Scattered Graves

early. Frank was still asleep. He wasn’t driving into Atlanta until the cybergang case was concluded. His bosses were ex cited by the discoveries about the mayor and the gang. They smelled a big case about to burst wide open. They, like everyone else, wanted what was hidden on the computer. Diane was lying there thinking that maybe it was a red herring. She had heard by way of Izzy— Janice was talking to him—that nothing was found on the computers of Edgar Peeks. Just business. It was the mayor’s computer everyone had pinned their hopes on. It was the one that had the serious encryption.
Diane remembered she hadn’t asked Frank about the latest on his Black Light hacker. Who was he? It was a fragile link—a message they could see only with a black light. But it was a good one, a good circum stantial clue to add to all the other circumstantial clues they had stacking up but couldn’t verify.
Diane got out of bed and went to the kitchen to make pancakes. They were a favorite of Frank’s. Maybe they would make up for almost getting herself killed—repeatedly.
She had to call Vanessa. Diane wasn’t looking for ward to that. She had just got the crime lab back and already the ‘‘danger’’ clause of the contract was violated. Would it always be a risky venture? Frank was right. None of the other crime labs attracted so much danger. Was it because it was in the museum and not at a police station that perps felt safe trying to break in? Maybe she should move it away from the museum and resign as crime lab director.
She started mixing the ingredients for the pancakes. As the griddle was heating up, she walked back to the bedroom to see if Frank was waking up. He was in the shower.
‘‘I’m making pancakes,’’ she said and heard him mumble something like, ‘‘Great... won’t be long.’’
She poured batter on the griddle—always a messy operation for her. As the pancakes were cooking, she opened a drawer to dig for a spatula. Frank kept all his kitchen utensils in one big drawer. Diane kept meaning to straighten it out but had never gotten around to it. She searched for the particular spatula she liked to use. She pulled out a pair of ice tongs and put them down on the counter. She saw the spat ula she wanted, pulled it out, and flipped the pancakes.
She looked down at the tongs. Great. She had laid them in pancake batter she had dribbled on the counter. She picked them up and stared at the pattern the batter made on the counter. She had seen a similar pattern before, and she knew why she had dreamed about lightbulbs all night.

Chapter 39
    After breakfast, and after explaining her epiphanybad-dream idea to Frank, and after she downloaded crime scene and autopsy photos, and after Frank drove her to the museum to get her SUV, Diane went to the police shooting range and asked to see the logbook.
    The sergeant on duty was reluctant, even with Di ane’s freshly minted ID. He was torn, she could see. He liked Garnett and he knew that even though Diane was back at the crime lab and officially neutral, she was working in Garnett’s favor. But he also had liked Harve Delamore.
    Diane smiled in the friendliest manner she could muster and said if he needed it for his paperwork, she could call the chief of police for authorization. Grudgingly, he showed her the book. Diane wanted to ask him why he and others who felt the way he did thought it was all right for Delamore to try to kill her. Why was that okay with them? She didn’t understand it, even accounting for the male-bonding thing. Surely morality should kick in and tell their conscience that Delamore was wrong to try to do what he did. Obvi ously it wasn’t rational. It was just their feelings. They liked Delamore and now he was dead and Diane had something to do with it.
    Diane examined the logbook and found something, though it was not exactly what she was looking for. It only added another link in the chain, but at least it didn’t destroy it. She had to do a little rethinking of the sequence of events. Obviously, if she was right, there had been a change in plan along the way, a change in the intended target. Who could it have been?
    Diane thanked the sergeant sincerely and drove to the city jail, where they were keeping Garnett. She didn’t have any trouble seeing him. Odd, thought Diane, one would think he would be better guarded than a logbook at the gun range.
    Garnett didn’t look good. There were dark circles under his eyes and his