Grave Secrets

Mateo and I laughed. It hurt like hell.

“What’s so funny?”

“Something Molly said.”

They assured me the Chupan Ya work was proceeding well, told me the villagers were planning a funeral. Mateo had just spoken with Molly. She was barreling toward full recovery.

Again, hard as I tried, I couldn’t stay awake.

Galiano was the next phantom to appear by my bed.

With flowers.

The place was taking on the air of a funeral parlor.

“You were right-on about the attack on your colleagues.”

“Molly and Carlos?”

Galiano gave a nod. He looked as well-groomed as Ryan.

“Jorge Serano’s copped to that hit.”

“Why them?” I asked.

“Mistaken identity. Lucas sent Serano after you. He wanted to disrupt the recovery team by knocking off the headliner. He thought that was you.”

A cold, sick feeling swirled in my chest. Guilt? Sorrow? Anger?

“Why disrupt the work at Chupan Ya?”

Galiano gave a half shrug. “Lucas didn’t want to lose his firewall.”

“Díaz.”

Galiano nodded. “Or maybe Lucas feared Díaz knew too much, that if the DA was arrested for his role in the massacre, the little worm might begin to bargain.”

“The twisted bastard.”

“When Lucas found out I’d requested permission to bring you into the Paraíso investigation, he had another reason to want you out of the picture.”

Galiano took my hand. His skin felt rough and cool. He kissed my fingers.

First Ryan and now Galiano. I was beginning to feel like the pope.

He pressed his lips to my palm. O.K. Not the pope.

“I’m glad you’re O.K., Tempe.”

I was not O.K. I was getting less O.K. by the second. What was it with my libido and these two guys?

“Go on.”

“Serano was already tied in to Lucas, since he was the one who dumped Eduardo’s body in Papa’s septic tank. He agreed to do the Sololá shooting.”

“Why did he dispose of her so close to home?”

“I asked him that. The moron thought the body would be reduced to nothing in a matter of weeks. When the drains at the Paraíso backed up and Papa began poking around, Little Jorge nearly shit his pants.”

“Who killed Patricia Eduardo?”

“Lucas.”

“Why?”

“Patricia Eduardo was seeing a married man, became pregnant, and went to Zuckerman for help. Zuckerman may have seen a donor cell opportunity. In the process, Eduardo somehow stumbled onto the ES cell operation.

“Eduardo and Zuckerman fought, and Eduardo might have threatened to blow the whistle. Zuckerman told Lucas. Lucas took Patricia out of the equation and enlisted Jorge Serano to get rid of the body. Now Serano is using that knowledge to cut himself a deal. He’s been in transmit mode since we picked him up.”

“Does he know Lucas and Zuckerman are dead?”

“We might have forgotten to mention that.”

“How did Serano get involved in all this?”

“Let’s just say Jorge’s lifestyle exceeded his earning power in a free labor market.”

“Being Lucas’s gorilla paid well?”

“It beat pushing broom at the Paraíso. Lucas didn’t want to dirty his hands. Jorge wanted money.”

“What about Nordstern?”

“Lucas got outside help to cap Nordstern. Figured Jorge was a little green to send onto foreign shores.”

“Do you think Nordstern really knew what was going on with the stem cells?”

“We found some interesting stuff on his laptop. Nordstern did a lot of digging on ES cells, and on the U.S. decision to limit funding. Most of the downloads took place either during or after Nordstern’s sojourn at the Paraíso.”

“After Serano unwittingly led him to Zuckerman’s clinic.”

“A little breaking and entering wouldn’t have been beneath Nordstern. He probably crept to the lab, rifled Zuckerman’s files, figured out what she and Lucas were doing. Probably guessed they were planning to make a black market fortune.”

“When did all this start?”

“Years ago. Zuckerman experimented with mixing eggs and sperm to derive embryonic stem cells. You get donated eggs and sperm and mix them together until they hook up and start to grow. Then you destroy the embryos and maintain the stem cells in culture.”

I waited.

“Apparently Lucas got impatient with Zuckerman’s lack of progress and insisted they try another technique.”

“Cadavers.”

Galiano nodded. “Lucas stole tissue during routine autopsies.”

“Christ.”

“But the success rate is better with kids.” Galiano stared into my eyes. “You don’t get many kids at a morgue. Nordstern’s laptop had a slew of articles on Guatemala City’s street children.”

“Nordstern thought Lucas was murdering orphans for their tissue?” Anger and revulsion crimped my voice.

“We’ve found no evidence, but we’re looking.”

“Sweet Jesus.”

We both fell silent. A cart rumbled down the corridor. A robotic voice paged Dr. Someone.

“What about Miguel Gutiérrez?”

“Just a brain-fried hump who couldn’t have the girl he wanted.”

“Claudia de la Alda.”

Galiano nodded.

“It’s all so sad, isn’t it?” I said.

With no forewarning he leaned over and kissed me. His lips felt soft and warm, his crooked nose rough against my skin.

“But I also met you, corazón.”

31

BY MID-JUNE WE HAD COMPLETED OUR CHUPAN YA WORK.