Searching for Secrets (13 page)

"It is almost supper time, isn't it? I'll order in some pizza." When he smiled like that, Christa needed to get away from him, even for a couple of minutes. She walked into the kitchen and turned her back to him as she called the delivery service.

TWO HOURS AND AN ENTIRE SAUSAGE and mushroom pizza later, they still had no solution to the hodge-podge of letters. And no clue on where to start for the numbers.

Christa picked up the paper and stared at it again. "Whatever we aren't," she said, thoughtfully. "We've assumed letters represent letters and numbers stand for numbers. Maybe it's the reverse."

Kirk moved closer and studied the sheet again. Christa felt her professional resolve eroding. Remember, he's only here because he's concerned about his sister and niece.

"You're saying that maybe each number stands for a letter." Kirk took the paper from her and sat up straighter. "That's a possibility." He quickly wrote the letters A - Z down the left margin of his notepad. Then he placed the number "1" after the letter "A" and continued until he reached "Z" and "26."

Christa watched him for a moment, then began translating. 11 8 4 21 23 15 4 17 became K H D U W O D Q. She stared at the meaningless phrase. Perhaps it was an anagram and she needed to transpose the letters. QUODDHK. Hardly. She looked up and was surprised to find Kirk staring at her intently. How long had he been watching? She felt herself flush.

His dubious expression told Christa Kirk didn't have a lot of confidence in his own idea. "Hmmm," she said. "I guess the only thing to do is what we did with the letter substitutions. Let's start with A equaling two, B equaling three."

"All right. You do that. I'll start with A equaling three." Kirk began writing furiously.

Christa finished her first group, which produced only nonsense words. She tried A equaling the number four. "Whoa," she said, softly.

"What? Do you have something?"

"I think so." Christa felt a nervous tingle. The first group of numbers. If A equals four, then the list of numbers that starts with 11 8 4, it spells 'heartland.'"

"Heartland National Bank?" they said together.

Christa moved to the next four numbers. "Yep, it's the abbreviation--NATL. Here--you start at the bottom; I'll keep working from the top."

"But only the numbers to letters, so far, right?" he asked.

Christa didn't look up. "For the moment."

They worked quietly for nearly a minute, then compared notes. "Heartland Natl Bank," Christa said. "Acct. Then we have to figure out what numbers equal those letters. Deposit will be for... Delivery by October whatever, withdraw by November whatever."

"That's it?" Kirk's took the paper and stood, pacing the room as he repeated it. "What does this tell us?" He wadded the yellow sheet and threw it at the couch.

Kirk ran his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry." He walked over to Christa, put his hand on her right shoulder and leaned over her.

She felt her heart pounding. Without thinking she turned her head and started to pucker her lips. The peck on the cheek made her nearly turn scarlet. To think she had let Kirk Reynolds know she was prepared for a more romantic kiss! "Come on," she said, trying to cover her embarrassment. "Let's see if we can figure out the numbers, too."

"So," Kirk said a few minutes later, "if we're right, whoever has the account number 694281 at Heartland National Bank will get a deposit. They have to deliver something by October 31, and withdraw funds by November 1."

"Have you told me everything you know?" Christa studied Kirk's face as he evaluated her question. He must think she was a simpleton. Or maybe he simply didn't trust her. She had, after all, been the one with Amy when she was kidnapped, and he thought the sun rose and fell in the little girl.

Christa gestured to the sheets of yellow note paper that littered the table. "That's all I had, and we eventually came up with something pretty important."

"Agreed. It's just," Kirk walked over to the narrow window in the dining room of her apartment, "that what I tell you could put you in more danger."

"I don't think I'll feel truly safe until these jerks are behind bars. And that won't happen without us doing something." She met Kirk's questioning gaze directly. "As you said, I've had more bullets fired at me than you have."

"The man in the mall today. The one you saw at the hospital. It's true he is the man I hoped to arrest when your burglary call came in." Kirk shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "He's also the last person seen talking to Chas Johnson, and..."

"The man who was murdered?" Christa slumped back in her chair. "Fast Freddy the news people called him." She paused as she thought about his presence at the hospital, then looked up at Kirk. "He wasn't at the hospital to bring either one of us flowers."

"No, he wasn't." Kirk sat next to her. "I wouldn't be at all surprised if he was in the van when someone tried to kill me."

The words hung in the air. Christa's chest tightened. She wanted to touch his cheek, to let him know she knew he would protect Amy. Instead adjusted the sling on her arm. Better to keep her hands to herself. "And, if he saw me and deliberately turned around, he knew who I was."

"Plus, after that you and I were together in the mall. Our problem is that just because we see him around doesn't mean we can prove Freddy's involvement in anything. If I pull him in again to question him about Chas Johnson's murder he'll claim I'm harassing him. And in the meantime," Kirk said, crumbling another piece of discarded yellow paper, "he's free to plan further attempts to get rid of either or both of us."

"And he wants to do that because he thinks we might know about the Heartland National Bank account and the delivery someone is willing to pay for."

"He can only guess at that. If it hadn't been for your...insistence," he half-grinned at her, "we wouldn't have this string of numbers and letters." He shrugged. "Maybe he's decided he just doesn't like us. There's no logic to a drug dealer's mind."

"Is he in charge of some kind of drug territory here, or something?" Christa asked.

