any data that would encourage the former owners to come looking for them."
"Look." Kirk stopped. If he told Hadley about the strange list of letters and numbers there would be no doubt that Kirk was working on the case despite the captain's direct orders not to do so. Hadley might feel obligated to let the captain know. Instead, Kirk asked, "What bust was it?"
"Don't know. Not sure I'll be able to get that for you," Hadley said. "Your turn to bribe somebody within the department."
Kirk smiled grimly. "I'll do it later. Listen, I appreciate you checking this for me. I'll take the captain's advice and lay low for a couple days and do more next week."
"Good!"
"You don't have to sound so delighted not to have me around," Kirk said.
Hadley laughed. "Just take a few days to clear your head. You'll feel a lot better."
Kirk picked up the paper Christa had given him. Rather, he thought, handed to him to read. It wasn't likely she had intended for him to leave with her prize. He half expected her to call last night, insisting that he bring it back. He wouldn't have minded a drive back to her place. To check on Amy and Frances, of course. Frances had insisted he stay in his own apartment last night. If he didn't, she warned, Amy would come to believe she was only safe when her uncle was around, and he couldn't always be there. So like his sensible sister.
His hand strayed to the phone. There really was only one person he could work with on this, only one other person who had the same strong desire--albeit for more stubborn reasons--to figure out who had wanted those computers so badly. He wouldn't call; she might tell him he couldn't stop by. He'd just show up at her door.
IT WAS A WARM DAY, so Kirk kept his truck windows partly down as he drove toward Mahaska Springs. You're used to piecing these kinds of things together, he said to himself. Aloud, he said, "Think about what you know." Something linked Chas Johnson to more than the computer components he had tried to steal from the school. Whatever it was had gotten him killed. Or, maybe the data on those computers was so valuable to someone that the penalty for failure to retrieve it was death. What could be that important?
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that Kirk didn't pay any attention to the dark green van that pulled parallel to his truck. He noted he was going more than 10 miles above the speed limit and slowed, glancing in his passenger side mirror as he did so. The last thing he needed was to get rear-ended. Something glinted in the mirror for a second, and he looked out the window.
He slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid the bullet that whizzed across the outside of his windshield. They had been aiming for his head. The drivers of the green van sped up and Kirk put his foot back on the accelerator. With his left hand steadying the wheel as he drove, he reached in his pocket for his cell phone, and immediately dropped it on the floor. "Damn it!" He needed to call for backup and get the van’s tag numbers on the police radio in case he lost sight of it.
He barreled down Dubuque Street, following the van toward downtown. Whoever they were, they were smart to make their move in the uncrowded strip between Interstate 80 and Church Street. He patted the floor near his foot and swerved into the next lane. He'd have to give up on the phone. He honked continually. Maybe he'd attract other cops that way.
The van didn't reduce speed as it entered downtown. Kirk had narrowed the gap to just a few car lengths. The light at Iowa Avenue turned orange. He sped up, looking right and left to be sure none of the university students tried to dart across the street against the light as they so often did. The van raced through the traffic signal as it turned red. Kirk accelerated and blew his horn.
Seemingly unmindful of Kirk's intentions, an old Ford with an elderly man at the wheel began to pass through the intersection. "Stop, you idiot!" It was too narrow a crossing
"Look." Kirk stopped. If he told Hadley about the strange list of letters and numbers there would be no doubt that Kirk was working on the case despite the captain's direct orders not to do so. Hadley might feel obligated to let the captain know. Instead, Kirk asked, "What bust was it?"
"Don't know. Not sure I'll be able to get that for you," Hadley said. "Your turn to bribe somebody within the department."
Kirk smiled grimly. "I'll do it later. Listen, I appreciate you checking this for me. I'll take the captain's advice and lay low for a couple days and do more next week."
"Good!"
"You don't have to sound so delighted not to have me around," Kirk said.
Hadley laughed. "Just take a few days to clear your head. You'll feel a lot better."
Kirk picked up the paper Christa had given him. Rather, he thought, handed to him to read. It wasn't likely she had intended for him to leave with her prize. He half expected her to call last night, insisting that he bring it back. He wouldn't have minded a drive back to her place. To check on Amy and Frances, of course. Frances had insisted he stay in his own apartment last night. If he didn't, she warned, Amy would come to believe she was only safe when her uncle was around, and he couldn't always be there. So like his sensible sister.
His hand strayed to the phone. There really was only one person he could work with on this, only one other person who had the same strong desire--albeit for more stubborn reasons--to figure out who had wanted those computers so badly. He wouldn't call; she might tell him he couldn't stop by. He'd just show up at her door.
IT WAS A WARM DAY, so Kirk kept his truck windows partly down as he drove toward Mahaska Springs. You're used to piecing these kinds of things together, he said to himself. Aloud, he said, "Think about what you know." Something linked Chas Johnson to more than the computer components he had tried to steal from the school. Whatever it was had gotten him killed. Or, maybe the data on those computers was so valuable to someone that the penalty for failure to retrieve it was death. What could be that important?
He was so engrossed in his thoughts that Kirk didn't pay any attention to the dark green van that pulled parallel to his truck. He noted he was going more than 10 miles above the speed limit and slowed, glancing in his passenger side mirror as he did so. The last thing he needed was to get rear-ended. Something glinted in the mirror for a second, and he looked out the window.
He slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid the bullet that whizzed across the outside of his windshield. They had been aiming for his head. The drivers of the green van sped up and Kirk put his foot back on the accelerator. With his left hand steadying the wheel as he drove, he reached in his pocket for his cell phone, and immediately dropped it on the floor. "Damn it!" He needed to call for backup and get the van’s tag numbers on the police radio in case he lost sight of it.
He barreled down Dubuque Street, following the van toward downtown. Whoever they were, they were smart to make their move in the uncrowded strip between Interstate 80 and Church Street. He patted the floor near his foot and swerved into the next lane. He'd have to give up on the phone. He honked continually. Maybe he'd attract other cops that way.
The van didn't reduce speed as it entered downtown. Kirk had narrowed the gap to just a few car lengths. The light at Iowa Avenue turned orange. He sped up, looking right and left to be sure none of the university students tried to dart across the street against the light as they so often did. The van raced through the traffic signal as it turned red. Kirk accelerated and blew his horn.
Seemingly unmindful of Kirk's intentions, an old Ford with an elderly man at the wheel began to pass through the intersection. "Stop, you idiot!" It was too narrow a crossing
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