Dirty Secrets (10 page)

“This testing should have been done as part of issuing a building permit,” Christopher said. “We should look into the company that did the testing. Somebody there should know about this. It could be one tester who was paid to keep the results a secret. It could be the testing company is crooked. Either way, there’s no way any test could miss dioxin levels this high.”

“What would cause this kind of contamination, Professor?” Harris asked.

Christopher shrugged wearily. “Dioxin is a by-product of a lot of industries. Was, anyway. Most industries have found ways not to produce it, or heavily control the way they dispose of their factory waste. This contamination could have been there for thirty, forty years. Darrell’s area seven hit a population boom recently. The land was probably not being used before, but when somebody wanted to build on it, this showed up. I can give you our samples and draw you a map showing where we took these from.”

“I’ll take the map now, but I think I’ll request our lab send someone out for the samples,” Harris said. “I don’t even like looking at that stuff in the little bottles.”

“Think about your kids playing in it,” Christopher said, his jaw clenched as he sketched the map. “Sonsofbitches, keeping this secret. Entire towns have been evacuated with dioxin levels this high.” He folded the paper with vicious creases. “Well, at least this made your trip out here worthwhile for once.”

Harris pocketed the map with a sigh. “Professor, I was actually going to come by here tonight anyway.”

Christopher flinched, his face going gray. “Tanya?”

“We found her body,” Harris said heavily. “I’m sorry.”

Emma slipped her hands over Christopher’s shoulders as he sagged onto a stool in front of her. He cleared his throat harshly. “Where did you find her?”

“In the park just outside the University.”

“How?”

Harris clearly hesitated. “She was strangled.”

Christopher shuddered under her hands. “Have you told her family?”

“Yes. I just came from her aunt’s house where her parents were staying. They’d flown in from Iowa yesterday afternoon.”

“I should go see them,” Christopher murmured, his voice breaking.

Emma lowered her brow to his shoulder. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”

He jerked a nod, for a moment unable to speak. Then he whispered, “Emma, she was only twenty-two years old. Just a kid. How could this happen?”

Emma jumped when Harris gripped Christopher’s arm. The detective’s eyes flickered with compassion. “Professor, do you know if she was seeing someone?”

“No, I don’t. She could have been, I guess, but she never mentioned anyone.”

“Did she go out a lot, with other friends, maybe?”

Christopher’s laugh was mirthless. “She was a grad student. She didn’t have any money for entertain . . .” The thought trailed off and he sucked in a breath, straightening his spine. “Wait. About two weeks ago, she was heating up a meal in the microwave in the lounge. It wasn’t her usual Chef Boyardee and I remember asking her about it. She said it was . . .” He grimaced. “I don’t remember . . . Some French dish. It was in a foam box, like you get at restaurants. I teased her that I was paying her too much if she could afford restaurants like that and she blushed. Said she hadn’t paid the check herself. Ian teased her about having a boyfriend and that made her really mad.”

“Why would a twenty-two-year-old girl be upset over having a boyfriend?” Emma asked. “Especially one that took her to fancy French restaurants.” She looked at Harris shrewdly. “Why do you ask, Detective?”

“When she disappeared yesterday I went back to check my notes from my interviews with her after Darrell’s death. She’d been home sick the night before. It struck me as a little coincidental that she’d be sick the night he was killed.” Harris shrugged. “Coupled with the fact that her ID had been used to enter the lab when the vandalism was done a month ago . . . It didn’t add up. I asked her aunt how she got home that night, when she was sick.”

“Tanya didn’t have a car,” Christopher said numbly. “She used the bus.”

“That’s what her aunt said. But somebody dropped her off that night. Her aunt remembered hearing a car door slam just before Tanya staggered in. She had a high fever that night, but the next day was fine.”

“Food poisoning?” Emma asked.

“Maybe. The ME’s doing a tox screen, but if it was garden-variety food poisoning, it won’t show up. Regardless, somebody brought her home. Somebody she trusted. She didn’t call anybody to take her home from your phone here. I checked the LUDs. I’m pulling her cell phone LUDs so we may get a lead there. She was shocked to find Darrell had been murdered on Sunday, Professor. You weren’t looking at her face, but I was. If she knew something, suspected someone, she may have confronted them.”

