The Dark Side of Angels

by Steve Hadden

  “Then she was in on it.”

  Reed was surprised by a sudden urge to hit something after hearing his wife verbalize his own conclusion. He nodded. “Looks that way.” He glanced back toward the kitchen. “Did you talk to Michelle?”

  “She’s not answering any of my calls or texts.” Mary wiped her eyes. “But she just lost her daughter.”

  Reed’s phone vibrated in his breast pocket. He checked the caller ID. It was Connelly. He reached out and squeezed Mary’s hand. “Sorry, honey. I gotta take this.”

  Reed walked down the hall and into his office and closed the door. “Reed.”

  “Sir. I just talked with the Evidence Response Team and ATF at the Clarke scene.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “No bodies found in the home.”

  “None?”

  “No, sir. They also found multiple shell casings from three different weapons.”

  “How many casing from each weapon?”

  “One, seven, and eight. All nine-millimeter. They’re still digging for the slugs to try to identify the weapons.”

  “So maybe three shooters and one got off only one shot.” That accounted for Covington, Clarke, and now one other person. “Who is the third person?”

  “Not sure. But the ATF database shows Clarke and Covington both had registered Glocks while they were in Washington State. They’d go to a range together.”

  “That fits the nine-millimeter casings. So she’s armed.” The third shooter bothered Reed.

  “There’s more. There was evidence of an accelerant. Paint thinner. Looks like the can was inside the hallway leading to the garage. Latent prints matched Covington.”

  “Looks like she was trying to give herself time to get out,” Reed said.

  “Either Clarke got out on his own or he’s helping her now.”

  Reed thought about Connelly’s conclusion. If Clarke was aiding Covington, who were they trying to stop? Or was he a hostage? Still, the nagging question was, who had she been trying to delay? And why? “Anything more?”

  “Yes. They confirmed that the spent syringe we found in Torrey Pines Reserve was from the lab. It contained the treatment.”

  That information confirmed she’d injected herself.

  “Be sure that gets to Health and Human Services,” Reed said. “Secretary Graham needs to know that. What about background on Clarke?”

  “Male. Thirty-two. Active-duty Marine, then back to University of Washington on the GI Bill. PhD in molecular biology. Worked as an undergrad in Covington’s lab, then as a doctoral candidate. Took a job at her UW lab after graduation.”

  Reed weighed the information. “I think he’s with her. Anything at the checkpoints?”

  “Nothing. Rush hour caused us to—”

  His phone vibrated in his hand. “Gotta go.”

  Reed switched to the new call. It was Director Welch. “Hey, Bill.”

  “I hear you’re leading this investigation now?”

  “Yes. I personally vouched for Special Agent Reynolds. I went to high school with her dad.”

  “Even more reason not to get personally involved. You’re the damn SAC.”

  Reed braced himself. “Bill, you can fire me if you want to, but I’m not turning this over to anyone else.”

  “Easy there.” Welch went silent for a few seconds and Reed assumed he was weighing his options. Reed knew his career could end here. “You know, I like it. High-profile case.”

  “Thank you, Bill.”

  “Oh, don’t thank me. This goes south, you’re done. National security and the reputation of the Bureau are on the line here.”

  Delegate authority but not responsibility. “I’ll get her.”

  “You have anything new?”

  “We suspect Clarke is an accomplice. Used to work with her. I was just briefed from the scene on the fire at his house. Looks like there were three shooters.”

  “Three? Who the hell—”

  “We don’t know who the third shooter is yet. Looks like she’s a target. The list of those who’d want her dead or under their control is growing by the second.” Reed hated not having better answers and it felt as if he were inside a tornado.

  “Do you have their location?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Maybe you should ask the reporter at the San Diego paper. They tell me her story has gone viral. It looks like she had more information than you just gave me.”

  “Fuller?”

  “Yes. I don’t have to remind you that the longer this goes—”

  “I know. We’ll find them.”

