Cutting Edge f-3

by Allison Brennan

  They’d agreed to keep their relationship discreet, even though Leif was the only one with something other than his heart at risk.

  In May, when she graduated, he’d ask Anya to share his life. Not within the constraints of man-made matrimony, but where it mattered. They’d be together for as long as their spirits complemented each other. For as long as they were satisfied and complete.

  When Anya approached him in the organic garden, wearing her customary long, flowing dress that made her look as sweet as her kind disposition, Leif couldn’t resist taking her hand and squeezing it just for a moment. He ran his thumb up and down her palms. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her pale skin was even more translucent.

  “Are you okay?” he asked quietly. He dropped her hands in case someone approached.

  “Yes, of course,” she replied. “What’s wrong?”

  “How was your lunch date?” He hadn’t meant to ask, it just came out.

  She blinked, unsure of what he meant, then said, “Sean? He seems very aware. Do you remember, he spoke up in class?”

  He remembered, though at the time of Sean’s impassioned plea for animal rights, Leif had been preoccupied with the news of Jonah Payne’s murder.

  “Was he with you last night?” Leif asked.

  “I–I don’t know what you mean. I just met him this morning in class, talked to him at lunch. What’s wrong?”

  “I know what happened.”

  He didn’t need to elaborate. Her eyes fluttered downward almost demurely.

  “Was he there last night?” he asked again.

  “No. It was the same people.”

  His stomach tightened and he grabbed her hands again. “You promised me it was over.”

  “It was important. They were-”

  “Shh.” He cut her off. They’d never spoken of Anya’s arson activities out loud. He knew, but they’d talked around it. They never said the words or names out loud. But Leif blamed last night’s disastrous outcome on Anya’s roommate. He’d thought Maggie had left for good.

  “So Maggie is back?”

  Anya nodded.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It-I–I don’t know.”

  “She told you not to.”

  Anya nodded, tears in her eyes. “Leif, please forgive me. I didn’t mean to break my promise to you, but there’s so much at stake.”

  He had always admired Anya’s passion and that she’d acted on her passions-something Leif had always wanted to do, but was too fearful. Freedom was more important to him than action. He talked a good game, but he’d never put his freedom on the line in a substantial way.

  And he didn’t want Anya to lose it.

  “Anya …” How could he tell her? If not him, someone else would. She would know what happened.

  “Leif-you’re scaring me.”

  “Someone died.”

  She stared at him, not registering what he’d said. Then she shook her head, her big eyes glistening. “I don’t understand.”

  “A reporter called me. Jonah Payne was found dead in his office.” Anya began to tremble and Leif took her in his arms, reputation be damned. “Shh,” he murmured.

  Her pain was palpable as she sobbed on his shoulder. It had been an accident! Anya could no more intentionally kill anyone than could Mother Teresa-her life would never be the same. Leif couldn’t say I told you so, though he had in the past. After the security guard was injured during the arson at Sac State, Leif had told Anya that she meant the world to him, and her life was too precious to risk death or imprisonment. And Anya had agreed. She knew the stakes, was willing to risk both, but in the end she said their love mattered more to her. And that together, after she graduated, they would find more powerful, long-lasting ways to change public opinion. Between his words and her face, they could do it, Leif knew. But now …

  “What happened?” she cried.

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Payne could have been asleep in his office, or maybe he tried to put out the fire. They may never know.”

  She pulled away. “Someone might see us.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You’re too important for me to jeopardize your career,” she said.

  That she’d said it made Leif realize how selfish he’d been these past two years. Making Anya keep their relationship a secret.

  “I love you, Anya.”

  Her lip trembled. “I killed someone.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Stop thinking that way. It was an accident. I can’t lose you, Anya. I can’t bear the thought of you being in a cage. Please, honey, you must protect yourself.”

  “I have to go.”

  “No-”

  “I have class this afternoon.”

  “Anya, please-”

  She tried to pull away, but Leif held her wrist. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll protect you.”

  “There’s nothing to protect.” That was true, to a degree. He hadn’t known about the arsons until after the second fire, and he didn’t know details. He didn’t know for a fact who else was involved-though he had his suspicions. Anya had never told him anything, he couldn’t be called to testify. He knew but he had no evidence, no confessions.

  “I killed someone,” she repeated, whispering it this time.

  Leif put it out of his mind. As far as he was concerned, Anya had never said it.

  “Promise me,” he said to her, “that you’ll protect yourself. Do not talk to the police without an attorney. Say nothing. They will use your words against you. They’ll try and make you feel guilty and I know your heart: it is kind and good. Someone has to protect your rights.”

  She nodded, eyes wet with tears. I love you, too, she mouthed, then ran off.

  Leif removed his glasses and squeezed his burning eyes. An overwhelming sense of despair and foreboding enveloped him until he felt suffocated. Life as he knew it, as he loved it, was ending. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Duke listened to Jim Butcher as he accepted that his life’s work was gone, and his best friend was dead. Jim didn’t know what to do. Duke struggled to reassure him by saying, “I’m not walking away from this.”

