“This is Becca Land,” Jody said. “She’s with me.”
“All right…but you do know this is all preliminary?”
“Definitely,” Jody said, her voice languid and seductive. Marissa’s expression softened and her eyes glazed.
“The report?” Becca said testily.
Jody laughed and Marissa blinked, as if wakening from a pleasant dream.
“Come on, then.” Marissa led them into a small crowded office with charts piled everywhere, several empty paper coffee cups balanced precariously on the edge of the desk, and an open sports bag in one corner, tennis rackets spilling out.
Becca and Jody stood, since the only chairs were covered with journals, while Marissa sorted through files and finally came up with a single sheet of paper. She read it over and dropped it onto the desk.
“Toxic shock is the preliminary diagnosis.”
“Toxic shock,” Becca repeated, jotting notes on her pad. She didn’t even consider trying for her recorder. “An infectious agent? Some kind of bacteria or something?”
Marissa raised an eyebrow in Jody’s direction and Jody nodded for her to go on.
“Culture results indicate no bacterial or viral agent.” At Becca’s look of confusion, Marissa continued, “More likely a chemotoxin of some kind.”
“Chemotoxin? Like sarin?”
“Like any number of poisons.”
“But something like that could be contagious?” Jody asked.
“In theory, absolutely,” Marissa said. “It would depend on the method of transfer, the half-life of the drug, the LD50—” She caught herself with a shake of her head. “Sorry—LD50 is a general measurement of the toxicity of any agent—it literally means the dose at which fifty percent mortality occurs.”
Becca scribbled madly. “But you haven’t isolated this…agent?”
“As I said, this is Kerry’s case, but it’s difficult for us to isolate an unknown agent because we don’t know how to test for it. We can tell you what it isn’t, but it’s very hard to tell you what it is.”
“Anything else that might be helpful?” Jody asked.
“I don’t think so…” Marissa glanced at the chart again. “Wait a minute. You said this Jane Doe died in the ER? She wasn’t an inpatient for any length of time?”
“No, why?” Becca asked.
“The external exam showed multiple intravenous access sites. Many more than would be anticipated during a simple emergency resuscitation. Hold on, let me look at the photos of the body.” Marissa keyed some information into the computer on the desk and sorted through a number of images on the monitor. “A lot of these puncture sites look older than a day or two.” She cleared the photos and regarded Becca and Jody with a frown. “If I had to guess, I’d say this girl had been hospitalized somewhere immediately before arriving at the emergency room.”
“Thanks,” Jody said. “I’d appreciate it if you kept our visit between us.”
Marissa smiled slowly. “Don’t I always?”
Becca was silent as they made their way out. When they reached the parking lot, the sun was just rising. Jody slid her hands into her pockets and stopped, watching the lightening sky intently. Becca waited, allowing her the private moment.
“What do you think?” Becca asked when Jody resumed walking.
“You tell me,” Jody said. “You’re the investigative reporter.” Becca had been up all night and, despite her excitement over the new information, was feeling bitchy.
“I think Marissa is dying for you to sink your fangs into her.”
“I can assure you, she wouldn’t be dying. And the term fangs is insulting.”
“You know what I mean.” Becca halted next to her car. “Is she one of your regulars?”
“We used to date,” Jody said. “Now she hosts for me from time to time.”
“You feed and she comes.” Becca knew she sounded petulant, and she was never petulant. She was just having a hard time getting the hungry way Marissa had looked at Jody out of her mind.
Jody’s expression never changed. “I think we’ve already established that’s how it works. The case?”
“Something—no—a lot of somethings don’t add up,” Becca said, dragging her mind back to business. “Where did the Jane Doe come from? Where was she before arriving at the ER? If she really was a patient somewhere, why not transfer her legitimately—why the secrecy? And why call me and tell me about her if you want to keep it a secret?”
“I don’t know,” Jody said, “but I think it’s time we ask the wolf Alpha the same questions.”
“When?” Becca asked eagerly. She wasn’t tired any longer.
“Since my involvement isn’t actually official at this point,” Jody said, “it may not be all that easy. I’ll call her and see if I can arrange a meeting for tonight.”
“You’ll call me, when you…wake up?”
“I sleep during the day, Becca,” Jody said with a hint of amusement in her voice. “I don’t die.”
“Don’t think you can leave me high and dry in this. Because I promise you, if you don’t call me, I will hunt you down.”
“Of that, Ms. Land,” Jody said wryly, “I have no doubt. Have a nice day.”
Becca watched as Jody walked away and couldn’t help but think of Marissa’s offer to feed her. She wondered if Marissa or someone like her would be there for Jody when she awakened. Just as quickly, she thrust the images and the accompanying frisson of anger from her mind.
Drake, acutely aware of Sylvan a few inches away, stood in the doorway of the laboratory and assessed the sophisticated setup while Sophia talked on the phone. An operating table with three circular halogen lamps positioned above it occupied the center of the large room.
Several rows of workbenches in one corner held state-of-the-art medical equipment—mass spectrometers, centrifuges, gas chromatographs, hemolytic analyzers. Glass-fronted cabinets contained instrument packs, rows of drugs, and other supplies. An anesthetic machine was attached by multicolored conduits to oxygen and anesthetic outlets in the ceiling and a portable X-ray machine occupied an adjacent alcove.
A laboratory and operating room like this required skilled personnel to staff it—Weres like Elena and Sophia who had been trained in human institutions and brought their skills and knowledge back to the Were community.
Reminded that her own prognosis was far from certain and anxious to shed any light on the disease process, Drake walked to the gleaming stainless steel operating table and sat down on the vinyl padded surface. She purposefully did not look at Sylvan, who stood with her arms folded across her chest and a tight expression on her face. Sylvan hadn’t said a word on their way to join Sophia, but her agitation was palpable, impossible for Drake to ignore even if the steady low-level growl hadn’t started again. Sensing Sylvan’s upset only made Drake want to touch her more. Her limbs vibrated with the need to go to her, to stroke the tension from her body and soothe her worry. She wanted, needed, to calm her.
“I think you should wait outside, Alpha,” Drake said, stretching out on her back in the hopes of appearing relaxed. “This is all just routine.”
“No, it isn’t.” Sylvan was suddenly at the end of the table, looming over Drake with her arms braced on either side of Drake’s legs. “I’m staying.”
The heat of Sylvan’s body wafted over Drake’s like a blanket covering her on a cold winter night. Transported, she felt her face buried in a thick silver pelt, felt Sylvan’s strong muscular body curled around hers in the haven of a fallen pine. Sylvan smelled of home and safety—sheltering her, guarding her, even as Drake protected her. Drake gasped at the vivid image and Sylvan’s scent filled her chest, stirred her.