Skin Tight

CHAPTER 16

Mia analyzed the data Søren had left on her laptop, and she was forced to agree with his conclusions. The four suspects she’d targeted were clean, which left her nowhere. If it wasn’t a matter of pride and a blotch on her record, she might give notice and move on. Micor stunk, and she felt dirty working for them.

But the woman in the morgue haunted her.

If she walked now, she’d feel like she was giving up on her. Somewhere, she might have a family who was worried about her. So at midnight, she was still searching on the Internet, trying to figure out what the symbol meant. Really, she needed a more sophisticated setup, where she could scan the sketch she’d made and look for matches that way. Unfortunately, she wasn’t running a portable crime lab.

Eyes gritty, she caught a few hours sleep, and then she headed off to work, where the tedium just might kill her. Greg was already waiting when she arrived, so bright-eyed that she figured he intended to stick her with a particularly boring project.

That intuition was borne out when he said, “I want you to generate a list-” Mia stared at her organizer, ostensibly taking notes, while she tuned him out. “Is that clear?”

“Absolutely,” she said.

“And you’ll have it on my desk by the end of the day?”

She drew a picture of a man with a knife in his head. “Of course. You can count on me, sir.”

At last, he left her desk and went back into his office. To appease him, she ran the search he’d requested-users with more than ten consecutive minutes of Internet access-and let it percolate. She’d print it later. Ordinarily, her time was her own when she worked an investigation, and she could go where she wanted, when she wanted. Belatedly, it occurred to Mia that rather than wanting discretion-which was a plausible motive-maybe someone on the board didn’t want her to succeed, thus her current situation.

By noon, she had a headache, and she was no closer to solving the problem. Mia was forced to confront the fact that she wasn’t motivated on this contract. She didn’t want to know who was stealing from Micor, because if they had that money back, they’d only use it for bad ends. Talk about a rock and a hard place.

All morning, she expected a phone call or an e-mail. She didn’t know how to feel about the silence. Maybe he was giving her time to regret marching off the night before. But who knew how a man like him operated? He might not give her a second thought. And maybe she shouldn’t give him one, either. If she’d learned anything over the years, it was that you couldn’t change someone. That metamorphosis had to come from within.

Just before she went to lunch, the lab tech-Kelly-came into IT, looking nervous. Everyone else was already gone. When she saw nobody but Mia in the room, the woman seemed to relax.

“Did you ever find your files?” Mia asked by way of greeting.

Kelly’s voice was hushed. “No. And more of my work has gone missing. I wondered if you could get me another log-in list for my username.”

She wondered if this could be tied into what Søren was investigating. So many little pieces, none seeming connected-it was enough to drive a logical person nuts.

“No problem. You’re lucky you caught me.” She input the commands and printed a list of times. “Is there some reason you didn’t put this request through channels?”

“I didn’t want it documented.”

Mia went to the printer and pulled the document. “You think something weird’s going on.”

“Are you kidding? Look around.”

She held up a hand. “We really shouldn’t talk here.”

The other woman’s face reflected startlement, and then she nodded slowly. “Maybe you’d like to come over for dinner tonight.”

“That would be better.”

Two hours later, Mia followed Kelly out to her house. Maybe she was being paranoid; maybe she’d seen too many TV shows where corruption and conspiracy had some corporation acting like Big Brother. So it was surely better to be smart and safe. Mia parked her car in the drive and admired Kelly’s house. The stately Victorian nestled amid the trees, so pretty it could’ve been featured on a postcard. Mia took in the gingerbread trim, painted robin’s egg blue, and she had to smile. Based on what she knew of Kelly-little enough, admittedly-she wouldn’t have guessed the other woman had such a romantic streak. It was clear she’d put down roots in this little Virginia town, enough to buy this property and start restoring it.

Inside, everything was polished and elegant, burnished wood and handcarved moldings. Mia could tell the other woman had taken a lot of time and care picking out antiques to complement her restored home. They sat down to a dinner of salad and homemade quiche before resuming the prior conversation. Mia ate a little, wanting to seem social before she got right down to it. But she read tension in the other woman, despite the small talk.

Soon, asking the question became unavoidable. “So what were you trying to say before?”

Kelly put down her fork with a frown. “There’s no reason for this stuff to be classified. They’ve got me working on the effects of sugar on chimpanzees. When I branched off, researching viable sweetening alternatives, something they could use to make money, first my supervisor tells me to abandon what I’m doing and then my work gets sabotaged? Tell me that doesn’t stink.”

“You’re not supposed to be telling me this,” Mia guessed.

“No shit. But if they’ve got us doing busywork-”

“Then the real research must take place somewhere else.”

