Free Blind Eye by Jan Coffey Page A

up.
    â€œWere you able to find anything?”
    â€œThere are no obituaries for any of the victims, as yet. Not even the universities have posted items. Perhaps tomorrow. I do see that the fire is hampering the investigators from even reaching the accident site.”
    The fire was still burning. From what Mark had read, the experts were saying that, because of the high temperatures, nothing would be left. No remains. They might not get down into the research facility beneath the platform for months. If then.
    â€œI was hoping to find an address for Marion Kagan’s family to send some flowers,” he told her. He knew she was originally from Deer Lodge, Montana, but there was no one by the last name of Kagan listed in the phone book when he’d checked.
    â€œYou might want to check with the university she was affiliated with,” the librarian offered.
    â€œI have…I did. They’re too overwhelmed right now and are only answering questions of the immediate family. Their suggestion was to wait for the service arrangements.”
    â€œI’ll keep an eye open for it. If you want to check back with us, maybe Monday,” the woman offered. A thought struck her. “Don’t you have access to driver’s license records through the police department?”
    â€œYes, I could go that route…” Mark said. The Department of Motor Vehicle records were traceable to when someone first got their license. In Marion’s case, he could most likely get her address in Montana and when first she’d applied. “But this is personal, not professional.”
    â€œI see. Well, it just has to be a matter of time before the information starts getting posted.”
    Mark nodded, pretending to be satisfied, and the librarian returned to her desk. He closed the newspaper and put it back on the rack where he’d gotten it.
    He needed to find something to do. He had too much time on his hands. The librarian had addressed him as Officer Shaw. Everyone expected that he would go back to the old job. In his conversation with his parents last night on the phone, it was clear they expected the same thing.
    Now he could admit that part of his reluctance had to do with her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d imagined that he’d take a trip to California and possibly meet up with Marion Kagan. Two weeks he’d been back, though, and he hadn’t called her. And now she was dead.
    What a waste, he thought, leaving the library.

15
    Nuclear Fusion Test Facility
    T he sight of Eileen Arrington’s dead body on the bunk in the room they’d shared was the last straw. She’d been shot in the forehead and her eyes were fixed on some spot above the door.
    Marion’s stomach turned. She grabbed a wastebasket next to her bed and bent over. Her body shook with dry heaves.
    She pushed herself to walk out into the hallway. Once in the narrow passage, she crouched down and leaned against the paneled wall, hugging her knees to her chest. She laid the penlight on the floor. A sense of helplessness overwhelmed her. The tears she’d been trying to hold back finally let loose. Sobs rose in her throat. For a while, she had a hard time getting enough air into her lungs.
    Neil Gregory’s and Steven Huang’s bodies had been in the kitchen area. Both men had been shot as they sat at the large table the group used for their meals. She knew it was useless to check for any vital signs in the two, but she forced herself.
    Turning away from them, Marion’s gaze fell on the door of a facilities room off the kitchen. The door wasslightly ajar and, pushing it open, she found what looked like a generator in the corner beside a water heater and an HVAC unit. The generator had been disabled. The people sent down here to kill them had known to do even that.
    Eileen had been her last hope. But she was dead, too. Marion alone had survived the attack.
    She sat for a long time with her back