  “I hope for your sake you do, Mason.” Welch hung up.

  Welch was right about one thing. The longer Covington was missing, the harder she’d be to find. Right now, she was most likely still in the area. Reed needed more eyes and ears, and he knew one way to get them. That way just happened to be through a young reporter whose audience was growing by the second.

  CHAPTER 20

  Kayla knew this would be risky. But she needed to do it regardless of what Sergio and Harrison thought. She entered the small, dark office tucked in the corner of the massive shop. The air was sweetened with the scent of fresh paint and through the small windows of the shop she could see the darkness outside was giving way to morning.

  Sergio switched on fluorescent office lights. As her eyes adjusted, she stopped at the cluttered gray desk, turned and stood firm, facing Harrison and Sergio. They were holding the duffels and standing in the doorway, both apparently reading her posture and demeanor. Sergio looked curiously at her while Harrison’s expression held a mixture of anticipation and challenge.

  “Before we go any further, I need to make a call.”

  Harrison’s eyes widened. “That could be risky. Who do you need to call?”

  “My father.”

  Harrison dropped his head and slowly shook it. “How is he?” he asked without looking up.

  “Not good. And he’ll be worried. It will only take a minute.”

  Harrison looked up. “Does he still talk to Emily?”

  “Yes. Every day.”

  Sergio unzipped his duffel then reached in and pulled out a prepaid phone. He glanced at Harrison. “She could use this.”

  Harrison raised his palm to Sergio. “Hang on for a second.” He turned back to her. “Are you sure going to Washington is the best option now? It seems like a long shot.”

  Harrison’s question caught her off guard. Her body tensed and her face heated up. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we have a killer chasing us. We have no idea who she is. You’re running out of time and a trip to Washington takes nearly a day. We could go to the FBI right now. They can protect you. I can call someone I know and get access to a lab. We could probably get NIH and others to help and maybe save your life.”

  Kayla had considered that option repeatedly but each time ended up at the same conclusion. She pointed toward the shop’s door. “Everyone, including the FBI, thinks I killed those people. The interrogation, if I even get the chance, will take too long. And who knows who those killers are working for? I’d die in the FBI’s custody.”

  “But Emily?” The doubt on Harrison’s face made her bristle.

  “You know what? You two go out into the shop and decide if you can help me or not. You certainly don’t have to risk your lives for me.” She reached out and Sergio handed her the burner.

  “You only have about ten or fifteen minutes before my craftsmen start to show up for work,” Sergio said. His stunned look said she had gone too far.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Just go outside while I make this call. I’ll be quick. I have the cellphone number of Dad’s nurse. The FBI won’t be listening.” She herded them out the door and shut it. She turned away, ripped open the box, and pulled out the phone. She dialed the number, put the phone to her ear, and as it rang, hoped her gut was right. She turned back to the doorway and saw Harrison and Sergio arguing. Sergio was pointing at Kayla.
r />   “This is Nadine.”

  “Hi Nadine. This is Kayla.”

  Nadine paused and Kayla heard footsteps then a door closing. Then Nadine whispered, “Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine Nadine.”

  “I’m not seeing fine on TV.”

  Nadine was in her late fifties, had two grown boys and a supportive husband. She had been with Kayla’s dad since Kayla found the nursing home in Bellevue two years ago. They’d grown close through all the visits and phone calls over that time. But still, Kayla had to say it. “I didn’t do it.”

  “I didn’t think you could, but the FBI has been here. They’re still outside watching this place. I saw them this morning when I came in.”

  “I can explain it all later. But right now, I need to talk to Dad. How is he?”

  “Not good. Ever since he heard the news, he just sits in his wheelchair and worries.”

  Kayla dipped her head as the heavy pendulum of guilt swung back her way. “Do you think you could help me, Nadine?”

  There was more silence on the other end of the call, then Kayla heard a door open.

  “Hang on,” Nadine whispered. The sound of more soft footsteps was followed by another door opening then closing.

