Trace Evidence by Kathy Reichs

Author:Kathy Reichs
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2016-03-18T15:57:52+00:00

Three Yellow Shirts fired across the stage, toting brooms, dustpans, a vacuum cleaner.

Below, the Joker and a rail-thin woman in a navy pants suit were roping off the stage area. The looky-loos began to dissipate, drawn by more exciting action springing up elsewhere on the convention floor.

As Tempe and I descended, I spotted the boys waiting impatiently behind the cordon.

Skipper closed in like a falcon. “Find anything?”

Tempe handed Officer Flanagan the ransom note. His mustache actually bristled as he read the message.

Skipper, reading over his shoulder, paled, then yanked out his iPhone.

“Is there another way onto that stage?” Tempe asked.

Skipper answered in a strangled voice, offhandedly tugging at his turtleneck. “There’s a trapdoor at stage center, but it’s kept locked, and is barely large enough for someone to crawl through anyway. No one could steal the T-800 that way. Jenkins has the only key.” He gestured toward the Joker.

Interesting.

Tempe must’ve had the same thought. “Mr. Jenkins?” she called.

The Joker turned and raised a shaky hand. Tempe waved for him to join us. He complied, though his every step oozed reluctance.

“Do you have the key to the trapdoor?” Tempe asked.

Jenkins nodded, not meeting her eye. “Locked it last night, after we sealed the display case. Did it alone, because my partner bailed early. It’s still secure. Just checked.”

Only key, and alone. Veeeery interesting. But where was the other guy?

Tempe opened her mouth to say more, but Flanagan interrupted. “Can you give me your report, Dr. Brennan?”

Seizing on the diversion, Jenkins slunk away to the front of the stage.

Tempe watched his retreat thoughtfully. Then she began to relay our findings, which were essentially nothing. Whoever snatched the Terminator had covered their tracks.

The pants-suited lady joined Tempe’s circle, along with a white-bearded senior in a Hawaiian shirt. I slipped away to my friends behind the rope. Hi and Shelton were fidgeting impatiently, like dogs waiting to be unleashed.

Hi waved the VIP tickets at me. “Fifteen minutes until the Bones panel starts.”

“They don’t let you in late,” Shelton warned.

Ben yawned, covering his mouth. “Anything interesting?”

“There’s a ransom note.” That got their attention. “If the owner doesn’t fork over fifty K by noon, the robot gets it. Zero clues. No sign how or where it was taken.”

Ben tucked his hair behind his ears. “How’d they break the glass?”

“Couldn’t tell.” I glanced at my aunt, now holding court to a rather large audience. “Tempe said it’d take a tremendous amount of force. We even looked for evidence of gunshots, but struck out.”

Ben crossed his arms. “Something’s bothering you.” A statement, not a question.

I grunted, half lost in thought. “Whatever shattered that glass must’ve been loud. Yet no one seemed to hear it.”

Hi pursed his lips, curious despite himself. “The note was handwritten?”

“Short and scribbled.” I recited the exact wording of the message. “I think the author intentionally disguised his or her penmanship. The paper was secured by ragged pieces of blue-green duct tape.”

“That won’t help,” Shelton mused. “Half these booths are held together by that stuff.”

“True.” Hi spoke slowly.

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