When the Wind Blows - James Patterson [22]
David had also told me something interesting in light of what had happened to me the night before. He said that in the area of genetic manipulation, “Things always go awry. It happens all the time, Frannie. Goes with the territory.”
Things always go awry.
Chapter 21
IT HAD BEEN a busy and productive day for Kit. He’d been a functioning FBI field agent again. It felt good, excellent. He was working alone, but at least he was off the Bureau’s long, restrictive leash.
He had taken a chance by interviewing the widow of Frank McDonough. Barbara McDonough didn’t seem to know anything beyond the obvious, but the more they talked, the more certain he was that Dr. McDonough had been murdered. McDonough had been an excellent swimmer for one thing, a former college star. For another, he’d supposedly broken his neck making a shallow dive, but his wife claimed he never dived into the pool.
He had talked to three other associates of McDonough at Boulder Community Hospital. He’d also called in a favor from a good buddy at Quantico. McDonough’s name was being run against every doctor working in the area around Boulder. He was looking for solid connections, which was about all he could realistically do on his first day in town.
Kit had just gotten back from Boulder, when he spotted Frannie’ O’Neill hiking in the woods behind the cottage where he was staying. It was almost five in the afternoon.
Frannie looked nervous and distracted. Of course, he didn’t know her very well, but that was the impression he had. Now where the heck was she going?
She was moving quickly: a woman on a mission. What mission, though? He thought it might be worth checking, and he had nothing better to do for another hour or two.
She was wearing khaki shorts and a red-plaid flannel shirt, and he couldn’t help remembering how she’d looked the night before. That image was still burned into his mind. A pretty picture, so maybe he didn’t want to let it go too easily.
He followed Dr. Frannie through the woods at a safe distance. She never looked back, but she did appear to be looking for something. Actually, she was moving so fast he finally lost sight of her.
Damn it.
He lifted a pair of Rangemaster binoculars to his eyes. He searched everywhere for Frannie O’Neill. Images jumped, giving him extreme close-ups of pine bark, the shapes of leaves, a patch of blue sky.
He finally spotted the red-plaid shirt again. She was still trekking at a fast pace through the woods, a bright blue knapsack on her back, an intent look on her face. She was preoccupied, oblivious to his own tiptoe through the woodlands. Or was she?
What the hell was she doing out here? Did it have anything to do with her husband’s work? Or possibly with his death? Or Dr. McDonough’s?
She took a sharp right fork around a bend. Don’t go that way, Frannie. Shit! Shit! She’d disappeared into the pines, aspens, and scrub oaks again. Fifteen minutes following her over hill and dale had already taught him not to give up the high ground. He continued upward, hoping she would appear below him.
Seconds later, he saw Frannie O’Neill come into view again. Late-afternoon sunlight spilled onto her face. She was definitely pretty; a real midwestern beauty, and he liked that. Her blue-green eyes sparkled in the light, and continued to search for something.
The narrow path she’d been sticking to widened, then it branched onto a wider dirt road. A dirt road to where? Was something important out here? Another building? Maybe a lab hidden in the woods? Did Frannie O’Neill work there?
She trekked on, even picked up the pace. She really moved through the woods, didn’t she? She knew her way?
Kit thought he could hear traffic now. He was almost sure of it.
“What the hell? Traffic