Free Exposure by Kathy Reichs Page B

database and scanned the research protocols for Brimstone, the first project he’d commissioned at Candela. His anxiety level rose.
    Dear God.
    He’d green-lit the secret venture immediately upon discovering Karsten’s files, content to improvise, learning as he went. Hoping hard science would give him answers, even without knowing the exact questions.
    But had he taken the proper precautions?
    Switching to an outside server, Chance reviewed several encrypted files with an entirely new set of concerns. What he discovered sent his heart hammering.
    Chance’s hands found his forehead.
    Was it dangerous?
    I don’t know.
    Popping from his seat, Chance strode for the door. He hurried down two flights of stairs and into the grand entrance hall.
    At the massive front doors, he paused.
    Squeezed his eyes shut.
    Drawing a deep breath, Chance straightened his tie and smoothed his hair.
    Then he stepped outside and called for his driver, desperately hoping he hadn’t made a colossal mistake.
     

“A ll hail MegaDock!”
    Hi led us across the marina parking lot, heading for the southernmost section known as Pier Group Z. There we’d meet Hugo for our trip home.
    The afternoon sun had ramped up the heat. I stopped a moment to shed my jacket. Shelton shuffled along beside Hi, loosening his navy-blue-striped Bolton tie.
    The Charleston City Marina is a behemoth, with over nineteen thousand feet of dock space covering forty acres of water. Located in a sheltered zone where the Ashley River flows into the harbor, the sprawling facility is packed with amenities, including restaurants, stores, bars, and a floating boathouse.
    And MegaDock, of course.
    At a whopping 1,530 feet, MegaDock is the longest freestanding, floating fuel dock in the Southeast. Equipped with state-of-the-art power uplinks, boat-side assistance, and twenty-four-hour security, plus every other nautical perk you can imagine, its length is always crammed with massive yachts and expensive pleasure boats.
    We trooped through the marina twice every school day. I barely noticed the opulent crafts any more, though at first I’d gawked like a tourist.
    I trailed the boys, stuck in a funk.
    Chance was in my head. I couldn’t shake a feeling of impending doom.
    Was it coincidence we’d run into each other? Or had Chance been waiting? And what was up with his new job?
    I’d assumed that, after graduation, Chance would relax into a life of playboy luxury. Work on his polo game. Collect oil paintings, or Italian sports cars. Date Victoria’s Secret models. After all, he didn’t have to work. Didn’t have to do anything but spend his money.
    So why take on a dreary job at Candela? It made no sense.
    We passed a small outbuilding crammed with yacht sales offices, then swept by the Variety Store Restaurant. As we approached the pier walkways, I heard a TV newscast floating from inside Salty Mike’s Deck Bar.
    The faint audio caught my attention.
    “Hi! Shelton!” I pointed, then ducked through the open door.
    Salty Mike’s interior was rough but clean, with neon beer signs adorning a large central tiki bar. A pair of gnarly dartboards flanked a flat-screen TV on the right-hand wall.
    I raced over, tried to figure out the volume. Heard feet behind me.
    “What is it?” Hi asked. “I thought you were anti-booze. Plus, it’s three o’clock.”
    “Shh!” I jabbed a button, then hissed in frustration as snow filled the screen. The bartender shot me an irritated look.
    “Here, let me.” Shelton somehow corrected the feed and jacked up the sound.
    A tinny voice filled the room. “Repeating our top story this morning, police sources have told Channel Five News that two Charleston teens have officially been designated missing persons . . .”
    Smiling pictures of Lucy and Peter Gable flashed onscreen. Each wore a Bolton uniform.
    “Holy crap,” Shelton breathed. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
    Hi snorted. “Color me shocked that those ace cops couldn’t