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Important enough to merit heavy quality stationery in my inbox, apparently. I lifted the handwritten letter and examined it. No return address.
I closed the door behind me to get this paperwork knocked out before my appointment with Cassidy. With the LLC info signed and scanned and sent, I turned to the letter.
I tried to slide my thumb under the flap to ease the glued surfaces apart. No dice.
I shook my head at myself; the envelope wasn’t exactly a collector’s item that had to be preserved in its pristine state. Especially not if they’d apparently superglued the length of the flap. I had to tug good and hard before it ripped open.
As the thick paper tore, the envelope flung out a plume of a white powder.
I froze.
What... was... ?
Oh no.
Trying to hold as still as possible, I reached over to the phone on my desk and hit the speaker phone button. I clamped down on my panic long enough to hit the redial button. I wasn’t even sure what department I’d called last, but it didn’t matter. I needed help from literally anyone.
“Infectious disease, this is Dr. Donaldson,” came a familiar voice.
I had to remind myself not to be disappointed Cassidy wasn’t on the other end, the person I’d probably called last. “Hi, Dr. Donaldson, this is Davis Hardcastle in Urban Health, just wondering what Beaufort’s biohazard containment protocols are.”
Dr. Donaldson was silent for three very long seconds. “What?”
I explained the situation. Dr. Donaldson hung up without responding.
Um. Not super helpful, my dude.
I contemplated my other options for almost a full minute when I heard a knock at the door. I tried to inhale as slowly as possible to call, “Don’t come in.”
“What?” Cassidy’s voice came from the other side of the door.
If she was here, this would all be taken care of with the same tenderness she’d shown me this morning. Relief flooded my chest—but it was instantly replaced with fear. Cassidy didn’t deserve to be exposed to even-Everett-didn’t-know-what because of the family drama I still couldn’t escape 3,000 miles away.
“Just... wait... a minute.”
I was going to tick her off again—I was getting so good at that I could’ve hung out a shingle on Fiverr—but if Dr. Donaldson didn’t come through for me, then Cassidy would have to be the one to get help.
Judging by the way Dr. Donaldson had looked at Cassidy, he’d want to lock me in here with the anthrax if he had the choice.
“What are you doing?” Cassidy finally asked.
What was I supposed to tell her? Just chilling? Rolling in either ricin or cornstarch? Hoping your director doesn’t hate me as much as he should, given how many times I’ve stared at your lips and wished for something more, up to and including this morning?
Yeah, probably not going to say that last one.
Before I came up with anything, the air-conditioning abruptly powered down. In the new quiet, voices murmured on the other side of the door. “Davis?” Cassidy called. “You’re going to be okay, all right?”
Again, what was I supposed to say? I just tried to keep calm. “Cool with me.”
“Great, great. I’ll be right back, and we’ll get everything decontaminated.”
“I’ll... stay right here.”
“Sounds like a plan.” There was a beat before she added, “We’re going to take care of you.”
She had no idea how long I’d waited to hear those words. “Thank you.”
In the hall, the commotion continued for a few minutes before the door finally opened.
