Wounded Earth by Mary Anna Evans

was afraid he would.” J.D. sounded sleepy.
    “We need to go to Nebraska. We may be able to get some information on Babykiller there.”
    “Nebraska. God. Couldn't we go someplace with fresh seafood and good snorkeling?”
    “Nebraska. We leave at two-thirty.”
    He yawned. She could hear the sheets rustle as he rolled over in bed. “Is BioHeal paying?”
    “Yep. And my exalted frequent-flyer status puts us in first class with utterly obsequious flight attendants. They'll keep your pillows fluffed and your glass full.”
    ”Too bad. I'll be on duty, so I'll have to stay sober. You can update me on the way to the airport. Oh, and get the tape out of your Tattletale. I want to hear for myself what Mr. Babykiller has to say. I'll pick you up at noon.” The phone clicked.
    Larabeth laughed out loud. She was used to consultants who hung on her every word. Actually, they kissed her ass. Anything to keep the client happy. J.D. just announced what he was going to do for her, then hung up. He never had been able to remember who was the boss.
    She drummed her fingers on the cover of her calendar. There was no productive reason to call the police. What would she tell them? That she'd just had an unpleasant phone call?
    The police had been supremely unconcerned over her break-in. How seriously would they take her taped conversation with a man who made no threats and never admitted to anything illegal? They would probably just tell her to hang up on him and record the incident in her harassment log.
    So why didn't she hang up on him? Because she was convinced he was dangerous? Because she believed in knowing one's enemies? Because she was afraid of what he might do if she refused to let him terrorize her? Yes, on all three counts.
    But there was one more reason, and Larabeth was woman enough to admit it. Babykiller had said that it would be fascinating to cross swords with a woman like her. Well, Babykiller wasn't the only one who liked to fence.

Chapter 5
     
    J.D. watched Larabeth kneel among withered corn stalks. She had donned a BioHeal-blue, disposable jumpsuit designed to protect her skin from contact with herbicide residuals. Her hands were covered with protective gloves. She probed thoughtfully into the first few inches of soil. It was dry as dust. Standing up, she shook the earth off her trowel. She walked further into the affected area and J.D. followed her.
    “What are we looking for?” He moved awkwardly in the protective jumpsuit. It constricted the movement of his knees and was beginning to stick to various areas of perspiring skin.
    “I just wanted to see for myself what the maps and soil surveys have already told me.”
    “And that is—?”
    “Herbicides tend to adhere strongly to surface soils and I don't see anything unusual about these soils to suggest anything different. So, I expect any soil contamination is very shallow.”
    “Is that good? It sounds good.”
    “Well, soil contamination is expensive to clean up so, yes, it's good in that respect.”
    “I think I hear a ‘but’ coming on.”
    Larabeth strode ahead, selecting her path by going down any slight hill she encountered. J.D. expelled a long breath. By the time they turned around, he would be stuck to each square inch of the infernal jumpsuit, and the return trip would be uphill all the way.
    “Very good,” Larabeth was saying. “Limited soil contamination is a good thing, but—”. She leaned on the word and glanced at him. “But I doubt that every drop of Agent Blue adhered to the soils. The excess has to go somewhere. If it doesn't adhere to the soil or the corn and it doesn't evaporate, what happens?”
    “Stop behaving like a schoolteacher.”
    Larabeth ignored him and continued. “If it doesn't stick to something and it doesn't evaporate, then it travels downhill, carried by gravity, and by rain or irrigation water. In this case, it doesn't travel far.”
    “Am I supposed to be holding my breath, waiting for the