Cutting Edge f-3

by Allison Brennan

  Nora continued, “This is what I think: Anya, Chris, and Scott took what you preached and put it to action-”

  As if on cue, the attorney objected, “Professor Cole has never advocated arson or murder.”

  Nora frowned and glared. “I’m not out to get your client, and I never was. I don’t think he’s a killer. I don’t think that he burned down Butcher-Payne. What I think is that he knows damn well who did and out of a misguided sense of loyalty or guilt, he has kept quiet. Why? Because, up until two days ago, no one had been killed. Things, not people, were destroyed.” She turned to Cole. “I’ve read everything you’ve written, Professor,” she said, staring Leif in the eye. He was clearly surprised by her statement, and she continued. “And in your writings, you have an incredibly strong theme of preserving human life. You wouldn’t condone murder, and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you didn’t do something to stop it.”

  Nora continued. “Maybe at first you didn’t know about Anya and the boys. But you’ve admitted to a relationship with Anya, and you probably figured it out. If I had to guess …” She mentally ran through the three previous arsons. “… I’d say it was after the security guard was injured at Sac State. Anya would have been distraught at hurting a human being. She probably confessed everything, or hinted enough so you knew-and you told her to say no more. So she kept quiet about her other activities.”

  Nora raised an eyebrow. “I have doubts as to whether those three kids killed themselves. Maybe it was a murder-suicide.” Nora wasn’t about to let on that the suicide note had been written by a woman.

  She watched the professor’s mind working, as he tried to figure out how to talk to her without incriminating himself.

  “I would say-”

  Shepherd cleared his throat. “Leif, I need to advise you to-”

  Cole shook his head and continued. “There are many truths in your story.”

  She’d nailed it. He didn’t incriminate himself, but gave her what she needed-information.

  “If Anya learned that she had accidentally killed someone,” Cole said cautiously, “she would have been extremely upset. But never have I imagined that she could be suicidal. She loved-” His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. “She loved everything. The outdoors, flowers, animals. She valued life, all life, human and animal and plant.”

  “What about Chris and Scott?”

  “Chris is a hothead and his academic work is hit-or-miss, and Scott’s quiet, restrained, a solid student. Chris is the one who speaks up in class, Scott never raises his hand. But I don’t see either of them killing Anya. They loved her.”

  Lance Sanger spoke up for the first time since the beginning of the interrogation. “Maybe,” Sanger said, “they disliked your relationship with her. Maybe we’re dealing with a love triangle.”

  Nora refrained from shaking her head. That didn’t fit, though she couldn’t articulate exactly why.

  It ticked off Cole. “That’s bullshit and you know it, Lance. Chris and Scott were Anya’s best friends, and they knew about us. Have for a long time. And Scott had a girlfriend. He wasn’t thinking about Anya like that.”

  Nora’s ears practically twitched like a cat. “Who’s Scott’s girlfriend?”

  “Maggie O’Dell, Anya’s former roommate.”

  Cole’s eyes widened at the same time Nora had the sense that she’d just heard something crucial to her case.

  “Who’s Maggie O’Dell?” Nora asked. “Anya doesn’t have a roommate this year.”

  “Maggie left last Christmas.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Anya didn’t know, Maggie simply told her she was dropping out of college.”

  “Was Maggie one of the gang?”

  “Don’t answer that, Leif,” his attorney said.

  Cole said, “Where Anya went, Maggie went. They were inseparable. I heard she was back.”

  “I want my client released immediately,” Shepherd said.

  He glanced at his attorney, then said, “Where’s Anya now?”

  “I don’t know,” Nora said. “Possibly the hospital or maybe she’s been transported to the morgue. You don’t want to go in there.”

  “I want to see her. Please.”

  Nora glanced at Sanger. They really had no reason to hold Cole. Yes, he knew about the arsons and was an accessory after the fact, but he hadn’t said anything that could be used against him. He had been forthcoming without being self-incriminating, a great trick if you were a criminal with information cops needed.

  “I’ll take you,” Sanger said.