“And they killed her.” Christopher slowly stood up. “Like they killed Darrell. What about my other students, Detective? Will you have them protected?”

“I’ve got unmarked cars sitting outside both Ian and Nate’s residences.”

Christopher shook his head. “I hope Ian doesn’t see them. He’s so damn sure you’re going to deport him, this will just underscore his paranoia.”

“Why is Ian so afraid he’ll be deported?” Emma asked. “What has he done?”

Harris waved his hand. “Some protests back in Scotland when he was just a kid. His record’s been clean ever since. I’m not INS. I’m not going to deport him. I just want to know who killed two people. Now we know someone stood to gain or lose financially from you analyzing those soil samples, but we still don’t know their connection to this lab or to you. Someone followed you this weekend, saw you pass what they thought was information to you, Dr. Townsend. We still need to know who that person is.”

“Because that person probably killed Darrell and Tanya.” Christopher’s voice hardened.

“That’s my thinking, Professor. Now I’m going to see if I can find somebody who can get into state building permit records after closing hours. I’ll call you when I know something. For now, go home and get some rest.” With a nod of his head, he was gone, leaving Emma and Christopher staring at each other.

“I’m sorry, Christopher,” Emma said quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?” Megan asked from the doorway, taking her headphones off her ears. “Who was that guy that just left?”

Christopher sighed. “That was the detective working Darrell’s death, honey. I don’t know how to tell you this . . . so I’ll just tell you. Tanya’s dead.”

Megan’s composure crumbled. “Oh, Daddy, no.” She rushed into his arms, tears coursing down her face, and Christopher rocked her. Emma stood to the side, feeling like a third wheel and ashamed of herself for feeling so. They were grieving. They needed each other. Then Christopher met her eyes over Megan’s head and the sorrow in his gaze made any feelings of isolation disappear.
He needs me, too.

“Let’s go home, Punkin,” Christopher murmured. “You need to sleep.”

* * *

Tuesday, March 2, 11:35 p.m.

As she had the night before, Emma stood at the spare bedroom window, watching for Christopher to appear in his room. The trip back from the lab had been tense, to say the least. Megan, still weeping, had pushed past Emma to climb in the front seat, next to her father. Christopher had opened his mouth to tell Megan to move, but Emma shook her head and took the backseat, listening to Megan’s sniffling the whole way.

She had no doubt that Megan was devastated over Tanya’s death. According to Christopher, Megan was close to all his students, so she had a real right to her grief. But Emma was equally positive that Megan had seen this as an opportunity to insert herself between Emma and her father, an adolescent attempt to sever a relationship of which the young girl didn’t approve. So while annoyance tickled at the back of Emma’s neck, compassion for the girl overwhelmed. Her life had been turned upside down, as had Emma’s and Christopher’s. But adults had the maturity to deal with such upheaval. A thirteen-year-old girl did not.

When they’d arrived back at the house Christopher had tucked his daughter into bed, rubbing her back as she cried herself to sleep, and once again Emma had felt out of place. In the way. Christopher and Megan had lost two people they’d loved, two people Emma would never know. Helpless to comfort either of them, Emma made herself a cup of tea and went to her room. Stood at the window. And waited.

The sounds of the shower running were followed by various soft bumps and thuds as he prepared for bed. Emma stood there, drinking in the sounds after so many months alone, remembering what it felt like to wait for Will as he got ready for bed. Watching as he’d gone through his regular little routine, knowing that in a few minutes Will would be next to her in their bed, holding her tight. She craved that now, that closeness, the knowledge that she wasn’t alone. Craved the feeling of a man’s arms around her. Christopher’s arms.

Eventually the light switched on in Christopher’s room and once again, he began to pace. But he covered the breadth of his room only once before leaning his forehead against his window, his shoulders sagging. Then heaving. Again and again.

He was crying. Soundlessly weeping. The sight broke Emma’s heart. Her feet moved and she made no move to stop them. Carefully she opened his bedroom door and slipped inside. He still stood at the window, shirtless, head bowed, his arms crossed hard over his bare chest, the corded muscles of his arms and back clenching with each shuddering breath he drew. She pushed away the tug of desire at the sight of him. He was grieving and with this she was trained to deal. “Christopher.”

