Without a Trace Read Free Page A

were close.”
    “I’d like to know how you understand anything or why you expect me to believe Charlie would have told you where to find me.”
    Gillian wiped a damp palm over the thigh of her slacks before reaching into her bag. In silence, she handed a sealed envelope to him.
    Something told Trace he’d be better off not taking it. He should get up, walk out and lose himself in the warm Mexican night. It was only because she’d mentioned Charlie that he broke the seal and read the noteinside.
    Charlie had used the code they’d communicated with during their last assignment. As always, he’d kept the message brief: “Listen to the lady. No involvement with the organization at this time. Contact me.”
    Of course, there was no way to contact Charlie now, Trace thought as he folded the letter again. With the feeling that, even dead, Charlie was still guiding his moves, he looked at the woman again. “Explain.”
    “Mr. Forrester was a friend of my father’s. I didn’t know him well myself. I was away a lot. About fifteen years ago they worked together on a project known as Horizon.”
    Trace pushed the bottle aside. Vacation or not, he couldn’t afford to dull his senses any further. “What’s your father’s name?”
    “Sean. Dr. Sean Brady Fitzpatrick.”
    He knew the name. He knew the project. Fifteen years before, some of the top researchers and scientists in the world had been employed to develop a serum that would immunize man against the effects of ionizing radiation injury—one of the nastier side effects of nuclear war. The ISS had been in charge of security and had monitored and maintained the project. It had cost hundreds of millions, and it had been a whopping failure.
    “You’d have been a kid.”
    “I was twelve.” She jolted and turned around nervously when something crashed in the kitchen. “Of course, I didn’t know about the project then, but later …” The smell of onions and liquor was overpowering. She wanted to get up, wanted to walk along the beach, where the air would be warm and clear, but she forced herself to continue. “The project was dropped, but my father continued to work on it. He had other obligations, but whenever possible he resumed experimenting.”
    “Why? He wouldn’t have been funded for it.”
    “My father believed in Horizon. The concept fascinated him, not as a defense, but as an answer to the insanity we’re all aware exists. As to the money—well, my father has reached a point where he can afford to indulge his beliefs.”
    Not only a scientist, but a rich scientist, Trace thought as he watched her from under the brim of his hat.And this one looked as if she’d gone to a tidy convent school in Switzerland. It was the posture that usually gave it away. No one taught proper posture like a nun.
    “Go on.”
    “In any case, my father turned all his notes and findings over to my brother five years ago, after my father suffered his first heart attack. For the past few years, he has been too ill to continue intense laboratory work. And now …”
    For a moment, Gillian closed her eyes. The terror and the traveling were taking their toll. As a scientist, she knew she needed food and rest. As a daughter, a sister, she had to finish. “Mr. O’Hurley, might I have a drink?”
    Trace shoved both bottle and glass across the table. He was nibbling, but he wasn’t ready to bite yet. She interested him, certainly, but he’d learned long ago that you could be interested and uninvolved.
    She’d have preferred coffee or at the most, a snifter of warm brandy. She started to refuse the whiskey, but then caught the look in Trace’s eye. So he was testing her. She was used to being tested. Her chin came up automatically. Her shoulders straightened. Steady, she poured a double shot and downed it in one swallow.
    She drew in breath through a throat that felt as if it had been blowtorched. Blinking the moisture from her eyes, she let it out again. “Thank you.”
    The