Fabric rustled, and she sensed all of them pushing off the couch and coming her way. Her stomach tightened.
“That’s good ol’ Miriam and her son, Arnold,” Alec muttered.
“Yep.” Harper flipped screens. “And this picture is from some twenty years ago, when the mayor was nothing but a city councilman. Recognize anyone besides the Kasdans and Rossi?”
“Fuck me,” Rusty muttered. “That’s Jordan. And my lying-ass attorney.”
Her boss.
“Yep,” Harper said again. “Miriam and Arnold Kasdan, Gabriel Rossi, James Jordan, and Andrew Renwick, all together. This photo was taken at a charity ball for at-risk youth, hosted by a research facility in Hillsboro that had just opened at the time. According to what I found, all four of them were investors in the company.”
“What kind of company?” Ethan asked.
Harper flipped screens one last time and sat back in her seat as the company’s web page came up. “This kind.”
“What is it?” Raegan asked.
“I’m not sure.” Harper pursed her lips, eyeing the medical facility’s web page, which touted the company as one dedicated to research and development in the areas of infection and disease. “But something tells me it’s more than just a place where they try to find the cure for cancer. Especially if it involves the Kasdans, Rossi, Jordan, and Renwick.”
Silence echoed at her back, then in a low voice, Alec said, “I think someone needs to look into this research facility so we know exactly how it connects to the Plague and the Kasdans.”
“Agree,” Hunt said, “but we definitely need to look into Renwick’s association with Rossi more. He could also have warned you to see what you’d do next.”
A sick feeling settled in Harper’s stomach. She didn’t want to think it was possible—her dad had known Andrew Renwick personally before his death. She knew their friendship was the reason Andy had offered her a job at his firm after her father had died and she’d left the department. But if Hunt was right, it meant that Renwick had been working for the Plague the whole time. He’d been using her to lure Rusty into a trap. And she’d very nearly given all of them exactly what they wanted.
Guilt stabbed at her. A guilt that made it hard to breathe. But with it came the knowledge she could fix some of the mess she’d created by figuring out who was really running the Plague.
“A stakeout sounds like cop work.” She closed the laptop on the table and pushed to her feet. “I’ll check out this research facility. The rest of you keep digging into the link between the major players.”
Harper made it two steps toward the kitchen before Rusty called, “Not so fast. You’re not going anywhere without me.”
Her feet froze seconds away from freedom. She didn’t turn to look at him. Couldn’t. Because her heart was pumping so hard she was afraid he’d see the truth in her eyes the minute she met his gaze.
She wasn’t volunteering to leave because she felt guilty. She wasn’t trying to get out of this apartment because she needed space from his family. She needed to run because she’d realized two seconds before just why the thought of him being hurt stabbed like a knife right through her heart.
Because she was in love with him. Wildly, completely, head over heels in love with a man she’d really only just met a handful of days ago. And that scared her. Scared her more than any thug or criminal or black market gang because love was something she had very little experience with. And love—in her experience—only ended one way.
With the person you couldn’t live without dying and leaving you all alone.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Rusty was trying not to be frustrated with Harper. She’d argued with him repeatedly that she didn’t need him to come with her to check out the research facility. That she could handle it on her own, that nothing bad would happen. That he should stay with his siblings and keep researching. Argued so much he was starting to think she was trying to get rid of him.
Did she not think he could handle what they’d find? Or that he’d mess up her stakeout? He didn’t want to jump to conclusions—not after last night—but he didn’t like the thought of her trying to sideline him in any way when it came to the Plague. Especially when there was no way in hell he’d ever let her get near the Plague alone.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve been quiet since we left O’Donnell’s.”
“Just thinking. I’ve a pretty strong hunch this research facility isn’t so much into research and is way more into donations.”
He shot her a look across the console. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, there was a tab on the site with instructions on how to donate your body to science.”
“That’s pretty normal, isn’t it?”
“Yes. But in this case, I can’t find any link between this company and any major research studies published anywhere on the web. I’ve spent the last fifteen minutes looking.”
“So what does that mean?”
“It means,” she said on another sigh, “that this might not be a research facility at all but a body broker.”
“Like where they sell off body parts to other scientific facilities?”
“Yes.”
“That’s not illegal, is it?”
“No. Legitimate body brokers accept donations from individuals and hospitals, then transport the parts to different research facilities that use the donations to promote medical research. But there are no government regulations in the acceptance and sale of cadavers as there are in organ donations. Legitimate companies, however, often offer free cremation services to facilitate donations from families who are cash-strapped for funeral expenses.”
“So families donate organs and tissues from the deceased to companies like this, and the facility cremates the rest for free?” Rusty asked.
“Yes. It’s a way for families to offset funeral costs. Companies like this advertise free cremation services with morticians, hospitals, and institutions that deal with death on a daily basis. This facility, though? I can’t find any info on it aside from their website. No ads online, no articles about their services, no mention of them anywhere on the web.”
