Rausch & Donlon - Can Be Murder 01 - Headaches Can Be Murder (20 page)

“Thanks, I’ll do that. Hey, any high school basketball scores in that paper?” It hadn’t taken Chip long to learn that high school and college basketball were the most often discussed topics during the winter in Iowa. Men, who apparently couldn’t remember their mate’s name and referred to her as “the wife,” could tell you the name, number and stats for every high school player in the county.

“Yes, the Prairie Dogs beat the Wolverines 65 to 59 last night. Course the Wolverines’ center, Jason Krautbauer, is only five-foot-eleven. But, he’s a sophomore and still growing. His brother, Justin, is a freshman over at Iowa State, and he’s six-foot-three.”

Later in the shift, Chip got an unexpected break in his investigation.

“Hey, new guy, we need another bale of straw to fill this crate. The bales are in the storeroom next to the break room. Haul one in here,” said the shift boss.

Chip walked into the storeroom and pulled the chain of the overhead fluorescent light. The room contained several bales of straw, and along one wall were a dozen or so barrels, similar to the ones he had seen on the truck. He took his cell phone from his pocket and snapped photos of the labels on the barrels.

Driving home in the early morning light, Chip’s body was tired and aching but his mind was alive and all his neurons were firing. He fed Honey and Runt and let them out in the yard to roam in the tiny patch where some snow had finally melted. He brewed a pot of double strength coffee and made four slices of toast with peanut butter and homemade rhubarb jam, a gift from Mabel. He downloaded the photos from his phone and printed them to get a better look at the labels.

Two hours later, he had completed his online research of the chemicals and how they were used in manufacturing. He also searched for information on how wind turbines were made but found little on that topic. The EPA site, however, did contain guidelines and regulations about the use of “green” chemicals. He sensed he was getting somewhere, but he was too tired to put it all together.

To appease his Prada-wearing devil of an agent, he emailed Lucinda a chapter he had written the previous day, let the dogs into the house and fell into his bed without removing his clothes. Honey jumped up on the bed beside him, and Runt whined until Chip lifted him up onto the bed. Dust-laden air blowing from the furnace mingled with the stink of wet dogs. Chip mused about his past life when he slept between satin sheets and caressed a woman dressed in only French perfume. Oddly, this seemed an improvement.

Soon all three were asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Brain Freeze

Two Harbors, Minnesota

John slid his arm out from beneath Jo, careful not to wake her. In the pale morning light, he watched her turn over in her sleep, coppery-red hair cascading across his pillow. She let out a soft sigh. He reached to move a curl that had strayed to her cheek. The tension from last night had been erased from her face, replaced by a look of utter peace.

He eased out of bed and quietly slipped on his jeans and a tattered Johns Hopkins sweatshirt. Opening the bedroom door slowly, he was greeted by Caddy. Evidently she had forgiven him for shutting her out of the room last night because she licked his hand and her tail wagged furiously.

He whispered, “Would you like to go out? What time is it, anyway?” He looked at his wrist, but realized he had left his watch on the nightstand. Stepping over to the window, he pulled the blinds up and peered outside. The sky to the east was taking on a pink hue.

John let Caddy out the door, cold air rushing in. He shivered. “Come right back. Don’t make me come out there to find you.”

He started the coffee maker in the kitchen and brought the laptop to the table, turning it on. Grabbing Jo’s camera from the counter, he downloaded the pictures she had taken of the pages from NeuroDynamics’s medical files. The clarity of the pictures was good enough in most cases to read the details. Clicking through the picture files, he stopped at the one labeled
Peterson, Belinda
. The first several pages contained basic post-surgery notes, such as blood pressure, pulse, and weight. Next, he read the notes that had been transcribed from the doctor’s voice recordings.
Patient shows promising signs of adaptation to microchip and injection. Early work with subject indicates willingness to abandon inhibitions, including committing petty crimes.

