SECRET IDENTITY (10 page)

Brenda recalled watching The Defender hold his shielding
powers over the blast that boiled over like a miniature volcano. From where she
stood, the fumes and flames were silvery, like they had been sprayed with
mercury. Or glitter. Very reflective and shiny.

It looks like it’s wrapped in something.

If the man had taken something that was potentially
volatile, would he have taken it to the police station, where they would have
simply marked and tagged it, and then shoved it into an evidence locker?

It looks like it’s wrapped in something.

A station door opened, and the cameraman came outside,
strolling over to the van where he opened up the side door to get something.
Brenda rolled down her driver’s side window and called out to him. “You said
the object The Defender was carrying looked like it was wrapped in something.
Did you mean, like he had possibly wrapped it in his powers to keep it from
going off?”

The man gave a quick shrug of his shoulders. “I meant he had
wrapped something around it. Maybe it was his powers. Or it could have been
something else. What difference does it make?”

Without waiting for her answer, he grabbed a satchel and
slung it over a shoulder, then slammed the van door shut and hurried back
inside the station house.

Like he had wrapped something around it?
It had to be his
powers.
“That means whatever he had could be potentially dangerous,” she
observed to herself. If The Defender wrapped his powers around it, that could
mean he believed it had the ability to explode, or something equally
catastrophic. “He’s not here. He wouldn’t bring something that could go off and
cause damage here to the police station, in the middle of town. If it went off,
it would cause major havoc.”

But if that was the case, then where…
Another idea
came to her. There was a bomb squad here in Fullerton. Six years ago, when she’d
left for the big city, there hadn’t been, but times had changed. When she had
been researching locations where the company could put a factory, and she had
been fighting to get it built in her old hometown, one of the main requirements
was that the town have a bomb squad and dispatch location. To her delight, she
discovered that Fullerton had just acquired one. Since then, she’d been too
busy to check out its location.

A police officer exited the building and was heading in her
direction to get to his squad car. Brenda took the chance to ask him, “Where
are the offices of the bomb squad located?”

The officer paused and pointed toward the east, in the
direction The Defender had flown. “That way, past the city limits.”

“How do I get there?”

“Take Main Street until you hit the city limits. Take a
right on Mill Road and follow it as far as it’ll take you,” the man directed
her. “You’ll see a big concrete bunker in the distance. That’s it. Can’t miss
it.”

“Thanks!” She grinned, already backing up her little import
in order to turn around.

The city limits for Fullerton was another fifteen minute
stop-and-go ride, through another residential neighborhood, past strip malls,
and through a half-dozen stop lights. Once she passed the city limits, it was
another thirty-minute drive through the countryside, past open fields. The cop
had been right. She quickly spotted the single-story concrete building in the
distance as she turned off the main highway, onto a narrow paved road.

It looked like one of those bunkers she’d seen in spy
movies. The kind that were rumored to go several stories underground. She was
stopped by a guard at the only gate leading in and out. Although she provided
her Dobbling Enterprises credentials, security refused to allow her entrance.

“Sorry, ma’am, but you don’t have clearance.”

“Where do I get clearance?” she asked amiably. It wouldn’t
do to piss off a man holding a gun.

“You’d have to do that at the police station, ma’am.”

Brenda glanced skyward. “Did The Defender come here? Can you
tell me that much?”

This time the young soldier looked honestly puzzled. “Who,
ma’am?”

She waved it off. “Never mind. Thank you. I’ll go to the
police station and see if I can’t get a pass or something. Thank you for your
time.” In addition, she gave him a warm smile. He touched the brim of his cap,
and she backed away from the gate to turn around and return to town.

She was less than a quarter of a mile down the road when she
pulled onto a private road. From there she could see the bunker in the
distance. If The Defender departed from there, flying in the same way she’d
seen him do when he’d left the factory, spotting him would be a cinch.

Unless he flies so fast, no one can see him
.
Besides,
you have no idea if he really went there.

Which was true. For all she knew, he could have stopped off
somewhere else.

How long are you planning on sitting here, waiting for
him, anyway?

Another excellent question. Brenda sighed, closing her eyes
and leaning her head back against the headrest. The idea of sitting here for
God knows how long while she waited to spot The Defender was fast becoming
unappealing. Besides, what would she do then? Try to tail him? How sensible
would that be when he was unhindered up there in the sky, and she had to keep
an eye on traffic?

More than that, Brenda realized she just wasn’t up to it. It
was too soon after the death of her father to think about the business, and she
should have known better. It was the carrot named The Defender that had been
dangled in front of her fact which had motivated her this time. Furthermore,
she got the distinct impression the excitement, for the most part, was over. It
was time to call it a day.

Reluctantly, she pulled back onto the farm-to-market road
and headed for home.

Chapter 11

Responsibility

She wished she had been better prepared for the grilling. It
was a good thing Wagner had emailed her a prepared statement to present to the media,
and especially to the families of the victims of the explosion.

Facing the bank of microphones and, beyond them, the faces
of the curious and the bereaved, Brenda took a deep breath before beginning.

“My name is Brenda McKay, and I’m the Acquisitions Director
for Dobbling Enterprises. But first and foremost I am a born and bred
Fullertonite. Many of you know me personally, and you knew my family.”

There were nods in the crowd. It was a busy time for the two
mortuaries in town, as well as for the cemetery.

“When I got my current position at Dobbling, my first
initiative was to see that Fullerton was given a fair chance at what this
dynamic company had to offer. I knew from firsthand experience that Fullerton
was in dire need of an economic boost, and I fought hard for Dobbling to build
its next factory here. When I was given the green light, I truly felt as if I
was finally able to pay back my hometown for all the wonderful opportunities it
had given me when I was growing up. So you can understand my dread and sorrow
at the accident which occurred last week.”

