Love Scars (15 page)

“Wait a minute.” Nicole had made a big deal about the scanner being with the programmer. Bigger than warranted. What if she was lying? If Brad didn’t have Proto 1 with him, where were these numbers coming from? “Excuse me one second, Jeri, while I make a call.”

Brad’s cell went to voicemail. He was out of signal range.

“I have a bad feeling about this.”

The suspicion forming in my brain made me sick to my stomach. I looked at the data again, excited by the results, but with a building sense of violation. If I was right, MolyMo had not only tried to piggyback on BlueMagick’s work, they’d succeeded—and by planting a spy in my inner circle.

I punched an autodial button on my desk phone and pulled up Nicole’s file on my workstation. A Special Forces-like, extremely competent-sounding voice came on the line. “Security.”

“Mr. Piper, would you meet me at the Implementation Lab on the fourth floor? We have a Code 86 on employee number 8 dash 042412.”

I heard him enter the number into his system. It meant she was hired in BlueMagick’s eighth year of operations on April 24th, the twelfth person put on the payroll that day. At least the eight wasn’t a much lower number. The betrayal would have felt worse.

“Nicole Ransom,” Piper said. “I’m on my way. Her password renders inoperative in seven minutes.”

“See you there,” I said. “Jeri, care to be a witness?”

As we got in the elevator, I realized I’d already convicted Nicole in my mind. The next few minutes would prove me right or wrong.

She was in her corner office sitting on the edge of her desk, chatting pleasantly with Piper. The dude was a cool operator; she had no idea he was there for her. When she saw me coming with the head of human resources by my side, she may have begun to suspect something.

“What’s up, J.D.?” Nicole frowned at Jeri.

“I’m going to meet Brad, and I came by to pick up Proto 1,” I said. “Would you have the programmer bring it in?”

“Um…” She really did look like a deer caught in the headlights. A cliché, but it fit. The color drained from her face, and her eyes glazed a bit, like she couldn’t believe this was happening.

“The programmer doesn’t have the scanner. Does he, Nicole?” I said.

“Your badge, ma’am.” Piper held out his hand, the consummate professional. “And your tablet and cell phone, and I’ll escort you out.”

Robotically, Nicole handed over her ID and her iPad, but she balked at the phone. “Not this.”

“Your cell phone is BlueMagick issue, Ms. Ransom,” Jeri said. “It’s in your contract. Dismissal for cause, you turn over the phone upon separation.”

“Separation?”

Piper retrieved the phone from Nicole’s desk and added it to a bag containing her other BlueMagick doodads. She looked so pathetic. If I wasn’t so pissed, I’d feel sorry for her. I gave her a chance to make things a little better.

“Who did you give the scanner to, Nicole?” Not that I thought she’d answer. “Was it Heron? MolyMo? Tell me, and I might not press charges.”

“You’ll be sorry,” was all she said at the door.

“Yeah, you keep saying that.” I turned to Jeri. “Thanks. There’s something urgent I have to take care of. You get with legal, and we’ll meet about this next week.”

Heron’s corporate espionage was exposed. I had no doubt Nora had the scanner, unwittingly caught up in the scheme. Half an hour later I was in the Range Rover headed up Auburn-Folsom Road, and still no contact with Brad. I glanced at the GPS. It would take another hour to reach the Barton dig. I tried Brad again, with no joy.

We had to retrieve that scanner before Nora gave it to Steve Heron.

Chapter 19

I gripped the wheel and fought off faint random waves of nausea. It was already hot when I left the house, and I’d driven nearly an hour up the winding back roads from Granite Bay. I had the windows down and a scarf tied over my hair, and there was no escaping the scent of pine.

A little past ten, I was in Foresthill. Orientation wasn’t until eleven, and the dig was supposedly only half an hour more away. I parked in front of a coffee place and went inside for something cold to drink.

With a twinge of self-pity, I thought of J.D. I hadn’t heard from him since Wednesday. I thought he’d call yesterday and explain why he left so abruptly, but nothing.

I wasn’t the only one with issues.

The scanner was still in my bag, but I’d stuck Steve’s check in the back of a dresser drawer in my room. He said it was mine no matter what, like a pro athlete’s signing bonus, but after thinking about it, it seemed bad luck to deposit it before I collected the samples.

