Rock Harbor Series - 03 - Into the Deep (5 page)

“But—”

“Shut up, Jonelle,” Zane barked.

Jonelle gulped. She’d heard about the little boy, just like everyone in the area. Lost in the woods with a hermit for nearly a year, he’d only been reunited with his mom for about seven months. It seemed hardly fair to snatch his pet. And without a doubt the boy’s mother would search the forest until she found the dog. Zane wasn’t thinking.

Zane turned back to Simik. “I’ll do it,” he said finally. “When you want me to get him?”

“The sooner the better. Once you beat a little meanness into him, we’ll have an unprecedented attendance at the next fight. You have the knock-out drug?”

“Yeah, I got it. That dog is as good as dead.”

Cassie kicked off her shoes at the door and padded across the thick carpeting. The last few days at the lab had been grueling, but she rel
ished the challenge. An enticing aroma of vegetable soup drew her toward the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled. She’d thought it was her turn to cook, but she wasn’t complaining.

“I heard that,” Salome called from the kitchen.

“I thought I’d beat you home. When you said you were going shopping, I was envisioning your usual all-day marathon.” Cassie dropped onto a bar stool and propped her elbows on the granite counter. “Where’s Dad?” Bubbles, Cassie’s sheltie, lay on the floor by the stove. She got up and came to greet Cassie. Rubbing her dog’s ears, Cassie watched Salome stir the pot.

“Asleep on his bed. I found this in the microwave.” Salome shoved a file folder across the counter to Cassie.

Marked “Top Secret,” Cassie had seen it before. “Dad can’t let go of his research. It just breaks my heart.” She flipped through pages of outdated research, skimming in vain for details from the project her dad had been working on with them. She tossed it onto the counter.

“You can’t blame him for clinging to it,” Salome said. “It’s a hard fall from top of the research field to puttering around an empty house all day. And he was close to solving our problems before his memory failed.”

“He could still do it if he had a couple of really clear weeks.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

The gentleness in Salome’s voice was nearly Cassie’s undoing. She dealt with it better when she didn’t have to face sympathy. “He’ll be fine,” she said emphatically. “I’m going to find a cure.”

Salome didn’t say anything, she just kept stirring the soup. “We should be ready to eat in just a minute. You can start on your salad if you’re starving.”

“I can wait. How about if we eat out on the deck?”

“Sounds good.” Salome pulled hot bread from the oven and put it in a basket. “What took you so long? You said you were just popping in on the lab for a minute. You never rest, not even on the weekend.”

Cassie snagged a hunk of French bread, burning her fingers in the
process. “Things are a nightmare at the office. Phil’s death has left everything in turmoil. I really need his notes.”

“Didn’t you swing by to ask Denise?”

“I hate to disturb her now. Maybe in a few days, if they don’t turn up on their own. Hey, I hopped on the pharmacy’s Web site and put in a request to refill my asthma prescription. You’re coming in late tomorrow; can you pick it up for me?”

“No problem.” She looked up at Cassie. “Did you see the news-paper?”

“No, what is it?”

“A fringe environmentalist group has found out we’re altering tobacco plants. They’re predicting dire consequences.” Salome tossed the paper at her.

“The media will be all over us. And more environmental groups will be coming out of the woodwork.” She groaned. “I wonder if the nut who called the lab the other day was with this group.”

“Could be,” Salome said.

“Let’s not worry about it now. I’m starved. I’ll get Dad.”

“He already ate. I think he’s asleep.”

“Okay, you grab the bread and I’ll carry the bowls.”

The women got the food to the patio table. The soft light of the fading day cast long shadows over the backyard before deepening to near black at the edge of the forest. One of the shadows moved, and Cassie squinted toward the neighbor’s yard.

A woman dressed in crisp black slacks and a double-breasted red jacket waved to them. “Hi, neighbors. I just moved in.” She stepped into their yard and came toward them.

Her black hair hung in a glossy curtain on her shoulders, making Cassie feel dowdy and plain. She stood to greet the woman. “We’re fairly new ourselves.” She put out her hand. “Cassie Hecko and my associate, Salome Levy. My father lives here as well, but he’s asleep.”

“He must be the scholarly gentleman I found in my kitchen this afternoon.” The woman laughed.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry.” Cassie wanted to hide under the table. “He was in your kitchen?”