  They sat in an office across the two lane highway from Butcher-Payne. A friend of Jim’s had let him have a space for the duration of the police investigation. It was both good and bad that the office had a window with a view of the partially destroyed Butcher-Payne office building. Right now there were two sheriff’s cars, the arson investigator truck, and three large California Fish and Game vehicles parked in the lot.

  Jim stared at him. “The FBI didn’t do jack shit on the other arsons, and now my partner is dead.”

  Duke stiffened. While he understood Jim’s frustration, he also knew that the FBI had vigorously worked the case. That’s what they did. And Nora English was one of the very best-Duke had seen her work firsthand on half a dozen assignments where their paths had crossed.

  “I know the agent in charge of this investigation, and she’s not going to let up.”

  “Fantastic!” Jim said sarcastically. “How many people are going to die because of these lunatics? They’re fucking insane.”

  Duke changed the subject. “I swung by Russ’s apartment. He wasn’t there. No sign of him. His neighbor hasn’t seen him since Saturday, but that’s not saying much. She admitted she doesn’t know him well. Did Russ mention to you that he might be going out of town?”

  “No,” Jim frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” He sent a quick email on his iPhone to his partner, J. T. Caruso.

  Run a full search on all financials, recent travel, etc for Russell Larkin, IT Director, Butcher-Payne. Address 1010 Rocklin Rd #16, Rocklin.

  “Russ wouldn’t be involved in anything that might hurt Jonah,” Jim said. “What do you think is going on?”

  “I don’t know,” Duke repea
ted, hating not having the answers. “Russ is the only one besides me who knows all the security codes and understands the system well enough to manipulate it.”

  “You’re missing something. That just can’t be,” Jim said, though without conviction. Jonah was dead, all their research destroyed, anything was possible.

  “I’ll find him,” Duke said.

  “Melanie Duncan called me and said the FBI has already been out to talk to her. Is it true the research ducks were released into the wild?”

  Duke hadn’t spoken to Nora since sending her a copy of the security logs when she asked for them an hour ago.

  “I haven’t heard any information about that. If the FBI said they were, it’s likely true.”

  “This is fucked.” Jim ran a hand through his thin hair, leaving it sticking up in places. “I don’t know what to do. I’m a damn media consultant and I don’t have any idea what to do!”

  Duke said, “Do what you do best, and by that I mean gather the facts. Before you go public with anything though, you should first talk to the FBI.”

  Jim said, “Agent Pete Antonovich told me to meet him here ten minutes ago, I gave him this address.”

  “He’ll be here.”

  “Duke, I’ll pay anything to find these people.”

  “I’m not charging.”

  Duke saw an unmarked sedan pull into the lot. The car had “fed” written all over it. “I think Antonovich and English are here,” he said.

  He watched Nora slide out of the driver’s seat. Pete Antonovich said something to her, then started toward the building where Duke was sitting with Jim. Nora went to talk with Fish and Game.

  Duke looked at his long-time friend. “If you want me to stay while you talk to Agent Antonovich, I will. Otherwise, I want to see what I can get out of Agent English.”

  “Go. I’m fine. I have nothing to hide. I didn’t kill Jonah, or want him dead.” His voice cracked. “He was practically my brother. Losing him is devastating for Butcher-Payne, but for me, personally, it’s …” He threw up his hands. “I’ve lost my best friend. The business means nothing to me without Jonah.”

  On the short drive from the morgue to Butcher-Payne, Nora spoke with the Centers for Disease Control. They were a bunch of pricks. Necessary, but pricks nonetheless.

  At least the jerk she’d spoken with was. But she hoped she had them under control. They were on alert, but weren’t about to respond to this potential emergency without more proof that they were needed.

  When she drove into the parking lot she was pleased to see that Sheriff Sanger had set one of his men on the entrance to check IDs to keep the media and others away. She didn’t want anyone without official clearance-especially the media-to get wind of the fact that there were twelve research animals potentially infected with a deadly virus loose in the area. She noted that Quin’s truck was still on-site. Arson investigations took time and painstaking attention to detail. All of which was vital when and if anyone went to trial.

  She introduced herself to the team leader from the Department of Fish and Game. Kevin Barry was a tall, skinny, bearded wildlife biologist with long dark hair restrained with a rubber band. He and his people pored over a map of the area, identifying nearby bodies of water, while close by Melanie Duncan paced. When Nora approached, Duncan was on her cell phone talking to the vet who was driving in from UC Davis with a prototype electronic reader that could register the microchips embedded subdermally in each duck.

  Nora let them do their job while she looked at her own map.

  “Hello, Nora.”

  She immediately recognized the low, sexy voice behind her. She braced herself against the presence of Duke Rogan before turning to face him. Even though she was prepared, she was still stunned that he had such a strong impact on her.

  To compensate for this reaction, she got right to business.

  “Anything from your security disks?” she asked him.

  His face went from subtle flirt to serious. She almost regretted it.

  “Jonah’s codes were used to get into the building. My staff is working on reconstructing the video surveillance.”

  “What happened to it?”

  “I wish I knew. It’s just not there.”

