Read Suspicious Page 14


  Then she realized she was on a Spanish-language channel.

  Insane.

  She should work, she told herself.

  Work, and not wonder if Jesse was really coming.

  Work, and not feel on fire with such breathless anxiety, both physical and emotional….

  What she’d told Sally was true: she barely knew the man.

  It was also true that she needed to work. She hadn’t managed much of her “real job” since she had come here. But then she had happened to arrive just when there had been terrible murders, and when a Native American who knew the canals better than his own features had met with his fate in those waters. There should have been time. Time to become trusted. Time to flirt, if necessary.

  She needed to get into that lab.

  She was convinced there were answers to be found there. She was usually so organized and analytical. But she was afraid to make notes, afraid that her room might be searched and her real purpose discovered.

  She showered more to hear the sound of the water and feel the pounding of it against her flesh than anything else. Then she slipped into a cotton nightshirt and lay on her bed, but she still felt ridiculously keyed up.

  Had he been serious. Was Jesse really coming back here?

  Forget Jesse, she told herself.

  She tried to fathom the truth from what she had been able to glean from Michael’s files. As yet, nothing that was proof positive. He was experimenting with gator eggs, of course. The temperature at which they were hatched determined the sex of an alligator; that kind of manipulation was easy. Breeding was basic biology. And here, at an alligator farm, it made sense to weed out characteristics one didn’t like and fine-tune those features that were favorable to farming. Sex, size, the quality of the meat and hide.

  But selective breeding hadn’t created the monster she had seen today. Steriods and a formula—one that her father had known was too dangerous to exist—were behind what she had seen. Still, even if she got back into Preston’s lab and found out what he was working on, how could she prove he had stolen her father’s work?

  Two days. Jesse had given her two days.

  Just as she thought of the man, she heard a soft rapping at her door. She glanced at her glow-in-the-dark Mickey Mouse watch. It was after 1:00 a.m. She leapt from the bed, her heart thundering, and angry because of it.

  The tapping sounded again. Then, softly, “Lorena, will you open the door?”

  She hurried over, threw it open. “It’s after one in the morning,” she informed him.

  He closed the door. “Shh.”

  “I actually do sleep at night. I have a job to do here. I wake up and start early. I—”

  He drew her into his arms. “Shh.”

  “Jesse, I have to tell you—”

  “Shh.”

  There was warmth in the depth of his eyes as well as amusement. There was something possessive in his hold, and she felt him slipping into her heart even as he inflamed her desires.

  He’s devastated, not dead. He’ll never marry again. He’s interested in one thing, and one thing only, so you’d better play like a big girl, if you intend to play.

  He started to frown, staring into her eyes. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  Lorena placed her fingers against his lips. “Shh,” she said, and moved closer to him. His flesh was rich and warm, burnt copper, vibrant, vital.

  He groaned softly, pulling her to him, and his lips found hers, pure fire. When they broke, she heard his whisper against her forehead, felt the power of his touch against her. “Lorena.”

  Fumbling, she found the light switch. And once again she said very softly, “Shh…”

  Then she was in his arms. And the hour of the day or night didn’t matter in the least.

  When the alarm rang, rudely indicating that morning had come and it was time for the workday to begin, he was gone.

  Chapter 9

  It seemed to be business as usual at the alligator farm.

  Lorena went through greeting the tourists and taking them to their first stop: Michael Preston’s lab.

  While working with a group of children, she tried to get a good look at the hatchlings and at the cracked eggs.

  They appeared normal, as far as she could tell. She wished she had been more interested in her father’s work at the time he’d been doing it, but she had simply never liked alligators.

  It was the eyes, she was certain.

  Two more groups of tourists came through. Michael was his usual self, valiantly trying to give a good speech, but obviously uncomfortable. Or maybe he only seemed so to Lorena because she knew he loved research and hated tourists. He did seem happy, however, to have her come through with the groups.

  Happy to have her stay.

  At eleven, her cell phone rang. It was Jesse. “I’m coming to get you for lunch,” he told her.

  “I’m not sure I’m supposed to leave during the day,” she said.

  “Everyone gets lunch. You won’t even be ten miles away,” he assured her.

  At noon, he picked her up in front of the farm. He was in uniform. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He grinned. “A restaurant.”

  “Okay.”

  She had passed the place on her way out to Harry’s she realized when they got there. It was directly across from the Miccosukee village.

  Jesse glanced her way dryly. “Don’t worry. You won’t have to eat grilled gator or anything.”

  “I never thought I would,” she responded. “You have a chip on your shoulder.”

  “I do not,” he said indignantly, and she had to smile.

  She balked when they reached the place and she saw that Lars Garcia was standing out front.

  “What is this?” she demanded heatedly.

  “You have to tell him what you think is going on.”

  “You gave me two days!” she said.

  “There’s been a complication. The vet’s office was broken into. Another man was attacked. Thankfully, we have hard heads out here. He survived.”

  Jesse was grim, but she was still furious. She had nothing, no evidence at all, really, and he had brought her here to tell her story to another policeman. She was stiff and still angry when they went in.

