With a sigh, she read the second list. Psychic powers. Super powers. Old-fashioned. That made her wince. If his father died in 1798, that would make Jack born in 1791.
This was definitely freaky enough that she ought to be scared off. Even Jack had told her she should run like the hounds of hell were after her. But if he were truly a bad man, would he warn her? Maybe he was afraid that he'd accidentally hurt her with his super strength.
She tossed the list on the coffee table. Enough with this useless speculation. She needed hard facts. If she were a detective, how would she investigate him? First stop would be his workplace. She'd check out Romatech Industries and confirm his alibi for Saturday night. The trip would probably take a few hours, so she needed to let LaToya know she wouldn't be home for supper tonight.
She turned on her cell phone and noticed a missed call in her voice mail. Probably her mother again, begging her to give up this police nonsense and come back home to do something sensible with her life, like compete for the Miss Louisiana title.
When Lara had first moved to New York, her mother had called every day to nag her, so she'd resorted to turning the phone off when she wasn't at work. And now that she worked the night shift, she continued to keep it turned off so she could sleep during the day.
With a resigned sigh, she steeled herself for more nagging and activated her voice mail. Her heart leaped at the sound of Jack's voice.
"Lara, I've been gathering information on the case. I'd like to show it to you Monday night. I've also planned a … date for us. It would only take a few hours of our time, then we could come back and work some more. I'll call you Monday about eight-thirty to see if you're agreeable to going out with me. Sleep well, bellissima." He hung up.
A date? She listened to his message one more time. Yes, Jack was planning a date! She collapsed back on the couch and closed her eyes, enjoying the deep, sexy sound of his voice. Jack wanted to date her, and he wondered if she would agree? She snorted. That was like asking her if she was agreeable with, world peace. Or a cure for cancer.
She glanced at the list on the coffee table, and the title mocked her. You Don't Know Jack. Should she be this eager to date a mystery man with strange powers? But wouldn't dating him give her the best opportunity to get better acquainted with him?
She checked the time of his call. He'd made it at five-thirty that morning. She glanced at the time now. Four-thirty p.m. She had four hours before he would call. It wouldn't take her four hours to get ready.
And what about her plan to go to Romatech? How could she fit that in? She had time to travel to White Plains, but it would be tight getting back in time. An idea struck her, and she called Jack. He didn't answer, so she left a message.
"Hi, Jack. I'll be happy to go on a date with you. And thanks for working on the case. I'm guessing you did all the work at Romatech, so I'll just meet you there at eight-thirty, okay? Bye."
She showered and after thirty minutes of deliberation, finally chose a blue sundress with a white straw belt. She topped it with a white crocheted shrug sweater in case the evening turned cool. She switched to a white handbag to match her white sandals.
She checked her makeup for the tenth time, and her conscience pricked her. There were kidnapped girls out there who needed her help, and all she could think about was this date. She was letting her attraction to Jack get out of hand.
But there will always be bad guys, she argued with herself. How often does love come along? She stared at herself in the mirror. Was it love? Could she really be falling in love?
Her chest tightened with a mixture of anticipation and uncertainty as she gathered her things and left the apartment. She took the subway to Grand Central Station, then boarded an express train to White Plains. It was almost seven when her taxi arrived at Romatech. The facility was bigger than she'd imagined, and completely walled off. The front gate was closed, with a guard station nearby.
When the guard approached the taxi, she rolled down the window and flashed her NYPD badge at him. "Hi, I'd like to talk to your head of security. And I have an appointment with Jack … Venezia, whenever he arrives."
The guard gave her a doubtful look. "I've never known the police to arrive in a taxi. And no offense, but you look more like a fashion model than a police officer."
Her face grew warm. She handed him her badge. "Check it out, if you must, then let me speak to your supervisor."
He studied her badge. "Lara Boucher? I've heard about you."
Heard what? Her face grew warmer.
With a smirk, the guard returned her badge. "Just a minute." He went to the guard station and spoke on a phone.