  Nora saw that the lack of answers bothered Duke even more than her. Her job was, in part, finding the answers, so the search might disturb her at times, or irritate her often, but it was simply part of the process in an investigation. For a man of action like Duke Rogan, not knowing struck at his core.

  “You’ll find it,” she said.

  “I went by Russ Larkin’s apartment on my way here. He runs the I.T. department for Butcher-Payne. He’s not there.”

  “He’s not here either. The sheriff’s department is keeping tabs on employees, neighbors, and potential witnesses, but I’m in the loop.” She caught the worry in Duke’s expression. “Are you concerned about Larkin’s well-being?”

  He didn’t directly answer her question. “I put someone on his apartment. She’ll call me if he shows up there.”

  “All right,” Nora said, “I’ll issue a BOLO for him if you think it would help. We do need to talk to all staff.”

  “Good thinking,” he said. Duke gave her Russell Larkin’s vital stats and the make and model of his car. Nora sent the information to headquarters.

  She began, “You don’t-”

  He interrupted and gestured toward the Fish and Game trucks. “What’s this? Jim said some ducks are missing?”

  Duke never made it easy to get rid of him. “We have reason to believe that the arsonists released the research ducks into the wild.”

  Duke’s face darkened and he said in a low voice, “They killed Jonah to let some ducks out? They’re fucking nutjobs.”

  Nora had no answer for him. It seemed wholly incomprehensible to her as well.

  Kevin Barry looked up from marking his maps and said, “Can we identify them from their bands?” He specialized in birds, and Nora had immediately sensed his competence when first talking to him.

  Nora said, “Most likely, the arsonists would have cut off the bands. They don’t want the ducks recaptured.”

  “They should have thought about it before they released them,” Barry said.

  Duncan was within earshot, and the researcher hurried over to where they stood in the staging area on the far side of the parking lot. “Release?” she balked. “How do you know the ducks were released? Why wouldn’t they take them home?”

  Nora explained. “Animal-rights activists rarely, if ever, keep research animals as pets. Twelve mallard ducks? Where would they keep them? In their swimming pool? When the news gets out about the missing birds, neighbors and relatives could become suspicious and turn them in. In addition, they don’t believe that wild animals should be in captivity, by researchers or even themselves.”

  “But you said they weren’t animal-rights nuts. That they were opposed to genetic research.” Duncan’s tone was accusatory.

  “Yes,” she said, “but the fact that they took the ducks would suggest that they’re involved in more than one political cause.”

  “Why do they think they can get away with it?”

  “By cutting off the bands, the twelve ducks blend in with the thousands in the area. They’ve given them a chance of freedom.”

  “You sound like you agree with them!” Duncan said.

  Nora didn’t need to explain herself to this semi-hysterical woman, though she well understood Duncan’s anger. Nora was angry, too, but she didn’t have time for social niceties. In a clipped voice, she said, “Part of my job is to think like them, to understand their motivation and their goals. Their goal is to liberate the birds, not keep them as pets.”

  Barry interjected, “Well, they’ll be neither free nor captive after we find them. They’ll be dead.”

  Duncan panicked. “Can’t you return them to me?”

  Barry shook his head. “Gotta kill ’em. Them and any duck in the area. We can’t possibly risk th
is virus spreading. And after, we’ll have to sample birds in a wider area, make sure we got them all and the virus didn’t spread.”

  Duke leaned over to Nora. “Is that true?”

  She nodded. “I hope we find them all quickly.”

  Duncan resumed pacing, then glanced up at a van whose driver was showing credentials to the deputy manning the entrance. “Finally!” She strode over to the car that had just been waved through by the deputy.

  Nora assumed it was the veterinarian and said to Barry, “Are you ready to go? I think that’s the vet with the equipment.”

  “Almost.” Barry pulled a map from his pocket. “These nuts could have taken the birds anywhere. Do you have any idea which direction they’d go? Looking for a dozen ducks in the Gold Country is harder than finding a needle in a haystack.”

  Nora considered what she knew about how these people operated. “Maybe not as hard as you think,” she said slowly as she looked at the map and the areas the Fish and Game staff had already marked. “First, they’re not going to keep the ducks for too long. They left here between one-thirty and two in the morning. They wouldn’t take the ducks anywhere near their work, school, or residence. That would increase the odds that someone they know would see them releasing them.”

  “And you know where they live?” Barry asked sarcastically.

  She ignored his comment and put herself in their shoes-easy to do, since she’d learned from one of the best animal liberators: her mother. “They won’t take them to the closest lake-they’d assume that’s where we’d go.”

  She remembered the times she’d freed research animals with her mother. When she was little she thought she’d been doing the right thing, the humane thing. But she’d learned far too quickly that freedom didn’t mean safety, at least not for animals who were raised and cared for by people.

  If Nora had taken the ducks, she would have found a place for them where people came to toss bread crumbs. A place with a lot of water, so the ducks could escape little kids who didn’t know better when they chased them, and teenagers who did. But people were a must, because anyone worth their salt in the animal-rights movement knew that captive animals would have a difficult time fending for themselves. These birds needed food, water, safety.