They walked through the bar and stepped outside onto a tarmac where she saw a small, old, bright red aircraft with double wings.
“What’s Snoopy’s airplane doing here?” she asked.
“That’s our dessert!”
“What?” She was scared. “Quinn, I’ve never been on an airplane.”
“We’ll be IN it.”
“But there’s no roof!”
“It has seat belts …”
“But it’s old!”
“Yep. World War I biplane – but with a modern engine and very sophisticated avionics.”
“Like a barf bag?”
“Who’s a wuss?”
“Me,” she said as he helped her board the open-cockpit aircraft. He strapped her in beside him and nodded to the pilot in the seat behind that they were ready. The small single-engine aircraft raced down the runway at blinding speed, her heart pounding.
She squeezed Quinn’s fingers white. In the side mirror her hair reverted to Bride of Frankenstein.
The wheels lifted off and the ground fell away below her. She was flying – for God’s Sake!
I’M UP IN THE DAMN AIR … FLYING …
The airplane dipped hard and she knew it was going down. But … miraculously it leveled off.
They flew over the Early Times Whiskey distillery and she smelled the scent of fermenting sweet sour mash. And then over the University of Louisville Student Center where Quinn spilled her coffee, and then Celeste’s home.
After a smooth landing at Bowman Field, she eased her grip on Quinn’s fingers and saw them turn pink again. He drove back to Celeste’s home and parked.
Quinn gave her his serious look. “The bad guys know you live here.”
“I know.”
“You shouldn’t stay here tonight.”
“I’m not. Celeste is next door at Sarah’s. I’m staying over at my friend Lisa’s. We’re cramming for a big history test.”
“Where’s Lisa house?”
“Six blocks over. Would you drop me off?”
“Sure …”
Minutes later, Quinn pulled up to Lisa’s, a small wood, one-story house near campus.
Ellie turned and smiled at him.
“Quinn …”
“Yeah?”
“Tonight was incredible. The food, and the airplane …”
“The sky’s the limit with me.”
She laughed, then he got that serious look again and stared at her. “I forgot something.”
“What?”
“The other reason I broke up with Jennifer.”
“What’s that?
“Not what. Who.”
She waited.
“A girl I spilled coffee on.”
Her heart raced as his lips touched hers.
FORTY SIX
Ellie and Lisa studied to exhaustion. Ellie crawled into bed and closed her eyes, replaying Quinn’s goodnight kiss a few thousand times. Finally, she felt herself drifting into dreamland.
And then … scraping woke her.
Outside.
She turned and looked at the window. No movement. No more scraping. Only wind gusts.
Then a large shadow swept across the curtain. A tree branch? A passing cloud? A man?
She listened. Only distant thunder. Light rain dotted the window. More gusts swayed tree branches back and forth.
Had she actually heard branches scraping? Or someone prying open a window?
Or was she dreaming?
Ellie walked to the window and peeked through the curtain. Lightning illuminated a picnic table in the side yard. The wind swept a tree branch beside the window, lashing shadows across the yard. The branch had probably scraped the side of the house. Probably her paranoia was back. Probably she should go back to bed.
But as she turned, she noticed something on the damp ground beneath the window. She squinted and saw footprints! A man’s! They looked fresh.
Or does the misty rain make them look fresh?
Her heart pounded. Perspiration dotted her lip. She felt another panic attack coming on.
“What’s wrong?” Lisa said from her bed in the corner.
Ellie spun around. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. I thought I heard a scraping sound.”
“Where?”
“Outside the window. Maybe I dreamed it.”
“You look frightened.”
“Well, I’m sorta … nervous.”
“You’re scared!”
Ellie said nothing.
“You promised to call Quinn if you were.”
“I can’t call him every time I hear a strange sound.”
“You’re terrified! Call him.”
Ellie paused for several seconds, decided Lisa was right, then dialed Quinn’s number, feeling guilty about bothering him again.
“Hey Ellie. What’s up?”
“You were right.”
“About what?”
“I heard something outside. And there’s a man’s footprint beneath the window.”
FORTY SEVEN
Ellie relaxed when Quinn’s TrailBlazer and a Louisville Police car pulled up in front of the house at the same time.
She stepped onto the porch as the officer and Quinn rushed up the walk. Quinn hugged her and she felt her tension begin to melt.
“You okay?”
She nodded.
“What happened here, ma’am?” asked the tall, heavyset officer.
“I was awakened by a scraping sound outside that window. I looked out and saw what looked like a man’s fresh footprints on the ground.”
The officer walked over to the window, bent down and examined the area, then looked up at her.
“You did see a man’s footprints. And they’re fresh. Like these fresh scratches on this windowsill. Did you see the guy?”
“No.”
The officer looked around. “We have a peeper in this area.”
“There’s more than peeping going on, officer,” Quinn said. He quickly explained about the other attacks. When he finished, the officer stared at Ellie for several moments.
“Ma’am, I’d suggest you stay somewhere else tonight. You gotta place?”
“Yes, she does,” Quinn said, looking at Ellie.
She nodded.
“Good.” The officer photographed the footprint and windowsill, then called in for a CSI team.