“You catch on quick. First I’m going to find out who’s been fucking with me, and then I’m going to bury this place. I have a goddamned degree in Biochemistry. I signed on believing I’d get to do real work here, not babysit monkeys.”

Mia had to warn her. “You might not want to do that.” “Why? Will I go missing like Noreen?”

“Who’s Noreen?”

“Nobody talks about her much, but from what I can gather, she had my job. One day, she just didn’t come to work. She hasn’t been seen in months.”

“Was she asking awkward questions, too?”

“I’m afraid to inquire,” Kelly said quietly.

“Do you have any idea who’s compromising your work?”

“Honestly, I think it’s my boss. I can’t stand the guy. He doesn’t seem to grasp that I get bored doing nothing all day.”

“Me, too,” Mia muttered, thinking of Greg. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“You seem… disproportionately worried. Do you seriously think these assholes had something to do with Noreen’s vanishing act?”

Mia thought of the woman in the morgue. “You never know.”

“I promise,” Kelly said. “I’ll play it cool.”

That was really all she could do. She couldn’t tell Kelly more without revealing Søren’s secrets, and anyway, she had no proof. Mia knew that without evidence, the claim against Micor became just another unsubstantiated X-File. For her, there had been no lasting friendships since Kyra, but she recognized a budding friendship. It would suck if Kelly decided she was crazy.

“Do me a favor,” Mia said. “When we get back to work, don’t let anyone else run your log-in lists.”

Kelly nodded. “I wasn’t planning on it. But you’re seriously creeping me out.”

“Good. You’ll be safer that way.”

Darker topics exhausted for the moment, they chatted a bit about other things. She reasoned it would be rude to swallow her food whole and rush off, as if she couldn’t wait to get away. Mia learned Kelly was the youngest of five kids, and she had been the only one to go to college.

“My brothers think I’m nuts,” she confided, taking a bite of her quiche. “Two of them went into the military, one became a cop, and the other one is a mechanic.”

Mia tried to imagine what it would be like to have that many siblings. “Big family. So did they protect you or kick your ass?”

Kelly grinned. “A little of both, I guess. I swear they didn’t let me date until I left for college. And once, my brother Vince showed up at my dorm to see if I was behaving.”

“Which one is he?”

“Second oldest, the mechanic.”

Intrigued, Mia asked, “And the rest of them?”

“Well, I’m twenty-seven, the youngest, as I said. Brant comes next. He’s army. Then Jay… he’s the cop. Next is Vince, the mechanic. Lyle is the oldest, and he’s in the air force.”

“Ages?”

Kelly quirked a brow. “Are you taking a census?”

“No. I’m just… fascinated.” That was the right word. “I’m an only child, so I’m trying to form a mental picture of what it was like for you.”

“Chaotic. But okay: Brant, twenty-nine, Jay thirty-one, Vince thirty-four, Lyle, thirty-six.”

“Do they all live here in Virginia?”

Kelly laughed as she stood to clear the table. Dessert replaced the quiche and salad.

“Are you kidding? We’re spread out all over. Mom says it’s safer that way. But we get together at the holidays-Thanksgiving usually. Vince likes to ski over Christmas, so he’s usually in Vail.”

“It sounds like fun.” Belatedly, Mia realized she sounded a touch wistful.

The other woman paused in unwrapping a chocolate cup-cake. “What about you?”

“My dad’s dead. I don’t see my mom very much.” Read: ever.

“And you said you’re an only. Damn, I hope you have some good friends.”

“I do.”

“Well, you know what they say-friends are the family of your heart.”

Mia smirked. “You should put that on a greeting card.”

“Maybe I will, smartass.” Kelly shook her head, then nodded at the plate between them. “And to think I was going to offer you one of these.”

“But not now? You’re a hard woman.”

She crammed half of the pastry into her mouth, speaking through the crumbs. “You said it, sister. My brothers learned fast not to get on the wrong side of me.”

“I bet.”

“This was fun,” Kelly said, as if surprised. “Maybe we could hang out again sometime?”

“Sure. We could watch movies or something. I make great popcorn.” She didn’t have the effortless ability to form connections with people. For Mia, it always felt awkward, as if she were emulating behavior she saw in other people. But with Kyra gone, she could use a friend more than ever.

They wrapped up the evening with some tentative plans. Mia went home to the cat and did not think about Søren at all. But she couldn’t control her dreams.

The next day, near quitting time, Søren presented himself in IT. He acted as if they knew each other only casually. “I’d like to talk with you in my office, if you have a moment.”

