Echoes of the Past (21 page)

“Ron refuses to listen to anything I say, and I’m
afraid his stubbornness may cause irreparable damage to the island. I’m sure
he’s told you he thinks I’m responsible for the deaths.”

“He mentioned your research hasn’t gone the way
you hoped, and you’d had unexpected problems. He thought you might have sent
the students out for samples the night of the storm.” She watched the color
slowly drain from his face. “He said you think the lake might be polluted.”

Tony’s face went from shock to fury in the blink
of an eye.
“Polluted!”
He let go of her hand and moved
away from her. The small kitchen area was suddenly claustrophobic. Anger
radiated from every pore of his body. His hands were fisted at his side. He
looked like a man capable of murder, and Michelle shivered.

“The pea-brained, son of a bitch claims I said the
lake’s polluted? I gave him a copy of our toxicology reports. The lake’s not
being polluted, it’s being poisoned! Given its location, unless something is
done, it could poison the Saint Lawrence River system. Do you have any idea how
many people get their drinking water from that system?”

Michelle stared at the irate man in front of her,
visions of his earlier behavior playing through her mind. The doctor seemed to
have a hair-trigger temper. Could he have caused his students’ deaths? Aaron
had been so sure he hadn’t, but without memories would he even know? She
swallowed her fear.

“Aren’t you exaggerating? The amount of toxins
necessary to poison the river system would be incredible. I didn’t see any
industries on the island other than farming and the wineries, and I know of no
deadly toxins produced by either of them.” She didn’t want to fuel his anger,
but she needed him to volunteer this information.

“You don’t need factories to create toxins in this
day and age. A good cook can create them in the front seat of his damn car. I
told Ron exactly what was causing the damage, and he refused to even consider
the idea. Someone’s opened a meth lab on the island, and they’re dumping the
chemical waste into the water. According to Jackson, my other researcher, Aaron
and Lindsay were going to get some shore samples that night. My students didn’t
drown, doctor, they were murdered. You tell that boyfriend of yours to get his
head out of his ass. This isn’t pollution, and ignoring it is tantamount to
murder.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” She spat the words,
unable to control the anger suddenly gripping her.

Tony’s ire had risen, and the accusing way he’d
thrown the last barb insulted Michelle. How dare he make assumptions like that?
The fact she herself suspected the deaths were murders just added to her
annoyance. If he kept shooting his mouth off this way, he’d compromise the
investigation. The minute someone got wind of the fact she’d declared the
drownings
suspicious, people would try to cover up
evidence. It was the last thing she needed.

“You’re making a great many assumptions. As a
forensic pathologist, I can’t just throw out theories. I’ll reserve judgment on
cause of death until I have proof. I’m sure once Ron has independent
confirmation of your findings, he’ll understand the severity of the situation.
He’s a smart man, an astute entrepreneur; you’ve said so yourself. He’s assured
me he’ll do everything in his power to help.”

She bit her lower lip trying to decide how much to
share with him. Maybe if he knew she was looking at the possibility of murder,
he’d leave it be, and let her do her job. Tony’s eyes were focused on her
mouth, and she saw desire flame in them, but it was quickly hidden. It
disconcerted her.

“After I left Ron at the town hall, I went to the
morgue. I’ve separated the bodies and done a full external autopsy on Lindsay.
I’ll start the internal one Monday. This has to stay between us for now, but I
don’t believe Lindsay drowned. I’ll know more once I conduct the internal
autopsy, but I believe she was dead when she was thrown into the water, and
Aaron was close to being dead too. I agree with you. These deaths were
suspicious. Whatever they were doing on or around the lake that night got them
killed.”

Michelle watched Tony’s face as he stopped pacing
and absorbed what she’d said. He smiled. His face lit up and desire punched her
in the gut.

“I knew it! They found something. Whoever has that
meth lab is to blame. Let’s go to the police right now. They’ll start an
investigation.”

“It doesn’t work that way.”

Michelle hated to burst his bubble, but her needs
and frustration made her as short tempered as he was. She wanted to touch him,
soothe the lines on his face, and have him kiss her. The fact she wanted these
things was slowly eating at her emotional control. Her time with Ron had been
pleasant, but he hadn’t affected her this way. She forced her mind back to the
discussion.

