Clowns and Cowboys (A Miranda and Parker Mystery Book 3) (27 page)

Her heart ached for them. She wanted to gather them all up in her arms and carry them far away. To some place safe. Some place that would help them. But she couldn’t. Not just yet. She had to finish this job first.

Not wanting to leave, she made herself turn away, forced her feet through the door. She found her way back into the main area, the hospital-like open space near the lab.

As soon as she stepped inside she felt her phone buzz. She was still holding it. She blinked at the screen. Text from Parker.

Where are you? Five minutes!

Good Lord. She glanced at the time.

It had been way longer than five minutes since she’d left him. Slow transmission. And she’d forgotten to text him as she’d said she would. No time to fuss about that now.

Her thumbs worked the keys.

Found the lab. And more. Coming to find you.

Just as she hit the send button she heard a muted bell from somewhere. She remembered the sign she’d seen before.

Elevator.

Her mind raced. They’d been there for hours. It must be morning now. Time for work.

Her heart began to bang painfully against her chest as she hunted around for a hiding place. There was none. She ran for one of the utility rooms but before she could reach it, the double doors with the helix on the far end of the room swept open.

She froze as a tall, imposing looking woman in a flowing white lab coat stepped inside. She spotted her right away.

“Who are you,” the woman boomed and Miranda thought she recognized the voice. “What are you doing in here?”

The woman came closer and Miranda made out her name tag. She did a double take. No wonder she knew that voice. Now she got it. Now it all made sense.

When Miranda didn’t answer, the woman dug in her pocket. “I’m calling Security.”

No choice, she thought again, drew her weapon and pointed at the woman. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Dr. Tenbrook.”

The layout of this building was getting on Parker’s nerves.

They had been down half a dozen passageways and found nothing. Security must be the motive for the esoteric design. Even if you could get into the place, you couldn’t find anything incriminating. To the designer’s credit, the scheme was rather ingenious.

But like Miranda, he was beginning to think the records office had been moved. Or had never existed at all.

He would tell her so but she hadn’t replied to his text. He forced down irritation at the reminder as they passed a small alcove with an elevator.

His suspicions roused. She wouldn’t have taken that elevator to another floor, would she? Or had someone come down that elevator and caught her? He couldn’t let himself think those thoughts. Miranda might be headstrong but she was highly competent. She might have discovered something, he told himself. She was focused on her task. There was no reason to believe she was in trouble.

Yet.

He glanced up at his volunteer guide and saw a flash of recognition on his face.

“Do you see it, Yuri?”

Yuri nodded slowly and kept walking. “This area looks familiar. Here?” He hurried ahead and disappeared around a corner. “Yes!”

“Shh,” Parker hissed as he rounded the turn and followed him into a room.

He stared at the contents, which were partially illuminated from the hall. Yuri had been right. This was a records office.

But it was huge.

A room full of shelving units, seven racks deep, each shelf crowded with color coded manila folders like a doctor’s office.

“There are so many of them,” Yuri whispered, awe in his tone. “We cannot photograph them all.”

“No.” Parker murmured. And where were all the ‘patients’ that corresponded to these files? The thought made him cringe.

He turned his head. Behind them stretched a low wall-mounted shelf that served as a desk for several workers. There were more papers there. Folders, labels, other office paraphernalia.

Parker eyed the computers. They most certainly held important data. No doubt they’d be password protected.

They didn’t have time to hack the units. And he hadn’t heard from Miranda. They had to get the information quickly, find her and get out of here before they were discovered.

He took out his pen light and studied the colored tabs on the files closest to him, trying to decipher their code. It appeared the files near the front were the most recent.

He pulled one down and scanned it.

The title page was marked with the name GenaPulse and a handwritten case number. What must be the organization’s logo was stamped in the center. A DNA molecule in a circle. The logo alone was incriminating but certainly not enough to make a firm case.

He turned the page and began to read the abstract.

