Emory pulled margarine and a carton of free-range eggs from an oversized refrigerator and searched the quilted-maple cabinets for spices. From the custom-made appliances, like the La Cornue stove in the expansive island, to the blue granite countertops and silver-lined cookware, Blair Geister’s kitchen would be any gourmet’s happy place.
He found a pepper grinder in an overhead cupboard, next to a matching salt shaker. Behind them were boxes of whole white pepper and Fo-Salt. Emory checked the ingredients of the salt substitute and found the main one to be potassium chloride – just like Cathy Shaw had told him a person with hypertension might use. He turned around to find a shirtless Jeff seated at one of the island’s barstools. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” Jeff muttered while looking out the window.
Emory placed the ingredients next to the stove. “I’m making breakfast. Any special requests?”
“Frittata and French toast with sliced banana.”
Emory grinned. “Is that a challenge? I’m no Kenn Marty, but I can get by if the fixings are here.”
“Why do you know how to cook? I mean, who do you cook for? You’re alone.”
Emory’s face dropped. “I cook for myself, and I like leftovers.” He rounded the island to sit next to his partner. “We need to talk.”
“About what? How you don’t trust me after all we’ve been through together?”
Emory placed an arm around Jeff’s shoulders. “I didn’t mean to say that to you.”
“Oh? You meant to yell out, ‘I trust you!’ instead?”
“No.”
A corner of Jeff’s lips pinched. “Is this your first time trying to comfort someone? Because you’re really good at it.”
“I just meant there are things about you I don’t know. Things I need to know before I could possibly consider completely opening up to you.”
Jeff turned and stepped away from the barstool, letting Emory’s arm drop. “See, that’s what I don’t get. Sure, I haven’t filled you in on every single moment of my life up until we met, but you should be grateful for that. Life without mystery is boring. If you know everything about me, there’s nothing more to learn. You graduate and move on.”
“Okay, but there are particular moments I need to know—”
Jeff jabbed a finger in Emory’s shoulder. “You need to even the scales first.” He crossed his arms and waited.
Emory knew he was right. Jeff didn’t know anything about him that he hadn’t volunteered, and he knew way more about his green-eyed partner – thanks to the information Anderson Alexander had given him. “Once this case is over, we’ll talk.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Jeff lurched forward and kissed Emory just as Virginia entered the kitchen. She smiled at them and said, “I’m glad to see you two made up.”
Jeff plopped down again on the barstool. “I wouldn’t say we’ve made up, exactly.”
“If that’s mad at each other, save the arguing for the bedroom.”
Emory returned to the stove. “How’d you sleep?”
“Okay, once the witches stopped singing.” She sat next to Jeff. “They were out there until at least midnight.”
Emory sliced a pat of margarine into a pan on the stove. “You should ask Juniper what that was all about. They acted like they were at home here, so I assume they’ve visited before.”
“She actually texted me this morning. She spread Blair’s ashes and is on her way to Phoenix to catch a flight home. She said she’d meet us at The Monolith open house.”
Emory cracked eggs into a pan. “Speaking of which, I want to leave early so we can stop by Dr. Sharp’s lab.”
Jeff scoffed. “I’m sure you do, but I’m thinking you should pursue hobbies when you’re not on the clock.”
Emory dropped his spatula. “This is business. He could tell us more about Blair Geister and her foundation, which could point us in the direction of a suspect in her death.”
“That’s not why you want to go.”
“The fact that I’m interested in his research is beside the point.”
“Guys!” Virginia raised a palm to both men. “We’ll go to the lab on the way to The Monolith. Now, I have a question. Were either of you in my room – the office – last night?”
“Not me,” answered Jeff.
Emory replied, “Me neither. Why?”
“The past two nights, I’ve woken up with a feeling someone was in the room with me. This morning, I couldn’t reach my phone.”
“What do you mean?” asked Jeff.
“I’ve been charging it on top of this file cabinet by the sofa because I can reach it while I’m lying down. This morning, I couldn’t reach it – like the file cabinet had scooted a few inches away from the sofa.”
Emory slid the eggs onto a plate. “It’s a long sofa. Isn’t it possible you just moved down it in your sleep?”
“I’m not an idiot.”
Jeff laughed. “You’re not seriously thinking Blair Geister’s ghost played a prank on you, are you?
Virginia slapped his arm. “I didn’t say that. But someone did move it.”
