B007GFGTIY EBOK (24 page)

“That’s why I asked them to leave.”

“Whoever concocted this narcotic and decided to use it in needleless syringes screwed up. It acted too fast. If it had worked on a slow release, it would have given the bruise time to dissipate.”

“And time for the injected victim to run to a doctor.”

Dysart shrugged at Santiago’s counterargument.

“You know a lot about these syringes, so why didn’t you pick up on it at the autopsy?”

“The bruise. The shape was wrong and the bruise too aggressive. These don’t normally leave behind such a harsh reminder.”

Rice returned to the briefing room and retook his seat. “What are we talking about?”

“These syringes,” Santiago said.

“These things have to be pretty specialized,” Rice said. “There can’t be many manufacturers.”

“There aren’t,” Dysart said.

“So tracking down their customers should be simple,” Rice added.

“I think you’ve just volunteered for your next task, Rice,” Santiago said.

“Not so fast, Ruben,” Dysart said. “It won’t be that easy. This syringe here is a prototype. You can tell from the crude manufacture and the lack of branding. The injectors don’t even look like this anymore. I’ve seen them. They are much more elegant now and they’re totally cylindrical. They look like a plastic cigar and leave a round mark. That’s why the bruise didn’t click with me. In the scheme of things, this is the Model T version.”

“So you’re saying it can’t be traced?” Santiago said.

“No, the opposite. I would say whoever has these hasn’t bought them and isn’t your garden-variety dealer.”

“Whoever’s using them isn’t a dealer, Dickie,” Santiago said. “Drug dealers don’t hand out force-fed freebies.”

Santiago picked up the baggy and examined the injector. They hadn’t found a syringe in any of the three victims’ possession, but foul play still didn’t hang right for Santiago. Hayden had witnessed Shane Fallon’s suicide. He was pretty sure if he ever caught up with the 911 caller who’d witnessed Chaudhary’s death, he’d tell him that Chaudhary walked into the ocean alone. There wasn’t a witness at Malcolm Fuller’s death, but everything pointed toward suicide. He didn’t like the conclusion he was being led toward. The drug wasn’t being used to subdue the victims. It was being used to drive them to suicide.

“This drug,” Santiago said. “Someone shot Chaudhary, Fallon, and Fuller up with it, but they didn’t just curl up and die. They killed themselves. The witnesses and physical evidence prove that. Could this drug have pushed them to suicide?”

Dysart was slow in answering. Santiago slid the baggy across the table to pressure an answer out of him. The baton was his. “The tox report definitely indicates it was a hallucinogen and there’s a certain susceptibility in the subject under the influence, but I’m no expert.”

“I know that, but what’s your feeling?”

Dysart sighed. “It’s possible.”

“Then find an expert and find out for sure.”

R
ebecca slipped her hand into Hayden’s as they crossed the parking lot back to his car. An odd sensation settled over him. He felt squeezed in all directions at once. It took a moment for him to recognize the sensation. He was being watched. He blamed his preternatural instinct on the two attempts on his life. They’d sharpened his fight-or-flight reflex. He had no desire to flee. He was tired of running for his life. It wouldn’t save him. Fighting for his life would.

“What’s wrong?” Rebecca asked.

He’d tightened his grip on her hand involuntarily. He immediately relaxed his grip.

“Stay calm. I think we’re being watched.”

Rebecca stutter-stepped but kept her composure. “Where?”

He didn’t know. He scanned the parking lot, tracking with his eyes and keeping his head movements to a minimum. His watcher had stupidly followed them to the sheriff’s department. If he didn’t alert the dumb son of a bitch, Santiago and friends could nail him. He still felt the weight of someone’s gaze, but nobody stuck out among the motionless vehicles and the occasional officer leaving or entering the building.

“I don’t see anyone, but we’re being watched.”

Rebecca didn’t tell him he was being crazy. She’d seen too much to question him.