Lara groaned inwardly. She hadn't realized this place would be so hard to get into. And she should have realized that no one would believe she was pursuing a case when she was dressed like this. It was all too obvious that she was pursuing Jack.
The guard returned to the taxi. "Miss Boucher, Howard Barr will meet you at the front door." He pushed a button on his remote control, and the iron gate swung open.
The taxi proceeded down a two-lane road that cut through a wooded area. Then, around a bend, the facility came into view. A small parking lot was in front and a larger one to the left by a side entrance. The building sprawled from the main entrance with several wings jutting out into the beautifully landscaped grounds.
A large man in khaki pants and navy Polo shirt emerged from the front door just as the taxi pulled to a stop.
Lara paid the cabbie and climbed out of the car. "Hello. I'm Lara Boucher." She extended a hand.
"Howard Barr." Smiling, he shook her hand. "I've heard about you."
"Um … thanks." She watched as he slid his ID card through a slot, then pressed his hand to a sensor pad. "You certainly have tight security here."
"Yep." A green light blinked on a keypad, and he opened the door. "Come on in."
She stepped into a wide foyer and noted a few potted plants resting on the marble floor and beautifully framed artwork decorating the walls. The scent of antiseptic cleanser lingered in the air, reminding her of a hospital. Not surprising, though, since they would need a sterile environment for the manufacture of synthetic blood.
Howard led her to a small table on the right. "I'm sorry, but I'll have to check your bag."
"I understand." She set her white straw handbag on the table. Thankfully, she'd left her handgun at home. "Jack mentioned that you have some enemies."
"Yep." Howard fumbled around her handbag with his huge hands, then refastened the clasp. "We've been bombed a few times, so it pays to be extra careful."
"Why would someone bomb this place?" Lara swung her bag onto her shoulder. "The synthetic blood you're making here is saving thousands of lives."
"Yes, but there are some … weirdos out there who object to it not being real blood. So, Miss Boucher, how can I help you? Jack won't be available for another hour or so."
"I'm investigating a college student who disappeared Saturday night."
Howard nodded. "Jack was working on that last night. He left the information on a laptop. Did you want to see it?"
"Yes, please."
"This way." Howard led her down a hall to the left. "I'll let you use a conference room. Jack mentioned that he was working with you, so it should be all right for you to look at the information he found."
Lara felt a twinge of annoyance. Of course it was all right. The missing girl was a police matter. "I suppose Jack was here Saturday night, working security?"
"Yes." Howard frowned. "Why do you ask?"
"Standard procedure," she murmured. She noted the labeled doors that they passed. Restroom, Storeroom, Conference Room. Nursery? She thought she heard a child's laughter behind that door. Dental Office. "You have a dentist here?"
"Yep. Shanna Draganesti." Howard motioned to the office. "She provides dental care for all the employees here for a fraction of the normal cost."
"That's nice. So what time was Jack here Saturday night?"
"All night long." Howard stopped. "You don't seriously consider him a suspect, do you? Jack's a great guy. And if he were guilty, why would he help you work on the case?"
Lara shifted her weight. "I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but it would clarify matters if you could provide actual proof that he was here that night."
Howard scowled at her. "Fine. I'll show you the security tapes from Saturday night." He led her to a door labeled MacKay Security. Once again, he swiped his ID card and pressed his hand against a sensor pad. "We've got a few weapons inside, so we have to keep it locked up tight."
"I understand." Lara followed him inside.
At first, it looked like a normal security office: desk, computer, file cabinets, a wall covered with monitors linked to surveillance cameras. But then she spotted the caged-off area in the back. Her mouth fell open.
A few weapons? She walked toward the padlocked cage, counting the assault rifles lined up on a rack. Twelve. Numerous handguns on a shelf. Bins filled with ammo on another shelf. But what really caught her eye were the swords. Gleaming broadswords and foils filled the wall on the left. On the right wall, lethal-looking daggers and knives were on display.
She curled her fingers around a chain link of the cage and studied the swords. Some of them looked really old. And what an old-fashioned way to protect a building.