“Good God, what are they doing?” John switched back and forth between the files. “This makes no sense.”

Caddy scratched at the door. John did his best to remove the clumps of snow from her paws and fur. She followed him into the kitchen, where he filled her bowls with kibble and water. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat back down to work.

Several cups of coffee later, he had more questions than answers. His cell phone lay on the stack of notes he’d been scribbling.

He sat back, and stretched, stiff from hunching over the computer. He looked over to see Jo standing in the doorway, watching him. She was wearing his shirt from last night and her tousled hair flowed around her shoulders. John felt his stomach flip at the sight of her, and he smiled. “Good morning. You look well rested.”

Her returning smile was wide. “Amazing what great sex will do for a night’s sleep.” She walked over to the table and leaned over to pick up his mug. He had a view of her breasts as the shirt fell open. Feeling his heartbeat speed up, he lost his train of thought.

Jo took a sip of coffee and closed her eyes. “Mmmm. You’re up early. I didn’t hear you get out of bed.” She looked at the computer screen and his notes. “I see you’ve made good use of the time. Find anything?”

“Just a hell of a lot more unknowns. By the way, if you expect me to have a real conversation with you this morning about the case, you’d better button that shirt. You are very distracting.”

Her green eyes slanted as she slowly buttoned up the shirt. “All right. But I enjoy distracting you.” Jo kissed him on the cheek, grabbed his mug and refilled it. She pulled up a chair next to him. “So, tell me about these questions you have. Maybe between the two of us, we’ll work out some direction.”

John brought his mind back, slightly disappointed that they weren’t heading into the bedroom once more. He opened the file on Belinda Peterson first. “See this? It says the microchip was implanted in the same location as it was for Mitch Calhoun. Now, unlike his implant, this one makes sense. According to the documents signed by Ms. Peterson, the object was to reduce migraines by controlling the swelling of the blood vessels. The chip was placed on the Circle of Willis, which is a sort of an air traffic control tower at the base of the brain to direct the flow of blood. Controlling the swelling there would help control the swelling in the rest of the blood vessels.”

“Okay, I follow you so far. What’s the issue?”

“If your theory of mind control is correct, then I don’t understand why they would place the microchip on that ring of arteries. The only thing the chip could accomplish at that location is to control the flow of the blood. It could be used to inflict excruciating pain, making the victim pliable enough to do as they were told. However, this form of torture would only be effective for a very short period of time, as death would be a rapid result.”

“So, where would a microchip have to be placed in order to control behavior?”

John rubbed his palm across his cheek and felt the rough stubble. “There are a few options, but they’re all deep within the brain itself. Surgery of that sort would have to be done by a highly specialized neurosurgeon and would involve more major surgery than indicated here, and with months of rehabilitation.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “I don’t see how they could have pulled that off without the patient’s knowledge.”

Jo stood up and paced. “I hear what you’re saying. But, John, they’re figuring out how to control people. Between the note we found in Mitch Calhoun’s hand and the changes his parents noted in his behavior up to the time of his death, my gut tells me we’re on to something here.”

John cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I think I’ve found some evidence of mind control in these files, too.”

Jo stopped pacing and walked back to the table. She waited, then prompted, “And …”

He clicked through several pages until he found what he was looking for. “These notes indicate that Ms. Peterson was being tested in regards to her willingness to do anything she was told, including commit petty crimes. Now you and I both know that it’s difficult to make someone do anything they find morally repugnant, such as murder, unless they’re predisposed that way. But what if they’ve found a way to suppress a person’s morals, to make them forget that murder is wrong?” He shook his head, looking at the glowing screen in front of him.

Jo pointed at the computer. “There’s nothing else that might lead us in the right direction?”

“Not really. There are some cryptic reference to ‘injections at the site.’ The files don’t indicate what’s being injected, however. They only refer to something called NC-15. And, by the way, the release form that Belinda Peterson signed says nothing about it.”

“And you have no idea what this NC-15 could be.”

