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She peered through the large square of glass into the lab, filled with high-powered microscopes, Petri dishes, test tubes and computers whirring through data. But Gabe had sent her the password to his personal computer, not the lab computers.
She continued to Gabe's office, the last door on the right. Twisting the knob, she pushed open the door. The smell of rotting meat invaded her nostrils. She gagged.
Fear seized every muscle in her body. She knew that smell. It was the odor of death.
Chapter Eleven
Lola staggered out the front door, pressing a hand over her nose and mouth. When she hit the fresh air, she dragged in breath after breath, exhaling the foul odor that clung to the passages of her sinus system.
Jack sprang off the hood of the car, drawing his weapon as he reached her with his long stride. "What happened?"
"He's dead. Cain's dead."
Shaking his head, Jack reached for the door, and Lola clamped a hand on his wrist. "It's not pretty, Jack. Judging by the condition of the body, especially given the cool temperature of the room, he's been there for a few days."
"You examined the body? What was the cause of death?"
"A quick look--that's all I could handle of the smell. I don't know the cause of death, but he met with violence. The blood tells that story. Gabe's office is trashed, his computer damaged."
Jack cursed. "How did they know? How did they know about the lab, about Cain?"
"About me?" Lola gritted her teeth against another wave of nausea that threatened to claim her.
"We need to get that computer. Before we call the cops, we need to get Gabe's computer out of there, or you won't see it again for months."
A couple of nurses walked around the corner from the clinic, heading for a car in the parking lot. Lola flashed a smile at Jack and said, "Can we act normal for a few minutes? I don't want to cause a scene."
Jack glanced to the side. "They're getting in their car." He peered at the eaves of the roof.
"What are you doing?"
"Is this building monitored by cameras?"
"Not that I know of. Do you see anything?"
"No. Let me back into the building, and I'll get your brother's computer. And I'm going to need gloves. I'm not leaving any prints."
"W-we're not going to be here when the police arrive, are we?"
"No. Why wasn't this discovered already? Doesn't Cain have a family?"
"Not here. He's the ultimate mad-scientist type. Eats, breathes and lives his research...or at least he did. It's not hard to imagine he wasn't missed for a few days."
"Unlock the door and keep watch out here. Are there gloves inside?"
"There should be a box of gloves in the lab."
"And where's Gabe's computer?"
"His office--the same place as Cain's body. It's the last door on your right as you head down the hallway. Cain's on the floor of the office. Be careful. He's...it's messy."
Jack grimaced, and Lola unlocked the door for him. If the cops discovered her fingerprints in the lab it wouldn't much matter, since she'd been here before, but she used the hem of her shirt to wipe off the door handle, anyway.
Jack disappeared inside, and Lola lined up her spine against the door as if guarding it. Nobody came to the lab, anyway, except to make deliveries. Her gaze kept darting toward the corner of the building in case any more people wandered over from the clinic. Hadn't they noticed anything? Smelled anything? Of course, she hadn't until she'd opened the door of the office.
In less time than she expected, Jack barreled out of the lab, hugging a battered CPU to his chest. "Let's go."
Lola clicked open her trunk, and Jack tossed the computer in the back. Then they both hopped in the car.
"How are we going to report the murder?"
"Anonymously, if we can ever find a phone booth, and one where there's no camera watching."
They found a phone booth that matched their requirements, and Jack laid on a heavy Southern drawl, pretending to be a concerned delivery man.
Back in the car, Lola gripped the steering wheel and stared at the white lines of the road rushing past. "I can't believe someone murdered Cain. The people who kidnapped Gabe must've believed Cain had knowledge of the formula, too."
"I almost feel as if we're leading them to all their next victims."
