Page 38 of Shadow of Hope
“Not likely.”
“But who made the call?” she asked, her mind racing.
“I think it’s from Layne, but not that he’s found you.” Micha pocketed her phone and looked at Colin. “I’ll need you to track this phone number as soon as possible.”
“If the class participants’ phones weren’t still locked up at the compound, I’d say it could be from one of them,” Colin said.
“They could own a second phone,” Micha said.
“True that,” Colin said. “I’ll request records for the number, but odds are good it’ll be from a burner.”
“Yeah, but we still have to try.” Micha glanced back at her. “You look deep in thought.”
She nodded. “I was thinking Jamal was our guy because of the explosives, and he could’ve written the song too. But I don’t know if any of this moves him higher on my list than Buck. I can see a guy with a stockpile of weapons like Buck’s being willing to fire a rock at my head.”
“Yeah,” Micha said, but his tone held a healthy measure of caution.
He opened his mouth as if he wanted to add something but stopped mid-thought.
What was he going to say? Was he going to put voice to what she was thinking?
That if given a chance, a guy with explosives could do even worse damage, hurting not only her but others? Even ending all of their lives in one fell swoop.
Nearing eight p.m., Micha let Ava and Colin go ahead of him to the big glass door of the Veritas Center. The door opened to a single-story building located on the ground floor between two four-story towers. Light glowed through windows from inside, highlighting the empty parking lot. Not likely coming from the labs as they wouldn’t have windows, but maybe offices. He knew some of the staff lived on-site in condos located in the tower on the right side and that they also often worked late hours.
A guard, whose gray, buzz haircut said former military or law enforcement, met them at the door. He wore a security uniform and sidearm. Not surprising they had an armed guard what with the amount of evidence this lab housed at any given time.
The guard pushed open the door. “You must be the folks coming to see Sierra.”
“We are.” Micha shifted the evidence into his other hand to shake the guard’s outstretched hand. “Micha Nichols.”
“Pete Vincent.” His firm grip pinched Micha’s fingers. “Come on in. I’ll let Sierra know you’re here. Then I’ll need to see some ID to make security passes for you. You’re not allowed beyond these doors without passes and an escort. Not for any reason.”
Micha nodded, but even if he didn’t actually agree with the rule, the intense stare this older man was giving him would encourage most people to fall into line.
Pete led the way to the reception desk in a large, neutrally decorated lobby and stepped behind it to pick up the phone. “Sierra’s guests have arrived.”
He tapped a finger on the desktop and listened. “Okay, I’ll tell them.”
He set the handset in the cradle. “She’s sending an intern to take you to her. Now those ID’s.” He held out his hand.
Micha placed his driver’s license on Pete’s palm and looked around the lobby, which looked nothing like a lab. The calming beige paint left the room feeling light and airy, and the space held a contemporary seating area placed under a stairway. The center’s logo—Connecting Loved Ones Around the World—was painted on the wall above photos of happy, smiling people. They’d used bold red color to paint the letters, and they circled a black globe. The pictures could be stock photos, but more likely they were clients the lab helped reunite through DNA matches.
Private clients didn’t likely know about the criminal work processed here. They only wanted to find the truth about their ancestry. He’d once looked them up online after they’d opened, just to check them out and learned the name Veritas meant “truth” in Latin. They helped find truth by processing criminal forensics for law enforcement and for running DNA for their private clients.
“Here you go,” Pete said.
Micha looked back to see him holding a plastic pass with a metal clip.
Vincent eyed him. “Wear it at all times and turn it in before you leave.”
Micha clipped it on his shirt, and the others did the same when handed theirs. As they waited for the intern, Micha walked around the lobby with Ava, but Colin leaned against the counter, his attention fixed on his phone.
He frowned and sidled up to Micha and Ava, leaning close. “The phone number used to send the song came from a burner like we thought. I’ll do a more thorough look when we get to the apartment and let you know if I learn anything else, but don’t hold your breath.”
A door in the back wall opened, and a young woman with black hair and blue streaks came hurrying forward. Her nametag read Delcie Carter. “Sierra is just finishing up a class in our crime scene house, and I’ll take you to her.”
She spun, and her athletic shoes squeaked. She pressed her fingers against a reader near the door she’d come through and led them down a hallway. They passed a glass-walled conference room and an elevator, then traveled down a long hallway where the firearms lab was located. Micha couldn’t walk past it without glancing in the window. He stopped to find display cases lining the walls. They held different firearms and ammunition neatly labeled with their details.
