Tess Gerritsen - Peggy Sue Got Murdered

"Let me lay out the facts, disturbing but true. First, Jane Doe's specimens were lost. I know I labeled them properly, I filled out all the right forms, and put them in the right box."

"The carrier could have lost it. Or it could've been stolen from his vehicle. There are dozens of possibilities."

"Then there's the matter of Xenia Vargas. Her specimens did make it to the state lab, but they can't ID the drug. So they send it to an outside lab for further testing. Guess which lab?" She looked him in the eye. "Cygnus."

He didn't even flinch. Calmly he said, "We routinely handle requests from the state. We're only thirty miles away and we're better equipped."

" Third , there's the matter of Dr. Michael Dietz, Nicos Biagi's doctor. He identifies the drug as Zestron-L. Then he resigns from Hancock General and skips town. I think he was forced out by the hospital. Because Cygnus just happens to be a major donor to Hancock General."

"Cygnus had nothing to do with Dietz's resignation. He was already on his way out."

"How would you know that?"

"I'm on the hospital board. Three malpractice suits were more than we'd tolerate. Dietz was a disaster waiting to happen. His license was already in jeopardy."

M. J. paused. That would account for Dietz's reluctance to face the press. He didn't need the publicity.

"But Zestron-L is your drug. And someone's trying to keep its identity from the ME. Someone's protecting Cygnus."

He began to pace back and forth by the fountain. "This is bizarre," he muttered. "I don't see how that ID could be right."

"You can't argue with a lab result."

He stopped and looked at her, the gaudy lights from the fountain washing him in their watery glow. "No," he said at last. "You're right. I can't."

The absolute steadiness of his gaze made her want to believe that there were no lies between them, no hidden agendas, that his bewilderment was real. I must be getting soft , she thought. A pair of blue-gray eyes, a tuxedo, a man too gorgeous for words, and my horse sense bites the dust. What is wrong with me ?

"Come with me," he said, and held out his hand.

She didn't move, feeling shaken by the sudden temptation to take his hand, to feel her whole body swallowed in his warmth. This was what she'd fought against, from the first time they'd met, this quickening of desire.

He was still holding out his hand, still trapping her in a gaze she couldn't seem to escape. "Come on, M. J.," he said.

"Where?"

"To Cygnus. The lab. Tonight, I'm going to root out the answers. And I want you there with me, as a witness."

She shook her head. "I'm not so sure that you'll like the answers."

"You may be right. But it's clear to me that you're not going to let up. One way or another, you're going to dig up the truth. So I might as well work with you. Not against you."

The logic of the devil. How could she argue with it?

She said, at last, "All right. I'll go with you."

"First let me smooth things over with Isabel."

Back in the ballroom, she watched him approach Isabel, saw the hurried excuses, the apologetic head-shaking. Isabel glanced in M. J.'s direction with a poorly disguised look of annoyance.

M. J. spotted Ed by the buffet table. She sidled up to him. "Ed," she said.

He grinned. "Did the direct approach work?"

"Quantrell's taking me to his lab tonight."

"Lucky you."

"I want you to let Beamis and Shradick know. Just in case."

"In case what?"

Instantly she fell silent as Adam came towards her. "Just keep it in mind," she muttered to Ed. Then, with an automatic smile pasted in place, she followed Adam out the door.

They went into the hotel garage. "We'll take your car," he said. "Isabel's going home in mine."

"She didn't look too happy about it."

"She hasn't much of a choice."

M. J. shook her head in disbelief. "Are you always this thoughtful of your lady friends?"

"Isabel," he sighed, "is a lovely woman with a cozy inheritance. And a whole stable of suitors. She hardly needs me to keep her warm at night."

"Do you?"

"Do you keep Ed Novak warm at night?"

"None of your business."

He cocked his head. "Ditto."

They got into the rented Mercedes. The smell of leather upholstery mingled with the scent of him -his warmth, his after-shave. It left her feeling a little lightheaded and more than a little insane. Since when did the mere scent of a man make her dizzy?

Since this man , she thought in irritation as she started the car. They swung into evening traffic.

"How do you like the car?" he asked.

"It's okay."

"Okay?" he said, obviously waiting for her to elaborate.

"Yeah. It's okay."

He looked out the window. "Next time, I'll have to choose something that'll really impress you."

"Is that what you were trying to do? Impress me?"

"Yes."

"In that case, I'll just say it. This baby handles like a dream, looks like a million bucks, and makes me feel young, gorgeous, and omnipotent. And I'm only going to give her back after a lot of kicking and screaming."

"That's better." He smiled at her, his gaze lingering on her face. "You know," he said softly, "you really should wear your hair loose like that more often. It suits you."

It was the most offhand of compliments, but it was enough to send even her cynical heart skipping. You're losing it, Novak , she thought, gripping the steering wheel. So he's got a silver tongue. Sterling silver. You've never let flattery do this to you before .

She sneaked a glance sideways and saw that he'd already turned his gaze back to the road ahead.

"There," he said. "Take the next turnoff. It's eight miles north."

The road took them out of midtown Albion, into a district of industrial parks and corporate headquarters. In the last ten years, many of the buildings had gone vacant; dark windows and For Lease signs had sprung up everywhere. Albion, like the rest of the country, was struggling.

The Cygnus complex was one of the few that appeared to house a thriving corporation. Even at eight o'clock at night, some of the windows were still lit, and there were a dozen cars in the parking lot. They drove past the security booth and pulled into a stall marked Quantrell .

"Your people work late," said M. J., glancing at the parked cars.

"The evening shift," said Adam. "We run a twenty-four-hour diagnostic lab. Plus, some of our research people like to keep odd hours. You know how it is with eggheads. They have their own schedules."

"A flexible company."

"We have to be, if we want to keep good minds around."

They walked to the front door, where Adam pressed a few numbers on a wall keypad and the lock snapped open. Inside, they headed down a brightly lit hallway. No smudged walls, no flickering fluorescent bulbs here; only the best for corporate America.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"Diagnostics. I'm going to prove to you we're not engaged in a cover-up."

"Just how are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to personally hand over to you Xenia Vargas's toxicology screen."

The diagnostics lab was a vast chamber of space-age equipment, manned by a half-dozen technicians. The evening supervisor, a grandmotherly type in a lab coat, immediately came to greet them.

"Don't worry, Grace," said Adam. "This isn't a surprise inspection."

"Thank God," said Grace with a laugh. "We just hid the beer keg and the dancing girls. So what can I do for you, Mr. Q.?"

"This is Dr. Novak, ME's office. She wants to check on a tox screen sent here from the state."

"What's the name?"

"Xenia Vargas," said M. J.

Grace sat down at a computer terminal and typed in the name. "Here it is. Logged in just this afternoon. It's not checked priority, so we haven't run it yet."