  Lars was as polite and decent as ever. He chatted about the weather while they waited for their food, and he and Jesse talked about an upcoming musical festival put on by the Miccosukee tribe in the Glades. “People come by the hundreds. It’s great,” Lars said.

  When their food came—she’d ordered a very boring meal: hamburger, fries and an iced tea—Lars lowered his voice and said, “Jesse says I need to know why you’re here.”

  She’d thought she was tense already, but now her muscles constricted to an even greater degree, and she shot Jesse a furious glance.

  “Lorena, it’s important I know.”

  “Then I’m surprised Jesse didn’t tell you,” she said.

  “I need to hear it from you.”

  She clenched her teeth, set her hamburger down, shot Jesse one last filthy stare, and explained what she knew and feared to Lars. He listened without mocking or doubting her, though he glanced at Jesse several times, as if Jesse might have put him in the middle of a science fiction tale, but when she finished, he sighed and asked, “Your father’s death was ruled an accident?”

  “Yes. But I know it wasn’t.”

  “That’s going to be very difficult to prove.”

  “Maybe not now, when other people are dying,” she said.

  That caused a glance between Lars and Jesse.

  “What was in the e-mail from the alligator farm?” Lars asked.

  She shrugged. “It was vague. They were interested, of course, in learning about any developments to increase quality and efficiency. They suggested that they could pay well.”

  “What was your father’s reply?” Lars asked.

  “That he had nothing ready as of yet. And he explained that research was difficult,
that all genetic scientists had to take the greatest care when playing with the makeup of any life form.”

  “Did other alligator farms contact your father?” Lars asked.

  She shrugged. “Yes.”

  “So why are you concentrating on this one?”

  “Every other e-mail was signed by a specific person. At Harry’s, the same e-mail account can be used by almost anyone who works there.”

  “We can trace the computer,” Lars said.

  “If so, what will that prove?” Lorena asked.

  “Whether it was in the office, in the lab or somewhere else,” Lars said.

  “Preston would have to be involved, wouldn’t he?” Jesse asked.

  “There are no ‘have-tos,’ Jesse. We both know that,” Lars said. He looked at Lorena. “You need to get out of that place.”

  She tensed again, staring at Jesse. “I can’t see how I can be in any personal danger. I had nothing to do with my father’s work.”

  “Anyone can be in danger,” Lars said softly.

  Lars sat back, wiped his mouth and stared at Lorena. “I’ll have to talk to the D.A.’s office about a search warrant. In the meantime, you shouldn’t go back.”

  Lorena leaned forward, speaking heatedly. “My father is dead. A local couple have been killed. You don’t know how many enhanced alligators you might have running around the Everglades. You need me, and you need my help.”

  “There’s something I don’t understand here,” Lars said, and he glanced at Jesse, frowning. “This research has to be fairly new. Alligators take time to mature and grow. How could this one have gotten so big so fast?”

  Lorena shook her head. “The formula causes an increase in the growth rate. Take people. Better diets, rich in protein, make for taller, stronger teens. Body builders bulk up with steroids. You’d be amazed at what chemicals can do to the body. That’s why it’s so important not only that we find out who was doing what but to just how many specimens.”

  “We need a search warrant,” Lars said simply.

  “Do you think you can get one?” Lorena asked anxiously.

  He shrugged. “If I can argue well enough. And prove just cause. Well, I should get moving.” He lifted a hand to ask for the check. Jesse caught his arm.

  “I told you yesterday. This one is on the tribe.”

  “Thanks.” He rose. Lorena and Jesse did the same.

  When Lars had walked out, Lorena turned on Jesse. “You told me that I had two days.”

  “Lorena, what do you think you’re going to find in two days?” Jesse demanded.

  “More than anyone else?”

  “Is biochemistry another of your degrees?”

  She gritted her teeth, staring at him. “No. But I know what might have been stolen from my father.”

  “Lorena, face it, you’re not going to be able to do anything if you’re dead!”

  She turned away from him and headed toward the door, clearly indicating that lunch was over for her, as well.

  He followed. As soon as he came out, she got into the car. There was no possibility that she was going to walk back to work.

  He didn’t pull straight back onto the road but instead drove almost directly across the street. She gazed at him with hostility. “You have a few minutes left. I thought you might want to see the village.”

  She didn’t have a chance to refuse. He had already gotten out of the car.

  They entered the gift shop first. It offered Indian goods from around the country. There were a number of the exquisite colorful shirts, skirts and jackets for which both the Seminoles and Miccosukees had become famous, along with dream catchers, posters, T-shirts, postcards, drums, hand-carved “totem” recorders and jewelry. Some of the unique beadwork designs on the jewelry might well have attracted Lorena’s attention, but Jesse was already headed straight out the back. There was an entry fee, but Jesse just smiled at the girl, and he, with Lorena trailing behind him, walked on through. She offered the girl an awkward smile, as well.

  Out back, there were a number of chickees, along with more items for sale. Women were there working on intricate basketry, sewing the beautiful colored clothing and designing jewelry.