“We need proof she was dead before entering the
water. When I have it, which I’m sure I will when I look at her internal organs
on Monday, you’ll be the first to know. Where are your samples of the water
with the toxins?” She looked around the room.

“I’m going to call for an evidence pick-up—Aaron’s
car and whatever else I might find on the beach. I’ll send your samples to the
police lab in Belleville. Once they have them and corroborate your evidence,
we’ll be able to call in the drug squad, and they can put this island under a
microscope.”

He slammed his fist on the table, and the
unexpected violence of the gesture made her jump.

“That’s the problem. Everything is gone. It
disappeared from Jackson and Lindsay’s cottage that night. Jackson thought
Lindsay, Aaron, or I had taken it, but I didn’t, and I seriously doubt either
one of them did. The only things we have left are our data and Jackson’s micro
samples used in the GC-MS. When I met with Mayor Ron yesterday, it was as if he
knew I didn’t have them anymore. I think it’s damn convenient, don’t you? I
don’t believe in coincidence.”

Tony was warming to his topic, and Michelle wasn’t
comfortable with where his thoughts were going.

“Ron said he didn’t believe they’d ever existed.
We had a break-in a few weeks ago and a lot of the sample bottles were
destroyed. This time, things just went missing, and I have no way to prove any
of it. How would he know they were gone? Because he had them taken, that’s why.
He’s involved in this right up to his neck.”

“Now, you’re being paranoid. How can all the
samples be gone—you’re talking conspiracy theories here. You have absolutely no
justification for your allegations. Ron’s not involved. He’s a good man, truly concerned
for his constituents.”

“In the words of the Immortal Bard,
methinks the lady doth protest too much
.
The guy’s dirty. I know it in my gut. If you didn’t have the
hots
for him, you’d see it too.”

Michelle’s temper flared. She felt heat rise in
her face, and had to put her hands behind her back to keep from slapping him
and wiping that self-righteous look off his face.

“How dare you! I don’t have the
hots
as you call them. I’m just doing my job—keeping an
open mind and following the evidence instead of jumping to conclusions and
seeing boogeymen everywhere.”

“I dare because it’s true. I saw you two fawning
over one another at lunch. If you hadn’t told me you’d gone to the lab, I’d
have continued to think you’d burned up the sheets somewhere. The only thing
he’s concerned about is his bottom line. He doesn’t give a damn about that lake
or its legends. He wants this put away quickly, so he doesn’t lose any more
money. He likes his fancy bling. Did you see his ring, that Rolex he wears? He
didn’t pay for them on a mayor’s salary. Dead bodies are bad for business. With
you in his pocket, it’ll be easy.”

“You’re wrong. I am not, nor have I ever been, in
anyone’s pocket.” Her voice was low, and she was angrier than she’d ever been. Her
hands were fisted so tightly, she felt her nails cutting into her palms. Her
control was slipping. She needed to get out of here before she did something
she’d regret. Tony Steele was a self-centered, egotistical demi-god who thought
everyone was out to get him—paranoid? Hell yes!

“Your accusations are insulting, professor. You’ve
sunk even lower than you did this afternoon. I wouldn’t have thought it
possible.”

She looked at the clock on the microwave, and then
turned back to glare at him. It was as if someone had let the air out of a
balloon. Tony seemed to deflate before her eyes. Her temper evaporated as
quickly. Embarrassed, she searched for a way out. She needed to salvage some of
her pride and dignity.

“Let’s call it a night. I’m tired. We’ll talk
tomorrow. Maybe by then, you’ll have calmed down a bit. I don’t want to argue
with you, and say something I’ll regret in the morning.” He’d already done
enough of that for both of them.

He nodded as if he didn’t trust himself to speak.

She picked up her coat and walked to the door.
Good manners won out over her anger and resentment. How had the situation
devolved so quickly?

“Thank you for the soup.”

She closed the door and didn’t hear his answer.
She walked briskly to the cottage and let herself in. Tears filled her eyes and
ran down her cheeks.

What the
hell just happened?

* * * *

Tony sat on the couch and stared at the closed door.