  “Wally. Wally. It’s your daughter,” Nadine said. “Here he is. You don’t have much time before they come check on him.”

  “Hello?” His speech was soft and slow. He’d been in the advanced stages of Parkinson’s since he’d been admitted.

  Kayla hated his condition. He’d done so much for her. At thirteen, she never would have survived her mother’s death and followed a path to molecular biology without his steadfast support. When she’d watched her suicidal mother taken out of their home on a stretcher, motionless, something inside convicted her of not being enough for her mother and her mind froze, stuck in a lonely, murky malaise. But her father stepped in and comforted her and filled that chasm the best he could. He was always there, even when everyone abandoned her after Joshua died.

  “Hi Daddy. It’s K.C.”

  “Are … are you … ok?”

  “I’m okay, Daddy.” Kayla wanted to absorb his pain.

  “What about what they … they are saying on TV?”

  “I didn’t do it Daddy. But don’t worry. I’m okay. I’ll be okay. But I need your help.”

  “I’m ready. What do … do you need?”

  “Have you seen or heard from Emily?”

  She heard a long sigh.

  “She hasn’t … called this morning. She … she usually calls.”

  The fact that Emily hadn’t called dimmed Kayla’s hopes. Emily called her grandfather every morning. Kayla talked to him every evening. She didn’t want to ask the next question because she always knew the answer, but the words came anyway. “Has she asked about me lately?”

  Kayla heard another long sigh.

  “No. But you … you know she loves you.”

  Her father always said that. For the last ten years his answer was always the same. Nothing had changed. Her daughter was still acting as if she had no mother.

  She heard Nadine say, “Tell her we have to go.”

  Kayla knew he wouldn’t want to cut off the call. “Daddy. I love you. And hang on. I’ll fix this and things will get better. You’ll get better.”

  “I … I love you.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.”

  Nadine got on the phone. “We gotta go. You be careful.”

  “I will Nadine.”

  The call ended. She dropped her head and stared at the floor. With her life now slipping away, she wondered if that was the last time she’d talk to her dad. She wiped the wetness from her eyes and shoved the need to cry aside. It had gone as expected. No indication that improved Kayla’s odds with Emily. Ignoring the fact that the FBI was probably monitoring Emily’s phone, she called her from the burner. It wasn’t Kayla’s number, so maybe she’d pick up. But the call went straight to voicemail. As much as she wanted to, Kayla couldn’t leave a message. That wouldn’t be smart. She ended the call. But something in her gut said Emily’s coldheartedness might change once she saw her. Her father sounded worse, and she couldn’t imagine life without him. She wanted him to see her with a happy life, not the one she had now. She decided she’d still go to Washington. She’d save herself and her life’s work and once the trial was completed, her father could get emergency use authorization from the FDA. But when she looked through the window in the office door and saw Harrison and Sergio standing outside, expressionless, she knew that she might just have to do it alone.

  Throughout their relationship she’d been able to read Harrison’s expressions. At least she thought she could. But this time she got nothing. As she walked to the door and opened it, she decided she could accept whatever he had to say. If she had to, she’d go it alone. She stood in the opened doorway and the silence between them could have filled the Pacific. Sergio finally eyed Harrison, and then Harrison’s eyes found hers. He pursed his lips and nodded, apparently reading Kayla’s intention not to turn herself in.

  “Serge will get us to Dana Point, then he’s out. I’ll help until the end.” He held her gaze, reached out, and squeezed Kayla’s hand. His touch was firm and kind and flowed through her into her heart. Then he stepped around her and entered the office without another word. Kayla was buoyed by Harrison’s commitment and grateful she wouldn’t have to do this alone. But her head couldn’t tell her heart what it wanted to know: Was this a new beginning for them—or an end?

