Resonance, J. B. Everett [the top 100 crime novels of all time txt] 📗

The fact that Eddie’s last name was Abellard and the date of death hadn’t escaped Landerly in the slightest. The phone had rung just moments after Jilly had spoken his cousin’s name. Those two scared him more and more. Another good reason to skip out and come visit his Dad.

 

David had insinuated himself next to Jillian, and should have passed right out given his night in the dirt. But no, he swore it must have been the coffee Jordan had given him. Perked him right up like he’d slept all night.

 

Damned coffee. And the next thing you know Jordan found himself dozing across the aisle while Jillian and David talked about all the things they could. Anything but the purpose of the trip. Anything but the fact that three scientists were on the next flight to Minnesota for the CDC.

 

Despite the pancakes and the ugly turn of his thoughts, his father shared no more wisdom with him. Just a bear of a hug and hardly a word as Jordan said thank you for the breakfast and headed back to his hotel room.

 

The one between Jillian’s and David’s. When he finally slid the key through the lock to his room and flipped on the lights he found Jillian curled up on his bed still asleep, but starting to blink at the light, so he slapped it off. The flutter in his chest betrayed him, happy at seeing her in his room again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t expect you in here.” He almost kicked himself for saying it.

 

Her voice came out of the depths of sleep, “I just thought we’d set up the same. I can move if-”

 

“No, stay put. It’s fine.”

 

She sighed, and he recognized the sound as that of her falling back deeper asleep. The last thing he heard from her was a mumble about a ‘wake-up call’ and ‘another hour’.

 

Becky had hugged her whole family and thanked them, and said she didn’t know when she’d be back, and folded herself into John Overton’s car.

 

“So your sister freaked me out with her Oak-Ridge-radioactive-waste theories.”

 

“Yeah, well …” Becky didn’t know what to say to that.

 

“That bit about the other spots with the frogs and were people sick? And was that why you couldn’t talk?

 

…” He trailed off only to come back full force, this time looking at her instead of the road. Both of which she wished he wouldn’t do. “Did you tell her?”

 

“No. She’s just that good.” Becky sighed and spoke to her hands twined together in her lap.

 

“She’s really gifted, and she makes the rest of us look like idiots a lot of the time.”

 

He nodded, and with a quick bite to her lip, she purposefully changed the subject. “So when your guy comes to get the frogs tomorrow, he needs to get other specimens from the UT lab. The American Birdwatcher’s Association has a North Georgia branch that contacted us. They have warblers migrating out of season and away from their usual nesting sites.”

 

He didn’t ask, but she knew he didn’t see the connection yet, so she fed it to him. “I tested them with magnets. They rotate to them just like the frogs do.”

 

She grabbed the door and the edge of her seat with white knuckles as he yanked the steering wheel to one side and peeled into a car dealership before slapping the gearshift into park. His stare was leaden. “You have other species from sites in Georgia?”

 

She nodded.

 

He might as well have had the word incredulous typed across his face. “And you’re only just now telling me?”

 

She felt the starch sneak up her spine. She was giving him gifts and he was mad? But she didn’t fight back, just held some quiet dignity. “I’ve only known that I was your employee for about four hours. And my parents were around for most of it, so I didn’t think I should say anything in front of them.”

 

His hands covered his face for a moment. “First, you aren’t my employee. We both work for the CDC and we both push our papers for Briddle.” He dragged in a breath as though it would help, but clearly it didn’t. “Second, … people were dying and you kept this kind of information to yourself?”

 

She felt like she’d been slapped. “I … I …” Calm yourself Becky. And she took a slow, sobering breath. “You guys have had me doing tech work - out catching amphibs. No one asked me about any of it. No one wanted my theories and no one came to tell me when it was confirmed that the magnetics were causing the illness. I’ve been so stressed out that it didn’t even occur to me. And no one lives on these sites. It’s like the one in my backyard! …”

 

She stopped because she simply ran out of things to say, and so she said the only thing she could think of next. Nothing. But she reached for the door handle, figuring the CDCP had already released her from her UT contract and they were about to release her from this one too. Overton’s hand on her arm stopped her, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

 

She remained suspicious of him for a minute.

 

He opened his mouth once and closed it before opening it again and actually having sound come out of it, “We still haven’t confirmed the magnetics theory, no one thinks it makes any sense. Just correlation, not causation.”

 

When he saw that she wasn’t planning on fleeing the vehicle anymore, he started back up and pushed the gas pedal, waving at the car salesman who was just now walking up to the car and grinning at them, smelling a sale. “So some of these warblers are at UT?”

 

“Yup, all of them. And they really should be part of this study. Warden doesn’t know about the magnetics.”

