Sandy felt her mind rushing back into her physical body. She opened her eyes, blinking at the light in the room. Sam was kneeling next to her chair. He looked worried. “Are you okay, kid?”
Sandy took a deep breath and nodded. Aside from feeling wrung out, she was fine. Then she noticed Jonathan Wolfe. He was gazing at the pad of paper she had been holding. Now Sandy saw that the pages were covered with scribbled marks. She must have written down the formula as she “read” it off the pages hidden in Dixon's cabin!
Kemp stood next to Wolfe, looking over his shoulder at the formula. Then, all of a sudden, Kemp looked directly at Sandy. His smile made Sandy shudder. He looked exactly like a hungry shark!
“Can we go now?” she whispered to Sam. “I—I need to get out of here.”
“Sure thing,” Sam said. He helped her to her feet. Wolfe barely looked up from the formula as Kemp showed them to the door.
“I want you to know that the donation to the police department has already been made,” Kemp told Sam. “I'm sure your people will be very happy with the new equipment.”
“Thanks,” Sam muttered. After the front door closed behind them, Sam wriggled uncomfortably. “Tell me something, Sandy. Why do I feel like I just waded through an open sewer?”
“Ugh,” Sandy agreed with a shaky laugh. “I feel the same way. I don't know what it is about Kemp—but he almost makes me physically ill. There's something evil about that man.”
“Well, it's over with,” Sam said as they climbed into his car. “And for all I care, Dixon can rot in his new home. Or, to be more accurate—freeze!” Sam chuckled. “With winter coming on, he's going to be one cold, sorry character.”
Sandy glanced at Sam with a puzzled frown. “Freeze? Not likely. He's hiding out in a tropical climate. What do you mean, Sam?” she asked.
“I told you before,” Sam said. “Dixon escaped from the United States and flew to a country in Europe that—”
“No!” Sandy objected. “All you said was that it was a country that wasn't friendly with us.”
“That's right,” Sam said.
“You didn't say it was in Europe.”
“Eastern Europe, to be exact,” Sam said. “One of those Balkan countries—”
“No!” Sandy cried out. “Oh, Sam, no! If that's true, then—”
Sam pulled the car to the side of the road and stopped at the curb. “What's wrong with you, kid?”
“Sam, I think we've made a terrible mistake,” Sandy said. She was shaking all over. She couldn't rid herself of the memory of Greg Dixon, lying bruised and beaten on the shabby little cot.
Sam gazed at her in confusion. “Maybe you better tell me what's going on here,” he growled.
At Sandy's insistence, they drove to a coffee shop. They chose a table on the far side of the patio. A waitress served them glasses of cold lemonade.
Sandy told Sam what she had seen from the very beginning. She could tell he was shocked by her story.
“Wolfe told us he'd hired private detectives to hunt Dixon down,” Sam said. “He mentioned they'd tracked Dixon to Eastern Europe. There was no way we could touch Dixon there.”
“Wolfe knew that,” Sandy said bitterly. “He also knew you'd have to involve a psychic if you couldn't get to Dixon any other way.”
“We had no reason not to believe Jonathan Wolfe,” Sam said bitterly.
“Plus the promise of a huge donation didn't hurt,” Sandy said. When she saw the embarrassment and pain in Sam's eyes, she covered his hand with hers. “Sam, you did what you thought was right for the department. You couldn't have known what Wolfe was up to.”
Sam groaned. “I don't know how he found out about your work, kid, but he knew all about it.”
Sandy sighed. “He probably used his private detectives to talk to the families I've helped. Guys like Wolfe can buy anything they want, Sam—including information.”
“But why would he lie about it?” Sam said in an annoyed voice. “I just don't get it.”
Sandy looked into the depths of her glass. “Dixon is closer to the United States than Wolfe said. He's in a warm, tropical place, on a beach, close to—”
“Mexico?” Sam suggested.
Sandy thought about it. “You could be right,” she said. “If so, Dixon is just a few hours from here. And Sam—he's been hurt. Someone beat him up.”
Sam shook his head. “What? That means someone else must be after the formula!”
Suddenly, Sandy drew her breath in sharply. “No one else,” she burst out. “I think I know what happened.”
“Go on,” Sam said.
“I think Wolfe's detectives found out where Dixon was hiding,” Sandy said. “Kemp must have gone to Mexico to get the formula. But Greg had hidden each page in a different place. Kemp couldn't find all the pages. That's why he beat up Dixon. He tried to make him tell where the rest of the formula was. But Dixon refused, so Kemp left him there.”
“Then they pulled you in to find the formula,” Sam said. He clenched his fist and slammed it into the palm of his other hand. He was furious. “If I could just get my hands on that Kemp—”
“Please, no more violence,” Sandy said. “Why can't you just arrest Kemp and Wolfe? They're criminals.”
Sam shook his head. “I'm afraid not, Sandy. They haven't broken a single law—at least, not in this country.”
Sandy put her head in her hands. “I can't believe that they used me to—” Then she gasped, her eyes widening.
“Sam, what if everything they told us was a lie? What if Dixon was the person who created the formula? What if I stole it from its rightful owner?”