I sat down with my iced latte and double-checked the Google map I’d printed out at home. It showed two bodies of water close to each other, Sugar Pine Reservoir and the smaller, ironically named Big Reservoir. The dig was near Big Reservoir. I drew the route on the map with a blue marker. I had to stay on Foresthill Road until Sugar Pine Road then take that to Big Reservoir Road. Easy peasy.

Done. But I couldn’t stop staring at the meandering curve of Sugar Pine Road. Absently, I drew a blue line on it all the way to the end. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply and blew the air out. My stomach was tied in a knot of anxiety. Lisa called it. No way was I going to last up here three weeks.

“That’s not right,” said a cheerful familiar voice. “You’ll be lost if you go that way.”

“Brad, hi,” I said.

He sat down and shook his iced mocha. “Great minds think alike. Though if I’d been thinking at all, I would have offered you a ride. Stacey said your air conditioning is out. Why the map?”

“No air conditioning and no GPS,” I said. “It’s not exactly a luxury vehicle.”

“You can follow me then.” He tapped the blue line on my map. “Don’t go that way. Trust me.”

“Oh, I was just fooling around,” I said. “My folks used to have a cabin at the end of Sugar Pine Road.”

“Hey, why don’t you just ride with me? We can come back for your car later.”

“I’d love to, but I’d better not,” I said. The air conditioning would be awesome, and saving the gas would be even better, but I couldn’t risk it. “I might have to leave early.”

That sounded so innocuous, so plausible. So much better than the whole sentence:
I might slip into a screaming flashback and freak out and have to leave early.

I followed Brad to the dig with no problem. I was shaky on Sugar Pine and my hands gripped the wheel so tightly they turned white, but once we turned onto Big Reservoir Road I settled down.

We were just in time, the last to arrive. Cindy Slater from the comparative religion seminar waved at us like a maniac when we entered the lecture room. She motioned us over to some empty chairs by her. I didn’t see Dr. Barton anywhere.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t make the party last week,” Cindy said. She looked at Brad. “I heard it got pretty wild.”

You could say that.

“Thank you all for coming.” Jane Marks presented the seminar. “I’ll try to get through this material quickly.” She was dressed utterly unlike at school, in jeans and a white tank top under a blue cotton work shirt with her hair tied back in a red and black cotton scarf. She looked like a giant Rosie the Riveter.

“Ms. Marks?” Cindy raised her hand, but she didn’t wait to be called on. “Is Dr. Barton going to be here?”

“Not today. Dr. Barton has Friday office hours at the university until the end of June. If everyone would please hold all questions until the end, this will be more efficient.”

After an hour of do’s and don’ts, including a precise and stern admonition to not pollute the dig site or remove any material from it whatsoever, she sent us to lunch.

“They’re serving a complimentary luncheon in the cafeteria. Be back in half an hour for a tour of the main tunnel.”

Cindy monopolized Brad through the meal, which was fine with me. I was preoccupied, caught up in an ethical dilemma.

I didn’t want to do the internship.

From the moment Jane Marks started waxing philosophic about the joy of finding archeological treasures, I knew I was in the wrong place. I didn’t care. I realized I’d taken the internship for one reason only: money. First the six thousand dollars, and then the chance to get my loans paid off and the other money Steve offered.

Money. If I didn’t need money, I wouldn’t be here. I hated the place.

The good news was: I didn’t fear it. I had absolutely no fear of the grounds around the dig or the trees or the smell or any of it. My aversion came from my thoroughly honest and absolutely defensible non-pathologic dislike of dirt and grime. And—excuse me, but it’s true—I didn’t care about finding buried artifacts. Foresthill was a bogey man no more. I was free.

Except for that ethical dilemma part.

Free or not, I still needed the money. The scanner Steve gave me didn’t actually remove any dirt. It just analyzed what was there, so I was good on that score. But would it be wrong of me to take the tunnel tour, knowing I wasn’t coming back next Monday?

I thought of Stacey and her focused determination to go to Stanford. I could be focused. I could put myself first. I could, I could.

We entered the tunnel in a bunched-up group, but as we walked we spread out and I lingered at the back. Brad kept dropping behind with me, and Cindy kept finding reasons to be next to him. It was never obvious before in class, but here at the dig I saw what Steve meant about her. Chatty. Beyond. Belief.

