12

Everything and everyone, from the birds chirping in the trees to the dozen or so people wandering the grounds, stopped at the sound of Edward careening out of the parking lot in his flashy Porsche.

Warn them, Kate’s mind screamed, but like a quivering reed, she stood transfixed by the bag he’d left at her feet. From the way he’d glanced at his watch and then hightailed it out of there, she knew she should run. Run before this bag blew her to smithereens.

But her legs refused to cooperate.

A hand touched her shoulder.

She whirled around, keys clawed between her fingers, and missed a nose by inches.

Tom grabbed her wrist. “Whoa, there! I’m on your side.”

Jolted out of her trance, Kate screamed, “Bomb! Get everyone away!” She swept her arms through the air and ran toward the research building. “Everyone stay back. Stay back. I think there’s a bomb.”

Keith appeared and joined her and Tom in urging people to move back. Dog walkers wrangled in their pooches and dragged them well away, while those who’d been out of earshot jogged over to see what the commotion was about.

Tom formed a barrier with his arms and raised his voice above the murmur. “Please, everyone stay back. I’m Detective Parker. We have a suspicious package. Until we’re sure it’s safe, we need you to stay back.”

“What makes you think there’s a bomb in the bag?” Keith whispered in Kate’s ear.

“Edward was acting so strange, and he wanted to put the bag into my trunk, and when I wouldn’t let him, I thought I saw him fiddle with something in the bag. The news reporters talk about car bombs all the time. I just thought . . .”

Keith met Tom’s gaze, and without a word being spoken, Keith nodded and then moved toward the bag.

“What are you doing?” Kate tried to grab his arm, but Tom yanked her back. She pummeled his chest. “You have to stop him. We need to call the bomb squad.”

“Dad used to be in bomb disposal,” Tom said quietly, crushing her clenched fists against him. “He knows what to do.”

At the feel of Tom’s protective arms around her, she stopped fighting him. “I . . . I was so scared,” Kate mumbled against his shirt.

“You did great.”

Keith knelt next to the duffel bag and muttered something she couldn’t make out.

She eased herself from Tom’s arms. “Shouldn’t he be wearing protective gear? What if the bomb goes off when he opens the bag?”

“Trust me. Dad knows what he’s doing. Tell me again why you think there’s a bomb in the bag. What did Edward say to you?”

“I . . . I don’t remember. But he was acting so strange and—” A sob cut off the rest of her explanation. Putting her reasons into words made them sound embarrassingly far-fetched.

“It’s okay. You did the right thing.” Tom’s grave tone made her fears seem absolutely legitimate. He drew her farther away from the bag and then gently lifted her chin. “Are you okay?”

She sniffed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just that Edward showed up at my lab and all I could think of was how you’d warned me to be careful. But I didn’t know what to do.” She hugged her arms around her waist and focused on Keith.

He pulled out a long yellow rope attached to pulleys and gingerly set it on the ground.

A man in the group whispered to his wife, “That looks like that thingamabob you exercise with.”

The woman jabbed him with her elbow. “Shh.”

Next Keith pulled out a black rubber ring, about a foot in diameter, with red sponge handholds on either side.

More whispers swished through the crowd and Kate’s heart sledge-hammered her ribs with bone-crushing thumps.

Slowly Keith pulled out a pair of turquoise, gelatinous-looking balls. His head tilted as he studied the one in his right hand, pressing his fingers one after the other into the semisolid material.

Kate held her breath, every muscle taut, as she watched his examination.

A moment later, he tossed the balls onto the grass. The group gasped.

Kate ducked, certain the gelatinous masses would explode on impact.

They didn’t.

And maybe Keith hadn’t exactly tossed them, but he could have moved them with a lot more caution.

“That stuff is just exercise equipment,” a woman in the group said, waving a hand at the collection on the ground and then walking away.

Kate glanced from the seemingly innocuous items to the skeptical faces in the crowd, but her own pounding heart wouldn’t let up. Not until . . .

Keith pulled the next item from the bag—a pair of thick purple spirals, joined in the middle by a black plastic, sausagelike thing—and Tom actually laughed.

“Isn’t that one of those thigh beaters?”

“Oh yeah.” Keith chuckled. “Your mom went through a couple of these puppies. Swore they shaved inches off her thighs.”