Equally casual, she followed him into the hall. She remembered how cold he’d been the night they went to the morgue. All her instincts screamed for her to back away before she got in too deep.

Still, Mia heard herself asking, “What’s this about?”

In answer, he beckoned her onward. Once they passed the deserted reception desk and he closed the door behind them, he said, “I want to try for the labs tonight. I have everything in place.”

Her heart sped up. “You mean you want me to steal the IT pass for you now? I thought you were going to wait until I finished up here.”

“I can’t. I have reason to believe they suspect I am not who I claim to be.”

“What happened?”

“They’re sending me for a physical. I think it’s just an excuse to sample my DNA.”

Fear jolted through her. “Should you run?”

“No. I can work around this. How do you think I made it past the first screening?”

She nodded. “Then can you be sure we won’t be caught?”

He hesitated only for a few seconds. “Reasonably. I’ve rigged a work-around for the cameras, and if we’re careful, we won’t trigger any alarms. We need to kill a little time in here and then at shift change, we’ll make our move.”

Did she really want to do this for him? While she debated, he sat down at the computer, clicking away. Mia guessed it was something to do with facility security. Circling around behind him confirmed the guess; he was deftly rerouting the cameras from this desktop.

“Did you cover your tracks going in?”

“Do I look like an amateur to you?”

No, he looked delicious. That did not bear repeating aloud, however. Mia watched his keystrokes long enough to determine he was nearly as good as she was, a worthy partner. She’d always been steady on the outside but secretly longed for the thrill.

“All right,” she said at last. “I’m in.”

He didn’t glance up. “I know. You promised.”

“But not under these circumstances. That required reevaluation.”

“Regardless, you are not the sort of woman who disregards a pledge lightly.”

It rankled that he was right. “What do you need me to do?”

“We have a limited window of opportunity. First we hit IT for the pass and then proceed directly to the east wing. I can take it from there.”

“You really think I’m going to get you through the doors and head home?” Mia raised an incredulous brow.

“It was too much to hope for. Let’s go.”

They stole silently through the darkened halls. It was definitely after hours, so if they were caught, there were no excuses, no reason for them to be here.

She deftly lifted the IT pass from her boss’s desk. “You know they’ll be able to tell someone used the pass… and I’m the only one in this department who hasn’t used my badge to exit the building.”

He smiled. “I think Security will find that your boss hasn’t left, either.”

“Oh, you’re good.”

“Computers are easy. Come on, we have less than a minute to get past those doors before the cameras return to normal.”

Mia increased her pace. Her IT badge and the pass got her into the computer room where she’d worked with Kelly Clark. He would have to take it from here.

To her surprise, he brought out a tiny tool kit and popped the security panel, then rerouted the wires with silent expertise. The metal doors slid open. She’d never glimpsed the labs, but she followed him, eager to see what Micor guarded so closely.

Just inside, she stopped, utterly puzzled. They stood inside one large room. Along the far wall, there were monkey cages, clean at least. The walls were painted white, like the rest of the facility, but there seemed to be less equipment than she would’ve expected, just from watching TV.

There were a few microscopes, a few bits of technology that she couldn’t identify readily, but nothing like a proper lab ought to look. There was also a table and chairs, which Mia bet got a lot more use than anything else in this “top secret facility.”

Søren swore softly. “It’s a front.”

They searched the room to be sure, but there were no other exits. No hidden doors. No secret panels. Just a room full of monkeys, who chattered as they went back the way they’d come in.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, once the security doors closed behind them.

“Forget it. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be easy. Return the pass to IT and then get going. I’ll take care of the security logs before anyone sees them.”

So that’s it, she wanted to say, you’re done with me. But she could tell his disappointment was so fierce as to be something else. The intensity radiating from him in this moment frightened her a little. Mia hurried away from him and didn’t look back.

Søren didn’t like surprises.

In his experience, they were seldom good. He should’ve known the real lab wouldn’t be accessible through a simple set of doors. The dummy facility served to distract interested parties, like himself, nothing more. But it was bitter gall to find he’d wasted months here, only to learn his efforts had been focused wrong. A day later, he was still brooding over that failure-and the fact he’d imperiled Mia’s life for no good reason.

He didn’t mind the big gambles when they paid off. There was no point in senseless risk, however. With no payoff, it turned last night’s foray into futility.

He reread his e-mail with a growing sense of unease: Your three-month physical is coming up. Insurance rates being what they are, I am sure you can appreciate that we wish to know should any of our employees suffer from a health problem that could best be nipped in the bud.

Though he wasn’t an expert by any means, he suspected this policy might violate several fair-employment laws. He wasn’t even sure they had requested anyone else take a three-month physical, making him think they suspected he wasn’t Thomas Strong. He had no idea what might have tipped them off.

