The Planck Factor

Chapter 16

Jessica Evans

By the time I awoke later that morning, Liz had already gone to work. I wondered if she'd heard about the murder. Did Liz watch CNN? If it was on CNN, it was probably in The Washington Post, too.

Even though I hadn't done anything, I worried that Liz could be accused of harboring a fugitive.

I got Liz's Mr. Coffee brewing and searched the kitchen for breakfast choices, rejecting Liz's healthy cereal, which looked more like bird food than breakfast. As I waited for my bagel to toast, I agonized over the implications of hiding out in her place. Holing up here could put Liz's bar license at risk.

But where would I go? I'd already left the state. Should I turn myself in to the DC or Boulder police? My previously dealings with the Boulder cops were less than satisfying. And I didn't treasure the thought of being held on suspicion in a DC jail.

The toaster oven dinged, snapping me to attention. As I went through the motions of buttering the bagel and eating it, I thought again about the van, the strange phone calls and the note. I had nothing to feel guilty about. I'd done nothing wrong. But the thought of dealing with the police was not a pleasant prospect. I didn't know why Fred was dead. I couldn't be sure that Red and Flattop were the ones who killed him.

Maybe I should just pretend I never saw the news.

For the moment, I wanted—needed, really—to focus on something else. So I poured myself some coffee and did what I often do to distract myself. I set my laptop up and reviewed my draft, starting at the point where Alexis and Swede had reached Portland and were trying to access Daniel's safe deposit box.

* * *

Alexis

"Dude, I haven't even looked in that box yet," Lena said.

Alexis wasn't sure if Daniel's elder sister was talking to her or to Swede when she said this. They were sitting in the sunny kitchen of the old house in southeast Portland that Lena shared with three other people.

"You think we could have a look at it?" Alexis asked. Her eyes were drawn to Lena's arms, both covered with elaborate tattoos fully exposed by the tight, black spaghetti-strap top she wore. One arm was a study in bright, happy images. The other featured flames and grotesque, demonic faces. Heaven and hell, she thought.

Lena shrugged. "Can't see why not?" She took one last drag on her cigarette and stubbed it out in a chipped, ash-laden green saucer. "The bank's on my way to work. We can stop by. I've got time."

Alexis noticed Lena hadn't even checked her watch before saying this, as if she always had time.

At a Washington Mutual Bank on Woodstock Boulevard, Lena spoke with a bank manager and arranged to unlock the safe deposit box. While Lena and the bank manager retrieved the box, Alexis and Swede waited at a table in a private room, where they could all view the box's contents. Lena entered holding a small box with a latched top. She joined the others at the table and opened it. Inside, there was an envelope.

It was marked: "For Alexis (private)"

"Obviously, this was meant for just me to read," Alexis said, sounding apologetic, though she couldn't think what she had to apologize for.

Lena gave Swede's upper arm a playful jab with her fist--hard enough for Swede to flinch. "Let's give the girl some room." She placed a firm hand on Swede's back and led him out. He glanced back at Alexis, obviously curious.

When they'd left, Alexis tore open the envelope. Inside, was a letter:

* * *

Dear Alexis,

If you're reading this, it means the worst has happened. I'm probably dead, possibly in the hospital in a coma. I know it upset you that I could never talk about my work. But if something's happened to me due to foul play, you may be in danger, too. In any case, my research must get into the right hands.

I kept my papers in this box for a long time, but recently decided it was too obvious a place. So I leave this letter instead and hope that it reaches you and only you (I think Lena will respect my wishes in this regard).

You may recall a conversation we had shortly after I proposed. . . .

* * *

Alexis thought back. She did recall Daniel saying that, if anything happened to him, she should contact her younger sister, Katie, in New York about his research. She'd been confused, even angered, by this.

"Why are you sharing information about your research with my sister, but not me?" she demanded.

"Please understand," Daniel had said. "I'm doing this to protect you."

Alexis had argued the point, but gotten nowhere. Eventually, she'd given up and simply said she understood, even though she hadn't. She'd been so pissed off, she'd even considered breaking their engagement. However, she couldn't deny that she still loved Daniel, so she'd let the matter go. By the next morning, she'd cooled off and things looked much brighter. And, instead of staying angry, she'd pushed the whole incident out of her mind.

Alexis stared at the letter, realizing Daniel must have known she might forget to follow through on his instructions. She resumed reading.

* * *

You may recall a conversation we had shortly after I proposed. First, I want to apologize for making you feel so marginal to my career. Second, I need you to do as I asked and reach out to your sister. It's essential for getting my work into the right hands.

I can only hope you understand why I've done this. The highly-competitive world in which I work has made this necessary.

I wish I could say or do more, but I'll just close with this advice: be careful.

Love,

Daniel

PS: Don't tell anyone else what you're doing.