“None at all. I spent half the morning trying to figure it out. I called several of my research and development buddies, trying to get some answers. I also checked with the FDA. They have no record of it in their review files. Absolutely no one has heard of NC-15. Same thing with Internet searches. Closest I came was a reference to a color of women’s makeup.” John smirked. “Somehow, I don’t think they are injecting cosmetics into people’s brains.”

“So, where does that leave us?”

“I’d assume that this substance, whatever it is, was created by NeuroDynamics and without FDA knowledge or approval. I have to tell you, I’d love to find out exactly what it is and what it does.”

Jo began pacing again. Caddy rubbed her head against Jo, begging for attention. “Good morning, girl. Sorry I didn’t greet you earlier. What was I thinking?” She scratched Caddy’s ears and stared off at nothing, as if thinking through what he had discovered.

She gave Caddy’s head a final pat. “Well, then. We’re just going to have to find a way to get more information. I’ll go back into NeuroDynamics and find out about this NC-15.”

John felt his chest tighten. “Is that wise? If your adventure last night with the guard is any indication, they’re on to you. Going in there now would be like crawling into the proverbial lion’s den. Shouldn’t we just send in the FDA to investigate the new substance?”

“You said yourself, we have no idea what it is. Just some obscure reference in a file. I think we need to get some more detail.
Then
we call the FDA.”

John thought for a moment. “What if we tried a different tactic? Why don’t we contact Belinda Peterson and tell her what we know. She can get more information from the inside than we can.”

“Pretty dicey, don’t you think? What if she’s in on it and tells Candleworth?”

“I’d be willing to bet that she has no idea about that little injection she received and how they are playing games with her head. You saw the file. Imagine her reaction to seeing it.”

“And you’re sure she doesn’t know about this NC-15?”

“Nothing about it in the release she signed.”

Jo tapped her chin, and didn’t respond immediately. She seemed to be weighing all the options. John knew he had convinced her when she looked up and said, “All right. I’ll give Clark Benson, my boss back in Minneapolis, a call and catch him up. If he agrees, we’ll contact Ms. Peterson.”

“While you are doing that, I’m going to go for a swim. Reading about what those bastards are doing in the name of ‘medical research’ put some serious stress kinks in my shoulders. Be back soon.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Turners Bend

April

Early spring came to Turners Bend. The snow was almost gone. Only piles of snirt, that strange combination of snow and dirt, were left along the roadsides. Iver traded his snowplow for his road grader, as his road maintenance duties switched from winter to spring. The Feed and Seed was abuzz with farmers buying seed and homeowners buying fertilizer and starter plants. The Winnebagos rolled back into town. The retirees and senior citizens had returned. The air smelled green and loamy.

During Holy Week the Bun served hot cross buns and hard cooked eggs dyed pink and purple and green.

“God, these hot cross buns are good,” Chip said to Jane. “Here have one.” He lowered his voice. “I’m anxious to show you something I can’t really discuss here. Do you have time to come out to my house today?”

“Sure, I could stop by after supper. I’ll bring some dewormer for Runt.”

Chip laughed. “Ah, that’s a hostess gift I have never received before.”

“Okay, I’ll bring a bottle of wine along with the dewormer. How’s that?”

“It’s a date.”

Chip looked in his closet. Was it a date? A bottle of wine might indicate that it was. If so, what should he wear? He opted for a button-down collar dress shirt and a cashmere sweater vest with his best jeans. He splashed on some Polo. He was excited, both to share what he had discovered about AgriDynamics and to be alone with Jane.

When Jane arrived he knew he had made the right decision. She was also wearing jeans but not her usual sweatshirt. Her top tonight was a black, close-fitting shirt with a deep v-neck. Her hair was down and she had added dangly silver and turquoise earrings. The unmistakable scent of Chanel entered the kitchen with her. Smiling, she held up two bags, one in each hand.

“Chardonnay or dewormer? Take your pick.”