The woman nodded. “I’m Marika Fleming. I’ve been wanting to meet you. May I?” She pointed to the chair.

Cassie nodded. “I’m so sorry about Dad. He has Alzheimer’s.”

“Not a problem. I’m a sucker for old folks.” Marika sat in the chair, her smile still intact.

“You want some soup?” Cassie sat in the chair beside her. Marika waved off the offer with a smile.

“I’ll get the salad,” Salome murmured, slipping away through the sliding door.

“I represent NAWG,” Marika began.

“The environmental group?” Cassie’s warm feelings toward the woman began to evaporate. The North American Wilderness Group, better known as NAWG, was notorious for their underhanded actions.

Marika held up her hand. “Yes, but don’t judge me on that. I want to help. I’d like to be your point person to help make sure things don’t get out of hand at the lab.”

“In spite of what the newspaper might report, I have everything under control,” Cassie said.

Marika’s smile faltered, then came back full wattage. “That’s wonderful, but support from an objective third party couldn’t possibly hurt anything. Could I see for myself?”

“I’m sorry, we don’t allow anyone inside. It’s part of our safety rules to make sure no seeds or plants escape from our contained area. The more visitors we have traipsing around, the more likely it is for a seed to be carried out on shoes.”

“So you
are
growing new plants.”

Too late Cassie realized she’d given away too much. She stood. “I really need to go check on my father. I’ll try to keep a better eye on him.”

“Don’t let me run you off. I can take a hint.” Marika stood too, her
smile still friendly. “Just remember, I’m here to help if you need me.” She gave a little wave and went back to her own yard.

“What was that all about?” Salome asked, carrying two bowls of salad through the door.

“I’m not quite sure,” Cassie said with her gaze on the woman’s back.

4

C
assie and Salome ate their dinner, then carried everything back inside. As they loaded the dishwasher, the doorbell rang.

“Another interruption,” Cassie said. “You keep working and I’ll get rid of them.” With Bubbles on her heels, she hurried to the door.

She flung the door open and blinked in surprise. Bree Nicholls and Sheriff Mason Kaleva stood on the doorstep. Samson stepped forward, and he and Bubbles sniffed one another. Bubbles barked excitedly and raced off with Samson right behind her.

“Er, come in,” Cassie said. She had a feeling she knew what was coming, but the questions were getting tiresome.

Bree looked around. “You’ve made this place your own pretty quickly. When Steve and Fay Asters lived here, it was much more sterile. I like it.”

Cassie smiled. “It’s still a work in progress.” She pointed to the chairs and sofa. “Have a seat. I’m sure you didn’t come out here to see what changes I’ve made in the house. Sorry I’ve been missing the training sessions, Bree. I’ve been really busy.”

Bree looked at Mason, and he cleared his throat. “I need to ask you some questions about Philip Taylor. Your assistant lives here as well, I’ve heard. Could she join us?”

“I’ll get her,” Cassie said. She had Salome join them in the living room.

“So what do you need to know?” Cassie asked once they were all seated.

Mason uncapped his pen and fumbled in his pocket for his
notepad. “How well did you know Philip? Had he worked for you long?”

“About three years. He and the rest of the team worked with my father, when he was still a researcher. You knew Phil longer, didn’t you, Salome?”

Her assistant nodded. “I worked with him on a project in Arizona for two years before we both came on board here. He was very conscientious and knowledgeable. More so than any other member of our team.”

“Why all these questions? I thought he drowned,” Cassie put in. The tension in the room seemed almost unbearable to her. She didn’t look at Bree.

“That doesn’t now appear to be the case. What was Phil working on?” Mason asked.

Cassie and Salome looked at each other. How much should she reveal? She chose her words carefully. “We’re working on proteins that might aid in the treatment of diabetes.” He didn’t need to know their work went deeper than that.

“How many scientists are working on your project? And where did Phil fit into the mix?”

“Eight,” Cassie said without hesitation. “Me, Yancy Coppler, Chito Yamamoto, Ian Baird, Nora Corbit, Lola Marcos, Salome, and Phil. I’m looking for someone to replace Phil, but that may take a while. He was brilliant.”

“And you have how many employees?”

