Rachel’s brows knitted. “Why would Dr. Charish work with us against her own people?”
“I don’t think she considers anyone ‘her own people,’” Brian said with a snort.
“Yeah,” I said. “Kristi looks out for Kristi. Right now, she’s eating up being in the limelight as the star researcher working toward a cure. Maybe she even wants to beat Saberton at their own game and release a cure before they do, to undercut them. Be celebrated as a hero like Jonas Salk. You can bet your rosy red—”
Reno shoved the door open and entered. Kristi followed, eyes on a printout, and went straight to her usual stool.
“Ari, have you seen the analysis of the blood samples from the patient who died at the gym?” she asked, eyes on the reports. “The glutamate numbers are through the roof.”
“Yes,” he said. “And I have no explanation for it. I’ll check the latest cultures.”
Portia looked up. “I’ll stay here and finish the extrapolations.”
“That would be quite helpful,” he said, as warmly as if he’d told her the heavens were in her eyes. He turned and exited the lab, pausing only to gently touch Reg’s shoulder and ask if the tech would accompany him.
Reg responded with a nod and smile then left with Dr. Nikas.
Kristi’s mouth pursed in a frown as she put the printouts aside and logged on to the computer.
I sidled up to her, ignoring the dirty look Reno gave me. “Hey, Kristi,” I murmured. “Why’d you cut on the gators?”
She didn’t bother to look up. “Samples.”
“Taking out chunks of hide is pretty fucking harsh.”
“They’re already healing. Zombie-gators, remember?”
“That’s not the point!”
“Sacrifices must be made to find a cure,” she said as if lecturing a child. “If you aren’t prepared for that, I suggest you excuse yourself from this research facility. Especially before I have the brains removed from the little ones later.”
Whether she was serious or just fucking with me, her comment succeeded in stoking my zombie-mama protective instinct to volcano-hot. I leaned close and snarled, “Better damn well clear it with Dr. Nikas before you mess with those gators again.” I knew he would never hurt them unless there was no other way to the cure.
She swiveled the stool to face me, fire in her eyes. “Those alligators are mine.”
No, bitch, they’re mine. I met her gaze with my own inferno. “If you hurt them, I’ll make sure you get to spend time with them up close and personal.”
“Oh, goodness. Am I supposed to be scared?”
“Only if you’re smart.” I straightened. “What did that FBI agent want?”
Kristi smiled smugly and turned back to the computer. “Agent Aberdeen was interested in my process and progress.”
“Your progress?” I sneered. “You’re not flying solo here.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Angel. It’s merely a turn of phrase. I was the one she was interviewing.”
“Then why’d you let her think Dr. Nikas was your assistant?”
She slanted a look at me. “Eavesdroppers often mishear things.”
“You said he was a godsend because of his assistance. What did you say to counter that?”
“If you don’t know, then obviously you weren’t included in the conversation.”
I clamped down on a heated retort as Dr. Nikas returned without Reg, but with another sheaf of papers. He dropped them on the desk beside Kristi, and I stepped away. Just as well. I needed out of that conversation before I ended up slugging her pert little chin.
While Dr. Nikas and Kristi conferred, I busied myself with necessary scutwork—fetching printouts, sterilizing supplies, and even making coffee. At one point Rachel passed me a handful of brain chips, telling me that I needed to keep my strength up. After I gladly accepted them, she casually offered Fritz a chip.
“No thank you,” he said, expression stern and serious. He flicked a quick glance toward Kristi then added quietly, “I wouldn’t want to have a . . . brain fart.”
Rachel pressed her lips together to hold back laughter and gave him a slow “you win” nod. He replied with a “damn straight” dip of his chin and went back to being a mean, tough bodyguard.
Around twenty minutes later, Kristi slid off the stool and gathered up her papers. “I’ll be in the microscope room trying to get to the bottom of this,” she announced and snapped her fingers. “Techs. With me.”
As she stalked off, Hairy Tech and Beardzilla leaped up as if their chairs had turned into cactuses and hurried after her with Fritz following.
The sound of Kristi’s wedges faded down the hall, but before I could celebrate her departure, I heard her say, “Agent Aberdeen, back so soon?”
“I never left,” came the gravelly reply. “There are still a few people I’d like to talk to.”
“She means me!” I gasped and looked around wildly for an escape. Hide under a table? Yeah, that would totally fool her—if she’d gone completely blind in the last half hour.
The only other door was the walk-in fridge. “Don’t tell her I’m here!” I dashed into the fridge, pulled it closed to a thin crack, and peeked out.
Sorsha opened the lab door with Kristi on her heels.
Kristi looked flustered. “I’m happy to make time to answer—”
Sorsha stopped abruptly and pivoted to face her. “No need. I’ll find you after I’ve spoken to Dr. Nikas.” With no further warning, she shut the door in Kristi’s face. I closed myself in the fridge before she could see me, even as I silently celebrated the glorious snub.
