“Okay, then.” I clapped Hudson’s shoulder, then hurried down the hallway, trying not to laugh. What a maroon.
“Oh, Mr. Stolowitski?”
I froze. Worried the shoulder tap had pushed it too far.
“Yes?” Swiveling to face him.
“Thieves may be hiding somewhere on this island.” Hudson gave me a hard look. “I’ll inform your father you’re here. Just to be safe.”
“Excellent.” Crap crap crap. “Saves me the trouble.”
I hustled to join the others by the elevator.
Problem: Dad didn’t know I was coming out to Loggerhead that morning. And if he called home, Mom would find out I’d lied about my plans.
That meant trouble.
Ruth Stolowitski was not to be trifled with, especially by her own son.
She’d swim out here if she thought I’d played her.
I caught up with the gang just as the elevator arrived. Tory entered and pressed three. Waited until the doors closed.
“Midi-chlorians?” She grabbed the bridge of her nose. “Dagobah University?”
I shrugged. “Hey, it worked.”
Her hands flew up. “Why couldn’t you keep it simple? Or believable?”
“Because unlikely and complicated are easier to sell. That’s a fact. Besides, what are the odds Lieutenant Fake Cop has ever watched a Star Wars movie? Is there a number less than zero?”
“Negative one,” Shelton said. “And I can’t believe you said ‘a species of tauntaun.’”
“Arctic tauntaun,” I corrected. “Personally, I thought ‘Dr. Vader’ was the low point. But we got away with it, that’s all that matters. Almost, anyway.”
Ben laid a hand my shoulder. “Almost, Thick Burger?”
He squeezed. I swear my collarbones creaked.
“Unhand me! You’re tearing my rotator cuff!”
Ben released his grip. I rubbed my aching limb. “If you ruined my baseball career, you’ll hear from my lawyer.”
“Hi!” Tory clapped her hands in agitation. “Explain.”
“No biggie.” I flexed my shoulder, casting accusatory glances at Ben. “But Hudson’s gonna tell my father we’re here. And he could come looking for me, since I gave my mom a different explanation of our whereabouts.”
“I don’t want to know.” Shelton’s palms covered his glasses. “Wait. Yes, I do. Where are we supposed to be right now?”
“I told her we were going to a shark festival.” Offhand. “In Walterboro.”
Ben chuckled. Tory’s eyes found the ceiling.
“That doesn’t even make sense!” Shelton’s hands shot outward. “And nobody goes to Walterboro. Why do you do that?”
“Conceptually, it’s hard to visualize,” I agreed. “Maybe it’s more of a film society than a traditional festival. Or a Jaws fan-fiction conference.”
Mercifully, the elevator doors opened.
“Enough.” Tory stepped into the hall. Lights off. No one in sight. “Let’s hurry, we don’t have much time.”
The third level consisted of offices, the smaller Lab Two, and the sprawling Lab Three. A cubicle village filled the center of the floor. From where we stood, narrow hallways ran left and right.
Though usually packed with lab-coated techs and scientists, that day the corridors were deserted.
“Coast’s clear.” Tory hurried down the left-hand passage to a well-lit chamber spanning the building’s eastern end. A floor-to-ceiling Plexiglas wall separated the room from the corridor, which turned ninety degrees and continued to the building’s rear.
“Whoa boy.” Shelton’s eyes bugged behind his lenses.
Lab Three was a showroom-sized rectangle, interspaced by half-a-dozen workstations in the room’s middle. Industrial-sized storage cabinets lined the windowless outer walls, with a bolted stainless-steel countertop running just beneath.
“Jeeeeeez.” I understood Shelton’s astonishment.
When I’d last visited with my dad, Lab Three had been jammed with all kinds of dope equipment. Like a scene from an outbreak movie.
Now it looked like a war zone.
Workstations were stripped. Cut wires hung from tabletops. A computer bank was completely missing, its security cables severed. Servers, modems, routers, you name it. All gone.
Files lay scattered everywhere. Broken glass covered the floor. Several cabinet doors stood ajar, their contents smashed, scattered, or missing.
“This place was freaking trashed,” Shelton squawked. “It’s like a tornado passed through here.”
I knelt beside pile of empty drawers. “Whoever did this didn’t make any attempt to conceal their crime. It was a smash and grab, pure and simple.”
Tory’s eyes were roving the room. “We need a plan.”
“Looks like ninja work,” I quipped. “We should check for throwing stars.”
Ben shot me a look, but my excitement grew unchecked.
Honestly? I was thrilled.
Not that LIRI had been jacked. Or that Lab Three had been totaled. That was all uncool.
I was stoked because we were standing at the scene of a legitimate crime. A true heist. A bona fide whodunit.
And the Virals had a chance to solve it.
Finally, some action.
I was about to crack a joke, but the look on Tory’s face made me reconsider.
She was horrified. As though her own home had been robbed.
Horrified and very, very angry.
Then Tory’s expression morphed to another I knew well.
Eyes narrowed. Teeth gritted. I’d seen it before.
Her hands found her hips.
Tory Brennan was thinking. Planning. Weighing options. Making choices.