It described the cultivation of a particular cell culture, the various microbes and tissues and eukaryotes used. The temperature, humidity and other conditions. The growth and implantation of the subject.

The following pages were details of the subject’s progress. Height, weight, length. The description ended at six months old. The paper was dated last week.

Too recent. “Let’s try to find the names of the people you told us about.”

“You mean Matthew and Andrew and the rest?”

“Yes. That was at least eight years ago?”

“I think so,” Yuri said.

Hoping the records went back that far, Parker examined the codes on the opposite shelf for a moment then pointed toward the far corner. “They might be over there. Let’s see what we can find.”

The cannonball squeezed through the narrow aisle and began opening files. “I cannot read these. There are no names. Only numbers.”

Parker reached below him and took a file from the lower shelf. He opened it.

The first page, the one with the GenaPulse name, logo and case number was stamped in big bold letters with a single word.

“Terminated.”

Quickly Parker opened the file and read, deciphering the medical terminology as best he could. The cultivation, growth and implantation details were similar to the other file but variations in the process were highlighted. And then came the negative findings.

Chromosomal defects, this or that possible syndrome postulated. There were x-rays and test results. The right and left femurs were misshapen and had to be measured at various intervals. After six months, no growth was detected. A portion of the subject’s intestines were missing. There were liver issues. A battery of tests was administered regularly, including cognitive, which was high, and muscular strength, which was average.

There were several pages detailing lack of growth, disappointing surgical results, and general degeneration. Parker’s insides chilled as he read the last page. The decision to terminate had been reached unanimously by the director and two scientists.

The subject had been six years old.

He turned to Yuri, wondering how the man had managed to survive such a place. He held up the file. “This one is a good start.”

He pointed out the pages that were relevant then began snapping photos of them with his phone while Yuri hunted for more.

They found dozens of similar files in these shelves, took photo after photo as they moved toward the back of the room. They were so far into the stacks Parker barely heard the elevator ping outside.

“Stop, Yuri,” he whispered when the sound finally registered in his ears.

He slid the last file back in place and crouched down. Yuri did the same.

A woman stood in the doorway, feeling for the light switch. She found it and the room flooded with light.

She had on a teal scrub uniform with soft white shoes and a stethoscope around her neck. Her straight dark hair was pulled back into a severe bun.

“Who is there?” she demanded in an Eastern European accent.

Parker flinched.

“Mama.” Yuri started to get to his feet.

“Stay down,” Parker hissed.

But the giant pushed his way around Parker and hurried out of the shelter of the stacks. “Mama,” he said again when he saw her.

She put a hand to her breast in shock. “Yuri! What are you doing here?”

Parker watched the woman put her arms around the giant’s neck in a motherly embrace. Her face was lined, her hair tinged with gray. Tears shimmered in her eyes. She might have been forty or sixty. It was hard to tell. But despite the bizarre circumstances of her long ago pregnancy her feelings for the child she’d borne were apparently real.

She ran her hand gently over Yuri’s face. “They sent you away. You and Dashia.”

“I came back.”

“What are you doing in the records room? And who is that man?” She turned her head and looked at Parker warily as he stepped out from the aisle, then back at her son. Duty warred with maternal instinct. “I…I…have to get a guard.”

There was a fire extinguisher on the wall and a red alarm next to it. The nurse spun and made a move for it.

Parker lunged forward and grabbed her wrist just before she reached it. “You can’t do that Ms. Varga.”

“Why not? Who are you?”

He studied her face. Her brown eyes were kind, but her features were sharp and birdlike, lined with the grief of the terrible facts she had been forced to keep secret for so many years. She looked nothing like Yuri or Dashia.

He decided to try persuasion. “I’m here to help.”

“Help with what? What were you doing back there in the files?”

“I’m a private investigator. There have been two murders. We need your help to solve them.”