His back went ramrod straight. He kept his face carefully averted. “Did you need something?” The tears had thickened his voice and he cleared his throat.

“Is Megan all right?”

“She’s upset, afraid. She’s worried that I might be next.”

An icy fist gripped her gut. “I’ve thought of that,” Emma replied, her voice certainly more controlled than she felt at the moment. “Haven’t you?”

“Let them come,” he said with barely restrained fury. “I’d welcome the chance to do to them what they did to Tanya. She was too small to fight back. I’m not.”

Emma pursed her lips, hard. “Don’t talk like that. Whoever is behind this has killed twice, Christopher. Tanya may not have been able to fight back, but Darrell was a healthy young man. Don’t you think he fought for his life?”

His shoulders sagged. “I haven’t been able to think of anything else.”

“None of this is your fault, Christopher,” she said quietly.

“I know,” he said bitterly. “But that doesn’t give much comfort to their parents.”

Tentatively she approached, close enough to smell the soap from his shower. His sagging shoulders straightened as if he’d been electrocuted. Perhaps he had. God only knew her skin was almost painfully sensitized. “You’ll help find the person who did this. That will bring resolution to their parents. Comfort will come. In time.”

Lightly she ran her hand across his bare back and he sucked in a breath. Gritted his teeth. “Emma. Please. Go away.”

The muscles in his back quivered under her palm. “Is that what you want?”

He turned his head then, his face hard, his cheeks streaked. His eyes wet. Yet still they burned. “You know it’s not.”

Gently she pried free one of his hands. Cupped his palm against her cheek and kissed his hand. Then slid it lower to cup her breast through the modest cotton sleep shirt she wore. Waited, breath pent until his hand took her, greedily kneading, his thumb flicking against her rigid nipple. The breath she held rushed out in a gasp of pleasure.

“You’re sure this is what you want?” he whispered fiercely.

“Yes.” She clamped her teeth over her lower lip, biting back the moan that surely would have echoed off the walls. “Please.”

No sooner had the plea passed her lips than her nightshirt was on the floor and she was in his arms, scooped up effortlessly, held tight against his thundering heart. Then she was laid down on his bed, so reverently she wanted to sigh.

He stood at the edge of his bed, his bare chest rising and falling with the silent, labored breaths he drew. He stared down, those wonderful blue eyes nearly black with passion. His eyes traveled the length of her body, taking in her breasts, making them tingle in anticipation. He ran a finger down her stomach, lightly, making her nerves quiver and jump. He hooked that finger just inside the elastic band of the plain white cotton panties she wished were lace instead. Then she didn’t care what they were made of because the finger dipped lower, questing.

Finding. She arched her back, pressing closer to the finger that seemed to know exactly how to touch her, and watched his powerful body shudder. With need.
For me
.

She reached up, cupped his rigid erection through his jeans. His head fell backward when she wrapped her fingers around him, touching him for the first time. She leaned up and tugged at the snap of his jeans, then slowly pulled at the tab of his zipper, feeling him throb beneath her fingertips. Then reached inside his briefs. He was hot and hard and silky. Ready. God, he was ready.
For me
.

She was touching him.
Finally
. It was heaven. Hell. And everything in between. A surge of lust barreled through him with the force of a hurricane, snapping his body into motion. Jerkily he pushed his jeans to the floor and yanked her panties down her legs. And stared. She was exquisite. Better than any fantasy his mind had ever conjured, every one of which was tumbling through his mind. He wanted them all, knew he’d have them all. She was here, in his bed, looking up at him with raw hunger that literally brought him to his knees, and he knew which fantasy he’d have first.

Kneeling by the bed he scooped his arms beneath her back and lifted her, repositioning her. Slipped her smooth thighs over his shoulders. And felt her entire body jolt when he kissed her hot wet heat. Heard her muffled whimper when his tongue delved deep. Felt his own climax inexorably building when she arched and bucked and thrashed beneath his mouth, driving him even deeper. Then her body went completely stiff, her thighs closing hard, bringing him even closer, and he rode the wave of her orgasm until she collapsed, panting, gasping, her thighs trembling as he feathered kisses across her skin.