Chapter Twenty-Eight

I counted to ten in my head, in case whoever had been here decided to come back.

“He’s gone,” Jack said, his voice sounding loud in the hollow darkness of the storage building.

“…ocho, nueve, diez,” I muttered, finishing my count. Then I cocked my head to the side, flipping my ponytails back as if that would help me hear better. All was silent. “Yep.”

Jack stood, then held his hand out so I could grab it and stand without putting too much weight on my foot. “Any better?” he asked.

“Maybe. I think so.”

He started toward the door as I processed my thoughts aloud. “So someone was loading up a delivery of protein powder at, what, like, ten thirty? Eleven?” The numbers on Jennifer’s brochures must not be related to these buildings at all. It was a dead end.

Jack, ever the investigative reporter, poked his head out the door into the darkness, then turned back to me. “Let’s check the other buildings.” He grabbed a nearby tub of protein powder and placed it between the door and the jamb. “In case we want to come back in here,” he explained.

Ah, mi amor! I knew I liked him for his brains. “Good thinking,” I said, crinkling my nose as my fake glasses slipped down. If I’d had a pocket, I would have tucked them away. But I didn’t, so I slid them back into place and followed Jack out the door, testing my weight on my ankle. So far, so good.

He glanced down at it a few times. “It’s fine,” I said under my breath, although I knew a whopping dose of Advil was in my future.

He tested the door handle of the second building. Locked. I limped around to the side of building two while he jogged to the others. I cupped my hands and peered through the window. Not much to see but shadows. Except—

A hand came down on my shoulder. “It’s me,” Jack said quickly enough that I could stifle the yelp hovering on my tongue. “They’re all locked.”

“What does that stuff look like to you?” I asked, pointing to the window.

“It’s dark in there,” he said, but he did exactly what I’d done, cupping his hands and peering through the glass. “Furniture. Chaise longues and stuff.”

My shoulders sank. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too.”

We went back to the first building. “We have to be missing something,” I said. My instincts couldn’t be wrong on this!

He followed me inside, closing the door behind us. We didn’t dare turn on the lights, but after another minute, my eyes adjusted, the moonlight streaming in enough to show us the shelves.

“What do you think you’re going to find?” Jack asked.

“Good question. I don’t know.” Something tickled the back of my brain, but I couldn’t drag it out to the surface. “There’s nothing here, and yet…”

He walked alongside the shelves, touching the boxes and moving them to look behind. I went the other direction, doing the same, but stopped when the box I pushed nearly flew off the shelf. I shoved it out of the way, touching the one below it. “Jack,” I called.

He was by my side in a flash, standing behind me as I opened the box. “Empty?”

I turned and saw all his bare-chested glory. I swallowed the lump that rose in my throat. “Um, yeah. Empty.” I averted my eyes. “Why would there be empty boxes stacked here?” We went through a few more. Empty, each and every one, but shelved as if they were full of tubs of nutritional supplements.

Bending over, I peered between the shelves, leaning in to reach for the wall. Only it wasn’t a wall, it was—“A door.”

I pulled my head out from between the shelves, straightened up, and turned to find a smoldering, almost pained expression on Jack’s face, his gaze directed at my backside. Ay, caramba. Not now. If I couldn’t let my mind wander there, neither could he. We’d have plenty of time for that later.

I stood and snapped my fingers. “Callaghan. Focus.”

He blinked, his eyes still dark and seductive, but his attention back where it should be. “A door.” Then, as if a lightbulb turned on, he repeated, “A door?”

“Ayúdame,” I said, slipping into Spanish. His curiosity bypassed his desire, because he grabbed the end of the shelf and slid it back enough that we could fit behind it.

The whole time, that niggling feeling kept tapping in the recesses of my mind. I could hear Jennifer’s voice telling me something…something important. Pero, what was it? Manny’s voice came next. “Just wait. It’ll come to you. Remember your hypothesis.”

One of my hypotheses was that Larry Madrino had some jealous, unrequited love going on for Jennifer, but that just didn’t feel right. Manny’s voice popped into my head again. “‘Doesn’t feel right’ isn’t enough. Hard and cold facts, that’s what you need.”

“It’s unlocked,” Jack said, and just like that, Manny’s voice was gone.

We stepped inside. There were no windows, so I closed the door behind me and ran my hand along the wall. Finally, I found it and flipped it up.

Ceiling-mounted fluorescent lights flickered on and the room was suddenly blazing with brightness.

Jack and I stared at the long, rectangular table, the buckets, the tubing, and the glass jars in the center of the room. “Is it a meth lab?” I asked when I found my voice again. It had to be. Why else would all these chemicals and supplies be here? I could see the headline now:

Rural Sacramento Nudist Resort Front for Crystal Meth Lab

Jack’s jaw pulsed as he walked around the science lab setup.

I read the names of the chemicals. Benzyl Alcohol and Benzyl Benzoate, whatever that was. Grapeseed oil. Beakers and needles. And testosterone cypionate.

After a minute, he turned to face me, the color draining from his face. “Shit.”

“What?” What could a chemist make with testosterone cypion—“Holy Mary Mother of God,” I said. “It’s not meth, is it? Someone’s making steroids.”