Deadly Contact

by Lara Lacombe

  “And you’re sure this won’t be traced back to me?”

  “As sure as I can be. It would help if you would follow my instructions and didn’t contact me again.”

  Wilkins ignored the warning. “How much longer? We need to start turning a profit quickly, or the company will have to fold. I can’t let that happen—my grandfather built this company, and I’ll be damned if I let it die on my watch. We’re the largest employer in town. If we have to close, the town will collapse.”

  Caleb sighed, his fingers itching to reach through the phone and strangle the old man. He was probably sitting in his mahogany-paneled office, swirling his fifty-year-old Chivas Regal and pondering how to spend his next bonus check. If the company did go under, there was no way he was going down with the ship, and his “concern for the employees” act was wearing a bit thin.

  “I’m putting the final pieces in place now,” Caleb said, his thoughts drifting back to Collins. “I can’t give you an exact schedule, but soon.”

  Wilkins harrumphed, evidently displeased with such a vague answer. That was just too bad. There was no way Caleb was going to share sensitive information, especially with someone as hotheaded as Wilkins.

  “Let me remind you that I am in charge of this operation,” he said coolly. “I am speaking to you now as a courtesy, but I do not report to you.”

  “You listen to me, you little snot,” Wilkins shot back, anger making him brave. “I paid for your services, and I want to know what’s going on. Do you know what I can do to you if you don’t cooperate with me?”

  Caleb laughed. “Nothing. You can do nothing to me.”

  Wilkins sputtered. “Now, see here—”

  “What would you do, Mr. Wilkins? Turn me in? I doubt it—you know if you did, I’d sell you out before the lock clicked into place on the cell door. Do you think you can kill me? You can try, but I should warn you, I’m very well connected. What does that leave you?”

  “You must have family,” Wilkins said, his voice now low and threatening.

  Caleb felt a dull throb in his chest at the mention of family, but he ignored it. “Sorry to disappoint, but they’re all dead.”

  “You’re not as untouchable as you think. I can come up with something.”

  “You’re welcome to try,” Caleb agreed. “In the meantime, let me do my job and stay out of my way.”

  Wilkins paused, clearly weighing his options. “Don’t try to double-cross me, boy.”

  Caleb ignored the insult, knowing a careless tone would get under the man’s skin more than any verbal retort. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Don’t call me again.”

  He hung up before Wilkins could respond, feeling a small, childish spurt of satisfaction at having gotten the last word. The man was a dinosaur, a throwback to the days of the three-martini lunch, when deals were sealed with cigars and handshakes. He was used to being in charge, accustomed to having his minions defer to his every word, but Caleb refused to play the game. Wilkins might be the customer, but that didn’t mean he was right.

  He leaned over and pulled a D.C. city map out of the glove compartment, unfolding it across the steering wheel. Time to pick out the next target....

  * * *

  “Reynolds!” Kevin Carmichael stood in the doorway of his office, his summons a loud bark that carried over the hum of activity in the room. James made eye contact and held up his hand, silently asking for a few minutes. Carmichael narrowed his eyes at the delay but nodded and turned back into his office, allowing James a chance to finish up his conversation.

  “Uh-huh. Yes. Well, I appreciate the call, and we will definitely keep an eye open....You, too. Have a nice day.” He hung up with a sigh and rubbed his eyes, taking a moment before heading into Carmichael’s office. It was only noon, and already the day was dragging.

  “Any new leads?” Thomas asked, looking up from some paperwork.

  James shook his head. “Mrs. Gerard was just telling me that she remembered a suspicious-looking young man hanging around by the salad bar that night and asked if we had checked him out yet. Based on her description, it sounds like she’s talking about the busboy who maintained the salad bar.”

  “And he’s already been cleared.”

  “Yeah.” James sighed. “The kid is a straight-arrow honor student, and there’s nothing to suggest he knew anything about the tampering. She’s just being a drama queen.”

  “Were the surveillance tapes helpful at all?” Thomas held out the dish of jelly beans on his desk, and James took a few, popping them into his mouth before answering. As far as lunches went, it wasn’t the greatest, but it would do in a pinch.

  He shook his head, swallowing the fruity glob of sugar and reaching for a few more. “No. Unfortunately, the angle of the camera didn’t cover all of the salad bar, so we can’t see the end with the cottage-cheese bin. No one remembers anything out of the ordinary or anyone behaving strangely, so we really don’t have any good leads.”

  “Sounds like these guys are pros.”

  “Well, they did their homework, that’s for sure.” James grabbed a notebook and pen and stood, knowing he couldn’t put off Carmichael’s summons any longer. “Thanks for lunch.”

  Thomas grinned up at him. “Anytime, man.”

  He wended his way through the maze of desks and rapped lightly on Carmichael’s partially closed door, then pushed it open after the other man beckoned him in.

  “Any news?”

  James sat in the metal-framed chair in front of Carmichael’s desk, stretching out his legs in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. “Just Mrs. Gerard turning in the busboy.”

  “Sanders? Was that his name?” At James’s nod, Carmichael snorted. “That kid is as innocent as they come.”

