“Has Cedar explained that in return for helping,” Dr. K said, “you’ll be excused from the lab assignment?”

“I’ll be glad to help,” I said. “What do I do? Record data? Calibrate the black sock?”

“The most important part,” Cedar said. “Hold the dog.”

I took the pup. He squirmed and try to jump down.

“Hold him still, Boone.”

“I’m trying.” I rubbed his belly. That calmed him.

Cedar had inserted two metal probes the width of spaghetti into Chigger’s nose and secured them with white tape.

“What’s with the probes?” I asked.

“My apparatus measures water vapor when Chigger breathes.” Cedar said. “According to my research, dogs can separate the air they inhale from air they exhale.”

“What it does it mean if the amount of water vapor is different?”

“A beagle’s nose is highly evolved,” Cedar said. “It keeps the dog from resampling odors. See the slits in the sides of Chigger’s nose? They push exhaled air out. That stops it from blending with the new smells and diluting the scent. Keep rubbing, please. He’s getting bored.”

The dog wasn’t the only one. My attention had begun to wander, too. “What’s the point in the water vapor? I thought beagles had thousands of scent receptors.”

“They do,” Cedar monitored the laptop. “But it’s only part of the story.”

“As Cedar learned,” Dr. K added, “Beagles as a breed have excellent noses, but almost every dog is capable of scent memory. There must be a physiological reason for his prowess, other than scent receptors.”

“Okay, I understand that,” I said, “but what’s the ultimate goal here?”

Cedar pointed at the over stuffed sock. “The N.O.S.E.”

“Whose nose?”

“Not whose nose, the N.O.S.E. Remember when I told you about the whole device at Red Fox Java?”

“Um. Well. See.”

“Basically, you didn’t listen to a word I said, and now you have no clue what I’m trying to accomplish.”

“I do! But not…exactly.”

“Dr. K, you were spot on. Holding the dog is the only job he can do right. Boone, you can rest for thirty seconds. The first set of measurements has been recorded.”

“Hey,” I said. “That was harsh. Did I deserve that?”

“Yes, you did, and I would give you a smack in the head,” she said, “if it wouldn’t mess up my data collection.”

Dr. K laughed.

It took me by surprise.

I jerked, and Chigger tried to jump from my lap. The small piece of tape pulled loose, and one of the probes slipped out.

A warning sound beeped on the laptop.

“Boone!”

“Sorry! He wiggles!”

Chigger pawed the other piece of tape off.

“Bad dog!” Cedar peeled the tape from the dog’s paws. “Dr. K? Do you have anything else we can use? This is messing up the readings.”

“I believe so.” She hopped up from the table. “Let my check the first-aid kit in the storage area. We bought some of that expensive material that allows the skin to breathe…” Her voice trailed off as she disappeared into the storage room.

Chigger began canvassing the floor for smells, while Cedar got the probes ready for another round.

“I’m really sorry for not listening to you before," I said.

Cedar punched a key on the laptop. “If you don’t want to take me seriously, fine, but I wish you’d show respect for my research.”

“I meant no disrespect, Cedar. Really.”

“What does N.O.S.E. stand for?”

“Non canine…Odor Sensing…Ergonomically…thing.”

“Not even close.”

“Close enough! The word odor was part of it, right?”

In the other room, Dr. K screamed.

“What’s wrong?” I said, standing.

The professor rushed into the room, her face white a bed sheet, hands flying around in an old-fashioned tizzy. “It’s gone! It’s been stolen! I have to call campus police. Get the dog out of the room quickly, please.”

“What was stolen?” I asked.

“Our store of explosive alkali metals!” she said. “Sodium, potassium, they’re all gone!”

3

Between the time that Dr. K called in the theft and the campus cop’s arrival, Cedar whisked Chigger down to the faculty lounge. That left me to pack up Cedar’s equipment while the cop filled out an incident report.

“So you lost some metals, didja?” the cop said. She was middle-aged with a belly gut, spindly legs, and a page-boy haircut. “Wasn’t silver or gold, was it?”

“No,” Dr. K said. “Worse than that. These metals are dangerous, not expensive.”

“Dangerous huh? That changes things. Who’s got access to the storeroom?”

The cop set her coffee down and dropped her newspaper on the table. The headline read: FIRE VICTIM IDENTIFIED

“I have the only set.” Dr. K was growing more skittish by the moment.”But there are no signs of forced entry.”

“Let me determine that.” The cop coughed. “What metal’s missing again?”

“The alkali metals,” Dr. K said. “They’re very dangerous elements. Explosive material. There was a large amount of sodium. They have to be stored in oil because they can react with water. The chemistry faculty likes to use it to demonstrate exothermic reactions.”

“Soda?”

“Sodium. With an M.”

“Show me the room where the theft took place.”

“This way.”

While they were in the storeroom, I read the paper. The fire victim was a woman named Consuela Vega, confirmed by AFIS records. Her daughter had been recently deported, and she had no other family in the area.

The dots were connecting. The victim was Mexican, and she was elderly. Unable to escape, too weak to yell for help.

I scanned the rest of the front page. Beneath the article about Mrs. Vega was a photo of my mom, standing in front of the row of open graves, her arms folded, staring down the photographer with a look I only saw when she was trying to take away my keys.

The headline read:

LOCAL VET FILES INJUNCTION.

(Galax, NC) Local veterinarian, Mary Harriet Rivenbark, has filed an injunction against Landis Land Holding, LLC, to prevent the relocation of a small family cemetery in a remote area of Allegheny County. “This is an atrocity,” Mrs. Rivenbark says. “The county planning commission is nothing but a puppet for developers, and it’s time for the citizens of Allegheny County to stand against them.” Rivenbark has organized a protest to (see A4)

So Mom had really done it. She was fighting Trey Landis.

Wow.

“When you said sodium,” the cop told Dr. K, “I was thinking some kind of salt, not a pile of stuff that could be used as a bomb! I need to call Sheriff Hoyt pronto.”

“Well, I did say it was explosive.” Dr. K wrung her hands. She looked small, frail, and vulnerable. “The other metals are in smaller quantities, but they can be even more dangerous. There were several vials of cesium. I should have discarded it years ago, but disposal companies charge so much, and the dean said we didn’t have the money in our budget.”

“Uh-huh,” the cop said. “I’ll put that in my report.” She picked up her coffee and tucked the newspaper under her arm. “Did you hear about that Mexican lady? They’re treating the case like an arson now. They’ve got a suspect, too.”

“Who?” I said.

“Some vagrant named Stumpy Meeks.”

Dr. K gasped and sat down hard at the table.

The cop saluted us with the newspaper, a faraway look in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, yes. Fine.” She sniffled and managed a weak smile. “I’m fine, dear. If you will excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”

Cedar passed Dr. K on the way out.

“Is Dr. K all right?" Cedar asked. "She’s acting kind of weird.”

“You would be, too,” I said. “If you suddenly realized that someone was using your lab supplies to make a bomb.”