The loud ringing from her phone startled Pam. She’d just talked to Jake, who was still out on a stakeout and was going to spend the night at his place in Gloucester. So who would be calling at nine o’clock?

“This is Mary O’Connor. I’m calling in my role as Associate Director of Research to ask if you can attend a meeting in Director DeSilva’s office at eight tomorrow morning. He regrets the short lead time for this, but I need to confirm that you’ll be there.”

Pam blinked. Now what? “Yes, I can be there. But can you tell me what this is about?”

“There have been some new developments. The Director wants to tell you himself tomorrow morning.”

• • •

Pam’s stomach churned as she waited outside of DeSilva’s office. Sleep had eluded her as the possibilities for this meeting kept running through her mind. Had Holly admitted the fraud? Or tried to implicate her further?

DeSilva opened the door, his face grave. “Come in and take a seat.” He motioned to the conference table, where Pam saw Mary O’Connor, Caroline Rifkin and a well-dressed bearded man she didn’t know. DeSilva introduced him as head legal counsel for the Langmere.

“I’ll get directly to the point,” DeSilva said. “Holly Singer has killed herself.”

Pam’s heart started to pound. “No! How could she? What happened?!”

“She took an overdose of Nembutal.” DeSilva looked at her coldly. “And left a note saying she could no longer live with the fact that you had driven her to falsify the aneurinide experiments. And that the two of you faked the experiments together.”

“That’s crazy! I did nothing of the sort!” She felt dizzy and about to pass out. Did Holly hate me so much that she lied in her own suicide note?

“You’re a good actress, Pam,” DeSilva said. “You had me fooled, along with everyone else. Perhaps there will be another career for you in the theater. The investigation committee was coming to the conclusion that the fraud was committed jointly by you and Singer. Her suicide note confirmed exactly that, and I’ve now received the committee’s final report with that conclusion. You are guilty of having perpetrated one of the most scandalous cases of fraud in American science. Not only that, your actions have driven a young woman, your own postdoc, to her death.”

Pam started trembling. “Please, I haven’t done anything like that.” She looked at O’Connor. “Mary, you know me. I don’t understand what’s happening.” Wouldn’t they even listen? Have I somehow ceased to exist?

“I think we’ve had more than enough protestations of your innocence,” DeSilva said. “Holly’s death has made everything clear. Your employment at the Langmere Institute is terminated immediately.”

DeSilva passed a letter across the table to her and nodded to the lawyer, who went to the door. Two men in the uniforms of security officers entered and DeSilva continued.

“These gentlemen will accompany you to your office where you may pack your personal effects. They will then escort you from the building. Anything you’re unable to take with you today will be shipped to your home address. You are no longer authorized to enter Langmere Institute property. I should add that we’ll also be forwarding a report of our investigation to the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”

Pam started to say something but the words wouldn’t come. It doesn’t matter what I say. They’ve decided. As if I was never here.

She got up and half staggered out of the office, followed by the security guards. She went to her office for the last time, trembling and in tears as she filled a cardboard box with the photos on her shelves and the personal contents of her desk. Then she let herself be escorted to her car.

Sobs wracked her body as she sat behind the wheel. I’m innocent. They can’t do this to me. They can’t.

Finally she regained enough control to drive away from the Langmere. And from the career that had been her life.