Chain Reaction

by Rebecca York

  She kept her own gaze steady and hoped she wasn’t giving away her lie. “Yes.”

  He looked as though he doubted her story. Well, too bad. He couldn’t prove anything.

  She threw him a question. “Gage said someone shot at him when he was escaping from Beech Grove. He said you’d find bullets embedded in tree trunks. Did you check on that?”

  The detective looked uncomfortable. “Yes.”

  “And you found the bullets?”

  He nodded.

  “What do you make of that?”

  “There’s no proof the bullets were fired yesterday.”

  “Why should anybody be shooting on the Beech Grove grounds?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted.

  “Well, while you figure it out, I’d like to go home and decompress.”

  “After we go down to the State Police barracks so you can press kidnapping charges.”

  She’d forgotten about that part of the equation. “I’m not planning to press charges.”

  “Why not?”

  Struggling to stay calm and in control, she waited a beat before answering. “I think Gage was framed. I think he was desperate to prove his innocence. That’s why he had to get away from you.”

  “So you were willing to help him escape?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I can arrest you as an accessory after the fact in a murder case.”

  LISTENING FOR the sound of sirens, Gage drove a few miles, then turned onto another residential street. Scanning the houses, he found another one where the owner was away and exchanged the Ford for a beat-up Toyota. After that, he stopped at another house and switched license plates. With any luck, he could drive the Toyota for a while without fear of getting caught.

  That stopped him short. Without fear?

  Who was he kidding?

  He wasn’t going to be free of fear until he figured out how to clear his name of the murder charge that Dr. Morton had stuck on him.

  Of course, Morton might not be the one who had come up with the idea. Maybe he was being paid by someone else. Sid Edmonston, Martin Kelso and Nelson Ulrich had all been on the scene the afternoon of the explosion. So had Evan Buckley, for that matter. And Hank Riddell had been hanging around the hospital, presumably to watch both Gage and Vanderhoven.

  Back at the lab, it had looked as if Kelso had been unconscious, but that could be a trick. Really, any of them could be working with Morton. Or Morton could be working for them. Or someone else from the lab could have been doing illegal experiments-using the lab’s resources for his own purposes. Like what if one of the employees was cooking up designer drugs?

  Gage snorted. It was far-fetched. But at least it was a possibility.

  He might have suspected Vanderhoven. He’d never liked the little twit. But Vanderhoven had been caught in the same explosion as Gage and was now in the loony bin.

  Which was where Gage would have been if he hadn’t escaped. And unless he stayed free, he wouldn’t find out what was going on. Unfortunately, staying out of the clutches of the law meant engaging in some more criminal activity. With a murder charge hanging over his head. Maybe even kidnapping, if Lily pressed charges. Maybe they’d force her to do that in exchange for her own freedom.

  The whole situation made his stomach clench. He didn’t want to do anything else illegal, but he needed money, and clothing, since he’d abandoned his duffel bag at the Wilson estate. So he stopped at another ATM and used his convenient talent to withdraw five hundred dollars.

  LILY STARED at the detective. After dropping his “accessory after the fact” bombshell, he leaned back and waited for her response.

  She felt as if a fifty-pound weight was sitting on her chest, but she struggled to look calm as she lifted her chin, calling his bluff. “Detective Rand, I don’t appreciate being threatened. If you want to arrest me, then go ahead and do it.”

  The detective gave her a long look, as though he was considering several alternatives that she wasn’t going to like. He made her wait thirty nerve-wracking seconds before saying, “That may not be to our best advantage.”

  She eased out the breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “It would be to your advantage to cooperate with us.”

  “I am,” she lied.

  He sighed. “Don’t leave town.”

  “I wasn’t planning to,” she answered automatically. She didn’t really know what her next move was going to be beyond going home and trying to catch some sleep.

  When she realized she was clutching her hands in her lap, she deliberately relaxed them. “Can you tell me any more about the explosion at Cranesbrook?” she asked.

  “No,” he answered, then shot her a question of his own. “Was Five Star doing a good job at Cranesbrook?”

  “Of course.”

  “You know that for a fact?”

  “Gage was putting in a lot of overtime. He wasn’t slacking off on the job.”

  “What about his partner, Brayden Sloane?”

  “He wouldn’t sit back and let things drift along, either. They formed the company because they had the same values and the same work ethic.”

  “Then how did somebody get through security and sabotage the lab?”

  “Maybe it was an inside job,” she answered.

  McClellan didn’t comment either way.

  “At least consider that possibility.”

  “Whose side are you on?”

  “Gage’s.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She dropped her gaze, realizing too late that he’d tricked her into giving her feelings away. Which meant it was dangerous to keep sitting here with this cop from the Maryland State Police. She’d been up all night, and the longer she continued this discussion, the more likely it was that she’d make another mistake. Like, for example, what if she slipped up and talked about his amazing new talent?

  “Can you give me a ride home?” she asked.

  “I’d like to talk to you some more.”