Kate cringed at how ridiculous her fears looked in light of what was really in the bag.

Keith sat back on his heels. “Nothing suspicious here.” He grinned. “Unless you count the—ahem—torture gadgets.”

The spectators laughed and broke into applause.

“Okay, folks,” Tom announced. “It’s safe to go.”

As Keith tossed the items back into the bag, Tom returned his attention to Kate. Oh, joy. This was not the kind of attention she’d wanted.

“Why did Edward come here?”

“To give me the bag. He said he saw my car. He wants me to go through Daisy’s belongings with him, but I don’t think I can do that. I can’t bear the thought of him pawing through Daisy’s things. Why haven’t you arrested him?”

“I can’t arrest him without evidence,” Tom said, all traces of humor gone.

“Well, he wiped the browsing history and emails from Daisy’s lab computer. An innocent man wouldn’t do that. And—” Kate told Tom about the backup disk and the detective agency and the article on the swindler. “I think Daisy was suspicious of Edward and he knew it.”

Tom cupped Kate’s elbow and steered her toward the research building. “Okay, I want you to show me what you’ve found.”

Kate swiped her ID through the exterior electronic lock and led the way to her lab.

“How would Edward have accessed Daisy’s computer?” Tom asked.

“She kept her pass card and keys in her purse. Security probably never thought to ask for them back.”

“What about her password?”

“That would’ve been tougher. Daisy changed it every week. She’d go through the alphabet using Latin plant names.” Kate unlocked the lab door and switched on the lights. “If Edward knew what letter she was on, he could have guessed the password. That’s how I got in. Or maybe he watched over her shoulder as she entered it.”

Tom nodded, but his furrowed brow suggested he was dubious about her theory. “Your boss accessed Daisy’s computer for me after her death.”

“He has administrative privileges. They probably allow him to override passwords. I’m not sure.”

“So he might’ve cleaned the personal stuff from Daisy’s computer.”

“Darryl? I can’t think of any reason why he would. It’s got to be Edward.” Kate powered up the computer and pulled the portable hard drive from her pocket.

“Did Daisy mention anything to you about someone pilfering from the labs?”

“No.” Kate’s gaze strayed to the bare spot she’d noticed on the shelf over her workbench. When Tom’s followed, she backpedaled, self-conscious about the apparent discrepancy. “I don’t know. Maybe. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“It’s another case I’m working on. Daisy’s name came up.”

“You think the thefts had something to do with Daisy’s death?” Kate recalled Darryl mentioning that the missing intern used to invent stuff.

“The timing is suspicious.”

“We had an intern named Gord Laslo quit around the time Daisy died. Apparently, he used to tinker. He could have taken the stuff for his inventions.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about this guy sooner?” Tom practically growled.

“I found out about him the day your boss accosted me in the woods. Can you blame me for forgetting?”

“Any other potential suspects you’ve forgotten to tell me about?”

She chewed on her bottom lip. If she revealed her suspicions of Brewster after imagining Edward planned to put a bomb in her car, Tom might lock her up. Better to stick to one suspect at a time. “No, just Gordon. Daisy had threatened to have him expelled for plagiarism.”

“You think this kid committed murder to get out of an expulsion?” Tom pulled a notepad from the inside pocket of his jacket and started writing.

“No.” Kate sunk into the computer chair. “I had thought that he might have switched Daisy’s tea as a prank and then skipped town when the prank went bad.”

“Wait a minute. You’re saying Gordon left town?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t think this was important enough to tell me?”

“Edward is the one who told me about Gord. He probably wanted to keep me busy chasing ghosts.”

“If you’re going to be a detective, you can’t ignore half of your clues because they don’t fit your suspect. This student had a motive and he had the knowledge and means to substitute the marigolds. How about opportunity? There was no sign of forced entry at any of Leacock’s doors or windows. Would she have allowed Gordon into her house?”

“Daisy welcomed everyone into her home. But I don’t think Gord’s our killer. If Edward hadn’t been the one to point me toward him, I’d be more worried the kid was another victim.”

“Victim?” Tom’s raised voice rattled the test tubes.

