Ted.
Kevin exited the message. He’d send a reply later.
He paged forward to the last message and raised the Diet Coke to take a sip. When he saw who the message was from, he stopped, the can hovering in front of his face.
It was from Michael Ward. Sent at 5:43 PM the day before.
Kevin placed the can precariously on the edge of the desk, feeling strangely repulsed that one of the last messages Ward had ever sent was waiting for Kevin to read. Nevertheless, he had to read it. He opened the file.
Kevin was unprepared for the message he found. His heartbeat tripled as he read and reread the short message.
Kevin, no time for details. The same men who killed Stein are after me. Irene and I are leaving Houston. I think we’ll be safe where we’re going, but I need your help to be sure. NV117 wasn’t a failure, and Clay wants it. The details are in a notebook. I’ve recorded everything you’ll need and put it in a safe place. DA483H3 is the
Questions filled Kevin’s mind. Who was Stein? Where were Ward and his wife going? Who were these men he was talking about? They must be connected to Clay, whoever that was. And what did he mean NV117 wasn’t a failure? Of course it was a failure, a huge failure from Kevin’s standpoint.
NV117 was a routine investigation into high temperature superconductivity. They’d been conducting experiments like it for months with little success. Then the routine was shattered when it almost blew up in their faces. The damage to the equipment had been extensive, or so Kevin had been told. Ward hadn’t let him back into the lab after the accident. Even if the experiment had turned out to be a success, the results they were expecting would have been interesting, but certainly nothing revolutionary. Nothing worth killing for. It didn’t make sense.
Maybe the message was a joke, Kevin thought. He shook his head and dismissed the idea. No one he knew would have done something this bizarre. Not when Ward’s house went up in flames hours before. The only other possibility was that Ward actually sent the message. If that was true, why write a message to Kevin? Why didn’t Ward just call the police?
He looked at the last sentence, which made it seem as if Ward had been interrupted. Or maybe he’d been drunk and didn’t realize he hadn’t finished. He’d heard about smokers getting drunk and falling asleep with a lit cigarette. Maybe that’s how the fire started. He cringed at the thought and studied the beginning of the cut off sentence.
What was DA483H3? It looked familiar, as if Kevin had seen it before, but he couldn’t place it. A license plate number? Or maybe the model number of one of the lab’s equipment? It could be anything. Without the rest of the sentence, Kevin might never know.
The phone rang. Kevin let it ring. He turned on the laser printer and selected the print option. The page fed in as the answering machine clicked on and played the announcement.
“This is the home of Kevin Hamilton. If you are calling from a touchtone phone and would like to hang up, please press one now. If you are selling something or asking for money, please press one now. Otherwise, leave a message and I’ll get back to you.” The beep sounded, and he heard Erica’s voice.
“Kevin, it’s me. Give me a call when you get back…”
Kevin ran into the bedroom and snatched up the phone. “Erica. I’m here.” He stopped the recorder as he spoke. “I’m sorry you missed the party last night.”
“Me too, but I had a, uh, personal matter that came up.” Her voice was cautious.
“What happened?”
“Money problems. I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Me neither.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Are you all right?” Kevin asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, but she didn’t sound fine. She sounded as if she had been up all night, and Kevin knew that she wasn’t supposed to go on her ER rotation until this afternoon. He wasn’t going to press the issue.
“Do you want to get lunch?” he said.
“Maybe. I was going to try to get some more sleep before I leave for the hospital, but that may not happen. I was just calling because…Have you seen the news today?”
“You mean about Dr. Ward?”
“So it’s the same Ward you’ve told me about?”
“The one who fired me, yes.” Kevin went over to the printer and picked up the printout. “Funny you should ask. I just got an email from him.”
“What do you mean?” Erica said. “Today?”
“Just a few minutes ago. It was sent yesterday afternoon.”
Kevin read the message to her.
“That’s weird,” Erica said. “Are you going to call the police?”
“The police? I hadn’t gotten that far.”
“I heard something about arson on the radio.”
“They said they aren’t ruling out arson, but they always say that.”
“Do you know who Stein or Clay are?”
“I had a high school math teacher named Joshua Clay, but I don’t think that’s him.”
“Do you know what any of it means?” Erica asked. “What about that code?”
“It looks familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it. We never used a code in the lab. But I do know what NV117 means. It was an experiment we were doing for the Department of Energy on superconductivity using a new kind of chemical structure.”
“Superconductivity? Would somebody killed him for it?”
“I can’t imagine why. The experiment was a total failure. In fact, it was the one that got me fired. As far as I know, he stopped all work on it after the accident. Even if it wasn’t a failure like the message said, it wouldn’t have been groundbreaking. Certainly nothing worth killing for. We’re probably getting worked up over nothing. Some people in the department said he was a drinker. He was probably wasted when he wrote it.” He told her his theory about the cigarette.
“That’s certainly possible. I’ve seen three alcoholics in the ER who’ve burnt themselves with cigarettes. Still, the police should probably know about the message.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m just trying to avoid it because I also know it’s going to be a hassle. They might want me to go down to the station.”
“What about lunch?” Erica said.
“I’ll call you back when I know. In the meantime, try to take a nap. You sound beat.”
“Thanks.”
Kevin hung up, thumbed through the white pages, and dialed the number for police headquarters. There wasn’t really any reason to call 911.
He was put on hold three times as staff at the police station shuffled his call around to various departments. Each time someone new answered, he had to explain the situation all over again. As he waited for someone in Homicide to pick up, Kevin thought that at least his day couldn’t get any stranger.
Lobec and Bern listened as a female voice on the line said, “Homicide. Detective Chambers speaking.”
“Detective Chambers,” Kevin Hamilton said, “I hope I’ve finally got the right person. I have a message from Dr. Michael Ward-you know, the guy who died in the house fire last night?”
“What is your name, sir?” The voice was curt.
There was a pause. “Uh, my name’s Kevin Hamilton, one of Dr. Ward’s students. He sent me e-mail telling me that the same men who had killed Stein were after him. It seemed suspicious, so I thought I’d better let you know.”
“I don’t know who this Ward guy is, but Stein is Guy Robley’s case.”
There was another pause, this time longer. “You mean, there really is someone named Stein?”
“Herbert Stein was found Saturday morning in a vacant lot near the Astrodome. Shot twice and loaded into a dumpster. Look, Detective Robley isn’t here right now, but he should be back in about twenty minutes. Can he call you back then?”