 

Her chest constricted as she was telling him about her subterfuge. “I just found out before I left and was trying to gather more evidence. I figured he would have laughed me out of the building if I told him.”

 

“Thank God you didn’t tell him.”

 

Well, that wasn’t what she’d expected to hear. Since she couldn’t think of anything else to say, she changed tacks. “There are also some bees in LA. UCLA has a cluster there, too. And a definitive reversal spot.

 

Where State Road 134 crosses I-5.”

 

“L.A.?” He slapped the wheel. “Holy shit.”

 

Becky didn’t think shit had ever been holy, but if there was ever a time for that expression it was probably now. “It’s the Biodiversity lab, I travel a lot to study unusual animal behavior. UT got a call from UCLA about three weeks ago. They have bees swarming in columns. Weirdest thing I ever saw. Their bee dance is messed up too. No turn and circle moves.” She paused waiting for him to ask her questions, but he didn’t.

 

John watched the road and Becky watched John, then continued. “So we wound up going out to the site to collect. And we took some amphibs, too. Blind ones like in McCann. And the bees have some sort of magnetic issues too. But UCLA is doing that testing.”

 

“Crap.” He slapped the steering wheel again, and she wondered if it was a tic, if he might start yelling out swear words randomly at any minute in a rush of spontaneous Tourette’s. John pulled into the airport, taking the route labeled “rental returns” and shifting back to Becky. “You! You keep talking! You are a fountain of knowledge.”

 

“But I just ran dry.” She turned to the window. Disappointed that she didn’t have anything else to give. “I’ve been on this case for almost two months now and I don’t have any other information. All I’ve gleaned can be summed up in the half hour trip to the airport.”

 

David stood awkwardly in the front entrance of the yellow ranch house. This house was warm. And even in the front entryway he could see that a little girl lived here. His mind swept briefly back to the house where he grew up, where it wasn’t apparent that any humans lived there. But here a toy barn and a handful of odd plastic horses gave testament to this child and her life. He shoved it down in a way only the truly practiced could.

 

The wife of the dead cousin was emerging from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a small towel and calling back over her shoulder to a child “Wash your hands honey, we have company.”

 

Then she saw the three of them, people that she had hollered out to, to come into her house even though she didn’t know who they were, and had never seen two of them before. “Jordan!”

 

She walked right up and, ignoring her flour stained apron, threw her arms around him in the kind of hug David had read about in books. “What are you doing-” But she cut herself off, noticing the flour she had left on her cousin’s front and immediately began apologizing and dusting him off in a way that almost made David uncomfortable to be standing there watching.

 

“Kelly.” It was Jordan, grabbing her arm, ignoring the last traces of flour on the front of him.

 

“I don’t know how to say this …” His hand came up and went through his hair. And while he wasn’t paying attention, Jillian stepped into the gap, filling in the story. “I’m Jillian Brookwood. I work with Jordan.” She shook hands with the blond woman who was growing warier by the moment, but she kept talking right through the woman’s expression, not missing a beat. “We’ve found other cases like Eddie’s. We think there may be an environmental link.”

 

Kelly stepped back, her hand clutching at her heart, although she seemed unaware of the action herself. Her eyes darted from one to the other of them, her other hand waved behind her until she stumbled back far enough for the couch to materialize behind her and she sank onto the arm, dark circles appearing under her eyes as she started to frown.

 

But Jillian kept talking, leaving no time for the widow to form a sentence let alone a full thought. “We have a good idea what it’s linked to, but we need to run some tests.” Turning slightly she motioned to him, bringing him into the fold of the conversation for the first time, “This is Dr. David Carter. We want him to look around the house, to see if what affected Eddie was here.”

 

With a wave of her hand she dismissed him, to start wandering around and see what he could find. So he did just that, not wanting to stand there like a moron any longer and see the blonde’s eyes cloud over, or her hand clutching for things that weren’t there.

 

Pulling a tiny meter out of his back pocket he began pacing his way around the perimeters. They had started this crap with compasses and such, but had refined their choice of equipment as they better knew what they were looking for. The meter read normal. The field lay in the right direction, with the appropriate strength. And he felt like an idiot walking around this tiny middleAmerican house, with the little black box in his palm, getting nothing. He had done this as a kid. Took one of his mother’s jewelry boxes and cut a rectangle out of the top with a paring knife from the kitchen, and taped in a white piece of paper with red block letters and numbers written on it. He had walked his whole house reading the ‘meter’ that was so much like the ones his father used. Much bigger and less useful than the one he held today, but he had been so excited to do what his father did. Back then he had been a fool, but in his childhood hadn’t felt like one. Today he sure as hell did.

 

He called back, “Mrs. Abellard?”

 

The house wasn’t big, and she was all of fifteen feet away. Jordan’s arm was around her and the hug