Too late, I realized I should have grabbed a lab coat on the way in. The fridge was kept at thirty-four degrees, like the cooler at the morgue. Fine and dandy for a few minutes, but who knew how long Sorsha would stick around.
I could barely make out her voice, but no matter how much I strained my ears and begged my parasite for help, the words remained unintelligible. The cold of the fridge raised goosebumps on my arms, and I bounced in place and hugged myself in a pathetic effort to stay warm. I was a delicate southern flower, and anything below fifty degrees required a parka.
I jerked as my phone buzzed. My dad. I’d call him back as soon as Sorsha left. I sent it to voicemail, but a few seconds later it buzzed again. Crap. Maybe something bad had happened?
No, this time it was Portia’s number. Puzzled, I hit answer, then remained silent as the sound of voices came through clearly.
“—appreciate your cooperation,” Sorsha was saying.
“It’s no trouble at all.” Dr. Nikas. “As you can see in this chart, there are a number of phases associated with the progression of LZ-1.”
Portia had called and left the line open so I could hear what was going on! What a marvelous, clever woman. I did a happy-boogie that warmed me up for about three seconds, then I went back to bouncing, hugging, and listening. Sorsha was being very nice, and everyone else was being super cooperative, using the “be accommodating and maybe she’ll go away faster” tactic.
A phone rang in the lab. “Would you excuse me one moment, Agent Aberdeen?” Dr. Nikas said.
She murmured assent.
“I see,” he said after a few seconds, I assumed to the caller. His voice was grave, so I doubted it was good news. “I will review the details shortly. Thank you.”
“Is everything all right?” Sorsha asked politely.
“Ah. Yes. Everything is fine,” he replied in a tone that oozed not-fine. “A young intern of mine had a hypothesis concerning an entirely unrelated subject. And I’ve just learned that there is evidence to support it.”
Oh, man. Dr. Nikas was a terrible liar. Could he be talking about me and my mosquito bite hunch? If so, did that mean he’d confirmed LZ-1 was being deliberately spread?
“Speaking of young inte
rns,” Sorsha said, “I was under the impression that a Miss Angel Crawford had been working with you here. Is she around?”
Fuuuck!
“Oh dear, she just left,” Portia said, a billion times more convincing than Dr. Nikas. Then again, it wasn’t a total lie. I had indeed left the room.
“Ah. That’s too bad. I’ll have to catch her later.”
Gah! Did she mean literally?!
“Dr. Nikas,” Sorsha said. “I’d like you to give me an idea of what you’re doing to counter the LZ-1 epidemic.”
“Certainly.” He launched into an exuberant explanation of the progress of the disease and the search for a way to treat it, masterfully steering clear of anything zombie-related.
When Dr. Nikas referred to the chart and started an explanation of the LZ-1 signs and symptoms—which I figured would take at least a minute—I put Portia’s call on hold and listened to my dad’s voicemail.
“Hey, Angelkins. I guess you’re busy. That’s okay cuz I can tell you here just as well. I’m level nineteen now with Barney the Barbarian! And Andrew found me in the game—cuz last time I told him I was this guy and not your Momzombique gal. Anyway he said that this Harlon Murtaugh character has worked for Kristi here and there on Saberton’s dime and was doing stuff for her just a coupla weeks ago, but he don’t know if he’s working for her right now. It ain’t much, but I figured it can’t hurt to pass it along. Shoot me a text so I know you got this. Love you.”
Hot damn. Confirming any sort of connection between Kristi and Baldy was more than I had before. I texted back.
I returned to Portia’s call as Dr. Nikas was winding up his explanation of the hunnnnnngry phase. I expected Sorsha to ask him about zombies like she had with Kristi. But though she bombarded him with questions about LZ-1 and his research, she never once brought up the subject of zombies. Was that good or bad?
“And how do you like working with Dr. Charish?” Sorsha asked.
“Her assistance has been most helpful in this endeavor,” Dr. Nikas replied without hesitation.
I let myself chortle since no one could hear me. Her assistance! Ha!
“No,” Sorsha said. “How do you like working with her? Personally.”
“Oh. Ah . . .”
I sent Dr. Nikas a thought-wave of think-on-your-feet-good-liar juju while Sorsha remained silent.
Dr. Nikas cleared his throat. “We have very, um, different . . . personalities. But she is brilliant and our work together can be—”
“Different how?”
Poor Dr. Nikas. He was used to the calm sanctuary of his lab.
He sighed as if resigned to his fate. “Dr. Charish can be self-absorbed, calculating, arrogant, snide, heartless, and willfully cruel. I can only hope I am none of those.”
I grinned and did a fist pump. He’d used all my adjectives except bitchy and added a few of his own. Go, Dr. N!
“And yet you’re still willing to work with her?” Sorsha asked, voice reflecting nothing more than mild curiosity.