Cassie looked to Salome for the answer. Her assistant didn’t let her down. “Fifteen right now,” Salome said promptly. “But we have plans to expand the workforce to nearly fifty.”

Mason continued writing in his small pad. “Anyone have a grudge against Phil? Did he ever seem agitated or afraid?”

“Good grief, no. Phil was the most likable guy on our team, next to Yancy, maybe. Of course, that might not be saying much. We can be a bit opinionated and set in our ways, but he was very genial.”

Salome nodded. “If someone was going to get killed because they were obnoxious, it should have been Chito Yamamoto. He’s the one always picking a fight. He wants to make everyone do things his way.”

“Did this Chito and Phil ever argue?”

“They had their professional differences. But Phil was usually the peacemaker in the bunch. Are you thinking he was murdered?”

“He was shot,” Mason said. “That means murder, or at the very least, manslaughter.”

Murder. Cassie bit her lip. “I had a threatening phone call,” she said slowly.

Mason looked up sharply. “I don’t have a record of that.”

“I didn’t call. It’s not an unusual occurrence.”

“Male or female?”

She shrugged. “I couldn’t tell. They were using one of those machines that mask your voice.”

“You think the call might be related to Phil’s death?”

“I don’t see how. The person didn’t mention Phil. I was just told to shut down the lab or face the consequences.”

“When was this?” Mason wanted to know.

Cassie thought back. “Two days ago. The day after Phil died.”

Bree needed some downtime after the past few frenzied days of the murder investigation. She’d promised Davy a picnic today, and since Phil’s funeral wasn’t until the afternoon, she packed a basket and drove out to the dock where her small dinghy stayed. The water on Lake Superior rolled in a seemingly endless realm of brilliant blue that matched the sky overhead.

Davy, his life preserver cinched snugly around him, sat at the bow with his arm around Samson, who wore a doggy smile as the wind blew in his face. Bree guided the dinghy into the inlet. The breeze kept the black flies off them and relieved the heat of the day. Near the end of the inlet, Bree killed the engine. The water and sky were placid here,
with the exception of gulls dipping and veering overhead, their caws hoarse and loud.

She waved at the scuba club members on the shore. Several of the lab employees had joined the local club, and she counted ten divers out today. She recognized Ted Kemppa, the Larson men, and Carson Meeks, Samson’s vet. Yancy Coppler popped his head up from the water and waved as well.

Bree smiled and closed her eyes for a moment, turning her face to the sun to soak up its warmth. Their picnic basket contained all the refreshment they’d need for the day, and a Styrofoam cooler held bait for the cane poles that lay on the floor of the boat. Davy had been begging to go fishing for days, and she couldn’t have ordered up a better day for it. He’d asked if Nick could go along, but Bree hadn’t extended the invitation. Davy was way too attached to the handsome fireman, especially when Bree wasn’t sure the friendship he offered them could—or should—ever lead to anything more.

A sound caught her attention, and she squinted through the bright sunlight toward a figure on the shore.

“Help!” The woman on the bank waved to her frantically.

Bree could see no cause for alarm, but she guided the boat to shore. “I’m so glad you’re here,” the woman said breathlessly. About fifty, she wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt. Red welts from bug bites peppered her arms in spite of the pungent odor of Deet, which the breeze brought to Bree’s nose.

“Is something wrong?” Bree asked, rolling the netting back down over Davy’s face as the black flies swarmed them. She tied her own netting as well and pulled on gloves before she and Davy got out of the boat.

“My Lacy is missing.” The woman wrung her hands and looked back toward the woods. “We’ve been camped at Kitchigami Campground for two days. I let her out to relieve herself this morning, and she hasn’t come back. I’ve called and called for her. One of the other campers told me about you and your dog and pointed you out to me.”

“Lacy is your dog?”

The woman nodded. “She’s a Chihuahua. Can you help me look for her?”

Bree nodded, though she had a feeling it would be useless. Likely a wolf or coyote had taken one look at little Lacy and decided she would make a tasty breakfast. “What’s your name?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The woman held out her hand. “It’s Carol Matchett. I’m from Detroit.”

“Are you here alone?”

Carol shook her head. “My best friend, Alice, is with me. She’s a writer and is doing research up here, so I came along to keep her company. We’re supposed to leave tomorrow. I’ve got to find Lacy!”