  CHAPTER 21

  Sienna sat in the far corner of the ninth-floor newsroom and focused on her screen. The morning light filled the room. Ever since she’d arrived, she’d been stuck on this desert isle that few ever visited. The beige-and-brown sea of stand-up and sit-down desks and tables reached the length of the entire floor. The exposed piping, air ducts and sprinkler system overhead had all been painted beige, giving the workspace a look that some interior designer said would attract millennials just like Sienna. She’d seen better on Instagram, but the workspace had never been the attraction. It was the paper’s four Pulitzer Prizes displayed in the twelfth-floor lobby. Now, nothing mattered to her but getting to the truth.

  Sienna ignored her editor until she couldn’t. He lurked behind her, watching each keystroke. Based on the fact that he’d been back here only a handful of times, she knew he didn’t think she was experienced enough to handle the story. He’d already warned her that Rebecca Temple was recovering quickly and writing some side pieces to Sienna’s feature going out today. The implied threat was clear: one bobble and she was out, and his star reporter was in. At twenty-eight, Sienna’s childhood dream would be wrecked. Despite her youth, she was sure these chances were rare. She turned and tried to relax the get the hell out of here look on her face, covering the corrosive disdain rumbling under her breath.

  “What’s up, Todd?”

  “How’s is coming?”

  “I’ll have it before noon. I’m just waiting on a call back from the vice chair of biology at UCSD. Should be any minute.” Sienna crossed her arms and smiled. She’d called Todd’s bluff. Meeting a noon deadline was fast, especially for a feature exposé like this. Everyone down the line would love her: the subeditor, the graphic designer and the page designers. But Todd was rarely happy. She thought it could be attributed to his one-dimensional life. She was sure part of his surliness was due to the twenty minutes she’d taken this morning to change her clothes and tend to Woodward and Bernstein. And Todd wasn’t a cat person. But she hadn’t seen them since Thursday morning, and while the older woman across the hall had taken care of them last night, they’d needed water and food this morning.

  “Noon is good.” He feigned a smile. “Did you get to the bottom of Covington’s motivation to do this to her own work?”

  “My question is, why did she push so hard for this work and then destroy it? There’s one more question I haven’t answered yet. Is she really capable of mass murder?”


  “You don’t believe the FBI?”

  “There’s something that doesn’t fit.”

  “How so?”

  “First of all, she’s a mom who lost her son to a terrible disease. She did everything to save him.”

  Todd’s baseline aggravation returned to his expression. “But she didn’t.”

  “I know. But then she became one of the best STEM for Girls role-model volunteers in Southern California.”

  “STEM?”

  “Science, technology, engineering and math. She’s also one of the biggest donors. In both time and money. A sociopath wouldn’t do that. Every person who worked with her said she’d help anyone who asked. She was just introverted.”

  “But she survived and she ran.”

  “Maybe she’s scared.”

  “I can’t print maybes. You need to go deeper.”

  Sienna wanted to slap the condescending look from Todd’s thin pasty face. But he was right. This story wouldn’t earn her a thing if it didn’t have some close-up insights into the mind of Kayla Covington.

  “I’m working on it.”

  Her smartphone rang and Todd walked away.

  “Sienna.”

  “Hi, Miss Fuller. This is Virginia Norris returning your call. I had to get it cleared through my investors first, so I apologize for it taking so long.”

  “Thank you for calling back. As I mentioned in my message, I’m following the events of last night at the lab in La Jolla. I have a few questions for you, and I’d like to record our call to be sure I get the technical aspects correct if that’s okay.”

  “Sure. Happy to help.”

  “First, can you briefly describe your background, especially as it relates to your expertise with CRISPR-Cas9?”

  “I’m a professor of biology here at UCSD with a focus on molecular biology. I hold a PhD from the University of Washington and I’m CEO of a private lab where we’re developing molecular oncology treatments using the CRISPR-Cas9 technology.”

  Sienna had read a dozen articles on the technology. She decided to get right to Norris’s relationship with Covington. “Were you at the University of Washington when Kayla Covington was there?”