Jeff opted to cede the passenger seat to Virginia when they left Geisterhaus, but now he was regretting that decision. He questioned whether his lingering anger at Emory over his “trust” revelation was worth taking a backseat to the primary conversation. Eyes hidden behind frosted Dillon sunglasses, he watched as Emory turned down the private road to Oak Ridge National Laboratory and pulled into the security station, a green-roofed building spanning both lanes. A young, mustached security officer with a red snake tattoo peeking out under the cuff of his shirtsleeve greeted them from the booth window. He asked for their IDs and checked his computer before directing Emory to drive to the visitor center.
After Emory parked, Jeff stepped out of the backseat and checked his phone. “Guys, I have to stay in Knoxville tonight. You can drop me off at the office after The Monolith.”
“What?” asked Virginia. “Why?”
Jeff pocketed his phone and took the lead. “My cat-sitter said Bobbie isn’t eating, so I’m going to see if I can help her regain her appetite. If not, I’ll have to take her to the vet.”
Emory asked, “Where did you even find someone to cat-sit your bobcat?”
Jeff opened the front door to the visitor station. “Yelp.”
Virginia smirked at him. “You’re just using that as an excuse not to stay in the haunted house.”
“It’s only for one night. I’ll drive my car back down in the morning.” He noticed Emory grinning at him. “What?”
“I just realized I get to sleep in the guest room tonight.”
After a run through the metal detectors, Emory told the security officer behind the front desk who they were there to see. They received ID badges on lanyards and made small talk until Dr. Barry Sharp arrived to escort them.
Dr. Sharp gave Emory’s hand a vigorous shaking. “Good to see you again. I’m glad you took me up on my offer.”
“I’ve been looking forward to it.” Emory waved toward his companions. “You remember my partners, Jeff Woodard and Virginia Kennon.”
“Of course.” Dr. Sharp gave a quick handshake to each before leading them outside to a golf cart. “My lab is just down the road. Hop in.” Dr. Sharp got behind the wheel with Emory riding shotgun, and Jeff and Virginia in back. “Let me start the tour by giving you some background on the Oak Ridge National Laboratory. You might know it was built to help develop the atomic bomb in 1943. Since then, it’s been dedicated to other research, not only in nuclear physics, but also environmental sciences, computer sciences and a wide range of other disciplines. In fact, we have the world’s most powerful supercomputer, which I use for my computer simulations.” Dr. Sharp parked in front of a small, red-brick building. “We’re here.”
Emory stepped from the golf cart. “Thank you for the invitation to see your lab. I’ve always been curious about Oak Ridge, but this is my first time here.”
Dr. Sharp beamed. “Absolutely. I love sharing my work with a kindred spirit.” He glanced back at Jeff and Virginia, who were a couple of steps behind, and he added an “s” to the end of his last word.
He led them to a door with a sign that read “Fulminology Laboratory” and a warning sign about high voltage.
Dr. Sharp swiped his badge and opened the door. “Welcome to my laboratory.”
Jeff whispered to Virginia, “What’s fulminology?”
She pulled out her phone. “I’ll look it up.”
They entered a rectangular control room with a row of thick windows on one of the long sides. The windows faced a much more sizeable room, which housed large and unusual devices straight out of a Frankenstein movie. Underneath the control room windows were several stations staggered with computers or control panels. Stacked two-by-two on the far wall were four large monitors, each displaying satellite video feed of different parts of the world. Aside from the doctor and the PIs, the room’s only other occupant was an attractive young woman with long black hair sitting at one of the computers.
Dr. Sharp waved toward the woman. “This is my assistant, Ann Webber. She’s a doctoral student from UT.”
Keeping her hands on the keyboard, Ann acknowledged the group. “Nice to meet you.”
Dr. Sharp stood in front of the monitors. “Here we have live feeds of weather from the four corners of the globe, coming from NOAA satellites – the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. I’m sorry, but I have a tendency to speak in acronym.” The last comment elicited an awkward chuckle from Dr. Sharp and a polite one from Emory. The doctor pointed at flashes of light just east of the Mississippi River. “Here’s a thunderstorm that’s going to hit us tonight.”
“It’s raining tonight?” asked Jeff. “I thought it was scheduled for tomorrow.”
