by Karen Randau
“Emma, can you show me some of your non-secret hand signals?”
She went through several movements, including gestures for more, done, sleep, and help.
A revelation hit me so hard I wanted to shout but tried not to scare Emma. “Stop.” I figured I failed in my effort to remain calm when Emma sprang off the couch and climbed into David’s lap.
“Okay, this is the sign for stop,” David said.
It looked a lot like the sign for help.
“That isn’t what I meant.” I dashed to the office to retrieve a paper and a pen, laid the paper on the coffee table, and wrote a message to David.
Lena made that sign when I saw her in Frank’s SUV. Was she asking for help or telling me to stop investigating?
“Show me,” he whispered.
I did my best to replicate Lena’s chopping movements.
He took my paper and pen. That’s help. She’s in trouble. Maybe she’s not a spy?
Defecting? I wrote.
He cupped his head in his palm, then wrote, I taught her baby sign language in hopes she’d bond with Emma.
I wanted to ask about Lena’s exact words when she broke up with David and suggest that she broke up with him for Emma’s sake, not because of Emma.
Ronald interrupted by walking through the door holding in gloved hands a device that looked like a miniature satellite dish.
“You were right,” he said. “Someone’s been listening to you.”
32
My eyes felt frozen on the parabolic listening device in Ronald’s hands. Questions and emotions rocketed through me.
How dare they? Why? Who? How?
I needed Cliff. We were better together.
A uniformed officer wearing latex gloves entered the house behind Ronald and took the gadget outside.
I rushed to the front window to follow the vile contraption’s path away from my house.
How did I delude myself into believing my home was my sanctuary?
The memory of smiling at the sound of a squirrel brought goosebumps to my arms. Was that when someone dropped a privacy-violator onto my roof?
I scanned the area in search of… someone, then reminded myself to watch officers take away the thing that allowed evil to invade my personal space.
The officer who carried it from the house approached a tech I knew. Philip Quale. The muscle-bound blond guy who swept my house for bugs every few months. The guy who now inspected the evidence Melissa was right. They’re watching you, she had said.
Without touching it, Philip eyeballed every inch of the object. He faced the officer while speaking. I watched his lips, making out only nearby.
Officers scrambled, guns drawn.
I folded my arms across my chest.
“Rita, step away from the window, please.” It was Ronald’s voice. He was beside me.
Why didn’t I know that?
“It’s bedtime, Munchkin,” David said as he carried Emma down the hallway toward her bedroom. “I’ll stay with you until you go to sleep.”
“Ronald,” I stammered. “I have this advanced security system and took no chances. They got to me anyway. They think nothing of killing their friends. What should I do? I promised Cliff, Travis, and Katy I’d be back at the hospital in Phoenix tomorrow. Melissa said this was practice for a larger attack. Is any of us safe? What has the CDC done with Taylor? She isn’t answering her phone.”
“I don’t know where Taylor is, but I’m certain we can’t live in fear.” Ronald nudged me toward the couch and sat beside me. “All we can do is try to block them from whatever they’re up to. We should assume Taylor is safe until we know otherwise. My people are on this. I’m sure Homeland Security is too. You can stop your investigation if you want. Maybe they’ll leave you alone if you do.”
“You’re short staffed and tired. I didn’t even feed you like I promised. Melissa said they’re watching me because of my association with Mary Zagby. I can’t undo that they know I’m her friend. You said Homeland Security isn’t telling you anything. We don’t have a choice. We must prevent the bigger attack Melissa told us about. What if it’s another one on us? Or on Phoenix?”
I told him about the events of today. “We have to keep investigating until we either stop them or can’t anymore.”
“I agree with Rita,” David said as he returned to sit across from Ronald and me. He picked up the envelope he brought from his house and sat in the chair across from us. “I assume Rita told you about the samples we collected at the reservoir and Hawthorne Farms.”
Ronald nodded.