  “I’ll take him,” Shepherd insisted.

  Sanger glared at him. “I’ll do it.” He said to Cole, “I’ll let you out if you promise to stay in town. No major trips for the next couple weeks.”

  Cole wanted to argue. Then he flipped like a switch. “I understand. Thank you, Lance.”

  CHAPTER

  SIXTEEN

  By the time Nora pulled back into Sacramento FBI headquarters, it was after seven in the evening and she was both exhausted and exhilarated. Two long days notwithstanding, she had her first, solid lead.

  And no one was in the office.

  That wasn’t completely true. Duke was with computer analyst Jason Camp in the small computer room. She poked her head in. “How’s it going?”

  “The hard drive was wiped,” Jason said, frustrated. “We’re trying to capture some of the data. If we can get enough, we may be able to rebuild the drive. But we’re not going to have answers tonight.”

  “Thanks,” she said. To Duke, “Anything on the backgrounders?”

  “On your desk, sweetheart,” he said.

  She frowned as she walked away. “Sweetheart”? Did he think that because he’d kissed her she was now his sweetheart?

  Her heart raced. She was panicked and excited at once. But now was not the time to think about relationships, especially a relationship with Duke Rogan. She’d turned him down a dozen times in the last four years, couldn’t he take a hint? She did not want to go out with him.

  She closed her eyes as she sank into her chair. She was interested in Duke Rogan, had been from the beginning, but she had no time for a serious relationship. And though Duke flirted and joked, when he looked at her she saw that he wasn’t going to be content with a few dinners, hot sex, and sayonara, baby. He wanted a long-term commitment. She didn’t want a relationship. Any involvements were few and far between, and Nora didn’t want to risk her heart again.

  She opened her eyes and looked through her inbox, finding on top Dr. Coffey’s autopsy report on Jonah Payne. Attached was a note.

  Nora:

  I just received two of the three apparent suicide deaths. I’m waiting for the third before doing the autopsy, so if you want to attend it’ll be early tomorrow-seven-thirty a.m.

  The tox screens came back on Payne.

  Payne ingested a modified version of Rohypnol that included speed and some other things that aren’t identified yet. Since the tests were inconclusive, I sent a blood sample to Quantico to see if they’ve seen anything like it. It almost appears homemade. But if it behaves anything like Rohypnol at the dosage he received he could have been experiencing memory loss, fatigue, insomnia, and dizziness. His reflexes would have been slow, and his hearing and sight impaired. This wasn’t a pill, it was liquid, and could have been ingested with anything, food or liquid. I got this from his stomach contents, which suggests that he consumed it four hours or less from the time he died.

  In addition, his blood tested positive for heparin, a blood thinner. It acts fast, generally within thirty minutes, and is always administered as an injection. Other similar drugs take four to twenty-four hours to work. Heparin is not a known street drug, but a pharmaceutical drug. Hope that helps a bit, and I’ll get you the results of the suicides as soon as possible.

  — K. Coffey, M.E., Placer County

  How the hell did the killer get ahold of heparin? Unless the killer required it for some
reason. Nora logged into the FBI database and looked through drug theft reports in the area. Hospitals kept track of their medicine, and certain drugs were flagged if inventory was off. But either heparin wasn’t flagged, or no one had stolen it recently.

  Nora also knew some hospitals weren’t so good at record-keeping; if a small amount went missing they might not have noticed, or didn’t want to file the paperwork. But this suggested to Nora that the killer had access to medical supplies …

  She picked up the phone while pulling the Langlier file from her desk. She was reading the notes when Quin finally picked up.

  “Quin Teagan, at your service.”

  “Quin, it’s Nora.”

  “You’re back.”

  “Yes, and I need information about Langlier. They stored cancer-fighting drugs at their warehouse, correct?”

  “That’s their bread and butter,” Quin said.

  “What other drugs?”

  “I don’t know-it’s in my report. They gave me a list-I attached it.”

  “I can’t find it-”

  “I’m not home right now. If it’s important, I can be home in thirty.”