That was definitely odd.
“On top of that”—Harper turned in her seat to face him—“a friend at PPD told me in confidence that there have been a number of missing girls in Portland recently. It’s possible most of them were picked up by the Plague and sold. But what happens to the ones they can’t sell? No business operates at one hundred percent sales. Where do those girls go? And if the Plague is killing them, why haven’t their bodies been found? It’s almost as if . . .”
When her voice trailed off, Rusty turned to look at her. “As if what? Don’t stop now. You’ve totally got my attention.”
Her shoulders tensed. “It’s almost as if those girls have completely disappeared. And as soon as I saw that website today, and who was in those pictures, all I could think was . . . how do you get rid of a body without any kind of evidence?”
Rusty sucked in a breath. “You get rid of every part of the body by donating it to science.”
“Right.” She looked over at him. “It’s only a theory. But if that’s the case here, there would be records. Forged records, at least. Every person who donates a body has to file a written consent donating their body to science, which has to be signed by the donor prior to death. In most states it can’t be signed by anyone who has a power of attorney. This facility would know that and would have forms on hand in case they were ever investigated.”
“So we need to somehow see their files and compare signatures.”
“Yeah.” She blew out a breath and looked ahead again. “That would be my suggestion. If several of them are similar, then we’ll know they’re being forged. Though I’m not quite sure how to get inside to see those files. I think our best bet right now is to stake the place out and see who comes and goes.”
It wa
s as good a plan as any, and he nodded to tell her he agreed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling she still wasn’t telling him everything. There was something else she was holding back. Something she didn’t want him to know.
Before this night was over, he was going to find out what that something was. And how—or if—it pertained to them.
Harper couldn’t stop thinking about Andy and the Plague and their connection to this facility as Rusty pulled his truck to a stop across the street from the research facility. There were only a handful of cars in the parking lot. Through the lobby windows, Harper spotted a receptionist sitting behind a counter, and behind her, file cabinets and a door that led to the back rooms.
“Surveillance everywhere.” Rusty pointed to the cameras on the light poles in the small parking lot and the ones they could see through the glass windows in the lobby.
“Yeah. Must be something important inside they don’t want people to see. You find it odd they have a secretary here on a Sunday? This is a research facility. Not a medical clinic.”
“Yeah, a little.” Reaching for his door handle, he said, “Let’s go see what we can find out.”
“No.” She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Let’s just wait and see who comes out. If they’re linked to the Plague like we think and they see my face on the camera, it might spook them.”
“Good point.”
They sat in silence. Dusk turned to darkness, and the lights across the street in the parking lot came on. A few people in hospital scrubs came out, climbed into their cars, and drove away. Not many, but enough to make her wonder what was going on in this place on a weekend. When only one car remained in the parking lot, they watched as the secretary tidied up her desk, then flipped off the main lights, locked the door after herself, found her car, and drove away too.
“Did Jordan donate his body to science?” Harper asked, watching the building closely.
“No idea.”
“Hmm.” She lapsed into silence again.
Twenty minutes later, when the place had grown quiet, he sighed. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” She glanced over her shoulder, down the empty street. “I think we should wait awhile longer and see if anyone else leaves or shows up.”
He nodded, sinking down in his seat a bit. As silence crept back over them, he laid his hand on the thigh of his jeans and tapped his fingers against the worn cotton until she glanced his way.
He stopped tapping and shot her a sheepish look. “Sorry. I’m new to the whole stakeout thing.”
God, he was cute. And as their eyes met across the dark vehicle, her chest pinched with that same shot of fear she’d felt back at O’Donnell’s apartment.
“I told you that you didn’t need to come with me.” She looked quickly back toward the research facility, breathing deeply, hoping it would make the pain dissipate, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Messing around with him was one thing, but loving him was just going to hurt her in the long run. Had she learned nothing from her parents? From her own failed dating history? Cops didn’t have lasting relationships. The statistics proved it.
But you’re not a cop anymore . . .
That was true. She still wanted to be one, though . . . didn’t she?
“Sit here with you, or spend the time being hounded by my siblings. Hmm. Trust me. That wasn’t even a choice.”
Rusty’s comment pulled her away from the swirling thoughts in her head. “What?”
He glanced at her with narrowed eyes. “My siblings?” When she only blinked, completely unsure why he was talking about his family, he said, “Are you okay? You look confused.”
She was confused. Way the hell confused. Because suddenly she wasn’t sure what she wanted. Did she want to go back to that life? To putting her life on the line every day, to being an outcast in the good ol’ boys’ club, to keeping her distance from relationships and basically having no life—no future—because she was afraid she’d one day end up like her dad?
She’d been so focused on proving to everyone—especially herself—that she wasn’t a quitter, that she hadn’t stopped to consider everything her new life was giving her. She’d only been thinking about what she’d lost the day she’d been asked to resign.
