“What’s in the field house?”
“I’m not sure. The university built it several years ago. I think it was supposed to be a research laboratory for developing plant hybrids. I’m not a fan of genetic engineering our food. But from what I heard they decided to use someplace else.”
“So it’s empty?”
“No. I believe the Department of Agriculture uses it for something. Not sure what. You can’t see it from the road. Once in a while I’ve seen a vehicle coming out.”
“You’ve never been curious?”
“It’s a secured entry and fenced off.”
“Electric fencing?”
Lucy took off her eyeglasses. “What exactly are you thinking?”
“Not sure. I don’t remember seeing the facility when we were there. Can you see it from the kids’ campsite?”
Lucy gave it some thought before answering. “I don’t think so.”
Maggie sighed, disappointed.
“However,” Lucy added, her long fingers massaging her right temple, “I think you might be able to see the private road that goes from the main route to the facility.”
Maggie’s cell phone rang in her jacket pocket. She jumped up to retrieve it realizing that she hoped it was Platt. He had caught her off guard earlier with his question about children. Recently she had almost convinced herself she wanted to take their relationship to the next level, but not if it meant embarking on an emotional mission to replace his beloved dead child.
She yanked the phone from her pocket. It wasn’t Platt. She tried to keep her disappointment from Lucy. Too late. The woman didn’t miss a thing.
“Investigator Fergussen, you must have some new information.”
“Not anything good but I thought you’d want to know. Car accident. About an hour ago.”
She could hear sirens and voices yelling. He must be on the site.
“Victims are Courtney Ressler and Nikki Everett. Looks like they were coming around a curve. Ran right into a six-point buck.”
“A buck?”
“Deer. Probably didn’t see it until it was too late. You know teenagers. Might have been going too fast. Texting.”
“Are they okay?”
“Negative. Both were dead on impact. It’s pretty messy. Just thought you’d like to know.”
“Thanks.”
Lucy hadn’t taken her eyes off Maggie but waited patiently.
“We just lost two more teenagers from last night.”
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 10
CHAPTER 44
WASHINGTON, D.C.
Platt felt like he’d only been asleep for a few minutes when Bix’s phone call dragged him back out of bed.
“United ticket counter. Reagan National. Meet me there at five thirty. We’ve got a six thirty flight.”
“I’m hoping you mean five thirty this afternoon,” Platt had said looking at his bedside alarm clock that read three forty-five.
“Very funny. I’ll see you there.”
Now seated in first class beside the CDC chief, Platt was pleased to see that Bix looked even worse than he did. Bix’s hair was tousled and his eyes were bloodshot. But Roger Bix in a suit and necktie was serious business even if the tie hung loose. The jacket had come off as soon as they stepped onto the plane and was sent away with a flight attendant while Bix rolled up his shirtsleeves and shoved them above his elbows. Platt wore his uniform as instructed, but he had surrendered his jacket to the flight attendant, too.
It wasn’t until they were in the air that Bix started to explain why they were making an early-morning flight to Chicago.
“I think our friend”—friend being their code word for the anonymous caller—“got pissed by the USDA’s announcement last night.”
“What announcement?”
“You didn’t hear the news?”
“I went to USAMRIID then home.”
“The secretary of agriculture himself said that the school contamination was caused by a negligent kitchen worker who was being suspended.”
Platt thought about poor Velma Carter. “How did they come up with that? We didn’t even mention the woman at our meeting.”
“Exactly why our friend is pissed. So he’s given us a bigger piece of the puzzle.”
“In Chicago?”
“A processing plant on the north side. They get scraps and chunks of beef from various slaughterhouses, combine them, then grind them up. They take the ground beef and make it into patties, meatballs, spice it up for tacos.”
“Let me guess, those get shipped off to schools.”
“If only it was that simple.” He pulled out a thick file from his briefcase. “I’ve been trying to make heads or tails out of this mess.”
“You’re assuming it was the beef in the taquito that was contaminated?”
“Not assuming.”
“Your guys found something?”
“I can’t frickin’ sit around until you lab nerds finish studying your crap and vomit slides. I pushed our anonymous caller. He was feeling slightly guilty. That ridiculous statement from the USDA pushed him to tell me where to look.”
“He told you it was the beef?”