  Nora heard a male voice in the background. “No, no-here! Found it.”

  Quin read the list of losses. The drugs were listed in alphabetical order, and there were only five.

  Heparin was third on the list.

  “Thanks, Quin.”

  “Oh, sure, I solved the whole case,” she said sarcastically.

  “You might have, with your detailed reporting. I know now where the killer got the blood thinners used on Payne. Keith Coffey alerted me that the drug used wouldn’t be easy to get, and so I thought of Langlier-”

  “But Langlier was nearly two years ago!”

  “Speaking of Langlier, there was a triple possible suicide at Rose College today.”

  “Suicide?”

  “Possible. Or murder. The students who died were definitely involved with the arsons, but I think there’s one more student or former student involved, and I have a line on her. It’s one of the victim’s former roommates.”

  “Good luck. This is fantastic.”

  “Enjoy your date.”

  Nora hung up and pulled all the background reports Duke had run for her. She yawned and her stomach grumbled. She packed everything into her briefcase and walked to Jason’s office. She glanced in. Jason was alone. “Where’d Duke go?” she asked.

  “He had a call.”

  “Tell him I said good-bye and I’ll see him tomorrow.”

  Maggie opened the door to Donnie’s cage and let him walk around. She hated keeping him locked up like a prisoner, but she couldn’t risk him getting away. She didn’t know exactly how the police had tracked down the other ducks, but it had something to do with an implant, according to the news. She didn’t know where it was, had inspected Donnie carefully, and she didn’t want to hurt him. He was the innocent victim in all this. It wasn’t his fault those people had experimented on him. He’d done nothing wrong.

  Tears welled in her eyes and she dry-heaved as she remembered what the cruel cops had done to all those ducks. They’d gotten off on it, the sadistic bastards. Snapping their delicate necks like tree branches. One after another after another …

  But it was all done on the orders of that bitch, Nora English.

  Maggie had gone a bit too far when she threw the soda can at Nora at Lake of the Pines, but Maggie had never been so close to her before. She’d wanted to cut her so bad it hurt, make the federal agent suffer for the pain she’d caused the movement. The pain Nora English had caused her personally. But Nora didn’t know her, couldn’t know her, though Maggie wished she did. Nora had ruined her life and didn’t even know it. She’d acted callously, without regard for anyone she damaged in the process. Without a care of who went to prison, whether they were guilty or innocent.

  The cause was more important than any one person. Maggie had killed fighting for what was right, and she would die for it. Some ideals were bigger than individuals. Bigger than her life. What was guilt but a judgment by a corrupt judicial system? Had any of Maggie’s comrades been guilty under the natural order? No! They were guilty only because of man-made rules and laws, not because they had actually done anything wrong.

  Donnie waddled over to the sink she’d filled with water. He drank, then jumped in. Maggie smiled. She wished she’d taken two ducks. She would have taken them all, but she hadn’t known the feds were going to torture and murder them. She’d kept Donnie because he was injured, that brute Scott had just stuffed the ducks into the cages as if they were children’s toys, not nature’s creatures. His wing was broken, and Maggie couldn’t free him without chance of survival.

  And yet, he was the only one who had survived.

  Maggie picked up her favorite knife and stared at the blade. Under the light, the blade looked angelic, sparkling, blinding. She turned it and it was dull again.

  She took out her special stone and sharpened the knife slowly, with sure, firm purpose. Sharpening her blade calmed her like nothing else. The scrape, scrape of the stone on the hand-forged metal. She remembered making this exact knife with her stepdad. She remembered each knife they’d made together, the patience he taught her, the respect for the fire, for the steel, for the cutting edge.

  She’d used this knife on Jonah Payne. He didn’t understand, but she didn’t expect him to. He’d died because she needed practice. She had to have it perfect.

  Nora English would pay for her actions. For putting innocent people in prison, for slaughtering Donnie’s winged brothers and sisters, for working for the corrupt system and against nature. Nora English was very much part of the bigger problem.