  She sagged back against the seat as if she was calling on her last drop of strength, which wasn’t so far from the truth. “I’m not up to it now.” She almost added that she hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Then she remembered that she’d claimed to be asleep when Gage had left. She’d caught herself before she’d screwed up, but she wasn’t sure how long she could keep up any kind of charade since lying had never been her strong suit.

  Giving the detective her best damsel-in-distress look, she asked, “Please, I need a ride. Or I can call a cab and pay when I get home, since I don’t have my purse.”

  He waited a beat before saying, “I can give you a ride. But are you sure you’re not willing to tell us what really happened here?”

  She fought not to break into hysterical laughter. Gage wasn’t the only one in danger. If she told the cops about Gage’s new talent, she was the one who was likely to end up in the local mental hospital.

  Cutting off that thought, she said, “Let’s go.”

  After a moment, the cop slid behind the wheel and pulled away.

  Last night, driving to the Wilson estate had seemed to take an eternity. Now she spent another eternity sitting quietly with her head thrown back and her eyes closed in Rand McClellan’s unmarked car.

  When they finally pulled into her driveway, she struggled not to breathe out a sigh of relief.

  “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and level with me?” he asked as he pulled to a stop in the driveway.

  “I have,” she said. Even to her own ears, the protestation sounded like a blatant fabrication.

  With a shake of his head, he reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a card and handed it to her. “Call me if you change your mind.”

  As she crossed the porch, her steps faltered, but when she reached the front door and turned the knob, it opened.

  Wheeling, she gestured to the cop, who was still watching her from the open window of the unmarked ca
r. “Thanks for not locking the door.”

  He flushed, and she felt bad about the sarcasm. It was a cheap shot.

  “We were a little busy last night.”

  “Saves me the trouble of getting the spare key from around back,” she tossed over her shoulder as she stepped into the house and carefully closed and locked the door behind her.

  The first thing she did was inspect every room to make sure nobody was inside. Next she checked the locks on all the doors and windows. Finally, she walked into the kitchen on unsteady legs and filled the kettle.

  While she waited for the water to boil, she looked around at her familiar surroundings. She’d fixed up the kitchen just the way she wanted it when they moved into this house.

  New counters. A work island. A professional stove and refrigerator. Nothing as grand as at the Wilson estate but a couple of cuts above the usual home kitchen.

  They’d taken out a loan for the upgrades, and Gage hadn’t complained; he knew how much she loved to cook and fool around designing new recipes. All he’d wanted was a shop in the garage where he could work on his electronics inventions.

  That was one of the things they had in common. The love of experimenting. Only their areas of expertise were different. She had great food sense, and he was an electronics genius.

  When the kettle whistled, she fixed herself a cup of Irish Breakfast tea with milk and sugar—the way her grandmother would have done—and took it into the living room, where she dropped into Gage’s favorite leather chair that sat facing the entertainment center. All the comforts of modern life.

  Yet life here hadn’t been right for a long time. She’d blamed Gage for staying down at Cranesbrook, but their problems weren’t all his fault. They’d both been caught up in the rat race of work and they’d neglected the marriage.

  She thought about the way Gage had kissed her early in the morning when she’d come on to him, and once again she felt a pang of regret at the tactic she’d chosen. She’d been desperate to get away. In response, Gage had been tender and sexy, totally into what they were doing. It was so clear he’d wanted to make love to her the way they had in the old days.

  And what about her? She’d been pretending to be as wrapped up in him, all while she was really plotting to hit him over the head, escape and call the cops.

  With a small sound, she lowered her head to her hands.

  Tears gathered behind her closed eyes, and her shoulders began to shake.

  She’d been making love with him for all the wrong reasons, and now the tactic seemed despicable.

  Thank God the ploy hadn’t worked, because Gage would be in jail—and unable to prove that he wasn’t a murderer.

  That thought sent a fresh wave of misery crashing over her.

  She should have trusted her husband, not the wild story Dr. Morton had spun. Unfortunately, she’d been trained to trust doctors.

  But she’d forgotten something fundamental during the hours of anxiety after the kidnapping. Until the moment when Gage had taken her captive, he had been the most honest man she’d ever known. Totally on the side of the law. He was the kind of guy who added up the check in a restaurant, and if it was wrong in the management’s favor, he would pay the difference.

  In this day and age, that had astonished her. But it was only one of the qualities that had attracted her to Gage Darnell in the first place.

  They’d met at the restaurant where she was on the lunch shift and he was installing a security system. She’d given him some meals while he’d been working. Then one day her shift had ended just as he was finishing up for the day, and he’d asked her if she wanted to go get a cup of coffee.

  That was how it had all started.

  She’d lived in Philadelphia all her life—except for her years in culinary school in Hyde Park, New York. And she’d been so impressed with Gage’s background in the Special Forces. He’d lived in a country that was nothing like his own, and he had some amazing stories to tell. Like the time he and Bray had walked into an ambush and only gotten out because they’d dived into a drainage ditch.

