Free Dirty Secrets by Karen Rose Page A

up from the gas chromatograph he was recalibrating, his eyes narrowed behind his goggles. “He did. He also said we’re still not to consider leavin’ town.”
    “He said we should stay available to answer any questions,” Nate corrected mildly.
    “It’s the same thing,” Ian insisted. “Especially since that damned detective has been doggin’ our every damn move. He’s going to get me deported.”
    “He can’t do that,” Nate sighed, as if Ian’s concern had been voiced once too often.
    “Well, I’m just glad to be getting back to work,” Tanya said quietly. “I’ve been going nuts with all that time to think.”
    They all went still for a moment, all eyes drifting to the table where Darrell had worked. Christopher sighed. “It’s never going to be the same.” Then he straightened. “But we do have a deadline. Sutton at the USDA is waiting for our next report. When can we have it done?”
    The three students looked at one another. “It’ll take us at least a week to do the samples that Darrell was working on,” Tanya said. “On top of our own work.”
    “And another week to redo the samples that got destroyed in the break-in last month,” Ian added. “Perhaps another three to four weeks, Professor. Will they give us that much time?”
    “I hope so. I know they were hoping to start testing the new methods in their own labs by spring.”
    “Suppose you all tell me about these new methods.”
    They turned as one. Detective Harris stood in the door, holding Darrell’s key card in his hand. Under one arm he carried the notebook Darrell had been using the night he was killed. Nate just sighed. Ian scowled. Tanya looked rattled.
    Christopher frowned. “Harris. If you’re going to come in here you have to wear goggles.” He gave him a pair. “I thought you’d cleared us to get back to work.”
    Harris put the goggles on without argument. “I did. I was hoping you’d all rush back here, because I wanted to talk to you all together. I need to know more about the work you’re doing here.”
    Christopher shrugged, puzzled. “It’s no government secret, Detective. We’re working on some new ways to test for soil contaminants. Soil gets tested as part of environmental maintenance around factories and in construction sites before building permits can be issued. Private labs all over the country do this testing, but if they’re certified labs, they use standardized methods blessed by the USDA.”
    “These are the same methods you’re working on,” Harris said.
    “Improved methods,” Christopher clarified. “Ways to do the testing faster, but with equal or better accuracy. Part of proving our new methods are just as accurate as the old methods is by testing samples side by side with old and new methods. We’ve gathered soil samples from all over the state, sandy, peat, rocky—all different soil compositions. Now it’s just a matter of testing and recording data and cranking out the comparisons, old to new. It’s not rocket science. Really.”
    Harris nodded. “And you record all your data where?”
    Ian tapped his hardbound notebook. “First in these, then into the computer. That’s how we do all the statistical comparisons. With the computer.”
    “Can you show me your notebooks?”
    More puzzled, each of them did so, watching as Harris leafed through each page. “And when you’re done with one notebook,” he asked, “what do you do with it?”
    “They’re official records,” Christopher said. “They can be used in court or for patents, that kind of thing, so we want to ensure we keep the data safe. When one notebook is finished, it’s sent to the University library to be copied. We used to microfiche in the old days, but now they put the copies on a CD. Then the library returns the notebooks and a CD to us so we can reference them as needed.”
    “Why are you asking all these questions about our notebooks?” Ian asked.
    Harris pointed at the bookshelf that sagged with