Damned If You Don't (23 page)

Most of the staff left by six. The guys finished shipping packages around seven, and usually her staff left by then as well. So the best time to sneak back into the building was right before everyone left.

Funny, Morgan had no idea how to kill time. Minutes dragged into hours as she wandered through the strip of stores she used to frequent. One was a department store that tempted her to purchase new clothes. She settled on a couple of necessities instead.

She spent the rest of the afternoon in a megabookstore, trying to read a best seller and sipping free refills of coffee. It didn’t take long before Morgan realized her life, at the moment, was much more bizarre than any novel on the bookshelves.

And no matter how hard she tried not to let them, her thoughts always drifted back to Jack.

Morgan put her book down for a moment and stared out at the scene created by the huge picture window in the front of the bookstore. People were hurrying home to their families before darkness fell, running last-minute errands before dinner, doing the things normal people do.

PhD geek-scientists aren’t normal.

Why not?

Morgan thought about her parents—really thought—something she hadn’t done for a very long time, and she admitted to herself that she was still angry with them for leaving her alone, forcing her to live her life for her work instead of herself, so she wouldn’t have to go near the gaping emptiness their deaths had left behind.

She shook her head. She picked up the book and tried to read again. But the pain wouldn’t go away. Then she realized why.

Jack.

Being “in sex” with him was perfect; it was safe, and she didn’t have to worry about opening the box that held her emotions. And just like Pandora, she knew how dangerous lifting the lid would be.

Did she dare? Morgan took a sip of coffee, letting her fingertip trace the outline of the cap. She watched a tree sway in the wind. She watched a mother lift a baby higher on her hip, open her car door, and put the baby in a car seat. And that was when it hit her. She knew she wanted it all. She wanted what her parents had, that thing that made her so jealous inside, that look between two people she could never understand until now.

Until Jack.

He loved her. God, it was so insane. The man who could have any woman he wanted, wanted her.

Why?

Morgan shrugged. The scientist in her wanted to examine every nuance, string together logical motivations, and come up with an indisputable answer. Then she realized it really didn’t matter anymore. He did.

Fait accompli.

What are you going to do, Morgan? Stay a geek for the rest of your life, or go after the captain of the football team? Go for the gusto, or crawl back into your safe little hidey-hole?

Morgan smiled. Tears filled her eyes. Jack’s grin filled her vision.

She lifted the lid.

* * * *

Sam sat at the bar, nursing a beer. The door opened, and he didn’t have to look over to know who’d walked in. He simply signaled the bartender to pour another draft.

“Hey, bro.”

Sam rose and clapped Ian on the back. “Hey.”

Sam sat back down again and watched Ian pull a long draught off his frosty mug before he asked, “What’s going on?”

Ian smiled, and he watched his friend sit on the bar stool next to him. “That should be my line,” Ian replied.

Sam frowned. “Why?”

“Jack came to me for help.”

Sam’s stomach pulled a high dive right into the sewer. He stared at the foam in his mug, watching it disappear, wishing he could be as lucky. “I should’ve known you weren’t calling to go find some women and bump uglies.”

“Not this time, Sam.”

Uh-oh. First-name basis. I’m in real trouble now
. He took a long pull on his beer. “I’m an ass.”

“Yeah,” his buddy agreed. “With really long ears.”

Sam watched a line of condensation roll down his mug, figuring he was the one who should be running. But there was one thing Sam Ormond wasn’t, and that was a coward. “Guess I’ll have to turn myself in.”

He watched Ian give him a funny look. “I’m not here to arrest you.”

Surprise stopped his brain cold. Long minutes passed before he exclaimed, “You’re not?”

“Nope. I’m here to play
Let’s Make a Deal
. You game?”

Adrenaline spiked through his bloodstream, and he gripped his beer mug to keep his hands from trembling. “You kidding?”

“Not the kind of joke I’d play on you, amigo.”

“Then, hell yeah. I’m interested.”

He caught Ian’s gaze, and they stared at each other for a long time. “What do you know about this guy Dvorak?”

Sam wanted to spew. “Egomaniac with a bad superiority complex.”

