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

like you were hoping. Only here, it’s better than Hell Creek because you’ve got a rapid lay down. Which gives you as close to full-on proof as you’ll ever get that the dust cover directly coincides with the dino die-out. It’s real thick at the KT, tapering off over the next several hundred years. No glass or ash content that the lab can discern-”

 

“You just said ‘the lab’, that means you didn’t do my analysis yourself.”

 

Shit. Explain, explain. David took a steadying breath. “Well, I couldn’t get it done in the time frame you wanted. The lab here did it and I oversaw it. It’s good work.”

 

Greer nodded slowly. “Our agreement was that you do the testing, but you farmed it out. So tell me what was so hellfire important that you shut down my dig and then blew me off for it?”

 

This time David looked up. “You don’t tell anyone.”

 

“Fine, but you tell me.”

 

Making his way into his office, he closed the doors behind Greer.

 

“Your dig is a hotspot. A magnetic jump point.”

 

Greer raised his eyebrows, “Do go on.”

 

“Every so often, a long time, even by geological standards, the earth’s poles shift … swap places. It happens that certain spots shift first, then the theory is that when a critical mass of hotspots, or altered areas, is hit, the poles snap. Bam! And it’s all over. North is south, south is north and all that, magnetically speaking. But no one’s seen a magnetic hotspot on the KT before. It might explain the slight discrepancies in die-out times better than the asteroid theory alone.”

 

“And you weren’t going to share your dinosaur theory with me?” Greer leaned forward on the desk, eyes blazing, and David wasn’t quite sure how to fill in the empty logic hole he had left. He was going to share, just not now.

 

“Listen, Greer, I’m still not positive. These rocks are good for it, but I need to get more. You know, most geologists never see a hotspot like this. My Dad was one of the few who did. I always look for it-”

 

“Jeez, Carter, that chip on your shoulder must’ve been what stunted your growth.”

 

“Thanks, fuckhole.”

 

Greer smiled, “You’re welcome.” It would have sounded very genuine if not taken in the context of following the word fuckhole. “What are you going to do when the old man kicks off?”

 

He shrugged; it had been a question that plagued him for many years. “Same as I’ve been doing. Sit around, live off my Dad’s money and his name.”

 

“Dude, I’m going to let you in on something, because I think I’m the only person who likes you enough to tell you.” Greer shook his head, but David knew that last part was true. “You are the only one who thinks you’re getting by on your Dad’s name.”

 

“Yes, but you don’t have all the facts. My Dad bought my way into Princeton when my grades weren’t good enough.”

 

“Oh, so sad, and boo hoo, and suck me. You’ve proven your worth on your own since then.” Greer sighed, and that meant that the conversation was finished. “So when are you going to get positive about this theory and let me in on it?”

 

“I have to go to the Appalachians next.”

 

“Pray tell, why?”

 

“Because, I was scrounging old files, looking, and three years ago there was a KT dig there. Wharton took his top dogs and then got furious when they got back because the specimens were all mislabeled. He even dismissed three of his graduate students over it. But, I’m guessing now that it might have been another hotspot. And that, my friend would make a great paper.”

 

“Who are you taking on this secret dig?” Greer’s arms were crossed over his chest.

 

“I don’t know. I only just started thinking about going back to check it out this morning. Those are the specimens I was looking over out there. By the way, they have the same iridium strata as your Warren Fault pieces. – Hey, do you want to go to Tennessee with me?”

 

There were three slow blinks of his eyes. “I’m a black man. Why in the hell would I want to go to Tennessee?”

 

“Greer, this is the new millennium. No one’s going to make you jump down, turn around and pick a bale of cotton. I’m pretty sure they’ve gotten rid of that ‘separate but equal’ stuff, too.”

 

This time the eyes blinked once.

 

David smiled, “What you really have to be afraid of are the cabbages.”

 

“I need to fear leafy greens now?”

 

David shook his head. “It’s the name for the inbred, backwoods folks. They were called cabbages because the inbreeding led to large heads and equivalent mental capabilities.” The more he tried to convince Greer to come the more he realized that Greer was ideal for the spot. “Come on. They found bones…” He trailed off, using something Greer would enjoy as bait.

 

But Greer sighed. He was a smart fish, and he recognized that the worm had a hook jabbed in its back. “Haven’t your paleo guys checked it out yet?”

 

“Nope, there are just bits and pieces, and because they thought all the specimens were mislabeled, when they got back Wharton was furious and just threw everything into storage, calling the dig a complete waste.”

 

“What kind of bones are they?”

 

That question began to make David hopeful. “I don’t know, I’m not a paleontologist. But you’re welcome to look them over, they’re sitting right out there on the lab table.” He stood and opened the door letting Greer out into the main lab again.

 

They didn’t speak. Working side by side, shuffling around the lab, getting a book or a test kit here or there. After a deep intake of breath Greer uttered the first words in two hours. “Damn, this could be crap or it could be a goldmine.”

 

Carter just nodded. He’d had the exact same thought.