He continued to watch for a face among a sea of vehicles and listen for an idling engine that should be silent. Still nothing. His senses said yes, but the evidence said no. They reached his Mitsubishi.

“What do you want to do?” Rebecca asked, pausing outside the car.

Before he could answer, an engine burst into life. He spun around and zeroed in on the engine noise. Vehicles blocked his view of the car, but he saw a flash of dark blue between them. The car emerged at the end of an intersection. A chill grew from within Hayden. It was the dark blue Dodge Charger he’d seen following Fuller. The driver was wearing the same damn Angels cap.

“The blue Charger again,” Rebecca said.

“Get in.”

“I’ll call Santiago,” Rebecca said, sliding into the passenger seat. She punched the detective’s number into the phone. “Shit, voice mail.”

While she was leaving Santiago a message, Hayden eased his car from the parking stall.

“Hayden, what are you doing?”

“Nothing that will hurt us. This guy knows where we live. It’s about time we found out which rock he hides under. Santiago can catch up to us.”

Hayden turned onto Civic Center Drive and tailed the Dodge onto US 101. The Dodge went south toward San Francisco, but took the Richmond–San Rafael Bridge to the East Bay. It zigged and zagged in and out of traffic, forcing Hayden to do likewise. Hayden feared the Angels fan would spot his equally erratic driving in his rearview mirror, or maybe he already had, considering his aggressive driving. Either way, the Angels fan wasn’t doing enough to lose Hayden.

“Is it Mason?” Rebecca asked over the noise of Hayden’s Mitsubishi striking a joint in the road.

“No, Mason was a black guy.”

“Could he be the arsonist?”

Glimpsing the Angels fan’s head and shoulders wasn’t enough for a positive ID. He’d know the moment the son of a bitch climbed from the Dodge. But instinct, the same instinct that had alerted him to someone watching him, told him the Angels fan was the man who’d left him to burn at MDE. He didn’t want to frighten Rebecca and said, “I don’t know.”

“I hope he is. I don’t want someone else out there stalking us.”

Neither did he, Hayden thought.

The Angels fan took I-580 into Oakland and beyond. Just as it looked as if he was leading them on a merry dance, he turned off the freeway at San Leandro. They followed him onto the surface streets. If the Angels fan knew he was being tailed, he didn’t show it. He didn’t make abrupt changes in direction or double back on himself. Hayden got worried when the guy turned into an industrial district. There looked to be plenty of activity, but bystanders were few and far between. If the Angels fan was luring them into a trap, this would be a good place for it.

The Angels fan turned into a parking lot of a firm called South Bay Industries, a gleaming prefab factory unit. He parked but didn’t get out of his car. As he’d done with Hayden and Rebecca outside the sheriff’s office, he just waited.

Hayden stopped his Mitsubishi on the street and they watched to see what the Angels fan would do. If the guy went in, they had him. If the Angels fan was a visitor, he’d have to sign in and there’d be a record. If he worked there, they’d catch the guy with a deception. Hayden would go in and plead stupidity for clipping a Dodge in their parking lot. Either way, they’d have him and they’d see how he faired with Santiago.

“What’s he doing?” Rebecca asked.

Hayden didn’t have an answer. The Angels fan just seemed to be watching South Bay Industries. Maybe he had picked up their tail and was now waiting them out. It wouldn’t work. Now that Hayden had the guy in his sights, he wasn’t going anywhere. He would wait as long as it took.

“Hayden, look.”

Rebecca pointed to the entrance. James Lockhart was leaving the building with two Chinese men. Lockhart was speaking to them, pointing to the building, and smiling. He was unaware of the Angels fan in the parking lot. The Angels fan gunned the engine and eased his Dodge out of its slot.

“Shit,” Hayden murmured. “He’s going after Lockhart.”

He saw it fall into place. Now that everyone at MDE had been taken care of, it was time to move up the food chain to Lockhart. He’d commissioned the damn job at MDE. If anyone could expose the secret at MDE that so many were trying to cover up, it was Lockhart.