“Yes, a victim.” To avoid Tom’s scowl, Kate punched in Daisy’s password and navigated through the computer pages. “Gord worked at the greenhouse near where your chief grabbed me in the woods. I thought Gord might have seen something he shouldn’t have.” The horrible scenario unfolded in Kate’s mind, and for a moment, she forgot about Edward. “If he’d mentioned that something to Daisy before going missing, Daisy might have asked the wrong people questions.”

“What wrong people?”

“Drug dealers, of course.” The news article about a swindler loaded onto the computer screen, reminding her where they needed to focus. She tilted the screen toward Tom. “Never mind about that. It was just a theory. I know you think I’m letting my imagination get carried away, but take a look at this.”

“No,” Tom said, blowing out air like a dying balloon. “I think you’re right that Daisy stumbled onto something that got her killed.” He skimmed the article, showing no sign of surprise at its content. “Figuring out what she stumbled onto and proving it is a different matter.”

“We can’t give up.”

“We won’t. I’ll see if I can track down this Gordon Laslo, but I don’t want you putting yourself in any more danger.”

“But—”

Tom stopped her words with a fingertip to her lips. His touch made her shiver in a whole different way than Edward’s had. “Please, don’t argue. I promise I will do everything I can to get to the bottom of this, but I won’t risk your safety.”

“You’re the most stubborn woman I know,” Tom said with a mock glare, a half hour later, as they stood side by side on the front porch of Gordon Laslo’s family home.

Unable to think of a snappy comeback, Kate just poked out her tongue.

“Oh, and mature too.” Tom’s voice held censure, but his eyes twinkled.

She gave him a toothy grin. She wasn’t the kind of woman who flirted with any single guy who came along, especially not law enforcement types, but the little zaps that kept knocking her heart out of rhythm every time Tom smiled at her made her want to flirt with him. Later. After Daisy’s murderer was safely behind bars.

If she hadn’t waited so long to divulge the rest of her suspicions to Tom, they might already have the proof they needed. He’d plugged Gord’s name into the driver’s license database and within seconds the computer spit out addresses for five Gordon Laslos in the region. Only one was Gord’s age, and voilà! They had their match. The best part was, Kate hadn’t had to expose Tom to Lana with the long eyelashes to get the address.

Tom pushed the doorbell for the third time. “Looks like we’ll have to come back later.”

A kid delivering newspapers popped a wheelie on the sidewalk in front of the Laslo house. “They ain’t home.”

“Cool bike,” Tom said and joined the boy at the curb. He admired the long handlebars and banana seat, making an instant friend. “You know the Laslos?”

The boy shrugged the shoulder not weighed down by a bagful of newspapers. “I’m their paperboy.”

“We’re looking for their son, Gordon. Have you seen him around?”

“He’s away at college.”

“Does he come home for visits?”

“Sure, I guess, but Mr. and Mrs. Laslo went to Europe for a month.”

“Without their kids?”

“I dunno. All they told me was to stop delivering their paper until the middle of June.”

The boy popped another wheelie and swerved into the next driveway.

“Now what?” Kate said. “We don’t know if Gord’s missing or gallivanting through Europe with his folks.”

“Shouldn’t be too hard to figure out what airline they flew with, and then it’s just a matter of looking at the passenger manifest.” Tom held open the passenger door of his car for her.

“Won’t your boss give you a hard time if you start flashing your badge on a case he’s told you to stay away from?”

“Laslo’s a robbery suspect. Asking about him won’t rouse suspicions.” Tom rounded the car and climbed into the driver’s seat. “Of course, having you join me at the police station might raise some eyebrows.”

“All right, I get the message. You can take me home now.”

For a few blocks, Tom said nothing, and the silence gave her too much time to think about the research she’d fallen sorely behind on. About the rumors that could jeopardize her funding. About Edward, and what he might do next.

“Is your roommate expecting you?” Tom asked.

Considering how pathetic it was that she had no plans for a Saturday night, Kate let out a laugh that sounded too much like a snort. “You’re kidding, right? What kind of fiancée chooses her roommate over her groom-to-be?”

“How about I drop you off at my dad’s then?”

She crinkled her nose. “So he can protect me from roving exercise equipment?”

“That”—Tom grinned—“and so you can give him the gardening help you promised. I’ll pick up a pizza for us when I finish my shift.”

“You don’t have to babysit me. I’m sure Edward will spend the evening with Molly. Not plot ways to sneak into my house.”