 

“All right, answer me honestly.” Greer squared up to David, a good nine inches taller and with all the dignity David felt lacking in his own moral fiber. “Is there a chance that these are just mislabeled specimens? That the students didn’t know what they were doing and none of this info is correct?”

 

David nodded. “I wasn’t on the dig. I didn’t know any of the students other than a few faces I saw in class as undergrads. I’d have to say that there’s a possibility it’s not even KT. But it appears that all the specimens are mislabeled. I have to go check it out.”

 

Greer nodded slowly then pulled out his palm pilot. “How long do we need?”

 

“Two to four weeks. No telling ‘til we get there.” Carter went back into the lab for his own schedule, cool as cucumber, but inside wildly excited that it was Greer going with him. No one knew his shit like Greer. “The major work is already done. But the site’s three years old. It’ll take some reworking and we won’t have any students.”

 

David looked for a reasonable chunk of time when he could go. Most of these digs were planned months in advance. “If we just need to confirm what we have, it’ll be short, but if we find new pieces, we’ll be longer, you know how it is.”

 

“When?”

 

“A.S.A.P.”

 

“Then I have to head home now. Explain all this to my ever-so-understanding wife. Find a way to make it up to her. Then I can leave two Mondays from now.” His head was bent low over the palm pilot and he tapped at it rapidly with the little stylus. “But I have to be back at my place one month later.”

 

David picked up his red marker and drew a line through the dates Greer mentioned, noting that he had drawn through two staff meetings and a dinner with the head of the department, and all sorts of other stuff that would have to be moved. “Looks great.”

 

“Are you expecting U Wisconsin to kick in funding?”

 

David shook his head. “This is a private venture. It’s the only way I know to not have to write a paper explaining my suspicions and then wait an eon while they decide to give it back to Wharton who fucked it up in the first place.”

 

“Daddy?” It didn’t sound as snotty as it could have. It was from Greer and there was no malice behind it.

 

But David shook his head again. “Nope.” He took a deep breath. “I’m touching my trust fund for this one.”

 

“Really?” Greer’s eyebrows rose. “Then I’ll fly in baggage and try not to eat.”

 

“Nah, we’re going nice all the way. Once I touch it, it’s touched. It’s about the principle, not the amount.

 

But this will be worth it.”

 

Jordan let the water sluice down over him. He had been right, which usually made him pretty happy. Except when his prediction had been a solid ass-whupping. When he had gotten to town, even before he had unpacked, he had driven in ever-widening circles from his new place, looking for a gym.

 

The first evening after joining, he’d met Martin. So they had signed up for racquetball together, and every Wednesday, except when he’d been in Florida, they had played. Jordan had come close quite a few times, but he had beaten Martin only once. The workout was good and the challenge and standing date was better.

 

If he was ever going to be in good shape and have a healthy sex life it would be now. He had avoided relationships through med school, focusing on his studies and what few one-night-stands he could manage. It worked well and didn’t distract much, but didn’t keep the johnson as happy as he’d have liked.

 

He cranked the water hotter, something he hadn’t done before receiving his gas bill just yesterday. He could afford it. And today he had earned it. God, he ached. So he stood there, hands flat on the slick tile, one leg straight, the other bent in calf stretches. After a few seconds he switched legs.

 

His mind wandered to Jillian in her tub, surrounded by white bubbles. He’d seen her place. Her tub probably had the same yellowing tiles with cracked caulking that his did. But in his imagination it was a pristine white claw foot.

 

It got bigger. Room for two. He added Marla from UCLA. One of the other med students. Two years older than him and hotter than hell. She hadn’t had time for any of them, as she was hell-bent on a surgeon out of residency and with his loans already paid off. But she was in his tub right now in his head. With Jillian nonetheless.

 

By the time the shower water turned colder, the tub was a hot tub. And included his high school crush, but with bigger boobs, Angelina Jolie, and Marcy the tech from earlier today. All kissing each other. And …

 

Shit.

 

He had to face two of these women tomorrow. The water was cold and he thought that the phone was ringing anyway. So he cranked the faucet off and grabbed for one of the two towels he owned. Wrapping it around him as he ran, he dove to catch the phone before the machine picked up. He didn’t get to look at the caller ID even, “Hello?”

 

“Jordan.”

 

It was his Dad. And that in itself was odd. They weren’t estranged, just not close. If it wasn’t a holiday, they didn’t talk. So instantly he was alert for problems. “Hey, Dad, is something going on?”

 

“Yeah,” It was a sigh, low and long, like when his dad talked about Mom. “Eddie died.”

 

“Oh, no.” The weight in his chest took him by surprise. He and Eddie had rarely seen each other since they were children, and Eddie had always seemed ill at ease after Jordan had gone off to pursue medicine and Eddie had left high school early to go into construction. In the ten years since

 

he’d been out, Eddie had made a name in Lake James, built himself a nice house, married a cute girl and had a daughter. Then got leukemia. “I thought he was in remission.”

 

“Well, they thought he was