“I tested the specimens. I have no idea what compound was in those samples, but it matches what I found at the water treatment plant. It was a manufactured substance that doesn’t exist in nature. My plan was to research it more at work tomorrow.”
He added that the Iraqi-American who worked for him didn’t have the technical knowledge or skills to create the substance. “Neither do I. We aren’t chemists.”
A memory brought me to my feet and out of my state of stunned self-pity. “Melissa’s father was a chemist.”
I explained to David what had happened with Melissa.
He expressed regret for her death and that he misunderstood her. “My girlfriend Lena told me Melissa had a crush on me. She demanded I shun Melissa. Could Rim Vista have avoided this disaster if I’d listened to Melissa instead of Lena?”
“If Melissa couldn’t stop it, neither could you,” I said. “Not then, anyway.”
“I’m confused about Lena,” Ronald said. “If Lena steered you away from Melissa’s warnings, then she must have been in on it. You saw her with Frank Miller, who Melissa said is responsible for her death. And now you’ve told me she was using some kind of hand signal to ask for help.”
“I need to investigate Lena,” I said. “David, please write down her whole name and the place she said she went to work.”
While he wrote, I reminded him that Melissa wasn’t aware of everything her friends were up to since they suspected she wasn’t loyal.
“You should work from here tomorrow instead of going to the water treatment plant,” I said. “Use my encryption as you research the compound. I’ll investigate the Russian connection. Ronald, could you secure the service records of Major Kyle Park?”
“Who is that, and why should I investigate him?” Ronald asked as he flashed his you’re not in charge here look.
“Mary served with him in Afghanistan,” I said. “The way she described it, he may not have been all he claimed to be. He owns a pharmaceutical company in Ohio now.”
I gasped. “Ohio. Melissa’s parents lived in Ohio. I wondered about a connection between Major Kyle Park and Melissa’s father. I’ll check that out.”
We agreed on who would do what.
David rose from his chair and tapped Ronald on the shoulder. “Could you or some of your officers accompany me to my house so I can pick up clothes for Emma and me, along with my computer and work files?”
Ronald agreed then faced me. “Lock up as we leave, and watch your cameras while we’re gone, not from your window.”
I did as he instructed, brought my laptop from the office to the front room, and observed the live video feed from the cameras on my cell.
To kill time, I looked up Melissa’s parents, Beth and Lucas Cooper from Beachwood, Ohio. Their lives were quiet and seemed normal. In a news article about their deaths, the neighbors expressed shock.
They were nice people, an elderly woman said. They hosted a cooking group at their house every few months and often brought me the leftovers.
They seemed like a close and loving family, another said.
It was no surprise that the family’s history began in the 1970s, since they entered the U.S. under assumed names.
Was that cooking group a cover for spy group meetings? And why didn’t they stop their efforts once the Cold War ended?
My phone notified me of a car at the gate. I switched the video to my computer. It showed R
onald’s unmarked police vehicle. I stepped onto the front porch and opened the entrance to my property, watching David step onto the driveway with a rolling suitcase. Ronald trailed him up my front steps.
“Thank you for putting Emma and me up for a few days,” David said, entering the house behind me.
I didn’t know how to answer. All I came up with was, “Make yourself at home.”
I turned to Ronald, who stared at the live video feed on my computer screen.
“Let’s watch the activity for the past twenty-four hours,” he said.
“The creepy feeling to stay quiet began when I heard a squirrel on my roof. That was a few hours ago. Let’s start at this morning.”
It didn’t take long to see a drone set the device on my roof, then fly away toward the south.
“That was one of those commercial drones you control from a few feet away,” David said.
“Neighbors to the south of me planted it?” I whispered.
33
As we digested the shock that the attack on Rim Vista might have been coordinated in my neighborhood, Officer Philip Quayle entered the house and greeted me before using a portable bug detector that fit into the palm of his right hand.
