Payne had third-degree burns over all exposed areas of his body. His hair had disintegrated—which would help the M.E. determine how long he was exposed to flames—and the metal from his glasses had melted into his charred skin. His shirt was completely gone but he’d been wearing jeans, she noted, and while they were black with soot they appeared intact. Denim could withstand fire longer than some other materials. All details they’d need to figure out exactly what happened.
Fire fatalities were some of the most difficult crimes to investigate. Much of the damage came from necessary fire-suppression activities, but when the firefighters discovered a body, they did everything they could to preserve evidence while putting out the flames.
“Chief,” the man inspecting the body said with a brief glance up.
“Kevin, this is Special Agent Nora English with the FBI’s domestic terrorism unit.”
“Don’t come in,” he said.
“We’re not. Nora, have you met our M.E., Kevin Coffey?”
“No,” she said. “Dr. Coffey, does it seem odd to you that the victim is on his back?”
He stopped his inspection and looked up at her. “Yes, it is odd. But I don’t want to jump to conclusions before the fire inspector gets here.”
“She’s on her way,” Nora said. “She was out of town and—”
A raspy voice behind her bellowed, “She? Last I checked, I’m still a man, sugar.”
Nora bristled and turned. The smoker’s voice belonged to a man who looked old enough to be her father—or grandfather. He wore black pants and a red plaid shirt on which was clipped a fire marshall’s badge.
The man grinned at her and winked. “Yep, still a man.”
“Ulysses, this is Special Agent Nora English with the FBI. I told you about the task force—“
Ulysses waved his hand in the air. “Task force,” he said with derision. “All talk, no action.”
“We should discuss this, Mr—” Nora began.
“Ulysses.”
“I’ve brought in a consultant from the state fire marshall’s office who’s been on the task force since the first fire eighteen months ago—”
“This is my jurisdiction, or are you going to flex your federal muscles and screw everything up?”
Nora didn’t want friction with the locals, but she would flex her federal muscles if she had to. Domestic terrorism fell squarely on the FBI’s shoulders. She was about to say that when her sister Quin bounced into the room, the polar opposite of the craggy old fire marshall.
“Ulysses!” Quin exclaimed, a petite blonde ball of energy bounding over to the graying man. She gave him a hug that was longer than it needed to be and Nora watched, bemused, as Ulysses turned to putty.
“If I’d known you were coming, sweetheart, I’d have put out the red carpet.”
Quin laughed. “Nora is my sister. Cut her cute federal ass some slack, okay?”
“Anything for you, sugar.”
Quin caught Nora’s eye with a happy smugness that had Nora twisting her mouth to avoid smirking back. At least the victim was in good hands. Quin didn’t take anything but her job seriously, which had been a bone of contention between the sisters, but there was no one Nora trusted more than Quin with this case. And Quin would catch Ulysses up on the previous arsons, freeing Nora to focus on interviewing Payne’s partner and staff. While there was little doubt that this arson was connected to the others, she needed all documentation of threats either in person or written, any trespassers over the last few weeks, and information on what BPB was working on.
Ulysses turned to Nora. “To answer your question, Agent English, I’ve never seen a case where the victim was on his back except if he’d been dead or unconscious when the fire started.”
Quin crossed over to where Nora stood by the entry and said under her breath, “Sheriff Sanger is here, and he’s on a rampage about the Professor. That slimy reporter Buttface is here—“
“Belham—“
“Right, Buttface. He’s hanging around Sanger, who’s giving this hot, dark, and sexy hunk an earful. Don’t know if he’s Payne’s partner, but—” she gave Nora the I think he’s stirring up shit sideways glance.
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“I’ll take care of Ulysses. He’s ornery, but he’s one of the smartest in the business.”
Nora excused herself with one final look at Jonah Payne’s remains.
Unconscious or dead before the fire. That would mean his death wasn’t an accident—he’d been intentionally murdered. Had he caught the arsonists red-handed? Why not hit the panic button? What happened to the alarm system? Why not call the police? Had he confronted them and been killed? Had he known them? Was it an inside job? Was his murder premeditated, and the arson a way to cover up the crime and destroy evidence? That would make this crime far more personal.
Quin took command of the crime scene like she commanded everything in her life—quickly and completely, with a sugar coating so no one knew what hit them. Jonah Payne was in good hands.
Now Nora had to control whatever damage Sheriff Sanger had done by talking publicly about Professor Leif Cole. This investigation was already sliding down the slippery slope of legal posturing and games, the press circling like vultures because biotech was controversial, and high-ranking politicians were calling Washington wanting to know what was being done in Sacramento and why they didn’t have an arrest—and shit runs downhill fast.
Sanger was going to jeopardize the entire case if he didn’t keep his big mouth shut.
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Fatal Secrets is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
A Ballantine Books Mass Market Original
Copyright © 2009 by Allison Brennan
Excerpt from Cutting Edge copyright © 2009 by Allison Brennan
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Ballantine Books, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
Ballantine and colophon are registered trademarks of Random House, Inc.
This book contains an excerpt from the forthcoming book Cutting Edge by Allison Brennan. This excerpt has been set for this edition only and may not reflect the final content of the forthcoming edition.
eISBN: 978-0-345-51512-4
www.ballantinebooks.com
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