She barely glanced at the memo she already had memorized.
The email was rather stiff and formal, but she felt that by reminding everyone
that she had also been deeply affected by the blast because of personal and
family ties to the community, the public would be less harsh on the company.

“To say that my heart goes out to those of you who lost a
family member is an understatement. I knew most of them personally, and I knew
all of them through some association or another.”

She found the Macasca family sitting in the sixth row to her
left. Brenda nodded in their direction. “Nick, Abrita, I remember when John Jay
and I graduated together. And I remember him wearing those ridiculous plaid
golfing shorts underneath his graduation gown, which he made sure to show the
crowd when he went up on stage to accept his diploma.”

The family chuckled amid their tears. She managed a watery
smile as she turned to where another family was seated to her right. “Mister
and Mrs. Postert, I’ll never forget your daughter Waneea. She and I played on
the same volleyball and basketball team in high school. She was a superb
teammate, but more importantly she was a wonderful person and friend to all who
knew her.”

She glanced back down at the single sheet of paper clutched
in her hand. It gave her something solid to hold on to. Brenda sniffed and
looked back up into the lenses of half a dozen cameras quietly taking
everything in. At the far end of the room, she could barely make out three
distinct figures also watching and listening. Lorne had told her he and his
brothers would be there at the press conference, if for nothing else than to
give her moral support.

“They say no good deed goes unpunished, and ever since the
accident, I have lived that saying every day. I am truly, truly sorry for what
happened. As a representative of Dobbling Enterprises, and as a fellow
Fullertonite, I offer you our…my…deepest sympathies for your loss.”

She gave a little nod to show she was finished. What she
didn’t expect was for several additional microphones being thrust into her
face.

“Miss McKay, is it true the explosion was the result of a
new chemical being manufactured and funded by the U.S. military?”

“Miss McKay, are you aware of the number of lawsuits being
filed against Dobbling by the families of the victims?”

“Rumors say the real nature of this lab was deliberately
kept secret from the public, and that Dobbling knew all along that the
chemicals being kept here could cause this kind of reaction. Is that true?”

To the last question, she returned with a hard stare. “
One
of those chemicals was being manufactured here.
One
, understand? And its
manufacturing was clearly spelled out before the factory was given its permits.
Every precaution required by law was exercised, and then some. At no time was
there ever any danger of an explosion of this magnitude.”

“Then what is your take on the explosion, Miss McKay?” the
reporter asked, taking advantage of her momentary attention. “What do you think
caused it? And who do you think is responsible?”

“We’ll have to wait until the final reports are in,” Brenda
informed the newsman. “I’m as much in the dark as you are.”

* * *
*

Lorne picked up the remote and turned off the TV. “Enough of
that. At least they’re not placing the full blame on you,” he told her.

Brenda nodded. “But, in a way, they are. I’m guilty by
association. I’m guilty because I’m the person who convinced Dobbling to build
here in the first place. I’m guilty because I talked up the project to everyone,
urging them to apply for jobs there, and convincing them that this factory
would practically pull Fullerton out of its economic slump.” She sighed heavily
and buried her face in the sofa pillow. She was lying across most of the couch,
leaving Lorne with just a small amount of space at one end to sit.

“You didn’t cause that explosion,” he softly said.

Reaching down, he tucked a bit of hair behind her ear. The
simple gesture warmed her inside.

“No, but who else are they gonna blame? The lab workers?”

“So what happens next? Are you going to get to keep your
job?”

“I don’t know.” She gave a half-hearted shrug of one
shoulder. “I can’t think anymore. I can’t anticipate what’ll happen next. I’m
just…numb inside. Numb and tired.”

Lorne patted her arm and got up from the sofa. “You’re still
grieving. You need to rest. If you decide you want some company, give me a
call. If you need anything, ditto.”

“Thanks, Lo,” she sleepily said, already sinking into sleep.
If she was lucky, she would dream about the mysterious man in black. If she was
luckier, the dream would be filled with nice, nasty erotic images. Anything to
get her mind off of her present situation.

She never heard Lorne leave, closing and locking the door
securely behind him.

Chapter 12

Walk

If she dreamed, she couldn’t remember any of it. But after
waking from her nap, Brenda knew she needed to go to the market to stock up on
some necessities. It was clear she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, and
frankly she wasn’t ready to go back to the city. Lorne was right. She needed
time to grieve and the chance to heal. This whole horrible mess with Dobbling
was unavoidable, but for the moment it had to come second.

Walking into the house, her arms loaded down, she paused in
the doorway as a sense of relief washed over her. The place smelled the way she
believed a home should smell, and looked the way a loving home should look. In
fact, she felt more comfortable and content here than she did in the apartment
she rented back in Ocean City. Coming back here, instead of staying at a motel
as she had initially considered, was the smartest thing she’d ever done, her
father’s funeral notwithstanding. Here, she could forget about the stressful
pace of her job.

Better yet, the people who meant more to her than anything
else lived right next door. Almost unconsciously, her thoughts drifted to
Lorne. Scruffy, shy Lorne. Handsome, reliable, gentle Lorne.

In the next instant, The Defender loomed into her mind’s
eye. She slowly shook her head. He was the one who made her inner thighs wet.
He was the man who jolted her bloodstream as if a hundred caffeine drinks had
been dumped into it simultaneously. A man whose touch even now burned her skin
at the memory.

Yet, Lorne was more comfortable and trustworthy than a pair
of old bunny slippers. If her heart had to make a choice, she wouldn’t hesitate
to choose Mr. Palmer. He was more than a friend. Always had been. Except Lorne
never looked at her that way. He never touched her, or eyed her, or gave her
any nonverbal signal that said he wanted to become more than friends, no matter
how much she wished he would. Too bad she was too chicken shit to make the
first move, damn her.