Killerwatt by Sharon Woods Hopkins Read Free Book Online Page A

for Randolph McCarter these days.
He was thankful for the blessed change from the chaos his life had become when
he found himself widowed ten years ago. His wife, a dedicated oncologist, died
in a plane crash coming home from an overseas conference. They had no children.
Anger and loneliness carried him directly to a whiskey bottle.
    Arrowing down their lane and on to the gravel county
road, he wondered how differently his life would have turned out had he not met
Rhetta. Judge Rosswell Carew, a fellow bachelor and drinking buddy, introduced
them at a Humane Society fundraising dinner auction six years ago. Rhetta, a
sworn single, promptly informed Randolph she wasn’t interested in marrying
anyone. That suited Randolph just fine. Rhetta and Randolph struck a major
chord together, marrying two years later.
    Randolph’s wedding gift to her was his promise to
quit drinking. Her gift to him in return was a promise to quit smoking.
    Although he did quit bingeing and meeting friends
for drink fests, he hadn’t quite managed to stop drinking completely. He didn’t
always tell Rhetta when he had a drink or two, although he suspected she always
knew. Privately, he feared being lulled into his former pattern of excessive
drink.
    Alcohol had nearly killed Carew last year. After a
night of heavy drinking, he fell asleep at the wheel. Fortunately, Carew had
had sense enough to fasten his seat belt. That saved him from flying headlong
into the windshield when he missed a curve and plowed into an oak tree.
     
    *
* *
     
    Randolph
edged the pickup into a slot outside Rhetta’s office a half hour later. Rhetta
had christened his truck The Artmobile. She had a nickname for everything.
    He spotted Peter LaRose bent over the conference
table alongside Rhetta and Woody. They were all absorbed in studying several
sheets of paper and hadn’t noticed him entering. Randolph ambled over to join
them.
    “We’ve introduced ourselves,” Rhetta said after
brushing her lips against her husband’s cheek. She gestured toward the angular
professor who was still examining a document.
    “Thanks for meeting us on such short notice,”
Randolph said, shaking hands with Peter.
    “I’m not sure what you have here,” Peter said
without preamble. He motioned to a paper spread out on the table. “This is
definitely written in Arabic.” He furrowed his brow. A strand of thinning grey
sandy hair fell across his wide forehead. “I translated the best I could. It
appears that the writing is identifying different components in the drawing. As
I said, my written Arabic isn’t that great.”
    Randolph glanced down at the document. He couldn’t
decipher it. He pointed to the sheet. “What’s your best guess?”
    Peter scratched his chin, taking a moment to answer.
“Looks like it could be some kind of schematic. Maybe a transformer of some
kind. It’s pretty large, bigger than what’s in the short wave radios I work on
in my spare time.”
     
     
    CHAPTER
7
     
     
    Rhetta felt her stomach knot. “Why on earth would Al-Serafi
have a schematic for something like that?” She had no idea what she expected
Peter to say.
    Peter’s thin shoulders raised and dropped. “I’m
sorry I wasn’t more help.”
    “Actually, Peter, you’ve been a great help,”
Randolph said, glancing at Rhetta.
    “Yes, Peter. Thanks so much,” Rhetta said.
    Woody remained silent. He continued examining the
schematic.
    “I’ve got to run.” Peter squinted at his wristwatch
and frowned. “I have an appointment with a graduate student in fifteen
minutes.”
    Randolph thanked his friend, and the two men shook
hands. “I owe you lunch for this, Peter. I’ll call you soon and we’ll catch
up.”
    After Peter left, no one spoke. Randolph finally
broke the silence.
    “A transformer?” Randolph said, sidling back over to
the table. He peered at the drawings. “Woody, what do you make of that?”
    Woody didn’t answer. Instead, he hurried to his
desk. He dropped into his