The Price of Innocence (36 page)

Frank appeared in the doorway and stopped, held back by the acetic acid fumes. ‘The prosecutor’s working on the Lambert indictments,’ he said by way of greeting. ‘For all the good it will do him. He’s going for culpable negligence in the McClurg death and seven counts of first degree in the Bingham explosion, plus Marty Davis and Terry Beltran. He’s not even going to try for Lily and Ken, too hard to prove. Beltran is a weak one. We think Lambert got in disguised as an air-conditioning guy, but again, proof. But he has to go for it, otherwise Lambert could say Beltran was behind everything since he had the gun that killed Marty.’

‘How is that possible?’

‘I think Lambert planted the gun along with the bomb. As soon as Beltran opened that drawer and stumbled on them both, he’d be blown up and also implicated at the same time. Lambert didn’t know it would happen while I was coming up the steps, of course, that was just gravy. Beltran kept his contraband cell phone in that drawer and I think that’s what he was going for after he saw me and Angela. Hard to prove, though. Everything about this case is going to be hard to prove, even if we get a chance.’

After Cleveland’s resident genius had left Theresa hovering over thirty cubic feet of explosive, he had not headed across the parking lot as she had calculated but went to the roof, where his helicopter and pilot waited. This had bought her the extra minute while the engine warmed. She wondered what he had thought, hovering above the city skyline, when East Sixth did
not
turn into a giant fireball. Unlike Leo, he resisted the urge to come back and try again. He had disappeared into a cloak of connections and bribery and no one in the world had yet admitted to catching even a glimpse of Lambert, his helicopter or his pilot. Theresa said, ‘He’s got to turn up somewhere. The IPO might have been a disappointment but Lambert’s still filthy rich, a genius and a sociopath. A man like that can’t hide for long. His ever-ballooning ego will float him to the surface.’

‘Let’s just hope it’s in a country that extradites.’

She set the iron aside, removed the gauze and pulled the sweatshirt from the photographic paper. A cloud of orange mist and dots filled its center. The clerk had been shot at nearly point-blank range for whatever had been in the cash register. When it came to motive, size didn’t matter. ‘Has Leo said anything?’

‘Not a word. Admits nothing, denies nothing. Hard to believe that your boss knew Lambert all these years and never let on.’

‘Everyone had a reason to keep their college days hidden. And Leo never wanted fame like Lambert did. He just wanted complete rule in his one little corner of the world. This lab is his life. Was.’

‘It’s yours, too.’

‘No, I have a mother and a daughter and you, I have friends, I go on vacation. Leo had nothing. There are jobs where running a meth lab in your college years would
not
get you fired, could be brushed off as youthful indiscretions long outgrown. Directing a crime lab is not one of those jobs.’

‘Don’t tell me you actually understand him.’

‘Not a chance.’

‘Good. So after the Bingham explosion, Lambert must have asked Leo to look out for their mutual interests. Leo couldn’t do much at first with Homeland Security getting their noses in everything, but then you stumbled on the college meth lab explosion and his former classmates, Lily and Ken Bilecki.’

‘I got them killed,’ Theresa said, ‘and all because I had a crush on David Madison.’

‘No. They were killed because Lambert’s Porsche had a bad brake light. But hey, look at it this way.’

She watched him, waited.

‘The supervisor slot just opened up.’

I require his help for just about every book I write, but I definitely could not have written this one without the assistance of my former CSU chemistry teacher, Dr Andrew Wolfe. It’s a wonder that our emails have not come to the attention of appropriate government agencies. At least, not that I know of.

That said, anyone who tried to actually concoct methamphetamine from the descriptions in this book is doomed to disappointment. I got all the original information via my great good friend Google – and then left a few things out.

I’d also like to thank my equally brilliant cousin’s son Tommy, who tried to explain to me how electric cars work. My husband Russ is always available for a quick question or two or three.

And of course my terrific agent Vicky Bijur, as well as everyone at Severn House. They are true professionals.

Reding, Nick.
Methland: The Death and Life of an American Small Town
. NY: Bloomsbury, 2009

Lafave, Owen and Bill Simon.
Gorgeous Disaster: The Tragic Story of Debra Lafave
. LA: Phoenix Books, 2006