  “I know, but in her mind, any young man who wears a hat indoors is clearly suspect.”

  “Doesn’t she know that’s part of the uniform?”

  James jerked his shoulder up in a shrug. “Probably not, and I wasn’t about to waste time trying to explain it to her.”

  “Good. I have more important things for you to do.”

  James leaned forward and uncapped his pen. “What’s up?”

  Carmichael pulled a folder off the top of a precariously balanced stack of papers on the corner of his desk. “We got the lab report back from the science guys. They’ve identified the bacteria and have started characterizing the modifications.”

  “Tell me we have something,” James said, feeling a surge of adrenaline at the possibility. He’d been working this case for weeks without a break, and he was exhausted and out of leads.

  Carmichael’s smile was pure satisfaction. “We do.”

  James grinned, his annoyance with Mrs. Gerard fading in the face of this good news. This could be the information he needed to break the case wide open.

  Carmichael passed the lab report across his desk, and James took a moment to skim the printout. It was full of scientific jargon, which immediately made him think of Kelly. She’d know just how to translate these findings into plain English. He felt a pang of longing and regret, and firmly pushed thoughts of her out of his mind.

  He had tried to get in touch with her a few days after their encounter, but she’d never returned his calls. It was clear she wanted nothing to do with him, so he’d left her alone. He wasn’t going to chase her down and demand an explanation, but he couldn’t deny her actions had stung. This was not the time to think of her, though, not when things were finally starting to look up.

  “There are only four labs in the country that work with this particular strain of bacteria,” Carmichael said, his voice interrupting James’s musings.

  “Three of them are on the West Coast,” James murmured. “But the last one...this one is local,” he said, looking up at Carmichael. “Do we think this is a neighborhood job?”

  “Yes. The guy who runs the lab has been conveniently out of town for the past couple of weeks, which is pretty suspicious. We’ve sent field agents in California to ch
eck out the other labs, but I think this is our guy. I want you to head over there this afternoon.”

  “Since the guy is out of town, is there anyone in particular we need to talk to?”

  Carmichael nodded. “Yeah, there’s a postdoctoral fellow in the lab who seems to run things. A doctor.” He shuffled through some more papers, pulling out a Post-it note and squinting at the writing. “Dr. Jarvis. Bring him in for questioning.”

  James sucked in a breath, his stomach dropping. “Dr. Jarvis? Dr. Kelly Jarvis?”

  Carmichael frowned and checked the note again. “Don’t know about the Kelly part, but yeah, Dr. K. Jarvis. Do you know her?” He raised narrowed eyes, and James fought to keep a neutral expression on his face.

  “If it’s Kelly Jarvis, then yes, I know her. We used to be friends.” What the hell had she gotten herself into? The Kelly he knew would never participate in something like this, but maybe she’d changed in the past few months.

  He sucked in a breath as a new thought hit him. Was that why she’d left? So he wouldn’t discover her involvement? He gritted his teeth as he reevaluated their encounter in a new, ugly light. You deserve better than me, she had said before leaving. Was that her guilt talking?

  “Used to be? What happened?” Carmichael’s question snapped him back to the present.

  James deliberately relaxed his jaw, hoping the other man hadn’t noticed his agitation. If Carmichael thought there was something personal between him and Kelly, he’d yank him from the case. He hadn’t worked this long and hard to be benched in the final stages of the investigation.

  He shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “We just fell out of touch,” he explained, hoping Carmichael wouldn’t press for more details. It was mostly true—after that night, they hadn’t spoken again.

  “At this time, she doesn’t appear to be involved.”

  James felt a swell of relief, and some of his anger faded. It must have showed on his face, because Carmichael studied him intently for a beat. “If there is a conflict of interest here, I need to know about it now.”

  James shook his head before the other man had finished talking. “No. No conflict at all. Like I said, we used to be friends, but we’re not now. Hell, that may even help us. Since she knows me already, she’ll probably be more likely to talk to me.”

  Carmichael nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe. But if something comes up, I want to know about it. I won’t have this investigation put in jeopardy.”

  “I understand.” James stood, wanting to leave and compose his thoughts before bringing Kelly in for questioning.

  “Reynolds.”

  He stopped at the door and turned back.

  “You’ve done a great job on this investigation so far,” Carmichael began, sounding a little uncertain.

  James frowned. What was he trying to say?

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Carmichael nodded. “You’re a great agent, and I know part of what drives you is your...family history,” he finished delicately.

  James drew up his shoulders, waiting to see where Carmichael was going with this. Why the hell was his boss bringing up the subject of his father?

  “What I’m saying is, if you have to withdraw from this investigation for personal reasons, I’ll understand. You’ve already proven yourself to me, and I don’t want to risk this case in any way.”

  James met his gaze, resisting the urge to tell the other man to go to hell. Bobby Reynolds had tarnished the family name by taking bribes and botching investigations for the highest bidder, but James would never risk a case—he wasn’t his father. “I understand, sir,” James said stiffly. “I’ll be back with Dr. Jarvis in about an hour.”

  Carmichael looked as if he wanted to say more, but he settled for a nod. “I’ll let the rest of the team know.”

