Elaine Barbieri - Silent Awakening

The shorter, light-haired man acknowledged Natalie with a polite nod, while the other—

The other detective was tall and broad shouldered, dressed in a sports jacket that had seen better days and denim pants that had been washed enough times to mold his long, muscular legs just a little too keenly. His thick, wavy hair needed to be cut, his light eyes were deeply shadowed under brows as dark as his hair, he needed a shave and he was scowling at her as if she were the enemy.

As if reading her mind, the detective raked her up and down with a look so intimately insulting that she could feel the heat rise to her cheeks.

She realized that he was prepared to dislike her.

Fine. Because she didn’t like the looks of him, either.

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This story is derived from an actual criminal case history.

The cancer-inducing drug referred to on the following pages,

used on rats for research purposes, is untraceable

in the human body. It remains unidentified to

the general public for obvious reasons.

The way this unnamed drug was utilized for revenge

by a spurned lover is factual.

The characters, plot

and the name of the drug are fictional.

Elaine Barbieri was born in a historic New Jersey city. She has written forty-two novels and has been published by Berkley/Jove, Leisure, Harlequin, Harper, Avon and Zebra Books. Her titles have hit USA TODAY and major bestseller lists across the country, and are published worldwide. Ms. Barbieri has received many awards for her work, including Storyteller of the Year, Awards of Excellence and Best Saga Awards from Romantic Times magazine. Her novels have been Doubleday and Rhapsody Book Club selections, and her book More Precious Than Gold was a launch novel for Romance Alive Audio. Ms. Barbieri lives in West Milford, New Jersey, with her husband and family.

Natalie Patterson—The CDC lab tech couldn’t let justice go undone. But exposing a brilliant murderer puts her on the killer’s most-wanted list.

Detective Brady Tomasini—The tough homicide cop and the classy lab tech are like oil and water. So why is serving and protecting Natalie becoming the most important duty of his career?

Dr. Wilson Gregory—He’s very eager to have Natalie stay at his family apartment and continue to advise the police staff.

Dr. George Minter—Natalie’s boss is very proud of her. Has his pride become her death warrant?

Dr. Hadden Moore—The genius psycho’s hatred of Natalie is matched by his admiration of her smarts. Which will win out?

Charles Randolph—Natalie’s colleague thought he had a claim on Natalie that no one could break—until Detective Tomasini stepped into the picture.

Detective Joe Stanksy—He knows something’s getting to Brady. Will his prediction that his partner’s bachelor days are over come to pass?

Mattie Winslow—She invited her family to dinner—and unwittingly, to death.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

January

The stench of charred, human flesh had long since dissipated from the unidentifiable, skeletal remains lying partially concealed in a snowbank. Obvious to the heavily bundled, uniformed officers carefully searching the frozen undergrowth of the upstate New York Adirondack wilderness, however, was the bullet hole in the back of the weathered skull, indicating that the victim’s death was neither natural nor accidental.

The determined officers continued their investigation, snow crunching under their boots as certain truths became evident.

The first was that if not for the hunter who had stumbled on the scene, the remains might never have been found.

The second was that the crime scene had been so thoroughly compromised by weather, the passage of time and wild animals inhabiting the area that the search for clues was virtually pointless.

The third was that the story of the hunter’s grisly discovery would be news for a few days, but if the remains could not be identified and leads failed to develop, which appeared the most likely probability at that point, the public would lose interest in the stymied investigation.

Remaining was the most difficult truth of all—the fact that the unidentified victim would then become just another John Doe.

The previous July

“You’re wasting your time.”

Natalie Patterson looked up from her microscope as Chuck Randolph spoke. Wearing wire-rimmed glasses, his sport shirt covered by a white lab coat identical to hers, he was standing beside her workstation, closer than was necessary, and he was making her uncomfortable.

Natalie frowned. Chuck was a nice guy. He was good-looking, too, if she chose to discount the way he stared at her with his sober brown eyes, and concentrated instead on his pleasant features and slender, athletic build—unusual for a man who spent the greater part of the day either peering through a microscope or writing reports. But she didn’t discount it. Nor did she choose to consider that he was single and only a few years older than her twenty-four years, also unusual in her line of work at the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Most of the men there were either years older than she, married, or not interested in a serious-minded brunette who was dedicated to her work—or worse, were married and interested.

Actually, she liked Chuck. She had gone out on a few casual dates with him. He was intelligent, resourceful and had a dry sense of humor that she enjoyed. They had a lot in common, but like was the operative word. She had taken a step back when it seemed his feelings were beginning to run deeper.

It appeared that she hadn’t stepped back far enough.

Chuck continued, “Just about everybody in the lab has already checked out those specimens with negative results, Natalie. I know New York is frustrated by the case, but we don’t have an answer for them.”

Chuck’s tone was casual, but he was still looking at her in a way that said his feelings for her didn’t match his tone, and Natalie did not immediately respond.

At her silence, Chuck frowned and prompted, “Why? Have you come up with something?”

“No, but—”

“But?”

“I don’t know…something about these specimens bothers me.”

“You can’t be more explicit than that?”

“No, and I guess that’s the problem.”

Chuck said flatly, “Give it up, Natalie. Those specimens have gone the whole established route, from the New York City Police Department, to the health department and sentinel labs, and now to us. We’ve conducted every possible test on them here, including a PCR test for the presence of DNA unique to disease agents, just in case. It bothered every one of us when we came up empty, but we’ve all accepted that we’ve done everything possible to determine the cause of the deaths.”