  When Maggie was done with her, Nora would beg to die. And Maggie would let her do just that … eventually.

  Jonah Payne had not been her first kill, and Nora English wouldn’t be the next.

  Someone else had to come first. Someone who had hurt her. Someone who’d turned people against her.

  Maggie didn’t like it when people didn’t do what they were supposed to. When they didn’t do what she wanted them to do.

  She’d learned a lot since the first time she’d killed. That time … that was messy. She missed Clay sometimes, but he’d deserved it. He was going to leave her.

  They lay on the blanket under the big oak tree, Maggie and Clay. It was the last weekend in April, and spring was supposed to be the time of rebirth and beauty, everything green and flowers blossoming. But today, though the sun shone hot over the treetops in the small Central Coast town of Paso Robles, her blood turned cold and she shivered.

  She knew before he spoke that Clay was going to make a huge mistake. She couldn’t let him, instead postponing his confession with a kiss.

  “Shh,” she said, tucking his pretty hair behind his ears. His parents didn’t like that his hair touched his collar, but she did. She liked everything about Clay Baker: his hair, his smell, his smile, his commitment to the cause, and most of all his commitment to her. He was hers, now and forever. They’d been together all of high school, she’d had sex with only Clay, and she loved him. He owned her heart, and she his.

  He kissed her back, but it wasn’t like before. It wasn’t the same as last month, before he got that damn letter.

  He was already three thousand miles away.

  “Maggie, we need to talk about this.”

  “I don’t want to,” she pouted.

  “Graduation is only four weeks away. I don’t want this hanging over us for all that time.”

  “No.”

  “Maggie, just listen. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime. A full scholarship to SUNY! It’s what I’ve always wanted. You need to be happy for me.”

  “I’m sad for us. You can’t go.”

  He touched her hair and sighed. “I’ll miss you, too.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  “And not go to college?”

  “I’m only going to community college.” Her grades ha
d been borderline. Maggie was lucky to even graduate. Her entire life her teachers had told her and her parents that she was an underachiever, that her test scores showed she was very intelligent, too intelligent to be getting C’s and D’s.

  “You just need to find yourself and your place,” Clay said.

  “My place is with you. I’m going to Syracuse.”

  She didn’t like the look on Clay’s face. It was as if he’d already known what she was going to say and had prepared a response.

  “Maggie, you can’t come with me. You would be a distraction from my studies. This is important to me. Try to understand that. Everything I’ve wanted to do in environmental science, I can with a degree from SUNY. I’ll be back in four years, and if we still feel the same way-”

  Her stomach turned sour. “If?”

  “Four years-Maggie, people change in four years.”

  “You’re dumping me.”

  “We have email and I’ll call every week.”

  He was telling her what he thought she wanted to hear. The only thing she wanted to hear was that Clay Baker was not dumping her.

  He took her hand, kissed her neck. “We have all summer. Let’s not worry about later, okay?”

  He hadn’t told her he loved her in weeks. He hadn’t made love to her in weeks.

  He didn’t know that she knew Cindy Tomlinson was going to SUNY, too. Or that she’d been watching how he looked at Cindy since those college letters arrived last month. They had bonded over a damn college! It wasn’t fair. Maggie was as smart-no, smarter! — than both of them. And Clay was going three thousand miles away with Cindy Tomlinson.

  Maggie let Clay kiss her, touch her breasts, push up her skirt. They had made love under this tree the first time.

  And now, the last time.

  He held her for a minute, then went to dispose of the condom. She told him she’d be right back, and walked naked down to the creek where they’d stored the cooler after their picnic.

  Clay’s mother had made the lemonade. Mrs. Baker didn’t like Maggie, but she’d been nice today. Nice in one of those “I know something you don’t” ways, so mightier-than-thou. The bitch had sabotaged Maggie’s relationship with Clay. She had convinced Clay to dump her. His future, his life, his dreams. What about her? Margaret Love O’Dell, with hopes and dreams of her own. And they centered around Clay Baker.