All of which left her in a very pissy mood. Even the sun finally coming through the big cathedral window of her brick-walled office didn't cheer her. It warmed the room, lit up the wall-framed photographs of her family, gleamed off the plaques she'd won for college journalism and community service and editorial contributions she'd made to local business leagues. Even the plants on the shelves seemed happier. But not her.
She sat at her desk and glared at her computer monitor and reread the article she had written on the Caltrans engineers. It wasn't so much a story as an update: how many people were involved in the search and how it had expanded. The families had refused to talk to her and Caltrans had nothing to add to their upbeat bullshit statement that they were still hoping for a successful resolution to the situation. She reread the article she had written about the fish truck accident. It told where the crash had occurred and what kind of truck was involved, but not who was driving, why the accident might have happened, and where the goddamned body was. What kind of newspaper was she running if she couldn't get basic information like that? A shitty one, obviously.
The missing body thing annoyed her most of all. Not just the mystery but because Hannah couldn't even say the body was missing. Never mind a lawsuit from the driver's family for pain and suffering if she was wrong. She didn't like being wrong, especially not in print.
Shortly before filing the story she decided to give Grand's office one more try. To her surprise, he picked up.
"Professor!" she said.
"Yes?"
"This is Hannah Hughes."
"Ms. Hughes, hello," Grand said. "I was just listening to your third message-"
"Yes, I'm sorry about all those," she said, "but I really need to talk to you. Actually, I needed to talk to you about an hour ago, but now will do if you have a minute."
"All right," he said. "Unfortunately, I only have about one minute."
"I'll talk fast," she said. "Here's the thing, Professor. Did you hear about the truck crash this morning outside of Montecito?"
"No. I've been in a cave all morning. What happened?"
"A fish truck went off the road and I think the driver's missing. No one's being allowed near the truck, so I can't say for sure. But if it's true, and if it's connected to the disappearance of the engineers, it could be a big story. What I need to know is this. Is it possible that the caves, tunnels, and sinkholes connect the Painted Cave region with the foothills near the beach in Montecito?"
"Sure, it's possible," Grand said. "In one way or another all the underground systems are connected, from Baja California to Alaska, both over the land and under the sea."
"Great. I just want to make sure-we're not talking metaphysics, here?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You know, like in the East. That all things are connected throughout the universe."
"No, we're not," Grand said. "Though I don't repudiate those beliefs."
"Of course not Do you know of any direct routes from the place where we were to the beach?"
"Not offhand," Grand replied. "I'd have to look up some of the geologic charts-"
"Could you?" Hannah said.
"You mean now?"
"Please."
"Ms. Hughes, I've got work to finish up and then a class to teach."
"Hannah. And I'll call you Jim. Look, I know this is an imposition, but it's very important."
"It also may prove irrelevant," Grand said.
"Why?"
"Because of the rainfall," Grand told her.
"I don't understand."
"Some of the old, charted tunnels may have collapsed and some new ones may have opened up," Grand told her, "like the one I was exploring this morning, which lead to a series of tunnels and the subterranean cavern where I found the engineer's flashlight-"
"You found that?"
"Yes."
"Gearhart, you lying SOB," she said. "He said he found it."
"He can have it," Grand said. "The point is, the only way to be sure of any connections would be to find a cave, sinkhole, or fissure near the beach and work your way backward, to the northeast."
"Couldn't you go the other way?"
"Not if you don't want Gearhart to know."
"Oh, right," she said. "Good point."
Shit, Hannah thought. A hive of "he's," a journalist's nightmare. The maybes, could he's, might he's. Though Hannah was taking notes, she knew she wasn't going to get much of this in today's already-late paper. She wouldn't be able to prove most of it in time.
Okay, she told herself, she was semi-resigned to that. But if there were anything to her theory she was going to get it into tomorrow's edition. And to do that, she was going to need help.
"Professor," Hannah said, "would you possibly, please, consider working for us?"
"What?"
"As a paid, independent consultant," she said. "Accompany me to the foothills and look around. Help me see if there's an opening that could connect to the Painted Cave sinkhole, and if so whether it looks like someone or something has been using it."
"And if the answer is yes?"
"Then we'll call in Sheriff Gearhart," she said. "Not to show him up, I swear," she added quickly. "I just want to be in there getting dirty. He can't blow me off if I have some kind of evidence."
Grand thought for a second. "Ms. Hughes, ordinarily I'd be happy to. But I've got some important research to do right now."
"Professor-Jim, I understand but I'm begging you. This is breaking news and you're the only one who can help me get it right."
"I'm not the only one-"
"You're the only one I trust," she said. "And I don't want to go nosing around up there alone or with the Wall."
More silence.
Hannah had to fight to resist playing the don't-you-hate-Gearhart-too? card. She was afraid that bringing Grand's late wife into this, even obliquely, might shut him down rather than fire him up. Grand's hesitation was killing her, but Hannah pressed her lips together. She didn't know if even a gentle please at this point might push him the wrong way.
What the hell, she decided. "Please?" she said softly. "I need this."
Grand was silent for a second longer. "You're obviously not going to make today's edition," he said.
"Correct."
"Then I'll tell you what," Grand said. "I've got to run some tests. I should be done with those in two or three hours. Can we meet somewhere around four o'clock?"
"Four would be terrific," Hannah said. "How about I swing by the school and pick you up."
"All right," Grand said. "I'll be at my office in the Humanities and Social Sciences Building. If you miss me there I'll be in the physical sciences lab. That's off Mesa Road, parking lot eleven-"
"I'll find it," Hannah said. "Got an interesting project working?"
"I found something in one of the caves," Grand told her. "I want to run the basic DNA tests, try to figure out what they're from and how they got there."