  Lorena, fascinated, would have paused, but Jesse was again moving on to one of the huge pits where alligators lived with a colony of turtles.

  Looking into the pit, Lorena noted that a number of the gators were large, very large. But not one of them was more than ten feet.

  “Jesse, what’s up?”

  A man with ink-dark hair and Native American features, wearing a T-shirt that advertised a popular rock band, walked up to them.

  Jesse nodded to him. “Mike. This is Lorena Fortier. She’s working at Harry’s.”

  The man studied her with a smile. “Welcome.”

  “I thought she might want to see the village.”

  Mike smiled and shrugged. “Well, there’s the museum, the pits, we do some wrestling, give a few history lessons.”

  “She’s on lunch break. I just thought she should come look around. And I wanted to make sure you’d seen the notice.”

  “About the hunt tonight? I’ll be there,” Mike said grimly. He shook his head. “Billy Ray…well, he wasn’t the kind of man that gave us a lot of pride, but hell, I wouldn’t have wanted my worst enemy to go that way.”

  “Right. Make sure everyone knows we’re hunting something big, really big. Close to twenty feet, maybe even more.”

  Mike whistled softly. “We do know what we’re doing, Jesse,” he said. “But it’s good to be warned.”

  “See you later, then. And extend my thanks to everyone showing up from the tribe.”

  Mike nodded. “See you then.”

  Jesse turned and headed toward the exit without a word to Lorena. She had been angry, but now he was the one who seemed irritated. They reached the car, where, despite his apparent anger, he opened her door.

  “You’re the one who betrayed me,” she reminded him.

  He shot her a scowling glance. “I’m trying to get you out of what might be a dangerous situation. But you know what? I don’t usually have a chip on my shoulder, but today, I do. Chemists, biochemists, biologists! They’re playing with life. Interesting, sure. Let’s see how we can improve what God made. But, the thing is, people play God, and things can happen. Billy Ray was no prize specimen of humanity. But you heard it in Mike’s voice. He was one of ours. We’re a small tribe. We were forced down to this land, and we learned how to live on it. Billy Ray had every right in the world to be fishing. Hell, if he wanted to drink himself silly, that was his choice, too. He shouldn’t have been attacked by an animal that was only there because someone decided to play God.”

  Lorena gasped. “My father wanted to help people,” she insisted angrily. “And when he was afraid he might be on to something dangerous, he was willing to destroy years of research!”

  “Too bad you couldn’t have explained that to Billy Ray while he was being eaten,” Jesse said.

  Lorena stared at him incredulously. “Evil people come in all colors and nationalities, you know!”

  The drive from the village to the alligator farm was short. Jesse pulled in just as Lorena finished her tirade, and she was out the door before the engine could die. She walked around to his window. “Thank you for your concern for my safety, but since you’ve turned things over to Metro-Dade now, I’m sure I’ll be just fine. You can feel secure in the fact that I’ll be safe without your assistance.”

  She spun around, her feet crunching on the gravel path, heedless as to whether he called her back or not.

  Lunch was over. It was time to get back to work.

  She did so, energetically, talking to the tourists, helping Michael, even going with the tours to the pits and watching while Jack wrestled one of the six-foot alligators.

  It didn’t matter what she did, as long as she did something. With Michael in his lab, she certainly wasn’t going to get anywhere there, so she put her heart into the business of
people. Anything at all to keep busy.

  To keep from thinking.

  She shouldn’t have gotten so close so fast. Getting intimate with someone so unique, so unusual, so very much…everything she might have wanted in life…had been more than foolhardy. She had let herself become far too emotionally involved, and then…

  She’d felt that wretched knife in her back. His bitterness against her father had been unexpected and deeply painful.

  That afternoon, she actually put her nursing skills to the test. A little girl fell on one of the paths.

  Nothing like a registered nurse to apply disinfectant and a bandage.

  As she tended the child, Lorena suddenly wondered why Harry had decided that he needed a nurse on the premises. It had made sense at first. The alligator farm was in an isolated location. But she had seen the local services in action. Help had arrived almost instantly when Roger had been found in the pit. Helicopters provided a swift transport to the emergency room.

  Of course, nothing so drastic was necessary for little scrapes and bruises, but still…

  Still, the question gave her pause. She forced herself to concentrate on it. It was good—no, it was necessary—to think about something—anything—other than Jesse Crane and the startling color of his eyes, the sleek bronze warmth of his flesh, the sound of his voice, the way he touched her, the structure of his face and the way she just wanted to be with him…

  No! She had to think of something else.

  He would be back at the end of the day, there to organize the hunt. As it veered toward five o’clock and closing, she determined to spend some quality time with Dr. Michael Preston.

  By the time Lorena stalked off, Jesse had already cooled down and realized that he’d been a fool, taking his frustration over what had happened out on her.

  What was it about the woman? She made him forget everything the moment he was with her, even though she wasn’t his type at all.

  And why not?

  Because she was blond?

  Elegant, feminine…a powder puff, or so he had assumed at first.

  But she wasn’t. She was determined. Reckless, maybe, but determined and fierce, and she had told him that she was a crack shot. Not a powder puff at all.