He examined the walls, light switches, ducts, electrical outlets, lamps, photo frames, vases, and the undersides of the furniture. He opened doors to check the insides of cabinets, drawers, and closets. He finished upstairs, then he moved downstairs.
A different uniformed officer entered the house and announced to Ronald that they found no sign of an intruder on my property.
“How well do you know your neighbors?” Ronald asked.
“I’m acquainted with most. Some I consider friends.” I searched my memory for people who acted strange or unfriendly. No one came to mind. “This is a nice and outgoing area of town. Everyone waves at everyone else as they drive by.”
I remembered the two-story house two streets farther up the hill, toward the south. “The family moved when the husband got a new job in Delaware.” I gestured toward the house and gave the officer the name of the street. “It has a For Sale sign out front.”
A memory took my breath away. “They invited several of us over for a goodbye dinner a week before they left. They served us on their veranda. As we ate, Cliff pointed to our house and most of our property.” I closed my eyes to conjure up the view. “I think I saw David’s house from there as well.”
“I’ll check it out,” the officer said as he backed out the door.
Philip Quale topped the steps from the basement. “You’re clean,” he said. “Looks like the device on your roof was all they had. It was unsophisticated and old school. Whoever did it was nearby and didn’t have access to the latest technology. Or money for the best.”
He left.
My phone buzzed. “It’s Cliff.” I tried to smile as I answered. “Hi there. How are you feeling?”
“I’m much better,” he said. “The doctor says the antidote the CDC came up with was like a miracle drug. Doc wants to continue observing me a few days but says I’ll be able to go home by the end of the week.”
“And Travis?”
“Him, too.” He chuckled. “We were their guinea pigs. They’ll distribute the antidote in Rim Vista tomorrow. Since we’re doing so well, why don’t you stay at home rather than travel on those forest roads and Jeep trails? Since they have a drug to cure people, I’m sure they’ll lift the quarantine by the time you come get me. Katy is leaving to pick up Neri from her mother’s in Tucson.”
Alarm for Katy’s and Neri’s safety swelled inside me. I didn’t want to distress Cliff, so I forced myself to continue smiling throughout the call. I would fill him in when he got home and not chance a relapse by upsetting him before his release from the hospital.
As I disconnected, I turned to Ronald. “Someone needs to protect my daughter-in-law and granddaughter. Katy is driving to her parents in Tucson tomorrow to pick up Neri.”
Ronald nodded and jotted a note. “I’ll see if I can arrange an escort to Tucson. Tell her to stay with her parents rather than drive home.”
I texted Katy the instruction.
“Ronald, can your people also find Taylor Finnegan? I’m worried about why she isn’t answering her phone.”
Ronald started to speak, but his cell buzzed.
“Yeah.” He nodded as he listened. “Where was it?” More nods. “Meet me outside.” He jammed his phone into his pocket.
“My officers said they saw the lights from your house from the balcony of your neighbor’s unoccupied house, along with most of the houses down the hill. It was clean except for a cigarette butt wedged in the corner under the siding.”
“The owners of that house didn’t smoke,” I said at the same moment David offered, “That guy at the reservoir smoked.”
David gave Ronald the brand of the red pack in Frank Miller’s pocket, and Ronald called his officer.
As he disconnected, Ronald said, “Same brand.” He stuffed his cell into his pocket. “You’re secure here. Stay inside and away from the windows. Be alert.” He turned to David. “Keep Emma with you tomorrow.”
I let him out and locked up. David retreated to his bedroom while I collected my electronics and headed toward the office in Cliff’s and my suite.
Thinking of the tattoo of a chamomile, the national flower of Russia, on Frank’s arm, I suspected that would be the single tie between Frank and Russia. I had to find out all I could.
I searched for Frank’s social media accounts. That wasn’t surprising. There were none. With white hair and brows, he looked to be over sixty. He wasn’t part of the largest social media age group.