  James left the office and walked to the men’s room, which was blessedly empty. He splashed water on his face and swallowed a handful; the cool liquid relaxed the tight muscles of his throat. What kind of mess was Kelly in? And more important, did she even know, or was she truly innocent in all of it?

  He blotted his face dry with a square of paper towel. Up until five minutes ago, he would have sworn Kelly didn’t have it in her to fall in league with a terrorist group. But if history had taught him anything, it was that people weren’t always who they seemed to be. His father, his friend Steve...both of them seemingly good people who had made all the wrong choices. Was he going to have to add Kelly to that list?

  He glanced in the mirror and straightened his tie, then brushed his hair back into place. He looked calm and professional, his outer image at odds with the emotional turmoil this new lead had created. He had worked hard to put his disappointment and anger toward his father behind him, and he hated that it had popped up again after a few words from his boss. Get it together.

  He was too close to breaking open the case to let his emotions get the better of him now.

  * * *

  Kelly pushed away from the microscope and stretched, arching her back as she reached up to massage her aching neck. She had been looking at slides most of the day, and although it was only two in the afternoon, she was heading home early. Two weeks of burning the candle at both ends had caught up with her, and she was exhausted.

  She switched off the microscope and began gathering up her slides as thoughts of a hot bubble bath and a glass of wine danced in her head. It wouldn’t be the same as drinks with James, but it would do in a pinch.

  She shook her head as a pang of longing hit, the way it always did when she thought of James. She missed him, missed their regular Friday night conversations. More than that, though, she missed his friendship.

  Not for the first time, she regretted walking out on him five months ago. The irony of it all was that in the months since she’d left, she’d come to realize that not all men were Gary in disguise, just waiting to hurt her. James especially didn’t deserve that kind of suspicion. She’d obsessively gone back over their interactions, looking for any sign that she’d been right to leave, but in the end, she could only conclude that he was a genuinely kind and decent man.

  Yes, she had been scared of what their night together had meant, but she had ruined things by running away. She had treated him badly, and she carried the regret with her on a daily basis.

  Lost in her thoughts, she moved on autopilot as she placed the glass slides in their cardboard folder, paying little attention to the order in which they were stowed. After the last slide went in, she snapped the folder shut and grabbed her notebook.

  She stepped into the hall, eager to get everything put away and to duck out before someone asked her a question. With Dr. Collins, the lab head, on vacation for the past couple weeks, Kelly was the de facto group leader. Normally she didn’t mind helping out the other lab techs and graduate students, but today she was tired and wanted nothing more than to be left alone. She moved quickly and kept her head down as she walked, trying hard to look unapproachable as she entered the main lab.

  She noticed the shoes first. A pair of brown men’s dress loafers, to be exact, right in the middle of the aisle. Shoes that nice were never found in a research lab, and she frowned as she raised her gaze up suit-clad legs, a trim waist and broad shoulders. Her eyes finally landed on a face she never thought she’d see again.

  Her body flushed hot then cold as she stared at James in openmouthed shock. She took a half step forward, wanting to touch him, to hug him, but his stern expression stopped her. With his mouth pressed into a thin line and his arms crossed over his chest, he looked rather forbidding and not at all happy to see her.

  They stared at each other for a few seconds until she shook herself free of the moment. She had to take control of the situation. Faking a confidence she didn’t feel, she asked “Can I help you?” in what she hoped was a professional tone. What the hell was he doing here? Why, after all these months, had he come to find her?

  He arched a brow, disbelief plain on his face. “That’s all you have to say
to me? ‘Can I help you?’ Are you kidding me?”

  She tried to keep her voice aloof, wanting to seem unaffected by his presence. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He took a step toward her and she reflexively stepped back, her shoulder bumping into the door frame.

  Dammit, she thought. Act normal.

  It had been over a year since she’d been hit, but whenever she felt anxious or upset, her nerves got the better of her.

  While her mind knew that he wouldn’t hurt her, her body was taking no chances. He was a powerful presence when he was angry, his eyes bright and his body tense as he stood in front of her, staring at her with his angular features arranged into a fierce scowl. Her heart thumped in her chest and nausea gripped her stomach in a sickening fist. He won’t hit me. She wiped a slick palm down her thigh. He’s not Gary.

  After what seemed like ages, James’s expression changed. His eyes grew considering as he stared down at her, and she had the sneaking suspicion he knew. Not all the details of her past, but enough to suspect something. He took a step back to give her more room, and she slowly exhaled, trying not to look too relieved at the return of some personal space.

  He held her eyes for a moment, then looked down with a sigh, running his hand through his hair. He turned away, and she caught a whiff of his cologne. Oh, God, he still smells the same....

  “So, why are you here?”

  He snorted and shook his head. “Just business, is that it, Kelly?” For a split second, he dropped his guard and she watched as confusion, hurt and anger danced across his face. The weight of guilt settled on her shoulders and she swallowed hard, hating herself in this moment for having hurt him.

  “I—I thought after what happened...” she stammered. “I didn’t think you’d want to see me again.”

  “You know, I could have forgiven you for running away,” he said slowly. “But when you didn’t return my calls...” He shook his head and looked down. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”