  She’d gotten him talking about some of the good things that had happened in the war zone. Like how he and the other guys had bought school supplies for some kids in Afghanistan and about how he’d helped train foreign troops in security procedures.

  But the stories were just the surface. It was the man behind them that had interested her.

  She knew he was conscientious and that he drove himself to the point of exhaustion. Unfortunately, that had turned out to be one of their recent problems. She should have forced him to slow down and relax a little. But she had known how important it was for him to be financially independent.

  Gage’s childhood had been very different from hers. Her parents had given her everything—too much, really. Riding lessons. Dance lessons. A private school. A swimming pool off the terrace.

  And they’d thought it was cute when she wanted to help out the cook in the kitchen. Of course that had changed when she’d announced her plans for culinary school.

  Gage’s father had left the family several times. His mom had been too exhausted trying to make ends meet to pay much attention to her five kids, of whom Gage was the youngest.

  The two girls had married young and moved away. One of his brothers was in jail. The other was in a dead-end job. And Mrs. Darnell had died of breast cancer in her fifties.

  It was a sad story, and Lily had vowed to make the rest of Gage’s life very different.

  But after Five Star had taken that Cranesbrook contract, she’d felt as though she was losing him.

  She made a small sound of distress. Gage had been so excited about getting the job at Cranesbrook. And look where it had gotten him. Charged with murder and running for his life.

  But somebody else was really responsible. Now that she was thinking straight, she was sure of her husband’s innocence.

  She and Gage desperately needed to finish the conversation the cops had interrupted. On the other hand, she’d be a fool not to assume that the police weren’t watching her. If she figured out where Gage had gone, she’d be leading the authorities right to him.

  So she was going to have to be very careful if she didn’t want to make things worse for him.

  RAND HEADED BACK to the Wilson estate to pick up his partner. Discouraged but determined not to waste the trip to Baltimore, they stopped at the Five Star home office, which had apparently been set up more for utility than show, although the conference room did boast state-of-the-art media equipment for sales presentations.

  A woman named Peggy Olson ran the office. She was in her fifties with bleached-blond hair pulled into a bun, red lipstick and a cardigan.

  She looked up when they came in. “Can I help you?”

  Rand introduced himself and his partner, and they both offered their credentials.

  She sighed. “I’ve been expecting you. And I want you to know right off that Gage Darnell couldn’t have murdered anyone.”

  “You’re sure of that?”

  “If you knew Gage, you’d agree with me.”

  “You must have missed the new account of him kidnapping his wife.”

  “But it appears she didn’t press charges.”

  Rand sighed, knowing he’d have to dump a murder victim on her desk to get her to change her opinion of Darnell.

  “Do you have any idea where Darnell might have gone?’

  “None.”

  “What about Brayden Sloane?”

  “I have no idea where he is, either.”

  “Was either of them in any kind of trouble?” Richard asked.

  “No. They were both great guys. Hard workers. Good bosses.”

  “Can you give us some background on them? Where did they meet?”

  “The Special Forces. And they both had excellent records,” she added.

  “They were discharged at the same time?”

  “Brayden got out first and worked for a couple of security companies. When Gage was dischar
ged, they started up Five Star and hired me to run the office.”

  Switching topics, Richard asked. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Run the operation until Gage and Bray come back.”

  “Doing what?” Rand asked.

  “We’re still monitoring homes and offices with our security systems. And we have security men at some other installations.”

  “So you can meet your payroll?” Richard asked.

  “Of course,” she snapped.

  From her defensive tone he figured that the financial picture at Five Star wasn’t so rosy with the two owners missing.

  They talked for a few more minutes, but it was apparent that Ms. Olson couldn’t or wouldn’t give them any more information about Darnell. Rand left his card and told her to contact him if she heard from either Darnell or Sloane, but he doubted that she would comply.

  “So now I guess we’re going to Cranesbrook,” Richard said as they got back in the car.

  Rand nodded. “I’d like a look at Darnell’s medical records.”

  “Not without his written permission.”

  GAGE COULD have taken off for anywhere in the U.S., Canada or Mexico. With his new talent, he would have no trouble getting money. He could hide out in some tropical paradise or mountain retreat and make a new life for himself. Maybe he could even send for Lily—if he could make sure she didn’t lead the cops to him. He indulged in that fantasy for about ten minutes, then yanked himself back to reality.

  He was never going to live any kind of normal life until he cleared himself of the trumped-up murder charges.

  So he selected a battered pickup truck from a lot where vehicles were being held for evidence in police cases. The way the courts worked, nobody would notice for a couple of months.

  His plan was to drive back to the Eastern Shore, but he took the long way around, heading into the mountains and the small city of Hagerstown, Maryland. It was a working-class community with plenty of thrift shops.

  After stopping in a drugstore for sunglasses and hair dye, he rented a room at a trucker’s motel and turned his hair midnight-black. Then he inspected his face in the mirror. He hadn’t shaved in three days, which gave him a good start on a beard.