Deputy Defender. Cindi Myers. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: Cindi Myers
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Зарубежные детективы
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9781474079280
Скачать книгу
are some indications—marks on the floor and walls—that other equipment or furnishings might have been in that space previously. There’s no way of knowing when they were moved. It would be an interesting historical artifact if that were true, but I can’t see anything illegal in it.”

      “Somebody is upset about the book getting out there,” Dwight said. “They made threats against the museum director, and last night someone burned down her house.”

      “That’s bad, but I don’t see any connection to this lab.”

      “Seen anybody up there at the site while you were there?” Travis asked. “Any signs of recent activity?”

      Allerton shook his head. “Nothing. I see why this guy, Hake, wanted to build a development up there—it’s beautiful. But the ghost town he ended up with is a little creepy.”

      “Where do we go from here?” Travis asked.

      “Me, I go back home to Denver,” Allerton said. “If you have questions or need more help, give me a call. I’d love an excuse to get back out here.”

      He stood, and the four of them walked to the front again. Adelaide smiled up at them. Had she freshened her lipstick? Dwight forced himself not to react. “That didn’t take long,” she said.

      “Short and sweet,” Allerton said. “Though I know how to take my time when the job calls for it.”

      Adelaide blushed pink, and Dwight bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Allerton said goodbye and let himself out. When he was gone, Adelaide sat back in her chair, both hands over her heart. “Oh my! Did you see those eyes? He looked just like that movie star—what’s his name? You know the one.”

      “Jake Gyllenhaal,” Dwight said.

      “That’s him!” Adelaide crowed.

      Travis and Gage stared at him. “You knew that?” Gage asked.

      Dwight shrugged. “I like movies.”

      “He didn’t find any signs of illegal activity in that underground lab on Henry Hake’s property,” Travis said. “That’s all I care about.”

      “Mind if I go up there and take another look around?” Dwight asked. “I might take Brenda with me—she’s a historian, or at least, that’s her degree. I want to know if she sees anything that might link to the World War II labs that book talks about.”

      “Fine by me,” Travis said. “Technically, it’s still a crime scene, since that’s where Gage and Maya and Casey were held after they were kidnapped, though I’m going to have to release it back to the owners soon.”

      “Who are the owners?” Gage asked. “Isn’t Henry Hake’s name still on the deed?”

      “Apparently, the week before he went missing, he signed the whole thing over to a concern called CNG Development. I found out last week when I tried one of the numbers I had for Hake Development. I got a recording telling me the company had been absorbed by CNG, but when I tried to track down the number for them, I couldn’t find anything. Then I checked with the courts and sure enough, the change was registered the day before Hake disappeared.”

      “Coincidence?” Gage asked.

      “Maybe,” Travis said. “But I’d sure like to talk to someone with CNG about it. The number listed on the court documents is answered by another recording, and the address is a mailbox service in Ogden, Utah.”

      “Be careful when you head up there,” Gage said. “Allerton was right—that place is downright creepy.”

      * * *

      TAMMY PATTERSON, the reporter for the Eagle Mountain Examiner, agreed to meet Brenda at the museum the morning after the fire. Dwight had tried to persuade Brenda to stay at the ranch and not go in to work that day, but she had refused. Dwight had gone with her the night before to see the house, when the firefighters were still putting out the blaze, but she had wanted to see it herself this morning, alone. She had driven in early and made herself stop at the house and stare at the ruins. Her first thought was that this couldn’t really be her place—not the miner’s cottage that she and Andy had worked so hard to remodel, the dream home she had lovingly decorated and planned to live in forever.

      She had allowed herself to cry for five minutes or so, then dried her eyes, repaired her makeup and driven to the museum. She couldn’t do anything about the fire right now, and crying certainly wouldn’t bring her house back. Better to go to work and focus on something she could control.

      Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

      Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

      Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

      Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.

