“Yes, thank you for your help,” I said. “I need to go make a phone call, but I’ll be back.”
After Soren confirmed they were receiving data on their end, I worked the rest of the day feeling cautiously optimistic and dodging Anvi’s pointed questions about what we’d done. The less she knew about law-breaking behavior, the better.
I also emailed Lisbeth my suggestions on the candidates to interview for the Researcher role, and her reply didn’t indicate that she’d noticed a malicious program on her computer. Dr. Davis didn’t come storming into the lab, either.
The next morning, I made myself arrive a bit later than usual at the clinic. Being there still felt wrong without Bridget, and now that my espionage was over, I dreaded another day of missing her. I had hoped she might call me, but I hadn’t heard from her at all, and it felt too pathetic to ask Soren to speak with her again.
For once, Victor left the apartment before me. “Krystal and I are going to happy hour tonight with a couple of people from the department,” he said as he gathered his things. “We’ll probably stop by here first, so let us know if you want to come.”
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally.
“You need to have a life,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder. “I’ll text you.”
I considered his invitation in the elevator up to the clinic. It might be good to get out of the house.
Work was an unmitigated disaster. All the new Omega MSC samples were now causing immune responses in the sample material. I didn’t know how to explain that, and no faith we would do anything to rectify the situation, but I brought it to Lisbeth, anyway.
“It’s not like it’s dangerous,” Lisbeth said, looking at the assays I’d printed. “HLA matches aren’t even necessary for this kind of treatment. Using the Omega cells is what’s reallyimportant. As long as we can show positive results, we can overcome the rest of the narrative.”
I had stopped arguing with her.
I was ready to leave as soon as five o’clock rolled around. I hadn’t heard from Victor, so I figured happy hour wasn’t happening after all. Which was a shame because a drink sounded like a decent distraction.
The weather was terrible enough to match my mood. It was raining with such strong winds that the rain seemed to move horizontally. I was relieved to reach our building.
When I went to unlock the front door, it opened at my touch. I swallowed my annoyance. It wasn’t the first time Victor had left it unlocked.
In the apartment's silence, as I trudged to my room shedding my soaking wet coat, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasoff. Delayed paranoia?
My bedroom door swung open, and I realized what was wrong. There was an unfamiliar scent in the space, something almost oppressively earthy. A Beta, one I’d never met before.
“Hey, Dr. Manalo.”
The man waiting in my bedroom was slim and shorter than me by a few inches, wearing a pair of jeans and a black hooded sweatshirt, damp from the rain. He’d pulled it tight around his face, but it didn't totally conceal his ash brown hair and narrow, somewhat ferrety face. His posture was relaxed. Even the hand holding a gun by his side looked casual. “You’ve been playing detective, too.”
“Who are you?” I asked. I’d frozen just inside the threshold of the room.
“The cleanup crew,” he said. His voice was bored. “Where is Bridget Crawford?”
“I don’t know,” I said quickly. This was technically true. I didn’t know Maggie’s address.
“Hm,” he said. “Yeah, I don’t believe you.”
“I haven’t seen her in a week,” I replied, which was also technically true. I backed up, trying to leave the room, and was suddenly looking down the barrel of a gun.
He held his hand perfectly steady. “Where are you sending the data?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Deny, deny, deny. The adrenaline pumping through my veins made everything stand out in sharper focus.
“You’re a bad liar. Dr. Davis has you on camera fucking with his computer.” The man was younger than I’d originally thought. Just a kid, really. But that didn’t make him any less terrifying.
“I was just doing what I was told,” I said.
“By Detective Soren Murray? Or maybe it was his Omega, Maggie?” He studied my face and must have seen some kind of reaction. “Yeah, we know about them. But Bridget isn’t at the Murray Pack house anymore, so I’m kind of hoping you can tell me where she is.”
Relief flooded through me. “I thought she was still with them.”
The kid’s smile turned cruel. “Wrong answer. I guess you won’t be helpful after all.”
