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“They were indicating that they were on board with my going forward with FDA. It’s just that the vibe was so odd. It was so strange. Every time I’ve gone there up—”

“I didn’t think they made you check in that often,” Chanti said. Her calm voice countered Piper’s near hysteria.

“No. I guess that’s the point. They don’t want me up there briefing them. They really want to forget about me. But Lionel thinks it’s important that I account for the money my lab spends. And I agree. That accountability needs to happen so everyone feels comfortable that this study is on the up and up.”

“Did someone suggest that you—"

“That I was scraping some off the top? No. As a matter of fact, before he left, Lionel said that I wasn’t asking for enough for my personal income. I don’t need it. I’m fine. Money makes me nervous.”

“That last bit requires therapy,” Chanti said.

“Probably, but I don’t make enough money to pay for that. Listen, last year, I went with my update, and, as always, it was a snooze. The executives never care about what I’m doing. It’s just a formality. They say thank you, good luck, and I move on my way. This is Lionel’s pet project and, of course, Lionel was there as usual. Chanti, here’s what I need you to focus on.”

“Okay, good, because so far you’ve been using a lot of words and none of them are bringing me closer to understanding why you’re so freaked out.”

“And yet, I’m able to figure out what you were saying even though your mouth is full of food.”

“Ice cream. As soon as I heard that tone in your voice, I grabbed a pint from the freezer.”

“You’re right, a pint and a spoon might calm my nerves, but I’m in the lab,” Piper said. “Okay, last year I saw Lionel Harcourt, and Lionel looked like a pampered man in his 60s.”

“I’m noting that detail. I’m not sure how that fits in.”

“So here’s the thing: I go there today, the security guy who checks people in jumps up from his desk, and he calls me Mrs. Harcourt.”

“Cut the guy some slack. He made a mistake.”

“Mrs. Harcourt looks like my mom and me,” Piper said, putting the phone on speaker. “She could be my aunt. But surely, he wasn’t mistaken. I’m not sixty years old.”

“Oh, I get it now. Your ego took a blow. The guy made a mistake. You don’t look sixty.”

“Exactly,” Piper said emphatically. “So it’s the opposite. I don’t look sixty, but she looks my age. Then a guard escorted me to the executive conference room, and along the way was a portrait of Lionel and Amanda. They both looked like they were in their thirties.”

“So a few decades ago, they had their portrait painted.”

“That’s what I would think, except the way the security officer looked over at that portrait pointedly as if trying to figure something out. Now hold that thought.”

“I’ve got it pinned,” Chanti said.

“I’m in the room with the executives. I’m giving them my spiel. And I don’t understand what’s happening in the room. Something. It’s like sizzling.” Piper gripped the padded arms of her chair. “It was like they all had a secret, and I was the only one who wasn’t in on it. I’ll tell you what it was like. Imagine my computer updated overnight. I sit down at the keyboard, and I’m trying to use the old system, but even though the buttons are in the same place, they no longer do the same thing.”

“I am trying so hard here,” Chanti said. “I think maybe some whipped cream and nuts on this ice cream might help.”

“I’d do that if I could. So I’m in the room giving my—”

“Spiel,” Chanti repeated.

“There’s this weird undercurrent. Lionel’s not there, but I think they’re going to approve the money, when what happens? The PA comes bursting through the door and says Amanda Harcourt was kidnapped.”

“Wait. Wait. Amanda Harcourt was kidnapped? Kidnapped? Which country are she and Lionel in?”

“Somehow, she’s here. She’s here in town—or close to town—because Brandon, that’s Lionel’s nephew, he’s an executive and was at my talk, he said ‘Tifton Manor’, and that has got to be Muffy Tifton, right? Like the Muffy Tifton?” Piper asked.

“Uh. I’m looking it up. Yeah, the Tifton estate featuring Tifton Manor was built in the early nineteenth century in the Regency style. It is renowned for its sweeping staircase.”

“I don’t know that I need the architecture.”

“You want to know if it’s nearby? Fifty minutes outside of D.C. Rural but not far. I’m looking at the local news. There’s nothing mentioning Amanda Harcourt’s kidnapping. I’m searching today’s emergency-services radio traffic to see if there’s anything there. What time did you say this woman came running in?”