Maybe it was truly a standard company policy. In a time of recession, most employees would be reluctant to question such a policy, when corporations could terminate at will and generally without cause. He had a contract, but in the fine print it required regular physicals at the company’s discretion. But one at three months seemed… unusual.

Mary tapped once on his office door as he was gathering up his belongings. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” he said, though he was in no mood to be kind and patient.

“I just wanted to thank you. Glenna has been a great deal of help to me. So much that I’m ready to go on maternity leave early, if you’ll sign off on it.”

Ah, so that was what she wanted.

“Of course. You think Glenna is ready to take your place?”

Mary nodded. “In my opinion, she should’ve been promoted long ago.”

He tended to agree. “I’ll have her request a temp, then. You can start your leave on Monday, if that’s all right.”

“That was what I had in mind. The girls are throwing me a shower in the break room on Thursday. I was wondering if you’d like to come.”

A baby shower. He regarded her with bemusement. “I appreciate the invitation. If I can’t make it, I’ll send along a gift with Glenna.”

All so mundane. How had he gotten tangled up in this life? It wasn’t meant to forge connections; it was only a means to an end.

Mary accepted that with an embarrassed nod and hurried out. Before too much longer, Glenna came in with the necessary paperwork for him to sign, including the authorization for the temp in reception.

“I’m just thrilled,” she said, bouncing on the heels of her sensible shoes. “I’ve thought this before, but never said it aloud. You’re the best thing ever to happen to this department.”

And God help you all.

Søren scrawled his signature on all the documents and then told her, “I have an appointment. Don’t expect me back today, I think.”

Just when he thought he’d get away clean, Todd stopped him in the hall outside HR. “So I hear you promoted Glenna. Will the temp be able to assist me with special projects?”

“No,” Søren said with a quiet, appreciative smile. “I’m afraid that’s not in the budget. She’ll have enough on her plate coping with Glenna’s workload.”

He left the other man glaring at his back, as if Todd had built up some expectations over the past weeks. There was something very satisfying about disappointing an asshole.

By two-fifteen in the afternoon, he was at the hospital, strolling casually toward the blood bank. Nobody paid him a second look because with his stolen white jacket, they expected him to be a doctor-and that meant he had a perfect right to be here.

He told himself he had nothing to worry about.

He’d fooled them at Micor once, and he could do it again. He just needed to locate a sample with which to fool the doctors. There was no doubt if he submitted his real blood, it would match records of his DNA in their files. They kept track of their test subjects.

Just before he opened the door, a nurse tapped his arm. “Doctor, Mrs. Feldman is demanding to speak with an MD.”

Shit. Keep calm.

“Is it an emergency?”

The nurse sighed. “No, she’s just a pain in the behind. Could you give her a few? I’ll owe you big if you can stop her from ringing every five minutes.”

Søren considered. “I’ll talk to her. What’s the room number?”

“Thanks. She’s in 201.”

The nurse’s crepe-soled shoes made no noise as she hurried off to the next crisis. Søren found his way easily to 201; he could hear the strident tones halfway down the hall. Pinning a smile on his face, he stepped in and grabbed the chart, mostly because he thought it would be in keeping with his role.

He pretended to scan it and then asked, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Feldman?”

“You can tell those no-good nurses to stop stealing from me!” she snapped. “And I want some decent food. And why does it take so long for someone to help me to the toilet?”

Yeah, the nurse had been right. This old battle-axe didn’t need a doctor; she wanted company. So he perched on the edge of her visitor’s chair, fighting the memories of long hours spent in vigil for Lexie before he’d accepted she was gone for good.

“The hospital is understaffed,” he said gently. “I’m here during off hours, and I came in to check on you on a purely volunteer basis. But I’m happy to say you look lovely, and you seem to be recovering nicely from your broken hip.”

She actually blushed before remembering her annoyance. “Hmph. You’re full of it.”

Søren spent five more minutes sweet-talking her before adding, “As for the time the nurses take, I bet they’d come much faster if you didn’t call as often.”

The old woman sighed. “Then maybe you could pour me some water before you go?”

“Of course.”

The nurse’s request taken care of, he retraced his steps. Søren slipped into the storage area and began to rummage. It was a good job he’d noted the donor number on the first vial he’d nicked, three months ago now. He had never imagined he’d still be spinning his wheels at the facility. But it had taken much longer to punish Serrano to his satisfaction, so he could be patient.

