Changeling Read Online Free PDF Page B

Abram Kinsey, head of the biogenics lab and our tour guide for the afternoon. Trance introduced everyone; Kinsey barely nodded in our direction. Trance was in charge, which made her the one with whom he wanted to speak.
    “You’re here about Ronald Jarvis,” Kinsey said.
    “Yes, we are,” Trance replied.
    “Then let’s take this into my office.”
    He gestured at the elevator, and we boarded it one by one. I hid in the back, trying to stay away from Kinsey and his angry eyes. Just because I’d tossed around some careless accusations two years ago did not mean I was the same person. I knew better now. Knew to have evidence to support my claims, and I knew the devastating effects of not having any.
    No one spoke during the ride up to the sixth floor. The doors opened on a corridor as silent as a tomb. Sky-blue linoleum floors, ivory walls, and intermittent oak doors lined the hall. Polished brass nameplates hung on each door, and we passed half a dozen before Kinsey produced a plastic card from his pocket, swiped it, and pushed open a door.
    His office was homier than I expected. A heavy walnut desk took up half of the open space, flanked on both sides by wall-to-wall bookshelves overloaded with texts—books, binders, manuscripts, all sorts of words on paper. More than I’d read in my lifetime. Thick blue drapes were pulled back from the room’s twin windows, letting in shafts of afternoon sunlight.
    Kinsey sat in a high-backed leather armchair and waved his hand at the only other two chairs in the room. Tempestand I stood by one of the bookshelves, allowing Cipher and Trance to sit. They were there to engage; we were backup.
    “You mentioned the LAPD before,” Kinsey said, leaning forward on his elbows. “I thought the L.A. County sheriff was handling the Jarvis investigation.”
    “They are,” Trance said. “But our contacts are in the LAPD.”
    Not quite a bald-faced lie. She was playing him, hoping Cipher could tell if Kinsey was playing her. They had a system worked out, which I had witnessed only once. Cipher sat loosely in his chair, right ankle on left knee, hands flat on his thighs. If the interviewee was lying, his left hand clenched into a fist. If it was the truth, he kept his palm flat. If he couldn’t tell, he curled the fingers up.
    Kinsey seemed to buy her explanation. “So, has there been any headway into Mr. Jarvis’s death?”
    “Not so far.” Trance settled back, getting comfortable. “Tell me about Mr. Jarvis, Doctor.”
    “He was a lab assistant, a position that is two rungs up from janitor. He had no enemies that I knew of, and everyone seemed to get along with him. Dr. Morrow was his supervisor. He never attended social functions, but I think it’s because he suffered from acute adult acne. He wasn’t an outgoing man.”
    Cipher’s palm remained flat.
    “Did he have access to any of your projects?”
    “And what projects would those be?” He smiled, but it was disingenuous and very creepy.
    “You tell me, Dr. Kinsey.”
    “No, I don’t think I will, Trance, not without a warrant.”
    “Warrant?”
    He nodded, a slow tilt up and down. “Yes, a warrant. You see, our success here at Weatherfield requires a certain amount of discretion. Our work is often under contract, and our employers count on secrecy. If we started chatting up top secret work to everyone who asked, we’d be out of a job very quickly.”
    “We’re trying to capture a killer,” she said. “Isn’t a little indiscretion worth a man’s life?”
    “Not to me, no. Jarvis is already dead. His life is now worthless to me.”
    I bristled, standing up straighter. Son of a bitch, how dare you call a human being’s life worthless! Tempest clamped a hand over my wrist. His perfect calm kept me cool.
    Trance sat up straight and slid forward in her seat. “What if I said it was no longer just about Jarvis’s life, Doctor? What if I said there was a second victim?”
    Kinsey’s face went slack.