As the policeman circled the house, Quinn turned to Ellie.
“They obviously know about your secret DNA test at Jessica’s lab.”
“But how? We told no one!”
“They probably followed us to her lab. And they think Jessica’s test will prove you’re Radford’s daughter.”
“Or they don’t want to risk the chance I am.”
He nodded.
“Either way,” she said, “only one thing will stop them.”
“What?”
“My funeral!”
“Not going to happen, Ellie!”
She prayed he was right.
“From now on I’m your shadow.”
She liked the sound of that.
She said goodbye to Lisa, then got in Quinn’s car. After making sure no one followed them, they parked a block from The Brandeis House and entered its rear entrance. They went up to his apartment, locked the door and left the lights off.
“Red wine?” he said.
She nodded.
He poured two large Merlots and handed her one.
“I cook with Merlot,” he said. “Sometimes I even add it to the food.”
She laughed, and it helped, but she noticed her fingers trembling. Using both hands, she took a long serious sip. Then she took another long serious sip, and seconds later the wine began to relax her.
Quinn then led her over to a two-seat sofa facing a large window. They plopped down beside each other and sat in silence for a while. She stared across the street into a large Victorian home where students hunched over textbooks, studying, something she should be doing since exams started i
n a few days.
“Ellie?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m worried they’ll try to sabotage your test at Jessica’s lab.”
“I’ll warn her.” She dialed Jessica’s phone and hit the speaker button. Jessica answered on the third ring.
“Hey, Ellie, I was just going to call you.”
“Why?”
“Your new DNA test results will be ready early. Tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s great.”
“Yeah, but why’d you call?”
“To tell you to, ah … be very careful.”
“Of what?”
“Of what just happened here.”
When Ellie told her, Jessica was silent for a few moments.
“Don’t worry, Ellie. Gen-Ident has a very sophisticated alarm system and our computer systems are guarded like Fort Knox. And our night guard is a big, tough ex-Navy SEAL.”
“Good. But just to be extra safe, see if you can stay over at your boyfriend’s tonight.”
“Lemme roll over and ask him.”
Ellie laughed.
“He said yes.”
“Guy’s a keeper.”
“Oh yeah.”
“Promise me you won’t go to the lab until regular hours tomorrow.”
“Gee mom, you’re so strict!”
“Promise me!”
“All right already!”
They hung up.
Ellie sipped more wine and stared out the window. Suddenly, exhaustion hit her like she’d sprinted a mile. She yawned twice and fought off another.
“I’m fading fast,” she said, resting her head on Quinn’s shoulder. “Can you leave your shoulder here for a few minutes?”
“Only if I can leave the rest of me.”
Quinn listened to her breathing deepen and slow. She was clearly exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster of the last three days. He was amazed how well she handled so many life changing – and life threatening – situations, sidestepping more hard jabs than an Ali-Foreman fight. Yet, she kept her cool. She was a tough, smart, funny, decent person. A rare combination in his experience. And frankly, a combination that had drawn him to her more each day. He kept looking for her flaw … but so far he’d only found one. Her sense of inferiority about being, as she called it, “a hick chick from Harlan.” As far as he was concerned, the hick chick Ellie was a far better person than most city chicks he knew.
After a couple minutes he turned toward her and whispered, “You feeling safer now?”
No answer.
He saw she was asleep.
He waited a few minutes, eased his shoulder away and lowered her gently on the sofa. From the closet, he took a blanket and covered her.
Then he bent down and kissed her forehead.
He liked kissing her forehead.
He looked forward to kissing it again …
FORTY EIGHT
In the shadowy rear parking lot of Gen-Ident Labs, Huntoon Harris stuck his Glock into the skinny neck of his favorite nerd, Roy Klume. At the lab’s rear entrance, Huntoon punched in the nine-digit code his pal hacked from the Gen-Ident security system. The door clicked open.
“I don’t like doing this,” Klume said.
“Tough shit, Roy!”
Huntoon shoved Klume inside, knowing the night security guard would be on his rounds for at least another eighteen minutes. More than enough time.
Huntoon hustled Klume upstairs to a large laboratory and led him over to a computer the hacker had turned on.
“Roy, your job’s simple. Destroy Ellie’s and Radford’s DNA files and their specimen samples.”
Klume said nothing.
“Then destroy lotsa other peoples’ DNA files and specimens, too. Mess ‘em up real bad. Make it look like some employee went fuckin’ postal!”
“But these DNA tests might mean life and death to some sick people!”
“Tough shit!”
“But how will they know if they have a terminal disease?”
“They’ll know when they die.”
Klume hesitated.
“Roy, how’s that cute wife and them young girls of yourn?”
Klume sat at the computer.
Huntoon handed over the password his hacker pal gave him. Klume entered the company’s private Intranet, typed Ellie Stuart and then Leland Radford and moments later rows of numbers and letters filled the screen. He kept scrolling and hitting Delete.
“And destroy them backup systems. And don’t fergit that shit up in the Cloud wherever it is. Wipe all that out!”
