Page 83 of Once a Killer

“He also told me that the therapist made him realize how much his depression had hobbled him. How far behind he’d gotten on his schedule. He said he went to the lab on Sunday to clean up some of the mess on his desk.”

“Did you notice any difference when we were there earlier?” she asked.

Jameson shook his head. “I was more focused on the traps we’d set. On whether anyone had accessed my safe. I wasn’t paying attention to Stu’s desk.”

“I noticed that the tangle of wires was gone,” Bree said. “So he either untangled them or just threw the whole mess out.”

“Easier to throw them out and start fresh,” Jameson said.

“Yeah.” Bree slid lower in her chair as she studied Stu’s tracking graph. “I wondered why he didn’t just do that instead of spending his time trying to untangle that mess.”

She turned to look at Jameson. “You know that therapist appointments are about an hour. That leaves a lot of time over the course of the weekend.” She tapped the computer screen. “Stu was in the lab on both Saturday and Sunday. For a good chunk of time both days. He would probably say he was cleaning off his workspace or trying to make some headway in his research. But admitting you’re depressed and getting a prescription filled doesn’t magically cure it. So why was he in the lab for so long?”

Jameson shrugged one shoulder. “Cleaning his workspace? Trying to force himself to work? I have no idea. I think he’s less likely to be our culprit. But we can’t rule him out, either.”

“I agree. We’re zero for two in ruling anyone out.” She tapped some computer keys. “Here’s what we have for Joe.”

She turned the computer so Jameson could see it, too. “He moved around Chicago a lot, including a stop at the lab very early Sunday morning. What did Joe have to say?”

“He told me he spent most of the weekend with his girlfriend. He also told me he came into the lab on Sunday when he had an insight about his program. Said he was there a couple of hours.”

“That’s what the tracker showed,” Bree said, tapping her screen. “He got there at six a.m. and left at 8.”

“Hmm,” Jameson said as he studied Bree’s screen. “Joe’s not a morning person. He generally gets to the lab late in the morning and leaves later in the evening. I never question my engineers about the hours they spend in the lab. They all know very well that the sooner they finish their work, the sooner they’ll get their big payday.”

“But you told me Joe’s not going to make a ton of money with his program,” Bree said slowly.

“No. Not nearly as much as the other engineers. But he’ll still make a significant amount of money. Not ‘retire early and never work again’ money. But a nice little nest egg.”

“And nothing close to what you’ll get for your program,” Bree said, swiveling to face him.

“No. Nothing like what I’ll get from licensing my program.”

Bree sighed. “So Joe stays on the suspect list.”

“Afraid so,” Jameson said. “What about Brewster?”

Bree tapped a key as Jameson watched and frowned at the screen. “He spent a few hours at the lab late on Saturday afternoon. The rest of the time, he was either at home or at various places in Chicago.” She turned to look at Jameson. “What did he tell you?”

“That he’d spent some time in the lab on Saturday, then did ‘normal people’ stuff the rest of the time,” he said, using air quotes. “He said he was a little stuck and figured it would do him good to take time off. Come at his work with a fresh perspective. He went to a ballgame at Wrigley Field. Had dinner with a friend. He said he wanted to get his program finished and sold so he could live a normal life. Said it had been years since he’d been able to do that.”

He looked over at Bree, and she’d tilted her head back to stare at the ceiling. Finally she looked over at him.

“We can’t rule anyone out,” she said. “Everyone went to the lab at some point. Hayley is the only one who we know lied about what she did, but they all had an opportunity to search the lab. Try to open the safe.” She leaned back and studied him. “What about your cameras? Have you looked at those recordings yet? They may give us some insight into what they were all doing when they were at the lab.”

“Yeah.” Jameson reached for his computer. “Let’s see what my cameras show.”

He opened to a screen and typed in some commands. “Damn it all to hell,” he muttered after a few moments.

“What?” Bree asked.

He turned his computer toward her, and all she saw was black. She frowned. “The cameras failed?”

“Either that, or someone sprayed the lenses with paint.” He quickly scrolled back through the camera feed until they saw images again. Then he scrolled slowly forward.

Just before the cameras went dark, they saw an aerosol sprayer. A fingertip. They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally, Bree said, “Someone took out the cameras. Someone in the lab is getting ready to steal your program. The only question is who it is.”

Chapter 29

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