Dr. Sharp shook his head. “It’s been gaining momentum. Our research in this lab is two-pronged. We’re trying to provide indisputable evidence to the climate-change naysayers, and we’re looking for a viable, cost-effective way to harness lightning and convert it into usable energy.
“Lightning is a bellwether for climate change. I think I told you every degree increase in global temperature can cause as much as twelve percent more lightning. This in turn sparks more wildfires, further devastating the environment.” He put a hand up to the monitors. “We use the satellite data to count the number of lightning strikes all over the world over the course of the year, and we compare that to the average global temperature. Then we use the supercomputer to create models of the future impact.”
“That’s incredible,” said Emory. “You’re also trying to convert lightning into an energy source? How could you possibly predict where and when it will strike?”
“We can’t.” Dr. Sharp walked to the nearest window and looked into the other room. “That’s why we’re studying manmade lightning – something we can control. Unfortunately, with our current technology, the cost of creating this lightning outweighs the value of the energy we can capture. Another problem is that lightning produces such a massive energy output almost instantaneously, it’s difficult to convert it into lower-voltage energy for storage quickly enough.”
Dr. Sharp pointed to a device that looked like a car-sized donut on its side atop an eight-foot-tall pole. “That’s a Tesla coil, similar to what you’ve seen in those toy plasma balls, but this one is much more powerful. We don’t really use it much, but it looks impressive. Ann, could you turn it on?”
Ann replied, “I’m not sure how to do that.”
“It’s okay. I’ll show you.” He told the PIs, “Ann started last week.” Dr. Sharp stepped over to the control panel beside her and showed her how to turn it on. The Tesla coil emitted white-blue lightning in every direction.
Emory’s eyes widened above a broadening grin. “That’s amazing.”
Dr. Sharp admired the light show as if he were seeing it for the first time. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Hard to believe lightning is basically static electricity on steroids.” He pointed out two metal pylons of differing heights, each topped with a large metal sphere. “You see the two Marx generators?”
Emory asked, “The ones that look like the Sunsphere?”
“That’s what we use for the bulk of our research into energy conversion.” Dr. Sharp explained how the process worked, and Emory hung on to every word.
Several feet away from the others, Jeff muttered to Virginia, “Emory is certainly in his element.”
She smiled. “It’s like glimpsing the future.”
“What do you mean?”
She nodded toward Emory and Dr. Sharp. “Don’t you see it?”
Jeff watched the men talking for a few seconds, noticing their similar mannerisms. They had the same smile, same lilt in their voice, same professorial air and even the same tendency to avoid direct eye contact while talking. “You’re right. That’s Emory in ten years, if his hair turns prematurely gray.”
Virginia grinned. “Now that you notice it, you can’t un-notice it.”
“Honestly, it does make me like the doctor a bit more. It almost makes me feel bad for what I have to do next.”
“What do you have to do?”
Jeff didn’t answer. Instead, he charged ahead and broke up the conversation. “Dr. Sharp, why was Blair Geister planning to extend the escrow on your grant?”
Emory gasped. “Jeff!”
“What are you talking about?” the doctor asked.
Virginia cut in between Jeff and the professor. “Dr. Sharp, I don’t know if Juniper told you, but she hired us to investigate Blair Geister’s death.”
“I wasn’t aware there were any questions concerning her death.” Dr. Sharp turned to Jeff. “And what do you mean she was planning to extend escrow?”
Jeff said, “You showed up at her house the day she died to discuss it with her.”
“No, I didn’t. I mean, I did stop by her house that day, but it was to let her know my departure from here was happening sooner than anticipated.”
“I don’t understand,” said Emory. “Your departure?”
Dr. Sharp sighed and crossed his arms. “Oak Ridge is run by the U.S. Department of Energy, which means we’re federally funded. It also means the value of particular fields of research sways with the political pendulum.”
Emory asked, “Did Ms. Geister know you would be leaving this facility?”
“Of course. I’ve known it was coming for months now. It was just a matter of when – and that’s now at the end of the month. I had applied for the EARTH grant to start my own, independent lab a few miles away, in Claxton. I went to see her to ask if she would agree to close escrow early. I was trying to eliminate any interruption in my research. It takes time to set up a new lab, particularly with the specialized equipment I need. I can’t simply order it on Amazon.” He asked Jeff, “Were you serious? She was going to delay the grant money?”
“That’s what we heard.”
“But why?”
Emory told him, “We don’t have a clue.”