Hayden flung his door open and clambered from his car. He bolted across the street, yelling out Lockhart’s name. Lockhart and his two associates watched Hayden in stunned surprise.

The Dodge rolled toward Lockhart. It sped up as Hayden closed in, but the Angels fan had left it too late. He’d parked too far away. Hayden, even on foot, had the drop on him and he knew it. The Dodge screeched to a halt, then shot back into reverse and backed into the street the way it had come. Lockhart gave the Dodge scant interest, reserving his scorn for Hayden. His expression showed little appreciation for Hayden’s presence.

With the threat no longer hanging over Lockhart, Hayden slowed his pace. He no longer had to raise the alarm. He hopped a low fence protecting the token landscaping and approached Lockhart and his associates.

“Mr. Lockhart, could I talk to you for a minute?” Hayden asked as Rebecca fell in at his side. “It’s very important. You’re in danger.”

The Chinese men backed up a step at Hayden’s approach, but Lockhart calmed them. “It’s OK. I know them. What do you want?”

“Marin Design Engineering. Do you have any explanations for the deaths?”

Hayden saw Lockhart gear up for some vehement dismissal, but Rebecca’s presence evoked his better manners. “I don’t. That’s a police matter.”

“What’s going on here?” the shorter of the Chinese asked.

“Nothing,” Lockhart said, ushering the men away.

“Please don’t do this,” Rebecca said. “We’re just looking for answers.”

“And I don’t have them for you.” Lockhart guided his associates toward a black Cadillac STS.

Lockhart cared more about his business with the Chinese than the deaths at MDE. Hayden felt his grip on his temper slip. He wasn’t going to let this son of a bitch turn his back on fifteen bodies.

“Don’t fifteen dead people mean anything to you?” he called across the parking lot.

The question stopped Lockhart and the Chinese in their tracks.

“James?” the squat Chinese man asked.

“Wait there,” Lockhart growled at Hayden and Rebecca. He placated the Chinese and put them in his Cadillac before returning. His jaw muscles flexed from grinding his teeth. “Now, what is it you want?”

Hayden’s grip on his temper slipped another inch. “Fifteen people are dead. Our lives have been threatened. I thought you might be interested in that.”

Lockhart exhaled as if releasing the pent-up pressure inside his skull. “Yes, I’m sorry. What is it you want to know?”

“None of it makes sense,” Rebecca said. “The police don’t seem to know anything and that’s not acceptable considering how many people are dead. You must know something they’re not telling us.”

“Why would I?”

“You’re a prominent person in all this,” Hayden said. “You work with the government. People are going to talk to you.”

Lockhart smiled and shook his head. “You overestimate my importance. I know as much as you do. You should really talk to the sheriff’s office.” He intensified his smile and backed away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some clients that need my attention.”

“Do you know that you were followed here?”

Lockhart’s smile, the brittle and fragile thing that it was, fell away. Hayden didn’t see fear or shock in his eyes, but something else he couldn’t nail down.

“What are you talking about?”

“A dark blue Dodge followed you here. That’s how we found you. It’s the same Dodge that followed us and was seen following Malcolm Fuller before he died.”

Hayden gave Lockhart a minute to absorb this news. He wanted to let it sink in, let Lockhart know he wasn’t untouchable. He was just as vulnerable as they were.

His expression turned stony. “I don’t have time for this crap.”

“It isn’t crap,” Rebecca said.

“Don’t waste my time. MDE was an unfortunate affair. I wish the outcome was different, but don’t try to drag me into your delusions.”

Hayden and Rebecca watched Lockhart return to his car. He exchanged his indignant face for an affable one for his clients before driving off.

“What was that about?” Rebecca asked.

“I don’t know, but we’re going to find out. Something isn’t right here. C’mon.”

