up on Fiske’s system, and on mine. So whoever made it disappear had to sabotage everyone’s private codes.”
“Not something a dummy could pull off,” she murmured.
“But knowing that hasn’t helped. Everybody who works here has an IQ off the charts. It’s easy to protect anything from an average thief-or even an extraordinary thief. But not from someone brilliant enough to create something brilliant to start with.” He switched off the light and close-locked that door. “There’s no reason for us to be in that lab, though, Cate. There’s no point. It’s already been gone over by security and cops and anyone who knows anything about the work. There is nothing there. Not related to the formula, not related to identifying who the culprit is. I’m positive.”
“Okay.” She trailed after him, feeling a building anxiety, not because of his lost formula, but because Harm’s face was increasingly looking gray. He didn’t yawn-God forbid he loosen up any of that army-general posture-but he was clearly stumbling tired.
The labs were all in the long west wing. The central wing held primarily community rooms. The break room had a semikitchen set up, with microwave and refrigerator…beyond that, Harm opened doors to reveal a couple of meeting rooms. Each had long tables, oversize chairs, windows overlooking the landscaping. “We call those the ‘think tanks,’” he said, and then opened the last door in the central wing.
She shook her head. “What, you’re running a motel on the side back here?”
He chuckled. “I know. It kind of looks that way.” There were beds with different comforters, a huge flat-screen TV, couches. Unlike the pristine labs, this place looked mighty lived-in. Cate spotted a single shoe half under a bed, shirts and lab coats draped haphazardly on a coat tree, items strewn around-hairbrushes, open books, magazines, change, a belt.
“Explain,” she said.
“Sometimes an experiment or trial has to be watched around the clock, and then one or more of the staff’ll sleep over. Arthur always brought his dog, or so my uncle used to say.”
Still, there was more. Harm showed her the supply rooms, where the side staff and apprentices worked, a massive general computer room. “So where’s your lair?” she asked finally.
The far wing just held offices-Harm’s, Fiske’s and Arthur’s.
His cell phone rang-which gave her a prize opportunity to nose around Harm’s office without interference. This whole wing was carpeted in a thick, quiet blue, so with a mighty sigh of relief, she slipped off her shoes and kicked them out of the way. Immediately, she felt more like herself.
Harm’s office was obviously originally his uncle’s, and revealed a great deal about Dougal. Harm hadn’t had time, or maybe the inclination, to clean out all his uncle’s things. On the chestnut bookcases, Cate studied rows of framed photographs-many clearly of the wife Dougal had lost. Some shots were older, sixties by the look of the short skirts and hairstyles. There was a wedding picture, lots of flowers, a silky veil. In another, the two were riding horses. In another, they were hang gliding. In another, the pair wore climbing gear, both of them sweating and smiling.
It was obvious to Cate that the couple had not just loved each other, but loved doing things together, and were devoted to each other. The photos revealed the kind of love a woman dreamed of. The way his uncle loved, she mused, Harm would love, too…and savored the shots she found of him. Dougal had a terrific collection for her to pry into. Graduating pictures, vacation and holiday shots, some kind of science prize thing they’d done together. There was one shot of Harm with a woman-Cate pounced on it, studied it hard. The second wife, she thought. A beautiful woman, golden-skinned, almond eyes, satin black hair. Harm stood behind her, stiff, protectively. He was smiling… but he wasn’t touching his bride.
Momentarily, the picture saddened her. Harm was such a toucher, such a man who came alive when he was touched. The picture told her all she wanted to know and more, about what he’d yet to have in his life. He may have loved-or even still love-his second wife.
But not like a man needed to love.
Not like Harm needed to be loved.
By the time he showed up back in the doorway, she’d touched and poked and opened and pried just about everywhere. The office had heaps of books, nests of papers. The desk chair was so old it should have been thrown out-but it was one of those kick-back, roll around, relax-in chairs. It was totally clear where and when Harm had taken over, because the credenza behind the desk was a total contrast-military-tidy, computer equipment lined up and spotless, files standing like soldiers.
“Hey, short stuff. You lost your shoes.”
“They weren’t shoes. They were torture devices.” She padded over, lifted up and kissed him. “Who was on the phone?”
“Just more information coming in. Still nothing that helps.” He scraped a tired hand through his hair. “All three men, still no surprises. No hidden expenses, no hidden vices, no hidden bank accounts. Arthur apparently cheated on his wife twice, not once. Both times more than twenty years ago. And looking into people’s lives like this…it makes me feel ugly down deep. I don’t like intruding on their privacy. Finding out things that are none of my business.”
She nodded. “But Harm…you weren’t prying into their lives to intrude. You were trying to find information that would help you pin down the thief.”
“I know. I’m just so damned frustrated…” Around then, he laid out a plan of attack. He wanted her to start digging in Fiske’s office, and started unlocking doors and drawers, enabling her to access any and everything in Fiske’s work space. “I know you’re worried about the science, but like I keep telling you, don’t be. We’ve had pros go into the science from every angle and found nothing. So all I want you to do is look around. Look for something that seems strange, something that jolts you when you look at it, something that doesn’t belong.”
“And you’re going to be…?”
“Trying to do the same thing. In Arthur’s office. And In Yale and Purdue’s work areas.” He glanced at her. “Cate, I know you don’t believe this can matter, but I’ve come to believe-this might be the only way to find an answer. Experts have gone over the place from stem to stern and found nothing that’s helped us. I really believe that your perceptions could bring something new to the problem.”
It sounded like grasping at straws to Cate, but heaven knew, she’d do anything to come through for him. Fiske’s office looked just like the man-homey, comfortable and capable, generally tidy.
She parked herself in front of Fiske’s computer first, because once Harm had given her passwords and security keys, she knew how to roam around that kind of technology. Two hours passed before she realized it. Startled at how easily she’d become engrossed, she wandered around to stretch her legs, find a bathroom, then hit the break room to make coffee and see if she could scare up some snacks.
She tracked down Harm, weaving on his feet in front of a stand-up computer in a security vault. About to offer him something to eat, she changed her mind. “Okay,” she said, “that’s it. You’re taking a nap.”
“No.”
“Do you ever want to have sex with me again?”
His eyes narrowed. “You’d do that? Bargain with sex? I thought you were a better woman than that.”
“Well, you’re wrong. I’m absolutely no better. I saw the couch in your office.” She put one hand on her hip and motioned with a royal finger toward his office. “I’m not-”
“We’re both locked in this place. Couldn’t be safer in church. All life will not end if you take two or three hours for a short crash. Now go.”
“I won’t sleep. Can’t sleep.”
“Fine. Prove it. I’ll check on you in ten minutes. If you’re not asleep by then, I promise I’ll let you back at it.”
He considered this. “You have a really ugly side to you, Cate. Manipulative. Controlling. Dictatorial.”
“You know perfectly well that compliments go straight to my head, so don’t waste your breath. Go.”
She checked on him ten minutes later, and found him sleeping so deeply she wasn’t sure she could have roused him with a cattle prod. Mentally, she debated whether to scare up a blanket from the sleepover room, but it didn’t seem that cold, so she just tucked his jacket over him, switched off the glaring overhead light and left him to rest.
Instead of steering straight back to Fiske’s office, she detoured to the break room, brewed a fresh pot of coffee and prowled around the cupboards for something to snack on-then realized she couldn’t be less hungry. An odd shiver chased up her spine. Even though she wanted Harm to catch some sleep, suddenly she felt spooked by the