Her eye went wide then filled with confusion. The woman did not seem to have evil intentions but she had to be considerably brainwashed to live and work in this place with the knowledge of what went on here. And God only knew how many offspring she had carried to term for GenaPulse.

She began to shake her head. “No. You must be the enemy.”

“No, I’m a friend. I’ve come to help.”

“You are come to destroy us and you have involved my son.” Her voice was rising with hysteria.

“Calm down, Ms. Varga,” Parker said softly. “If you’ll listen, I’ll explain everything.”

But she kept shaking her head back and forth. “No. No. You are going to destroy us. They told us about people like you.” Suddenly she turned and ran down the hall. “Help!” she cried. “Robbers in the building. Someone help.”

Yuri shot after her. “Mama, come back.”

Parker cursed under his breath, his gut wrenching inside him. How could everything have gone so wrong so fast? He couldn’t let either of them get away.

Drawing his gun, he ran after the pair through the circuitous maze as fast as he could go.

The tall woman towering before Miranda was on the husky side.

She seemed to be in her mid-fifties with thick gray brows and gray-brown hair parted in the middle and done in a severely straight bob cut that hit her at her square jaw line.

Her thick lips were painted a ruby red, matching a dress that peeped out from beneath her white lab coat. A single strand of pearls hung around her neck. She even had on high heels.

Everything about her said Power with a capital P.

“Who are you?” she said again in just as demanding a tone, even though Miranda was the one with the .22 aimed at the woman’s heart.

“The better question is who are you? And what the hell do you think you’re doing here?”

Her eyes blazed but there wasn’t a shred of shame in them as she narrowed them at her. “I know who you are now. You’ve got to be one of those detectives my brother hired.”

“Your brother?” Sam? He didn’t have a sister. “Oh, wait. You mean the circus owner.”

No doubt he’d been in contact with her, keeping her informed on the progress of their investigation. He must have lied to her about hiring them. Though why, she couldn’t imagine. Wait. That was their relationship? Brother and sister?

Miranda let out a smirk. “And here I thought you were his mother.”

“You impertinent snip. We’ll see how smart you are when they take you to jail for breaking into a research lab.”

Miranda let out a laugh. “Research lab? Is that was you call murdering little kids? Research?”

Now the woman’s features contorted like a scary Halloween mask. She made a jerky move toward the gun.

“Stand back, Tenbrook. This thing fires real bullets, you know.”

Miranda watched the woman’s chest heave up and down as she fumed. She was obviously used to giving orders, not taking them.

“My staff will be in any moment. You’ll be arrested.”

“No, I don’t think I’m the one who’s going to be arrested.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Miranda wanted to drop the gun and just choke this bitch. Who did she think she was? Then she remembered the recorder on her phone was still on.

Keep her talking. “I think it’s ridiculous to think you could get away with what you’re doing here. What is it exactly? Test tube babies?”

The woman inhaled dramatically and rolled her eyes. “It's an ingenious process we’ve developed over decades. It combines genetic engineering, stem cells and in vitro fertilization. Far too complex for non-scientists to understand.”

She could understand murder.

Miranda was about to ask for details when the door opened and a dark-haired woman in scrubs ran in screaming hysterically. “Dr. Tenbrook, Dr. Tenbrook. There are robbers on the floor.” That accent.

Yuri barreled in just behind her. “Mama, please don’t do this.”

The woman saw Miranda’s gun and started screaming.

It was enough to distract her. Tenbrook lunged for Miranda, locked onto her wrist like a vice and twisted the weapon away from her until if fell to the floor. Her red lips parted in a vulture like grin.

“Let her go!” It was Parker. With his gun drawn, replacing hers.

“You cannot hurt my mother, Mr. Parker.” Yuri grabbed the nurse and the two of them huddled behind a cart.

Tenbrook did as she was told and released Miranda’s arm, but her face was as red as her dress with rage. “Parker. You’re the other detective my brother hired, I presume. You’ll never get away with this. How dare you threaten the chief scientist of a respected research lab?”