“The fact that you’re even thinking about the possibility is reason enough not to send you home alone. Besides, you’d be doing me a favor by keeping my dad company.”

“Well . . .” Kate injected an enthusiastic lilt into her voice. “If you put it that way, how can I refuse?”

Tom was pretty sure that leaving Kate and Dad alone for a couple of hours was a colossal mistake. No telling what Dad might say about him. But leaving her with Dad beat the alternative—leaving her unprotected.

Tom waited until they disappeared into the house, then backed out of the driveway. When he’d arrived at the research station, he would’ve liked nothing better than to put the fear of God into Edward, but alerting him to their suspicions could’ve backfired big-time. As it was, when Edward wrapped an arm around Kate’s shoulder, he’d had to dig his fingers into a tree to stop himself from tearing the scumbag away from her. And any illusions that he would’ve felt the same surge of protection toward any woman were swept away when Kate burrowed into his chest and dampened his shirt with her tears.

The last time his chest had hurt that much, he’d been lying flat on his back after going five rounds with a semiautomatic. Thankfully, those assailants—unlike Kate—hadn’t had armor-piercing ammunition.

Instead of turning toward the police station, Tom headed out of town. He still needed to take another look at that shed in the woods. Between Kate’s car bomb speculation, the petty thefts from the research lab, and a missing intern, his terrorist theory wouldn’t stop gnawing at him. Before he admitted to Zeb at NSA that his concerns were groundless, he needed to verify Hank’s fireworks claim.

Tom drove to the general area of the shed and parked behind a farmer’s hedgerow, out of sight of passersby. He checked the batteries on his flashlight, jogged across the road to the bush, and slipped into the trees.

The sun wouldn’t set for another couple of hours, but in the dense trees darkness had already closed in. He jogged along the faint trail they’d trampled a few days earlier, but without fear for Kate’s safety driving him forward, the shed seemed a lot deeper into the bush than he remembered. About to turn around, thinking he’d gone too far, he spotted the roof to his left.

Tom skulked closer. The padlock still hung on the door. He shone his flashlight through the window. Aside from a dusting of residue on the bench, the place was empty. He skimmed the light over the walls. To the side of the bench, a cardboard chart hung from a nail. Chemicals and amounts were listed under names such as Roman candle, glitter palm, dahlia, and crackle—firecracker names.

So much for his bomb-making theory.

He should be relieved. He was relieved, except . . . the theory had neatly connected the missing intern, Leacock, and her muddy-shoed nephew who’d stoop to anything to make a buck. Tom trudged back to the road. Now all he had left was the grow-op angle and the con angle.

If Gord knew about a grow-op and divulged the information to Leacock, or if she suspected foul play in his disappearance and got caught snooping around, the perpetrators might have taken her out. It was just unlikely they’d do it with a cup of tea. And with no proof, the theory was nothing but pure speculation.

The con angle was the most credible scenario. A scenario that, in the absence of further evidence, relegated the research station thefts and Gord’s unexplained disappearance to mere coincidence.

Tom hated coincidences. There had to be a link.

Back at the police station, Tom quickly realized that on a Saturday night, without a departure date and destination, he wouldn’t get anywhere in his search for information on the Laslos’ trip.

Tom finished his shift and then headed for the Pizza Shack.

The second he stepped through the door, a familiar female voice called out, “Tommy Boy, look how you’ve grown.”

“Hey, Lorna. Go easy on the baby names, okay. How am I supposed to intimidate bad guys if they hear you calling me Tommy?”

Widowed at a young age, Lorna had been the honorary auntie to half the kids in town. Nowadays, pushing sixty and the spitting image of Mrs. Claus, she was probably considered honorary grandma to the next generation of rug rats. She reached across the counter and pinched Tom’s cheeks. “You’ll always be Tommy to me. You were my favorite boy to babysit.”

“Uh-huh. I bet you say that to all the guys.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. “Just remember, I never ratted you out when I caught you necking with your boyfriend on the couch.”

She laughed. “Just remember, I changed your diapers.”

So much for his tough cop image. Tom shook his head, 99 percent certain his cheeks—the ones on his face—were flaming red. The anonymity of DC definitely had its advantages.

His mouth watered at the yeasty smell of baked dough and the spicy aroma of Italian sausages. “The travel agency so slow that you have to moonlight selling pizza now, Lorna?”