Tory’s the only person in the world smarter than me. She could cut to the heart of any problem. I’d follow her lead anywhere.
And she’s kinda crazy, too, which makes her fun.
I shelved the urge to spout one-liners. Put on my game face. Got ready to rumble.
It was time to make someone regret messing with our turf.
Unclenching my fists, I tried to quell my anger.
Hi was looking at me strangely. Was that eagerness on his face?
“Tory?” Shelton was nervously eyeing the empty hallway. “What’s our play?”
“We search this lab,” I replied. “Top to bottom. Let’s divide the room into sections and each take one.”
“What are we looking for?” Ben asked.
“Trace evidence. Hairs, fibers, paint chips, anything that looks out of place. Watch for strange marks, too. Scratches or scrapes. If we can determine how the robbers operated, we’ll know more of what to look for.”
“Careful what you touch,” Shelton warned. “The police haven’t been here yet. We don’t want to implicate ourselves.”
“Good thinking.” I scanned the open cabinets, spotted a package of latex gloves. Stepping carefully, I walked over and snagged the box. “Everyone grab a pair.”
Properly gloved, we each moved to our assigned sector.
Needle in a haystack.
I shoved the thought aside. All forensics was a needle hunt.
My thoughts flew to Aunt Tempe. How impressed she’d be if we helped crack the case. That weekend, my hero worship was full-blown.
Being honest with myself, wowing Tempe was the reason I wanted to investigate.
Then pay attention. A wandering mind misses clues.
I combed my zone systematically, front to back.
I’d chosen the far-left quadrant, which ran along the wall. Bringing my face close, I inspected the countertop, nose inches from the gleaming steel. Then I moved to the first of two workstations in my area. Shattered glass covered its s
urface. A scuffed area marked the former position of an electron microscope. The second station had once held a computer terminal. Now only stripped wires remained.
Minutes ticked by. Five. Ten. Twenty.
I didn’t need Shelton’s grumbles to know we were running out of time.
“Nothing,” Ben called from the other side of the room.
“Same,” Shelton echoed.
Hi was back where he’d started, a frown crimping his features. “I got squadoosh. Anyone know a good psychic?”
I felt discouraged. Smothered it. “We do it again.”
The boys watched me, saying nothing.
“We’ve only done one pass!” I gestured to the chaos covering the floor. “You’re sure you didn’t miss anything, in all that?”
Shelton tugged his ear. “The cops are on the way, Tor.”
“And your dad,” Ben added. “I’m surprised no one’s here yet.”
“Then we shouldn’t waste time chatting.” I made shooing gestures with my hands. “Get to work.”
A few looks, but the boys did as I asked. I knew they would. In moments we were all on hands and knees, combing the floor for anything useful.
I was starting to despair, when I spotted something.
There. By the base of the wall.
A tiny brown sliver.
I dropped to my belly and shimmied under the counter.
“Tory?” Hi had completed his second sweep. “Find a cookie?”
“I think . . . there’s something . . .” Moving cautiously, I plucked the tiny splinter between my thumb and index finger, then gingerly scootched backward and stood.
“Whadayagot?” Shelton was shirt-wiping his glasses. “Because my section is Zero Town, population nothing. Unless you like broken beakers.”
I peered intently at my find. “It’s wood. A chip.”
“The case breaker!” Ben said sarcastically. “Call the feds!”
My head shook in annoyance. “It doesn’t match anything, though. At least, nothing that I’ve seen over here.” My eyes scoured the rest of Lab Three for anything that might explain the tiny wedge.
The boys looked, too. Spotted nothing likely.
“The only wooden items are the cabinets,” I said.
“And several were crowbarred. Look.” Ben lifted a cabinet door that had been ripped from its hinges.
“But the cabinet wood is totally different.” I held the sliver close to one. “These doors are made of processed boards. Some kind of composite material, held together by adhesive.”
“They’re also lighter in color,” Hi added. “And layered, to be more pliable. That chip came from something else.”
Hi turned to Ben. “Check the lab for anything else made of wood. And make sure the other cabinets are identical to this one.”
Ben’s hands found his pockets. “I don’t think so.”
“Got it.” Hi swiveled back to me. “I’ll check the lab for anything else made of wood and make sure the other cabinets are identical to this one.”
“Good plan,” Ben said.
“I’ll help,” Shelton said. “We should be hustling.”
The two boys hurried to make another sweep.
I rotated the splinter in the palm of my hand. Triangular shape. Two sides rougher than the third, which was darker, smooth, and worn.
Holding the fragment up to the light, I noticed the grain was barely detectable.
And something else.
“There’s goop on this.” I tilted my hand back and forth, watching the light play over the chip’s surface. “A coating. Or residue. Sticky.”
Impulsively, I held it under my nose. “It smells like . . . nuts.”
“Nuts?” Ben scoffed. “Sure you’re not just hungry?”
“Zip it.” I sniffed again. “Maybe . . . more like grass. Or tree sap. I know I’m not making sense.”
Hi and Shelton rejoined us.
“No other wood,” Hi confirmed. “That specimen appears to be a foreign particle.”