While Klume worked, Huntoon watched the lab’s long window facing the adjoining offices. Even though the lab lights were off, Huntoon worried a night worker would walk by and see them. He also worried the guard might notice the black tape Huntoon stuck on the lab’s surveillance camera lens.
“Hurry up!” Huntoon whispered.
“I am hurrying!”
“Faster!”
Two minutes later, Klume said, “The files are deleted.”
“Now, put Radford’s and Ellie’s remaining DNA specimens in this leather bag.”
Klume walked over to four large, round, stainless steel containers labeled Cryogenic Storage. He lifted one container lid and frosty air mushroomed out. Moments later, he took out two icy containers and showed them to Huntoon. One label read E. Stuart, the other L. T. Radford. Huntoon placed them in the bag.
Klume removed several more frosty tubes, dumped some on the floor and put the rest in the bag, then closed the freezer lid.
Then Huntoon heard something. Beside him.
A key sliding into a side door.
He moved behind the door as a middle-aged cleaning lady stepped in. Before she could turn and see them, Huntoon karate-chopped the side of her neck hard and she fell unconscious. He tied her wrists using her vacuum cleaner cord, then dragged her behind a lab table.
“You’ve killed her!” Klume said.
“Bullshit! She’ll wake up in fifteen minutes.”
Huntoon then wiped Klume’s fingerprints off everything, threw some file reports onto the floor, then crushed a few DNA frosty tubes with his heel of his boot.
“Roy, look at me!”
Klume looked at him.
“If you screwed with me here and left any of Ellie’s and Radford’s DNA stuff here, I’ll kill your wife and kids and make it look like you done it. And then I’ll kill you, Roy. A family-murder-suicide thing. Happens all the time. I seen it on TV. Understand?”
Klume turned sheet-white.
“So tell me – did you leave any of their DNA here?”
“No.”
They left the lab and exited the back door.
Huntoon drove off, feeling good. Job done. The boss, Heinrich De Groot, would be mighty impressed.
Minutes later, they pulled up to Roy Klume’s home.
“Remember, Roy, if someone asks where you was at tonight, what you gonna say?”
“Commonwealth Stadium.”
“For what?”
“Pep rally.”
“For what game?”
“Kentucky-Tennessee.”
“You’re smart as a whip, Roy.”
FORTY NINE
Quinn settled in at his usual table at U of L’s Brandeis Law School library. He began catching up on reviewing his case summaries when his phone vibrated: Caller ID read: Jessica Bishop. He hurried out to the entrance hall where phone calls were allowed.
“Hey, Jessica, what’s up?”
“Problem.”
“What?”
“Ellie was right!”
He waited.
“Two men broke into our lab last night. Somehow they got our lab’s entrance code, came in and hacked into our Intranet system. They destroyed a ton of DNA records and specimens.”
Quinn slumped against the wall. “Including Ellie’s and Radford’s?”
“Yeah.”
He felt like punching a hole in the wall.
“Our security video shows the
men wore sunglasses, hats and fake beards. Impossible to see their faces.”
Quinn slumped in a nearby chair. “Jessica, I’m so sorry. What a disaster!”
“Not completely.”
“What?”
“I did a backup test.”
“But why didn’t they destroy it?”
“It wasn’t done here. I did it at our Frankfort lab.”
Quinn pumped his fist in the air. “Jessica, you’re a genius.”
“Tell my boss. Meanwhile, Ellie’s Frankfort results should be ready this afternoon.”
“Terrific. Who knows about the Frankfort test?”
“Just you, me, and the Frankfort lab technician.”
“Do you know the technician well?”
Jessica paused. “No … they said he’s a substitute.
Ellie sat in the den as eighty-four-year old Celeste watched her favorite TV show, Animal Planet. Celeste giggled. Ellie wondered why? She looked and saw a chimp throw something dark that stuck to the zookeeper’s pants, then kinda slid down. Chimp poop, Ellie realized. The chimp and Celeste laughed again, and so did Ellie. Anything that made Celeste laugh – even turd-tossing – was good.
Ellie’s phone rang: it was Quinn.
A few hours ago, he’d told her that two men destroyed hers and Leland Radford’s DNA samples in the lab, but that Jessica had a back-up test done.
“What’s up?”
“Your backup test results will be ready in Jessica’s Frankfort lab in an hour. Can you leave now?”
“Sure. Sarah’s here.”
Minutes later, Ellie hurried outside and got into Quinn’s TrailBlazer.
He looked at her and smiled. “So, are you ready to be a Radford?”
“Maybe not …”
“Why?”
“It’s proving hazardous to my health.”
He nodded. “Mine too now that I think about it.”
Quinn drove east on I 64. They passed a shiny old red Chevy El Camino and Ellie wondered if it might be Harold and Joyce Stuart’s cherished red El Camino … the one they had to sell to pay for Harold’s miner’s lung medications when the mining company and insurance firm refused to pay.
“Ellie, my professor gave me the name of a top probate attorney to represent you. Henri Delacroix.”
“I thought Mr. Falcone, the Executor, handled the estate?”
“He does. But he represents the estate’s interests. Henri Delacroix will represent your potential interest.”
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