Hayden followed Lockhart. He’d thrown the Dodge at Lockhart in an attempt to spook him, and while it had gotten his attention, it hadn’t done it in the way Hayden had expected. He got the distinct feeling Lockhart wanted rid of him and Rebecca.

He trailed farther behind Lockhart than he had with the Angels fan. Now that Lockhart knew a car was following him, he’d be watching his mirrors and Hayden didn’t want Lockhart confusing him with the Angels fan.

Rebecca watched for the Angels fan. They’d run him off, but for how long? Hayden couldn’t see the guy giving up so easily, but so far, the Dodge hadn’t made a reappearance.

Lockhart drove the Chinese into San Francisco and dropped them off at the Fairmont Hotel. Hayden double-parked with the engine running to watch Lockhart. The Chinese tried to keep the conversation going, but Lockhart cut things short and drove off.

Interesting, Hayden thought. He wasn’t the only one Lockhart wanted to ditch.

Lockhart backtracked through the city and they followed. The traffic bunched them up close to Lockhart, but he didn’t seem to notice their presence.

Lockhart swung his Cadillac into the underground parking lot at Union Square. With the impossible parking situation in the city, Hayden had little option but to follow him into the lot. Hayden found a parking spot quickly and parked. He and Rebecca jumped out and walked between the parked vehicles to keep tabs on Lockhart. Lockhart left his Cadillac and exited the lot. He picked up Powell and headed toward Market.

“What’s he doing?” Rebecca asked.

“I don’t know. He’s running scared. I’m sure of that.”

“I can’t believe what you told him spooked him that much.”

Lockhart followed Powell to the cable-car terminus at Market. It buzzed with eager tourists waiting to ride the next car. Lockhart ignored them and descended into the BART/MUNI station.

The moment Lockhart disappeared from view, Hayden and Rebecca rushed forward. They couldn’t afford to miss whether he took BART or MUNI, and which line. They entered the station. Instead of descending by escalator, Lockhart just stood around in the station. He had his back to them and they hid their presence by buying BART tickets from an automated machine.

Lockhart pulled out his cell phone and called someone. Hayden and Rebecca were too far away to hear what was said, but his body language spoke volumes. He looked as if he’d been stood up, but he didn’t leave. He stayed around, wandering in a tight circle. The throng of people entering and leaving the station paid him little attention.

“I feel like I’m sticking out here,” Rebecca said. She nodded toward the ticket attendant in the booth.

Hayden grabbed Rebecca’s hand. “C’mon, let’s go.”

He pulled her toward Lockhart. He fancied his chances. In the BART station, Lockhart was out of his comfort zone. He wouldn’t be able to brush them off and he’d have to behave himself in public.

“Mr. Lockhart,” Hayden called out when they got close.

Lockhart turned to face them. Irritation and disgust marked his expression. “Did you follow me? That’s harassment.”

Hayden felt the weight of Lockhart’s veiled threat but pushed it aside. “Why are you here?” Hayden asked. “It isn’t for a train.”

“Leave me alone or I’ll call the police.”

“Try it and let’s see what happens. I think you have as much interest in having cops nosing into your business as we do.”

Hayden didn’t have total faith in his bluff, but it worked. Lockhart dropped the hostility.

“Please leave. You don’t know what’s going on, so stay out of it.”

“What
is
going on?” Rebecca asked. “We’re not trying to get in the way. We just want to understand.”

“I’m meeting someone who might just be able to help us all understand, but he won’t come if you keep hanging around.”

Hayden wondered if the Angels fan was Lockhart’s mystery man. If so, maybe he’d gotten it all wrong. Maybe the guy had been following him, Fuller, and Lockhart not to hurt them, but to talk to them. He cast a glance around him for the familiar baseball cap. It would stick out in this part of the world dominated by Giants and A’s fans, but he saw nothing.

Lockhart’s cell phone rang. He listened to his caller speak and kept his answers to yeses and nos before hanging up.

“Is that him?” Hayden asked.

“Yes,” Lockhart said, “but he’s not coming.”