Wrong Place, Wrong Time (Pete 'Monty' Montgomery 1)

“Shit,” Blake muttered, reading as he followed behind her.

“Exactly.” Devon sat down on the bed, drawing up her knees, resting her chin on them. “Either your grandfather’s not wasting any time, or I made someone else feel cornered.”

Blake gave a tight nod. “Whoever it was knows you’re here. Which narrows it down to my entire family, Dr. Vista, and a chunk of the staff at Pierson & Company.” He strode over, picked up the telephone, and thrust it into Devon’s hand. “Call your father. Now.”

Devon punched in Monty’s home number.

“Yeah?” Her father answered on the second ring. His voice was rough with sleep, but his mind was already alert. Years in the Seventy-fifth had done that.

“Monty, it’s me.”

“I had a feeling I’d hear from you. What’s up?”

She told him everything, starting with the threatening note.

“You ruffled somebody’s feathers pretty bad,” Monty commented. “That means you’re close.”

“I know. Which is why I’ve got to get inside Vista’s trailer. We can’t play this one safe. Time is against us.”

“I agree. About everything except you getting into Vista’s trailer. That’s not happening. Have a stiff drink and go to sleep.”

Devon bristled. “Don’t get all paternal on me, Monty. You’re the one who made me your partner in this case. Well, I’m doing my job. We don’t have any evidence, so we can forget getting a warrant. And Vista’s scared enough to get rid of whatever he’s hiding behind that curtain.”

“Yeah, but there are other considerations. My guess is whatever’s back there cost a bundle and is at a critical point in development, or experimentation, or whatever the hell Vista’s doing for Edward. I agree that it’s shady. That’s why Edward doesn’t want the workstation set up in his stables. But the research obviously means a helluva lot to him. So Vista can’t just toss his secret goodies out, not without Edward’s okay. As for a warrant, you’re right. It’s not happening. Not without something more than instinct. So I’m moving on this now. Tonight. I’ll get into the trailer before dawn, while it’s deserted. Find out where Vista’s staying. Ask Blake.”

Devon complied. “Is Vista here in Dutchess County?” she murmured to Blake.

He nodded. “My grandfather puts him up at the Best Western.”

“Did you hear that?” Devon asked into the phone.

“Yup.” Monty was pulling on his clothes. “That’s all I need. Go back to sleep. I’ll call you later.”

IT WAS FOUR thirty when Monty pulled into the dark parking lot of the Best Western motel.

He drove around to the section designated for trucks. There. Vista’s trailer. Devon’s description made it impossible to miss. And the rear end was definitely low to the ground.

Monty parked to a side, turned off his lights and his motor. The lot was deserted. Still, he gave it a minute or two, just to be on the safe side. When he was sure no one was around, he got out, taking his tools with him.

Collar turned up, he made his way to the trailer. He flicked on his penlight, gripping it between his teeth so the beam was aimed directly on the lock. Grabbing his tension wrench, he slid it into the keyhole and turned. Next came the pick. He yanked it out of his pocket, inserted it into the keyhole, and began lifting each pin in sequence until the last pin had fallen into position. When they were all lined up, he used the tension wrench to turn the lock.

It slid open.

He braced himself for the blare of the alarm. Once that siren started blasting, he’d have a prescribed amount of time to get in and out.

In one fluid motion, he yanked open the door.

Silence.

A wry grin tugged at Monty’s lips. That was the nice thing about rural life. Everyone was so damned trusting.

He hopped into the trailer and shut the door.

Quickly, he darted his penlight around, orienting himself and getting a feel for the space. Then he focused the light directly in front of him, keeping it low and steady as he went straight for gold.

He shoved aside the curtain, marching into the back of the trailer and peering around.

The place looked like something out of Scientific American—a compact but comprehensive molecular physiology lab. There was a variety of high-tech equipment on the counters, most of which was Greek to Monty, and a lineup of test tubes arranged near a serious-looking microscope.