She opened her mouth to try to tell him all of that when a white van passed his window. It slowed as it approached the facility, then turned into the parking lot. But it didn’t stop out front, it disappeared around the back of the building.
Rusty sat up straighter in his seat. “Did that driver look familiar to you?”
“Yeah.” He looked eerily similar to the guy from that first night in the tunnels. The one who’d held a gun on Rusty and the girl he’d been trying to rescue. “Way too familiar.”
His gaze met hers. “What now?”
Right now she needed to stop focusing on what-ifs and start focusing on what was. She reached for her door handle. “Now we see what they’re really up to.”
“Harper,” Rusty hissed, crossing the street in the dark after her.
She ducked into the brush on the side of the building so the cameras couldn’t pick her up and disappeared from sight.
He pushed a blackberry vine away that snagged his denim jacket and looked up to make sure she wasn’t too far ahead. He could just see the bushes waving behind her where she’d already gone through.
She was crouched in the brush when he caught up with her, peering through the leaves and twigs toward the back of the building.
“Shh,” she whispered when he drew up next to her. She nodded toward the van, backing up to what looked like a loading dock. “That’s him all right. Destiny said his name was Mihail.”
“Destiny?”
“The stripper you paid in that bedroom beneath Assets.”
“You caught her name?”
She tipped her head to see better through the brush. “She was a wealth of information.”
Yeah, she had been.
He looked sideways at Harper. “I need to tell you something.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m glad I waited five years for you.”
She went still, then slowly turned toward him with a look that was a cross between confusion and something else.
But he didn’t let it deter him. He reached for her hand and whispered, “If I’d known you were out there, I’d have waited a helluva lot longer than five years.”
Harper’s mouth fell open, but before she could respond, Mihail climbed out of the driver’s seat and moved to the back of the van. The loading-dock doors went up, and another man stepped into the light as Mihail climbed up on the dock and opened the van’s doors. But the man’s face was cast in shadows—all they could see was his dark silhouette against the lights of the loading dock.
“What have you got?” the dark silhouette asked in a low voice.
“A bitch who can’t keep her mouth shut.” Mihail reached inside the back of the truck. Seconds later he stepped back with something big wrapped in a black plastic bag. The other man crossed in front of Mihail, then grabbed the opposite end of what Rusty realized was a body bag being unloaded from the truck. They disappeared inside, but not before the sound of a muffled groan reached Rusty’s ears.
“Holy shit,” Harper whispered. “Did you hear that?”
Fuck. “Yeah. Whoever’s in there is still alive.”
“She won’t be if we don’t do something fast.” She tugged her hand from his and pushed through the brush.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Harper drew her gun, her senses on high alert.
She recognized Rusty’s footsteps behind her, knew he was close, but she didn’t slow her steps. Whoever was in that body bag was alive, which meant her instinct had been right. This place wasn’t at all what it seemed to be.
Her pulse pounded hard as she stopped near the door to the facility. They hadn’t closed it completely. Pushing it open a little more, she checked right and left into the hallway. Finding it clear, she nodded for Rusty to join he
r. He moved up at her back and in her ear hissed, “I thought this was a stakeout.”
“I’m improvising.”
“Harp—”
“You know whoever’s in that bag doesn’t have a lot of time. If we wait for help, it’ll probably be too late by the time they get here. This is no different from what you’ve been doing for six years.” When he didn’t argue, she knew she had him. “Stay close.”
“Don’t worry. You’re not getting away from me.”
Something warmed inside her. Something she liked. She’d never needed a man to protect her, but she liked that Rusty wanted to. Liked even more that he wasn’t threatened by her assertiveness. If anything, he seemed to appreciate it. Which made her like—love—him even more.
She moved down the left side of the hallway, keeping her gun in front of her, checking rooms they passed. The hall was dark, with only a few lights every twenty feet or so on low, casting an eerie glow over them as they inched along. The scent of heavy industrial cleaners filled the corridor.
Voices echoed from a room at the end of the hall. The same voices she’d heard on the loading dock. She glanced back at Rusty and lifted her finger to her lips. He nodded and peered into a doorway left partially open. Tapping her shoulder, he pointed toward the door that looked as if it led into some kind of operating room. She had no idea what he was doing, but she nodded and waited while he pushed the door open wider, then disappeared into the room. Seconds later, he reappeared with a scalpel and a long metal instrument that was flat at one end and curved like the letter L. Harper had no idea what it was for but remembered seeing something similar on a medical drama when the actors had pried open a patient’s chest.
He gripped the instrument in one hand like a club and held the scalpel, blade facing out, in the other. Smirking at what he’d chosen to use to protect her, she turned and inched closer to the voices and the light spilling out of the door at the end of the hall.
“Open it up,” a third voice said, this one unknown to Harper.
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