Diablo Mesa(56)

“Yes, I do.” No rhyme or reason, indeed. Corrie wasn’t even sure why she’d asked the question; something was prompting her to pick up every crumb, turn over every leaf, of his final days on earth. Somehow, she’d begun to sense that Morwood was holding something back in those last days; but what it might be, or if it was only her imagination, she couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Thanks a lot, Shady,” she said as she turned away.

“My privilege, miss. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”

Corrie passed through the barrier, then started down the steps, rooting in her bag for her keys. It was only when she reached the bottom step that she abruptly stopped.





36



FOR A MOMENT Corrie remained frozen, dimly conscious of the evening breeze on her face, the hum of traffic on I-25. Then she turned, ran back up the stairs, re-entered the building, and passed through the barrier.

Shady had just finished scanning her exit slip and was filing it away. He looked at her in concern. “Is there a problem?”

Corrie made an effort to seem nonchalant. “No problem. I was just curious about something you said. On Friday, Agent Morwood left the office at five PM?”

“Let me clear this screen.” A few more finger taps, then Shady peered closely at the monitor. “Yup. Five-oh-one exactly.”

“Then how was he found in the lab after the fire? That didn’t take place until after midnight.”

“He came back.”

This was not unexpected. “What time was that?”

“Late. Shoot, it was only three days ago, you’d think I’d recall.” A brief pause while he looked up the details. “Checked in at eleven fifty.”

“And he went straight back to his office?”

“No, miss. He signed in for the lab.”

“The lab?”

“Got it right up here on the screen.”

“Was he carrying anything?”

“A blue evidence box, with a tag.”

“Did he often come back to work late at night?”

“Not usually. He stayed late plenty of times—now and then, real late—but once he left, he was gone until morning.”

Corrie did her best to look mildly curious, but her mind was racing. “You were on duty that night, weren’t you?”

“I’m like a Swiss watch. Monday to Friday, eight PM until four in the AM.”

“So were you—” she wasn’t quite sure how to put this tactfully— “the first to learn of the fire?”

“That was Harold Lamson.”

“Harold Lamson? Who’s he?”

“Night maintenance. He was working down by the far end of the main building when the alarm went off.”

“When was this?”

“Must have been shortly before one. He called me; I called the fire department, Mr. Garcia, then Emergency Response. In that order.”

“You said the far end of the main building?”

Shady nodded. “Seems strange, doesn’t it? An alarm going off that far from the fire, I mean. Of course, they tell me that lab’s pretty airtight. I didn’t smell any smoke up here, that’s for certain.”

“And once you called for help—?”

“That’s all she wrote. Way I heard it, the fire had more or less burned itself out by then.” He shrugged.

“Thanks so much.”

Corrie made a show of heading once again for the exit, then paused one more time. “Damn,” she said, turning. “You know, I left some files I wanted to review in my desk. Just locked them away and walked out.”

“It’s been that kind of a day, I’ll bet.”

“I suppose I have to fill out another pass?” she asked meekly.

Shady hesitated. “Guess so, miss. Especially now.” He handed one through the barrier screen. “Sorry.”

“It’s my own fault.” She filled in every detail, including her destination: section 2G. Then she signed at the bottom and passed it back. “Thanks.”

“No problem at all.”

She began to walk back toward the stairs, then stopped. “Oh, Shady: don’t be surprised if I’m a couple of minutes. I also have a little work to finish up.”

“Very good, Ms. Swanson.”

She walked away from the security barrier and across the lobby, to the stairwell, then turned the corner, hearing the echo of her low heels in the empty space. Once out of sight of the guard station, she slipped off her shoes. Instead of turning left, up the stairs, she took another look around, listened to make sure all was silent, then made for the stairway leading down to the basement. The lab wasn’t far from the foot of the stairs. Investigators had taped a large security tarp at one side of the stairwell; she slipped behind that, crouched, then descended as quickly and silently as she could. There was a security camera at the bottom of the stairs, but she was banking on being concealed by the tarp and other debris she could see piled below, wrapped in evidence bags.

At the bottom of the stairs, she slunk around the corner, then paused. There were no warning shouts from above, no footfalls of Shady coming to investigate. Keeping behind the investigative tarp that lined one side of the hall, she headed for the door to the lab.

The tarp ended in a taped seal just beyond the lab entrance. The door itself was closed and covered with crime scene tape. Corrie was able to duck beneath it with ease. The security keypad was dark, disabled. She turned the safety handle carefully—unlocked—and then, as quietly as she could, fearing at any moment some maintenance person or late worker would come around the corner, pushed the door open just enough to slip inside.