/9j/4QAYRXhpZgAASUkqAAgAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP/sABFEdWNreQABAAQAAABQAAD/4QNzaHR0cDov L25zLmFkb2JlLmNvbS94YXAvMS4wLwA8P3hwYWNrZXQgYmVnaW49Iu+7vyIgaWQ9Ilc1TTBNcENl aGlIenJlU3pOVGN6a2M5ZCI/PiA8eDp4bXBtZXRhIHhtbG5zOng9ImFkb2JlOm5zOm1ldGEvIiB4 OnhtcHRrPSJBZG9iZSBYTVAgQ29yZSA1LjAtYzA2MSA2NC4xNDA5NDksIDIwMTAvMTIvMDctMTA6 NTc6MDEgICAgICAgICI+IDxyZGY6UkRGIHhtbG5zOnJkZj0iaHR0cDovL3d3dy53My5vcmcvMTk5 OS8wMi8yMi1yZGYtc3ludGF4LW5zIyI+IDxyZGY6RGVzY3JpcHRpb24gcmRmOmFib3V0PSIiIHht bG5zOnhtcE1NPSJodHRwOi8vbnMuYWRvYmUuY29tL3hhcC8xLjAvbW0vIiB4bWxuczpzdFJlZj0i aHR0cDovL25zLmFkb2JlLmNvbS94YXAvMS4wL3NUeXBlL1Jlc291cmNlUmVmIyIgeG1sbnM6eG1w PSJodHRwOi8vbnMuYWRvYmUuY29tL3hhcC8xLjAvIiB4bXBNTTpPcmlnaW5hbERvY3VtZW50SUQ9 InV1aWQ6NjQ3YTQwZGItOTBjOS1hMTRmLTkyYjktN2FkNjFmOTY2MzI4IiB4bXBNTTpEb2N1bWVu dElEPSJ4bXAuZGlkOjlGRjY5QTk2NDA5RTExRTg5MUEzQzQ1RUNCNEIxNjkzIiB4bXBNTTpJbnN0 YW5jZUlEPSJ4bXAuaWlkOjlGRjY5QTk1NDA5RTExRTg5MUEzQzQ1RUNCNEIxNjkzIiB4bXA6Q3Jl YXRvclRvb2w9IkFkb2JlIFBob3Rvc2hvcCBDUzUuMSBNYWNpbnRvc2giPiA8eG1wTU06RGVyaXZl ZEZyb20gc3RSZWY6aW5zdGFuY2VJRD0ieG1wLmlpZDo1NDc5QzdGNDAxMjQ2ODExOTEwOTlFMDMz QzYxNzg4NCIgc3RSZWY6ZG9jdW1lbnRJRD0idXVpZDo2NDdhNDBkYi05MGM5LWExNGYtOTJiOS03 YWQ2MWY5NjYzMjgiLz4gPC9yZGY6RGVzY3JpcHRpb24+IDwvcmRmOlJERj4gPC94OnhtcG1ldGE+ IDw/eHBhY2tldCBlbmQ9InIiPz7/4gxYSUNDX1BST0ZJTEUAAQEAAAxITGlubwIQAABtbnRyUkdC IFhZWiAHzgACAAkABgAxAABhY3NwTVNGVAAAAABJRUMgc1JHQgAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAQAA9tYAAQAA AADTLUhQICAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAABFj cHJ0AAABUAAAADNkZXNjAAABhAAAAGx3dHB0AAAB8AAAABRia3B0AAACBAAAABRyWFlaAAACGAAA ABRnWFlaAAACLAAAABRiWFlaAAACQAAAABRkbW5kAAACVAAAAHBkbWRkAAACxAAAAIh2dWVkAAAD TAAAAIZ2aWV3AAAD1AAAACRsdW1pAAAD+AAAABRtZWFzAAAEDAAAACR0ZWNoAAAEMAAAAAxyVFJD AAAEPAAACAxnVFJDAAAEPAAACAxiVFJDAAAEPAAACAx0ZXh0AAAAAENvcHlyaWdodCAoYykgMTk5 OCBIZXdsZXR0LVBhY2thcmQgQ29tcGFueQAAZGVzYwAAAAAAAAASc1JHQiBJRUM2MTk2Ni0yLjEA AAAAAAAAAAAAABJzUkdCIElFQzYxOTY2LTIuMQAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWFlaIAAAAAAAAPNRAAEAAAABFsxYWVogAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAFhZWiAAAAAAAABvogAAOPUAAAOQWFlaIAAAAAAAAGKZAAC3hQAAGNpYWVogAAAAAAAAJKAA AA+EAAC2z2Rlc2MAAAAAAAAAFklFQyBodHRwOi8vd3d3LmllYy5jaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAFklFQyBo dHRwOi8vd3d3LmllYy5jaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAABkZXNjAAAAAAAAAC5JRUMgNjE5NjYtMi4xIERlZmF1bHQgUkdCIGNvbG91ciBzcGFjZSAt IHNSR0IAAAAAAAAAAAAAAC5JRUMgNjE5NjYtMi4xIERlZmF1bHQgUkdCIGNvbG91ciBzcGFjZSAt IHNSR0IAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZGVzYwAAAAAAAAAsUmVmZXJlbmNlIFZpZXdpbmcg Q29uZGl0aW9uIGluIElFQzYxOTY2LTIuMQAAAAAAAAAAAAAALFJlZmVyZW5jZSBWaWV3aW5nIENv bmRpdGlvbiBpbiBJRUM2MTk2Ni0yLjEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHZpZXcAAAAA ABOk/gAUXy4AEM8UAAPtzAAEEwsAA1yeAAAAAVhZWiAAAAAAAEwJVgBQAAAAVx/nbWVhcwAAAAAA AAABAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAo8AAAACc2lnIAAAAABDUlQgY3VydgAAAAAAAAQAAAAABQAK AA8AFAAZAB4AIwAoAC0AMgA3ADsAQABFAEoATwBUAFkAXgBjAGgAbQByAHcAfACBAIYAiwCQAJUA mgCfAKQAqQCuALIAtwC8AMEAxgDLANAA1QDbAOAA5QDrAPAA9gD7AQE