At last he located the bags, but there weren’t very many of them. Guilt panged through him; somebody might need this. Resolving to give blood later, he tucked the bag into his pocket and slipped out. With an ability like his, he could come and go as he pleased, most places, as long as he was dressed appropriately. He didn’t need to focus on his gift; it worked on its own, naturally, but that meant he couldn’t shut it down, either. God knew, he’d tried over the years.

And the more targets he affected, the more energy it required. He’d made the mistake of attending a college football game once and wound up in a coma. For obvious reasons, his attendance at sporting events was out of the question. He also couldn’t attend films on opening days. Best for him to catch a matinée or, better yet, watch at home. He’d long since come to terms with his limitations and liabilities.

He hastened out of the hospital and to his car. As he climbed in, Søren checked the time on the dashboard clock. Fifteen minutes until his physical. He smiled. Everything was under control.

They were sending him to the same physician as before, so he already knew the layout. It would be easy to switch the samples. He pulled up outside the one-story red brick building and parked toward the back of the lot. After shrugging out of the white coat, he stashed the blood in his deep pants pocket. Long strides carried him through the front doors with five minutes to spare.

It was a typical waiting room with prefab furniture and annoyed-looking people flipping through old magazines. He scanned their faces once through force of habit but found nothing to alarm him. A few of them looked genuinely ill; others were probably here for a routine physical like him.

The receptionist beamed as he strode up. “Good afternoon. You have an appointment?”

“Of course. Two forty-five.”

“We have all the forms we need already on file. It will be a little while.”

Understatement. It would be a miracle if he got out of here before four. Still, it wasn’t the receptionist’s fault, so he offered a smile as he took a seat.

As it turned out, he waited nearly forty-five minutes before he was called back to the exam rooms. The nurse in the pink scrubs led him to room 4, where she took his vitals and made notes on his chart and small talk.

Søren responded with noncommittal murmurs, which didn’t deter her from talking. He tensed when she went for the needle. That, she noticed.

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid,” she said, teasing.

He raised a brow. “You meet people who aren’t?”

The nurse laughed. “When you put it that way-hold still. This will only take a second.”

“If you say so.”

With competent hands she tapped a vein and then deftly connected the shunt. Since they only needed one sample, she removed the needle, gave him a cotton pad to press over the site, and then labeled the vial with a tracking number. It would go to the lab to check for cholesterol, any indication of illness, and probably drugs as well, though if they were only testing for that, he could’ve peed in a cup.

“There, we’re all done. The doctor will be in shortly to complete the process and sign your work forms, but everything looks good so far.” Her saucy look said more, but he didn’t bite.

Before she could take the sample away, he said, “Did you hear that?” And donned a concerned look.

His gift would do that rest.

“Crud,” she said, manufacturing a convenient emergency. “I’ll be right back.”

The vial lay forgotten on the counter as she hurried out. He sprang into motion, and within a couple of minutes, he’d substituted the donor blood for his own and tagged it appropriately. His own went into his pocket. By the time the doctor came in, he was sitting on the exam table, studying a poster of the human circulatory system.

Dr. Moss was on the verge of retirement, and he didn’t move too fast anymore. He ambled toward Søren with a vague smile, his chart nowhere in sight. “Let’s get you out of here as fast we can, shall we?”

“Sounds good to me.”

The doctor listened to Søren’s heart, checked reflexes, and peered into various orifices before saying, “You appear to be in excellent health, young man. Do you have something for me to sign?”

He produced the form and Dr. Moss scrawled his name at the bottom. “The receptionist can fill in the rest. See you next time!”

Not if I can help it.

Søren hopped off the table and threaded his way through the hallway crowded with the nurse in pink, an ineffectual woman, and a little girl, who was crying so hard her nose had gone red and her cheeks were blotchy. He paused, thinking of Lexie.

“Shots?” he asked the nurse, who confirmed with a nod. “Has she had a lolli yet?”

The child peered up at him through wet, sticky lashes, her sobs dialing back to a snuffle so she could speak. “Do they have cherry?”

“I’m pretty sure we do,” Nurse Pink said. “I’ll get you a red one. But you have to stop crying or you might choke on your sucker.”

The mother gave him a grateful smile. “You’re good with kids.” Her gaze went to his left hand. “Do you have any of your own?”

“No,” he said.

Not anymore. Not really.

Søren headed for the reception area, where he handed over his form. It didn’t take long to wrap things up, and soon he had charged the copay and escaped the cloying warmth of the office. After checking his watch, he determined there was no point in going back to Micor today, as he’d predicted to Glenna.

Outside, the wind cut up rough, presaging rain. He tugged the collar of his coat up and sprinted for his car, hoping to outrun the storm.