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But in one dark twist, storm clouds covered my masterpiece and thorn vines clawed at the walls until they crumbled. Leaving behind a dilapidated and warped maze. I can now feel myself panting for breath, bare feet slapping the wrecked path, thorns snagging my ankles, as I search for the exit.
There is no way out.
I’ve been plunged into a never-ending rotation. Round and round. A nightmare from which I’ll never awaken.
Survive.
Like I voiced to Quinn last night, I only had to survive Wells. Just until I was safe again. Then I could reclaim my life. I’d find myself once more.
Only it will never be over. And this fight-or-flight panic coursing through my veins will eventually eat me alive.
“Doctor Johnson, I think I need you to look at this.”
Jillian’s voice pulls me out of my morbid thoughts. I shake off my conversation with Quinn, reminding myself that he has the best intentions—especially since he doesn’t know the truth of my abductor—and address my newest intern. “What do you have?”
She squints into the microscope. “I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve ever identified anything like this before. Can you look?”
I pull off my blood-covered gloves and toss them into the waste. Hunching over the eyepiece, I close one eye. And that panic races anew, my heart galloping. I stand straight and turn to face her. “Mark it as unknown for now.”
Her eyebrows draw together, but she nods. “Yes, ma’am. Should I advise Detective Quinn on the discovery?”
My heartbeat pulses in my ears. “No…not yet. Not until we can determine the origin.”
She seems distressed, as it’s protocol to always report any findings—whether we can determine them or not—to the case detectives. As forensic pathologists, that’s the job. That’s the purpose.
“I’ll prepare a sample to send out,” she says, getting right on it.
She’s a good intern. Bright, diligent, ambitious. She won’t let this finding go. It will be a shame if I have to replace her.
“Jillian, place the sample in my locker. I have other trace to send out, as well.” I force a smile. “I’ll take care of it.”
With a bright smile of her own, she flutters off to fulfill her assignment.
Back in my office, I press my hands to the closed door, shutting out the noise of the lab. I need Sadie.
Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I scroll to her contact info and tap the screen. The ring seems to drone on forever as my conscience tightens into a suffocating noose.
“This better be about cocktails,” Sadie answers.
I swallow down the burn coating my throat. “It is.” The very cocktail I developed in my personal lab. At least, a form of it. Someone—a very smart someone—tampered with the structure. But I need time to study the compound to determine how, and to what effect.
“This doesn’t sound like fun cocktails,” Sadie says. “Avery, is everything okay?”
“I can’t talk. I’m at work right now. Can we meet later?”
“Of course. I have the perfect place.”
Once I hang up, the panic subsides, but only just. After last night, how the hell am I going to explain this to Quinn? How am I going to explain when I don’t even understand how my compound showed up as trace in the vic’s system?
I should take this information to Quinn right now. Get it out in the open and let him investigate. Quinn’s good at his job, and if handing over my darknet contacts means he traces them back to the killer…
Oh, God. If I’m implicated in this investigation, that could call into question all the past cases I’ve personally handled. Which in turn will open up a further investigation into my COD reports—like the report on Wells.
That can’t happen. If it were only my career on the line, I wouldn’t hesitate. But Sadie is connected to that course of action. What she did for me… No. I can’t let her reputation be marred, or worse, due to my mistake.
A stupid, stupid mistake.
I snatch my purse off my desk and lock the office door. As I pass Jillian, I give her a quick smile, then snag the tray of samples. “I’ll run these over to forensics on my way out.”