“Dr. Charish is also clever, innovative, highly educated, and experienced,” he replied. “I can think of no other who is equal to the task we currently face.”
“I see,” Sorsha said. “Would you give me a layman’s explanation of the work you and Dr. Charish have done, specifically with the alligators?”
“There has been very little work as of yet,” he said. “But if you will step over to this terminal, I will show you what I can.”
Kristi had certainly been doing some work. Nasty work. Andrew’s info on Harlon Murtaugh’s connection to her brought me right back to my suspicion that she was involved in this entire mess. Sure, I had no real proof yet, and sure, Brian had a solid point about Kristi not being able to sneeze without the tribe knowing. But Murtaugh’s presence at the swamp and hospital meant the LZ-1 disaster had to be the work of either Kristi or Saberton—or both. Plus, Saberton and Kristi were the only ones in the world besides Dr. Nikas who had the kind of zombie research experience needed to pull off an epidemic like this. But there was no way Kristi would stand back and let Saberton get the glory for a cure without her. Which meant it had to be Kristi at the helm.
Except Brian said he’d seen her get off that jet when it landed at Tucker Point Airport night before last—well after the Saberton gator hunt and after shamblers started shambling. That didn’t rule out her involvement, but it was a factor that had to be considered.
The back of my neck prickled, and it wasn’t goosebumps. Randy had been repairing a private jet the other day. How many jets could a tiny airport like Tucker Point get in such a short time? Kristi supposedly arrived Wednesday midnight. Randy’s repair had come in on Monday.
I put the call with Portia on low-volume speaker so I could keep monitoring it, then texted Randy.
He had a point. I tried another tack.
Hmm. The bald guy could be Harlon Murtaugh. Then again, there were a lot of bald guys around. And Kristi was unmistakably blonde.
Dammit.
Kristi and Fritz, just like Brian said. I sighed. Maybe Kristi really wasn’t—
Huh?
Huh?
I took a few seconds to parse his meaning.
I thought furiously for a moment.
Holy shit.
I realized now that the phone line had gone dead. Sorsha must have left, and so Portia had hung up. Perfect timing. I burst out of the walk-in. “She has a double!”
Brian sighed and pinched his nose. Portia gave me a pained look and whispered, “Battery died. Sorry.”
Someone cleared their throat behind me.
I winced then composed myself and turned to Sorsha. “Agent Aberdeen! So nice to see you. Sorry I missed your arrival. I use the fridge as my quiet spot to meditate, y’know?”
She looked unconvinced. Probably my shivering and blue lips gave me away. Or maybe it was the ridiculous lie. Either way, she appeared unsurprised to see me.
I stood as tall as my not-quite-five-foot-three would allow. “I know you’re after me and my dad, but I don’t have time for this. Someone really special to me is sick and I need to—”
“I’m not after you,” she said. “At least not to arrest or detain, at this point.”
“Huh? Then why’d you show up at my house?”
“Because of this.” She held up a thumb drive. “The medical records of one Angel Beatrice Crawford.”
“What the fuck?”
She glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. “Reno Larson tossed this from his vehicle Monday morning.”
“When Abadie was pursuing him!”
Sorsha nodded once. “Detective Abadie noted the general location, and last night I recovered the drive.”
“The EMR number,” I breath
ed and fumbled the card out of my pocket. “Reno had this.”
Sorsha took the card and scrutinized front and back. “May I hold onto it? I’ll give you an evidence receipt.”
“Er, that’s cool. You keep it.” Best not to lay official claim to the item I’d stolen from an impounded car I’d trashed.
“I have questions,” Rachel said.
“As do we all,” Dr. Nikas murmured.
Rachel turned to me. “Beatrice? Your initials are A-B-C?”
“Yes, and you have no idea how many times my dad sang the damned alphabet song to me when I was little.” I glanced toward the door to be extra-super-sure it was closed and noted that Kyle had slipped in at some point. “Reno works for Kristi,” I said to Sorsha. “Do you think he was getting my file for her?”
She regarded me. “Why would Dr. Charish want your medical records?”
Rachel raised an eyebrow. “Why would anyone want your medical records, Angel? No offense.”
“I have no freaking idea!” I gave a strained laugh. “Unless Kristi’s super interested in the times my mom brought me to the ER because I was so clumsy.” I maintained a smile even as my gut tightened at the old memories.
“And the time you overdosed,” Rachel said with a slight shrug.
Dr. Nikas twitched at that, and I mentally crossed fingers Sorsha hadn’t noticed. But surely she wouldn’t be able to make any connection between my overdose and my becoming a zombie. But what could be so important about the overdose incident for Kristi to go to such lengths to see my records?
I dug my hands through my hair. “Well, whatever the reason, Kristi didn’t get them. So it’s all good.”
Kyle spoke up. “The hospital computer system crashed the day of Deputy Connor’s death.”