Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“No,” Dr. Sandoval sighed. “Miriam just wanted to cure dementia. She lost her mother to the disease young and was very determined. I’m so sorry she’s dead.” His brow furrowed into what Laurel had learned was the grief muscle.
She stood. “Thank you for your time. I’m going to apply for a warrant for your records, all of them, so you might want to start compiling them.”
Dr. Sandoval rose from his chair, his gaze sharpening slightly. “You don’t have probable cause and you know it.”
That was probably true. She needed to speak with Dr. Bertra Yannish. “I’d like to interview everyone working on the dementia and Alzheimer’s study. Anyone working with Dr. Liu.”
“Get a warrant.” Dr. Sandoval handed her a business card. “However, Ms. Snow, you can call me anytime you want. Did you know there’s a documented link between heterochromatic eyes and higher intelligence?”
“I did, and it’s Agent Snow,” Laurel replied. “There’s also a link to an increased risk of certain genetic disorders.”
Walter stood. “We’d like a brief tour of your facility—of what we can see. If you don’t mind.”
“That would be fine,” Sandoval said. “I’ll have Bertra give you the tour while I get settled into my new office.”
Laurel tilted her head. “Where were you the night Dr. Liu died?”
“Here at the office,” Dr. Sandoval replied easily, his tone smooth and practiced. “I’m always here at the office. I have no knowledge of her death. I am very sorry that she’s gone because she was an absolutely brilliant biochemist. And we need her.”
Walter’s eyes narrowed. “Did you have a personal relationship with her?”
Dr. Sandoval’s expression didn’t change, but Laurel noted his blink rate increase as well as a subtle shift in his breathing, with his chest rising slightly faster.
“No. Not at all,” the doctor said.
“Interesting. What about with Melissa Palmtree?” Walter asked.
Dr. Sandoval gulped. “No.”
Walter snorted. “You do know that it’s a crime to lie to federal agents, correct?”
Dr. Sandoval’s gaze dropped to the floor, his shoulders tightening before he lifted his eyes again. “All right. Yes, Melissa and I had a relationship. But we both only lived for work. That was it. We didn’t have outside relationships, and we didn’t have time to form any. So, yes, once in a while we . . . we had sex in the supply closet.”
“All right.” Walter’s tone remained even. “Did you want her dead?”
Dr. Sandoval shook his head, his gaze steady again. “No. I didn’t love her, but I liked her a lot. When I’d heard she died falling down the stairs of a bar in Seattle, it broke my heart.”
Walter nodded. “All right, let’s go talk to Bertra and get a tour of this place. And our clearance is higher than you think, buddy, so we want to see some of the labs.”
Dr. Sandoval’s expression remained neutral. “Like I said, we’ll show you what we can. But there are clean rooms you can’t visit. The security protocols are strict.” He moved around the desk and took Laurel’s arm in a gentle grasp.
A sharp ping echoed through the office. Glass shattered.
Dr. Sandoval’s head snapped backward as a bullet tore through his temple and exited the other side, glass fragments scattering to the floor. His body crumpled, collapsing to the polished wood in an unnatural sprawl. Blood pooled quickly, seeping across the flawless surface.
“Down!” Walter tackled Laurel to the ground, his shoulder slamming into her ribs as they hit the carpet.
Laurel twisted, her mind already processing angles, distance, entry points. She scrambled for her purse, yanking out her phone to call for help. “FBI. Possible sniper in the vicinity of Oakridge Solutions. We need all units and immediate surveillance on nearby buildings. Check CCTV now.”
She crawled forward, keeping low, and reached for Dr. Sandoval’s wrist. But she didn’t need to check for a pulse. The exit wound was wide, blood and tissue staining the white wall behind him. His eyes, still open, were already unfocused and dimming.
“Another sniper,” Walter muttered, his voice tight. “Would that have hit you if Sandoval hadn’t moved right then and taken your arm?”
Laurel kept her gaze on the shattered window, searching for the origin of the shot. “I don’t know. We need to track the trajectory.”
Walter’s breathing was steady, but his fingers flexed against the floor, ready to move. “You okay?”
“Yes.” Laurel’s phone crackled with dispatch confirming units en route and surveillance being pulled. She kept her eyes on the window. “Do you think the hit on Abigail was actually meant for me?”
“Two sniper hits in one week on what we considered to be different investigations?” Walter’s gaze swept the room. “What are the odds of that?”
Chapter 16
Huck clicked off the phone call with Abigail’s ex-husband, who had a rock solid alibi considering he’d been in Tokyo for the last six months. The guy had sounded truly concerned about the woman and seemed to still be in love with her.