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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?”
