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“Fight?” Harrison couldn’t stop himself from blurting the question. She was five two and so slightly built he thought a strong wind could carry her away.
“We have three black belts each,” Drew said with a little bit of pride.
“We know our stuff,” Orrin agreed, nodding. “We can help.”
“So, what’s your theory, Harry?” Drew asked. “What doyouthink happened?”
“I don’t know.” He took a sip of the tea and realized nobody had spoken, and everyone was looking at him, waiting for a better answer. Okay, what did he think? “I think someone stole both the prototypes of my solar tile. I think they’re probably planning to sell the technology. I just don’t know how they think they can get away with it. It’s patented in all four of our names.”
“You and your research team,” Drew said.
“Yeah.”
“Names?” She moved her phone a little when she asked, and he realized she was recording, rather than taking notes.
“Carrie Sayre, S-A-Y-R-E. Robert Philipson, one L, and Solomon Hadik, all Os, H-A-D-I-K.”
She smiled so widely he was confused. And then she said, “Thanks for takin’ me seriously.”
“Like I’m gonna doubt the daughter of a P.I. named after Nancy Drew who has three black belts?”
Drew laughed and blushed. She reminded him of his sister, before they’d lost their mom. Since then, Lily had been… muted, her light, dimmed.
“So, it’s patented, you said,” Drew went on. “Have you seen the patent documents yourself?”
“No. Carrie took charge of all that.”
“And she’s missin’?” she asked.
“I’ve been getting updates from her husband, my sister, and the head of my department. Willow’s in touch with the FBI. There’s still no sign of Carrie, though. Her credit cards haven’t been used. Her phone is either dead or turned off, I guess.”
“Would you send me their photos?” As Drew asked it, she tapped his phone with hers and her number popped up on his screen as a new contact. He saved it, then scrolled to his photos, tapped three of them, and sent them to her. Then as an afterthought, he opened his contacts and shared Carrie, Robert, and Solomon’s info with Drew as well.
“I’m sendin’ you a link,” Drew said, simultaneously with the whoosh sound effect and another notification. “That’s where you can search patents. Find yours. But later, the signal’s weak out here and it’ll take all day, and that water’s waitin’.”
“And we waited fifteen minutes after the meal, despite that it’s a myth with no science behind it,” Maria said. “Last one in’s a rotten egg.” She peeled off her shirt on the way to the tire swing. She had a bikini top underneath, baby blue. She hit the tire, one foot on the inner edge, one hand on the rope that held it, leaning back like Tarzan’s Jane to make it swing, then wider, and then she hooted as she let go and plunged into the water.
The other two followed her, so Harrison guessed he was the rotten egg.
He was only a few years older than Maria. But he hadn’t acted like that since high school. No, maybe even middle school. He peeled off his shirt, kicked off his shoes, ran to the tire, andjust went for it, swinging way out and letting go. He splashed down into cold water, sank deep, then thrust out his legs and paddled up again. When he surfaced, the three cousins were hooting and raising their hands for high fives.
Harrison looked at their grinning faces and then past them at the serenity around him. It was sinking into him, this place, soothing him, making him believe everything could still work out okay.
Maria splashed him, and he dove and swam away. They played like a bunch of kids and eventually slogged to the shore. Drew had towels in her ATV’s storage compartment and as she handed them around, hoofbeats approached. Fast ones.
He toweled off fast, every alarm bell in his body going off at once as he pulled his shirt on. Willow came riding in on her thoroughbred, Sundance. She slid to the ground, walked purposefully to him, put her hands on his shoulders, and opened her mouth. Then she closed it again.
“What?” A hole opened in his stomach.
Willow lowered her head. “Your research partner, Solomon Hadik… he’s dead, Harry. I’m so sorry.”
The worddeadslammed him in the chest, knocking him a few steps backward. “Solomon’s dead?” He had to repeat the words to make sense of them. “Solomon’sdead?” And then questions came. “When? How? What in the name of God— he was a vegan for cry?—”
“We don’t know the cause of death yet,” Willow said. “There was a break-in at his apartment, signs of a struggle, but no obvious injuries severe enough to have killed him. We’ll know more after the autopsy. The FBI wanted to put you into protective custody. But Uncle Garrett and I convinced them you’d be just as safe at the ranch with a sheriff and deputy. I’d like you stay, for the time being.”
“But—”
Drew said, “I think that’s smart. Cause how’s anyone gon’ get away with takin’ credit for, much less sellin’ rights to something that four scientists can prove they invented unless?—”