"I don't think so. First of all, I don't think he's all that bright. Second, he's on the street too much. If he were managing a drug ring he'd be busier behind the scenes."

"He had to be able to interpret that cipher," Christa said.

"Him or somebody he’s working with. But, from what your encyclopedia says, that was a pretty elementary substitution pattern. We may have taken a few hours to figure it out, but maybe he already had the key." Kirk looked back out the window again, and Christa sensed that there was more he wanted to say.

He sat back down at the table, across from her. It’s not something I like to talk about.” He stared directly into her eyes and Christa had to fight the urge to look away.

“Don't like, or just don’t want to tell me?”

He gave her a grim smile. “Probably a little of both. Let’s drop it, shall we?”

Christa was about to ask if he kept secrets from Hadley when Brandy caught her attention. Her tail was huge and she stared behind Christa at the apartment door. Kirk followed Christa's gaze, and put a finger over his lips. He stood without moving his chair and motioned for her to follow him. As she did so she sniffed. There was a foul odor coming from under the door. Brandy took one sniff and scampered to her hiding place under Christa's bed. Where had Kirk gone?

In the short time it had taken Christa to follow Brandy down the hall her eyes had begun to water. They couldn't stay in the apartment. She started to turn around, but Kirk grabbed her arm and guided her to the bedroom. In his hand he held a wet towel. He shut the door and laid the towel at the base. "To keep the odor out?" Christa asked, her voice choking.

"Yes." He coughed lightly as he picked up the phone and dialed 911.

Christa moved closer to the window, desperate for a breath of fresh air. "Get down," Kirk hissed.

Acting almost on reflex, Christa sat on the floor. A faint meow greeted her from under the bed. She drummed her fingers on the floor, and Brandy's head appeared momentarily and vanished again beneath the bed skirt. Let her be okay under there.

"They wanted us outside, didn't they?" She looked at Kirk's profile as he merely nodded. "Frances and Amy..." she whispered.

His voice was strained. "I didn't hear them come in. I think Frances took her back to her old neighborhood to have supper with some friends."

She reached over and touched his hand. "They'll be okay." Kirk turned to look at her. Christa looked into his eyes and felt suddenly calmer than she had since the morning she had found her classroom computers on the floor.

Kirk gently cupped her chin in his hand and pulled her face toward his. It was a gentler kiss than she had expected. His mouth rested on hers and his thumb caressed her cheek. She leaned into him slowly.

"Ow!" Christa pulled back involuntarily, gripping her arm. "I forgot," she said sheepishly. He smiled and started to reach for her again.

The loud pounding on the apartment door make them both jump. "Reynolds!" the harsh male voice rang out. "You in there?"

Kirk jumped to his feet. "Stay here," he said, not looking at her. He covered his mouth with his hand and ran down the hall toward the apartment door.

CHRISTA WONDERED IF SHE WOULD EVER FEEL SAFE at Mahaska Springs again. She tossed fitfully. One a.m. The police had assured them there was no sign of anyone near the apartment. The odor had come from a heavy glass jar that appeared to contain a mix of chemicals. Whoever had put it there had lit it by placing a twelve-inch candle upside down in the chemical. Lit, of course, when they inserted it. The officers found the stench offensive, but were unwilling to accept that it was more than an act of rowdy kids. Nonetheless, they had taken the foul-smelling jar to analyze its contents.

Kirk called Hadley and asked him to stay on top of what Hadley immediately deemed 'Kirk's chemistry project.'

After the day she'd had, she should be able to sleep. Christa sat up and propped the two pillows behind her head. Her body was tired, but her mind raced, its energy kindled in part by the man on the sleeper sofa in her living room. Kirk had wanted them both, plus Frances and Amy, to go to a hotel, but the two women had insisted on remaining in their respective apartments. Frances felt Amy would never feel safe if they were to leave on such short notice. She was willing to arrange a sleepover for the next few days with some long-time friends, but she wouldn't budge this night. Christa used Brandy as her excuse, but the bottom line was no thugs were running her out of her own home.

Her home, in which Kirk Reynolds was sleeping, just yards from her bed. She gently raised her arm with the cast and turned on the small lamp by her bed. The doctor had said each day would bring marked improvement, and he was right.

In the top drawer of the small nightstand were a notepad and pen. Christa began to list what she knew and what she wanted to know about what had happened the last few days. She knew someone wanted her computers' hard drives. She didn't know who wanted them but she had an idea why. She knew the first person to try to steal them was Chas Johnson, but she didn't know how he was connected to the people who kidnapped Amy or stole the computer from her apartment.

She paused, pen in mid-air. But somebody knew more about him. He had been a computer science major at the University of Iowa. She started a third list, which she labeled 'to do tomorrow.' The she crossed off 'tomorrow' and wrote 'today.' Wednesday already. Only two days before the thieves made whatever delivery they had to make. She wrote 'talk to Chas Johnson's friends.'

She and Kirk knew the account number at Heartland, unless of course the cipher's creator had used a different key for the account number than the dates. But, without a statement or check, there was no way to access the account. She pondered that for a moment, then sat up straighter in bed. No one asked for identification when you made a deposit. She could use one of the generic deposit slips banks had for customers who forgot their personalized slips. Somehow, she'd find a way to learn more about that account.

She yawned. The half a pain pill she had taken when she went to bed helped her arm, and it was finally making her sleepy. Christa turned off the light and snuggled back under the covers. If only she weren't sleeping alone.