“Hmm. When I asked you to get involved, we already knew that people were dying. I don’t normally handle cases like this, but this was different. Maybe you’d better look at these a moment.”

Ian threw a manila folder onto the bar. Sam opened the envelope with a chill skittering up and down his spine. By the third photo, he wanted to heave. Instead, he jacked his spine back into place and met Ian’s stare with his.

“What I didn’t tell you was something Jack found out. He said this Dvorak was looking to sell the formula, probably overseas. We’re already looking into the distributor over there that Jack mentioned.”

Did he tell Ian the whole truth now or wait to see what his friend offered? Sam hated holding anything back, especially since Ian was willing to cut him a break. “I see.”

“Well, here’s the deal,” Ian continued. “I’m going to need someone to do some research. My boss wants to go after Dvorak. Especially if he’s got overseas connections.”

“He struck me as a pompous ass but not that bright.” Sam sighed and gave Ian a small dose of the truth. “And I can’t make this any clearer. I’m sooo sorry I ever hooked up with BioClin.”

“You should be.”

There was more, but Sam wasn’t sure if he could tell Ian everything yet or not. He didn’t want to blow this chance. “Tell me about it.” Sam frowned. “Dvorak’s a weasel. All glory and no guts. Underneath he’s a coward. Push comes to shove, he’ll run.”

“That’s what we’re hoping for. We want him to run to his buyer, if he has one.”

“I get the gist of this but not my part,” Sam continued, wanting just a little more information before he threw in the prize. “How do I come into this?”

He listened to Ian explain. The more he listened, the more he liked the idea.

“All right,” he bit out, so very unhappy with himself. “I like what I’m hearing. But you’re not going to like what else is going on.”

He watched Ian frown. “Spill.”

“As usual, I thought with my dick.”

Ian smiled. “That’s nothing new.”

“Yeah, well, I just put two and two together, and you are not going to like how things add up.”

He watched Ian frown. “You withhold information now and the deal goes out the window,” his friend threatened.

“I figured as much,” Sam answered. “Dvorak has a partner. And she’s sick enough to do what you just showed me.”

“She?” Ian frowned, his face filling with distaste. “Ahh, you really are a dickhead.”

“Very funny,” Sam bit out, really hating himself. “She’s a bitch. But a smart one. Stole my gun and threatened to pin a murder on me if I said anything.”

“Wonderful,” Ian groused. “Just fucking wonderful. How the hell am I supposed to get you out of that one?”

“I don’t know. But you’re going to have to. It’s part of the deal.”

He watched Ian nod. “I’ll see what I can do. But you’re going to owe me, big-time.”

Sam nodded. He understood more than Ian would ever know. “I made a mistake, and I’ll do my time for it. But BioClin, hell, everyone, gets theirs, right, compadre?”

“My pleasure. Just make sure you don’t get nailed in the process. I wouldn’t want to have to explain that one to Jack.”

* * * *

Morgan’s gaze slipped to the clock on the wall across the room. The bookstore was changing shifts. It was time to leave.

She rose, stared at her half-empty cup of coffee, and threw what was left out as she walked outside the store. A block away, she waited at the bus stop then caught the six-fifteen to Framingham. She stared out the window of the bus and tucked Jack deep into her psyche. Now was not the time to think about love. Now was the time to remember that she had a job to do; now was the time to remember that innocent woman and acknowledge she’d died for BioClin’s greed and no other reason.

Anger churned in Morgan’s stomach, making the amount of coffee she’d consumed roll like a sick drunk in a bad storm.
No mercy
. She would get no quarter from her motion sickness; she would give no quarter to the bastards who used her work to kill another human being. End of discussion.

The bus let her off about a half a mile from BioClin. Hunching her shoulders against the cold and the wind, Morgan walked off the sickness in her belly and pushed her anger deep inside. She needed to keep her wits about her. She didn’t need her emotions clouding her judgment. She’d save that for after she got Anton to confess. Maybe she could even get him to implicate his partner in this terrible crime.

A small smile grew on her face. She’d make Jack proud of her.