“I’ll have you know my travel business is booming. I’m filling in here for Greg. His Grandma Verna’s cat ate one of her houseplants. The poor thing’s deathly sick.”

“Has she taken it to the vet?”

“Vet’s out of town, but Grandma Brewster made the poor thing an infusion that seems to be helping. That woman’s a genius when it comes to herbs.”

Tom chuckled, recalling Hank’s take on his grandma’s concoctions. Tom had always thought their success had more to do with the power of the placebo, but if she could help a cat, maybe it wasn’t all snake oil.

Marvin pushed Tom’s pizza through the takeout window and then came around from the kitchen. He dried his hands on his white apron—white, that was, if you ignored the tomato sauce smeared across his spare tire. “After what happened to Daisy messing around with that herbal stuff, I’m surprised you’d go in for that rubbish, Lorna.” Marvin snagged a can of pop from the display fridge next to the counter and popped the tab. “If you ask me, all that eye of newt stuff is just another way to part a fool from his money.”

“No one’s asking you, Marvin.” Lorna elbowed him out of her way.

Marvin winked at Tom.

Not about to step into that minefield, Tom took out his wallet and handed over the cash for the pizza.

Lorna twirled her finger in the air and hit a key on the old-fashioned cash register. A bell dinged and the drawer popped open. She grinned. “I get a kick out of that every time. Gotta get me one of these.” She counted out Tom’s change. “Pay no mind to Marvin. Grandma Brewster has helped lots of people around here. If that new drug company that’s moving to town wanted to make a fortune, they’d figure out Grandma Brewster’s secrets.”

“A drug company’s moving to town?”

Lorna’s hands stopped midair, and she gave Tom a you’re-not-from-around-here look.

“What? Am I expected to know every rumor in town just because I’m a detective?”

She slid her hand down the counter, caught the edge of a very thin newspaper, and slid it toward him. “I know the Port Aster Press is no Washington Post, but every once in a while old Harold actually digs up a decent story. Sounds like the mayor’s been working overtime trying to woo this baby. Between the research station and this new company, the mayor predicts we’ll become the Silicon Valley of pharmaceutical and herbal research. Can you imagine?”

“No. That’s like putting the wolves in the sheep pen.” Tom fished a couple of quarters from his pocket for the newspaper and picked it up with his box of pizza. His stomach gurgled at the aroma.

“If you ask me . . .”

Tom set the pizza box back down on the counter. Whenever Lorna started a sentence with “If you ask me,” it was time to get comfortable.

“The only reason a drug company would want to ally with our researchers is to get an inside scoop on new developments.”

“Could be.” As an FBI agent he’d been weaned on industrial espionage cases. Nothing would surprise him.

The door opened, letting in a waft of cool night air and the counter girl from A Cup or Two.

“Hey, Molly,” Marvin said. “Your pizza’ll be another five minutes.” He polished off his can of pop and disappeared into the kitchen.

Molly, still dressed in her green-and-white smock from the store, dropped tiredly into the nearest chair.

The sight of her reminded Tom that he had his own tea girl waiting for him at his dad’s—well, sort of waiting for him. “I need to get going.” He grabbed up his pizza box again. “Dad can’t stand his pizza cold.”

“Say hi to your dad for me, and tell him I’ve got some great deals on cruises,” Lorna said.

“That’ll be the day.”

“Just you wait. He’ll come around.”

“Hey.” Tom stopped halfway to the door. “Did you happen to sell plane tickets to a couple name Laslo? To Europe.”

“I didn’t. Most people book their own flights these days. This for a case?”

“I’m trying to locate their son.”

“The last time I flew to Europe I flew out of Buffalo,” Molly spoke up.

The last time?

Molly must’ve socked her tips away for months to afford more than one trip to Europe. Once upon a time, he’d traipsed across Europe with nothing but a backpack, riding the trains and sleeping in hostels, but in his day, those were once in a lifetime trips. In his day? He groaned. He was starting to sound like his father.

“You should check with the border guards at the Peace Bridge,” Molly suggested.

“Not a bad idea. Thanks.” Tom waved good-bye to Lorna and Marv and made a beeline for the door. For the first time in months, he couldn’t wait to get home, and it wasn’t for the pizza.