I logged into Cliff’s police resources and found Frank’s driver’s license. It said he was born in Weisenheim, a farming community of rural Idaho, population 1,326. Frank was now seventy-one.
I looked up the town’s birth records. A Frank Miller was stillborn in Weisenheim the same year as my suspect.
Did Frank assume the identity of a dead baby?
Marissa had said Frank was a former KGB assassin. I investigated the history of the KGB. It dissolved at the same time as the Soviet Union, in 1991. Frank would have been a middle-aged man then. Why wasn’t he reassigned to the KGB’s replacement, the FSB? Was he part of the coup d’état that ended the KGB?
Maybe that didn’t matter.
I tried to follow Frank’s history. He used what I assumed was a fake birth certificate to get a legitimate Michigan driver’s license in 1988, along with a social security number and laborer job in Detroit.
He left Russia before the KGB ended?
Frank never married, never traveled outside the U.S., and had no obvious connection to Russia.
Except a tattoo of the country’s national flower on his forearm.
My phone buzzed, a text from Taylor pulling my concentration away from Frank Miller.
A small pharmaceutical company donated an experimental drug. It worked on Cliff and Travis! CDC is buying the company’s inventory to go into mass production. The CDC no longer needs my services. They’re bringing me back to Rim Vista tonight.
As fast as I could manage, I texted back. No!
She responded with a question mark.
Get to the officer protecting Mary Zagby NOW! Then call me. Don’t get in anyone’s car who you don’t know!
I got no response. I tried calling, and it went straight to voicemail. Staring at the white hair, bushy brows, and hazel eyes in Frank’s driver’s license photo and remembering Melissa’s dying warning, I texted, don’t let Frank Miller near you.
34
I researched all night and woke the next morning confused about why I was still sitting at my desk, with a crick in my neck. It took a moment of staring at the wall to realize the buzz I heard wasn’t a low-flying airplane about to crash. The sound was my cell, upside down under a stack of papers. By the time I found it, it fell silent.
My tongue felt like sandpaper. Whoever wanted to talk could wait
five minutes for a callback. I needed water. I headed toward the kitchen but stopped with an annoyed tsk when the phone started up again.
Caller ID said it was Ronald. News about the case?
“Hi.” My voice sounded thick and groggy.
“I woke you? I figured you would have been up for hours.”
“I never went to bed. I’m still at my desk. Didn’t realize I’d gone to sleep until you called.”
“This will pull the cobwebs from your brain. I put a rush on Melissa Cooper’s autopsy and the DNA test on that cigarette butt we found on your neighbor’s balcony.
“Melissa was right. There was a microscopic ball in her arm. It was like those used in the 1950s and 1960s by the KGB. She died of ricin poisoning. I should have the DNA results on the cigarette… well, soon. DNA takes a little longer.”
I closed my eyes to absorb what he said. “Did Melissa suffer much?”
“Probably.”
The idea put a sting in my eyes as I recalled the foam trailing down her chin. She was a misunderstood woman trying to do the right thing and paid the ultimate price. I needed to make sure no one else suffered the same fate. Especially me or my family. Or anyone else in my community. I glanced at the sticky notes I fixed to my wall last night.
“David’s old girlfriend Lena Kuznetsov might know what’s going on,” I said, staring at the branch of pink squares that contained her information. “She changed jobs a few days before our town was attacked. David says she works at the Lowlands Drinking Water Treatment Plant in the Valley. I checked their website. She isn’t listed, but who lists their accountant on their website? That’s usually for the upper level management.”
“Did you do your Facebook thing on her?”
“I tried. If she had a Facebook account, it’s deleted now.”
I told him about the matrix on my wall with connections I’d uncovered last night. “According to public records, Lena and her parents legitimately migrated from Russia when she was a child. She studied accounting and went to work at the Rim Vista water treatment plant after earning an MBA from Arizona State University. There is no other information on her. I find that suspicious.”