What the
hell’s wrong with me? Why did I attack her like that? It’s as if there was some
angry, jealous monster inside my head. In the space of forty-eight hours, I’ve
become someone I neither like nor recognize. My God, I’m losing it. What the
hell is this place doing to me?

He stood, went to the cupboard, and took out the
bottle of fifteen-year old scotch he’d placed there—the bottle he’d brought
with him to celebrate his discovery when he made it. He didn’t even stop to
think, cracked it open, and poured an inch into the bottom of a water tumbler.
He downed it in one gulp. He poured the same amount again.

Hell of a
way to treat fine scotch.

The disastrous argument they’d had replayed itself
like a bad movie—each frame clear, but the story only got worse. The minute the
words had come out of his mouth, he’d known he’d crossed the line. In his mind,
he’d seen her lying naked on the bed, her face in the throes of passion, but
the man hovering above her had been Ron, and the image had driven him insane.
He’d wanted to grab her and shake her…at least he’d been able to control that
impulse.

He went out on the porch and stared out at the
lake. The moon bathed it in silver. He could see the ripples shining, but
nothing else. There were no ghostly canoes rising out of the mist, no strange
lights on the surface, just a plain old lake. He felt torn in two. He sipped the
scotch. Michelle was right. He’d known he’d need more proof before he could go
to the police. Hell, he’d sung that tune to his students himself. Had guilt
triggered his uncharacteristic behavior? He’d told them he’d needed proof.
Jackson verified they’d gone after that proof and had gotten themselves killed.
Their deaths
were
on him.

His reactions to the thought of Michelle and Ron
together bothered him the most. It was one thing to dislike a person, but where
had this festering hatred come from? He knew he had absolutely no proof against
the man, and the things he’d said tonight bordered on slander. The last thing
he wanted was for Ron to have something else to hold against him.

Tony knew his attack on Michelle—and that’s what
it had been—had been completely over the top. He’d been blinded by the jealousy
of a lover who’d found the woman he loved with another man. He had no claims on
Michelle. She might be married for all he knew.

That thought stabbed him in the heart, and he
gasped. She couldn’t be married. He wasn’t sure how or why, but he was positive
they were meant to be together, and he kept screwing it up. He knew sexual
tension could mess with a man’s mind, but this was ridiculous.

Maybe they were only supposed to solve this
mystery together, but he couldn’t separate the flesh and blood woman in his
kitchen from the passionate vixen in his dreams. Michelle looked like his ghost,
and the longer they’d been together, the more she’d reminded him of his
temptress, the one he craved like a drug. He loved her as surely as he could
ever love anyone, and seeing her in Michelle was killing him. The thought that
he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t hold her the way he wanted too, had increased
his level of frustration, and when she’d defended Ron, he’d lost it.

Was Joseph right? Was he this
how-many-times-removed uncle of his? His feelings for her were real.
Reincarnation was the only thing that made sense, and yet how could he accept
that? There was no scientific proof for it.
Gut feeling?
He was a reincarnated man in love with a woman who resembled a ghost?
That makes me officially certifiable.

He saw her again sitting across from him, chatting
animatedly as they ate their soup. It was the little things, like the way she
held her head, the way she smiled, the sound of her voice, but the way she’d
bitten her lip had pushed him over the edge. He’d seen her do it so often as
she’d shyly disrobed for him. He’d been hard as a rock, embarrassed as all
hell, and frustrated. He’d wanted her and knowing she’d spent time with the one
man he seemed to hate above all others had made him crazy. The accusations he’d
thrown at her—how the hell was he ever going to apologize for those?

He let another mouthful of scotch burn its way
down his throat. The glass was empty.

He turned back into the house, locked the door,
and shut the lights. He climbed into his bedroom and got ready for bed. Somehow
he’d have to apologize again, but damned if he knew how. In the morning, he’d
get up with Jackson and go collect samples from the stream on the southwest
side of the lake where the concentrations seemed highest. He’d test and look
for answers. He’d send those samples to Belleville. For the moment, there
wasn’t anything he could do. He was exhausted, bone-tired, and humiliated. He’d
made a first-class fool of himself—again. Could his life get any more
complicated?