And she wanted Brad. She trailed him like an eager puppy. I’d love it if he found someone to take his mind off Lisa, but clearly Cindy wasn’t doing it for him. He ducked down a side tunnel to get away from her, and she hurried after him.

I was alone. I quickly dug the scanner out of my bag and pushed one of the buttons until it blinked then jammed the probe into the dirt wall. The light went steady, and I started on the next one. Could it be this easy? I got through the second light. While the third light was still blinking, I heard Jane Marks from around the corner.

“Let’s all keep together now. We don’t want anyone—”

I stuffed the scanner into my bag just as Brad and Cindy returned from the side tunnel and Jane Marks appeared.

“—lost in here.” Jane Marks gave me a squinting frown. “Are you coming, Ms. Deven?”

“Um, no, actually. Ms. Marks, I can’t do this.” My heart raced. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Anything illegal, anyway, though I suspected Dr. Barton wouldn’t like it. And I knew Jane Marks wouldn’t. “I’m going to have to turn down the internship.”

If she asked why, I was ready to explain that I must be claustrophobic. But she didn’t, and I was relieved to escape telling a lie.

“I’m sure the next person on the wait list will be happy to hear it, Ms. Deven. Well. You can go now, if you like.”

I wanted to be cool about it, but I nearly ran through the tunnel. I was like a thief who got away with it, guilty and thrilled.

Brad caught up with me at my car. “Nora, what happened? Were you claustrophobic or something?” Exactly what I hoped people would assume.

“I’m fine now. But I have to go.”

“I can’t leave yet,” he said. “I have to finish something.”

“It’s okay, Brad. Really,” I said. “I have to finish something too. I’m going to face an old dragon.”

I drove away feeling fantastic. I was free. The cake was baked and out of the oven. Now I was going to ice it. I turned right onto Sugar Pine instead of left and headed for the cabin.

The scent of pine was different here. Stronger the closer I got. As if six years had never happened, the bends of the road came back to me, familiar as yesterday. I always hated coming up here. It was boring. The cabin wasn’t well insulated, and there were always insects and dirt everywhere. I made the final bend, my heart pounding, and it came into view.

It looked nice. Grandma had sold the lease to pay for all the funerals. It looked like the new owners had made improvements. There was a new roof. Our tree house was gone from the oak tree with a bigger, nicer one in its place. I parked and got out of the car. I didn’t see any other cars. It seemed no one was there.

I got as far as the tree house when a dog started barking. A black and white border collie came bounding around from behind the cabin and raced past me into the woods.

“Trillian, stop!” Stacey called out. “Aunt Nora, Trillian ran away!”

“That’s okay, Stacey,” I said. “We’ll get her.”

We went after the dog. Within a few minutes we caught up to her peeing next to a bush. I grabbed her leash while she was still squatting.

“Good girl, Trill.” Stacey patted her on the head and we started back.

As we reached the tree house, a loud popping sound came from over by the campfire. “What was that?” I said. “Your dad knows we can’t have fireworks up here.”

Danny yelled, “What the hell are you doing?” My mom screamed, but they were no words I could understand.

The popping went on, and I knew. It was a gun. I pushed Stacey down behind the tree. Her mom screamed, and the gun fired again. The scream stopped.

I had to keep Stacey safe. I pushed her up the doggy steps Danny had put in then scooped up Trillian in my arms and followed up into the tree house. The screaming went on. My mom was hurt bad. Where was my dad?

“Close your eyes tight and cover your ears,” I whispered to Stacey. The shots stopped. I could hear whimpering. I peeked through an opening, and when I looked down the bile rose in my stomach.

They were all dead or dying. A guy with long filthy hair and black tattoos on his face was reloading a rifle on the other side of the fire. Stacey’s mom lay next to Danny on the ground, neither of them moving. Mom moaned.

I spotted Nick hiding behind a bush. He wasn’t hurt, and the gunman didn’t seem to know he was there. Then I saw my dad, struggling to his feet. He lunged for the guy but it was too late. The gun was loaded.

The guy shot Dad in the face and then shot Mom in the head.

Trillian started barking and jerked loose. I felt the burn of her leash as it ripped out of my hands. She raced down the doggy steps and charged after the guy, and he riddled her with a spray of bullets.