wig and glasses. So far, they’d worked well together—unwillingly. What if that changed, and they cooperated with one another? Maybe he could find out what was going on, and at the same time, contain this situation. “How averse are you to returning to the plant?”

  Diana stared at him, her shock evident. “Let’s see, I can’t put a word in print, and Leo doesn’t work there anymore. Why would I go back?”

  Brad exhaled slowly. “Because at one time I meant something to you, and I’m asking you to.” He averted his gaze and held up his hands. “I apologize. I have no right to put this on you. The truth is, I’m worried something is going on, which places the company my dad built in jeopardy. What’s more, I’m not sure Neil has the experience or the temperament to handle it.” Brad gripped the steering wheel. “I know it sounds like I’m trying to cover my ass, and that of my family’s, and, unquestionably, I am. But I’m also worried about Diamond, and a whole lot of people who depend on Jordan Industries for a paycheck.”

  Diana’s shoulders slumped as she looked out the passenger window.

  Way to go, Brad. You’ve sunk to an all-time low. “Forget it. I was wrong to ask.”

  “We’ve come this far,” she said, again meeting his gaze. “Might as well see it through.”