As she approached the building, Morgan hid her face with her hood, certainly understandable with the weather the way it was, and walked across BioClin’s back parking lot. She slipped behind one of the huge green Dumpsters by the shipping dock and checked her watch. Seven on the dot. Not bad. Not bad at all. She wouldn’t have to wait too long.

Morgan huddled against the Dumpster, using it to shield herself from the wind. She started shivering and knew no matter how short the wait, it would feel a whole lot longer. She kept checking her watch and about fifteen minutes later, she watched Paul, the shipping manager, walk to his car, get in, and leave. She waited another five very long minutes before she walked up the shipping dock steps.

Peeking around into the warehouse through an open bay door, Morgan didn’t see a soul. That’s because she knew that the shipping guys took an extra break as soon as Paul left. Always. Nights and weekends. Didn’t matter.

Inside the shipping area, sitting on several pallets back in a deserted corner of the warehouse, sat boxes of deionized water. The boxes were stacked almost five feet high. But there was enough room between the wall and the pallet to hide until the shipping guys finished, had their packages picked up, and left the building for the day.

At least waiting inside would be warmer than outside. But it still meant that she had to cool her heels and kill time, even though she itched to dig around and find any incriminating evidence she could, then ram it down Anton’s throat.

Looking at her watch, she saw it was nearly eight o’clock. Damn, damn, damn. Of all nights, tonight they had to work later than normal. She kept on peeking around the boxes, then slipping back unnoticed. She listened to their banter, wanting to scream at them to hurry up and just go home already. She wanted to prove Anton was behind this. She wanted to confront Anton, push his buttons, get him to talk and incriminate himself, get him to incriminate his partner—right onto the little handheld voice recorder sitting in her pocket, one of the necessities she’d purchased at the store.

What she got, Morgan realized, was way more than she bargained for.

The lights finally went out, startling her. She listened to the shipping guys lock up the outer doors, tell each other good night, and leave. As she listened to the door slam, Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. But she stayed hidden. Just in case. Patience was a learned virtue that gave rewards in the long run. And she wasn’t about to screw things up now.

Her watch didn’t have a lighted dial, so she had no idea how long she waited. But she finally scrambled out of her hiding place, straining to see in the darkness. She skirted her way around larger objects and headed toward the offices and labs. There were two entrances to the main part of the building, one by the warehouse conference room and one leading to the labs.

As she entered the hallway leading to her office, ex-office, she reminded herself, Morgan thought she heard voices. Her heart rose in her throat. Trembling, she wondered who the hell would be working this late?

You would.

During off-hours, most of the building wasn’t lit up to save on electricity. But today, there were lights coming from the chemistry lab. Morgan skirted by the door with care so as not to make noise and headed to the front of the building where the offices were.

She passed by a bank of cubicles where most of the technologists and scientists working for BioClin had their desks, and headed for her office. She wasn’t surprised to find it practically empty. Her personal items had been thrown in a box on top of the desk. But she went through her drawers anyway, just to see if they’d left anything behind. They hadn’t.

Turning quickly, she continued down to Anton’s office. The door was closed. She reached out to turn the doorknob when she heard voices coming. Damn.

Morgan had no choice but to get the hell out of there. She continued toward the front of the building and the lobby and tiptoed across the marble entrance, then into another bank of offices. She hurried down another hallway past another set of cubicles and turned into the molecular biology lab. Maybe she’d get lucky and find something Anton left behind.

She combed through stacks of papers in the corner of the lab, but they were all package inserts and control inserts for the equipment they were using. Then she went into the prep room. She found a notebook and scanned the pages quickly. No help there.

By ducking through the refrigeration area where huge stand-up refrigerators and minus-seventy-degree-Celsius freezers lined the walls, Morgan would come out on the other side of the building. It was a shortcut to her lab she had often used.

At first, she thought she was losing her mind, because the floor should have been empty. It wasn’t. There was a man’s dress tie in the middle.

That’s odd.

Without thinking, she picked up the tie and put it in her pocket. It smelled of dry-cleaning fluid and something else. Something familiar. Something on the edge of her mind, but she couldn’t quite place what.