“Which doesn’t necessarily mean it’s related to the break-in,” Shelton countered. “It could’ve hitched a ride in here on someone’s shoe. For all we know, it’s been there for weeks.”
“It’s a place to start.” I dropped the chip into a plastic glove, tied off the opening, and slipped the makeshift specimen bag into my pocket.
Hi rubbed his hands together. “What next? Should we start some interrogations?”
“Let me think.” Unnecessarily waving for quiet.
The boys waited. They trusted my instincts, and my ability to discern patterns. Skills that had served us well before.
Except now you’ve got nothing.
Just a slice of wood that doesn’t match the local wood.
An idea took root.
I moved to the closest shattered cabinet. “This was hacked open, right?”
“More like pried.” Ben pointed to deep gouges where the door met its frame. “See how the wood split, right at the edge? Someone jammed an object into the gap, then wedged it open.”
The idea congealed into a theory.
“A tool.” My mind was fitting pieces even as I spoke. “The robber must’ve used an implement to crack them. Some sort of lever.”
Three blank looks.
I tapped my pocket. “This splinter isn’t from the doors. It’s from the tool.”
Ben’s brows formed a V. “The instrument had to be metal, Tory. These doors fractured under some pretty serious force. I don’t think something wooden could’ve done the job without leaving at lot more splinters. My guess is they used a crowbar. Pure steel.”
“Okay.” Thinking furiously. “Damn.”
Shelton spoke up. “What if the wedging part was metal but the handle was made of wood?”
“Like an ax?” Hi rubbed his chin. “You think Jason Voorhees might be our man?”
“I’m just saying. Lots of tools have wooden grips.”
“Wait.” I squinted at nothing. “Hold up a sec.”
Hi’s mouth opened, but Ben snagged his arm. “Let her think.”
I barely noticed. Blocked them out. Tried to pin down what was bothering me.
Loggerhead. LIRI security. A shattered lab. All that missing equipment.
Something doesn’t track.
I considered the evidence, one point at a time.
“This crime. It’s odd.” I began to pace. “No alarms, no video, no record of any kind.”
“Happened during the software upgrade,” Shelton reminded. “They got lucky.”
“Not a chance.” Back and forth. “The thieves knew.”
The issue nagging at me came into sharper focus. “This heist was too neat and too dirty. Outside of this room, there are no kicked-in doors, smashed locks, or downed gates. Nothing to indicate a break-in occurred at all.”
I swept an arm around the room. “Until you get in here. Inside this lab.”
I froze, the answer on the tip of my tongue.
Muffled steps sounded in the hall.
“Move!” Ben hissed.
In a panic we bolted from Lab Three, Hi closing the door behind us. We booked down the corridor to the back of the building, around the corner, and up another dark hallway, putting the maze of cubicles between the noise and us.
We stopped. Listened hard.
Someone coughed. More footfalls.
I heard Kit’s voice, followed by a gruff tenor I didn’t recognize.
“Police?” Hi mouthed.
I shrugged.
I peeked over a cubicle wall. The elevators were directly across from where we were crouched. One set of doors was closing, the new arrivals already moving toward Lab Three.
Waving
the others to follow, I continued to the west end of the building, turned another corner, and bolted for a stairwell dead ahead.
Thirty adrenaline-pumped seconds later, we were back on the ground floor.
“That was fun.” Hi was red-faced and puffing. “Hope no one left anything behind.”
“This way,” I whispered, stripping off the latex gloves and stuffing them in my back pocket. The others quickly followed suit.
Our next move had occurred to me in mid-flight.
“Where?” Shelton hissed, but I was already marching to the security desk.
As I’d suspected, Hudson was nowhere in sight. He’d undoubtedly gone upstairs with Kit and the others.
Another guard was sitting in the kiosk.
“Carl!” I called brightly. “How are you today?”
Carl Szuberla looked up from his magazine, expression guarded.
He’d probably been chewed out at least once today already. Hudson seemed the type to blame his subordinates if something went wrong.
“Hello, Miss Brennan.” Built like a lumpy bowling ball, Carl’s immense girth was jammed into a sky-blue uniform barely able to contain it. “Director Howard just went upstairs.”
His expression abruptly clouded. It must’ve occurred to him we’d come from inside the building, not out.
Though reliable, Carl was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.
He was perfect.
“Right. Kit sent me down with a question.” Assertively. “He wants to know whether the gates were opened at any point last night.”
Carl’s piggish face bunched into a knot. “Why didn’t he ask the chief? Hudson worked the graveyard shift, not me.”
“Kit wants the log checked. No stone unturned. That kind of thing.”
Sighing, Carl rose and waddled into the communications room. A few moments later he returned. “Neither gate was opened last night.”
“But wasn’t the electronic system down?” Shelton asked. “How can you be sure?”
“Both gates are zip-tied during any system maintenance.” Carl tapped his logbook. “Chief Hudson noted that both ties were in place this morning.”
“Excellent.” I headed for the exit. “Thanks so much.”
“Wait.” Carl gestured toward the elevator. “Aren’t you going to inform Dr. Howard?”