Pam was in the shower when she heard the buzzer ringing. Loud and without stopping. Her stomach fell. Was this it? Six thirty in the morning with no warning. Like Anita had said it might happen.

She threw a towel over herself and ran to the intercom. Be ready to let them in, Anita had said. “Yes?”

The voice was loud and demanding. “Federal agents. Open the door.”

She buzzed them in and waited at the door to her condo, dripping wet. Like Anita and Jake had both told her to do. Be cooperative and do what they say. But don’t tell them anything and ask for your lawyer.

Four of them came in, two with their guns drawn. One said “Pamela Weller? We have a warrant for your arrest. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

She bit her lip. “Can I dry off and put some clothes on?”

“Alright, but make it quick.” The leader gestured to the two women in the group. “Go with her.”

They followed her to the bedroom with guns drawn. Pam couldn’t stop shaking as she dried herself and got into a shirt and pair of jeans. Then one of the women motioned Pam to the door. “Let’s go.”

They handcuffed her and roughly guided her out of her condo and down the stairs. The handcuffs were more painful than they looked. What had Jake said? Just pretend it’s a dream. A nightmare that’ll soon be over.

Two black SUVs were waiting on the street, blue lights flashing. And a news truck from one of the local TV stations, with a reporter shouting at her and a camera man filming as the agents walked her out. The perp walk. Anita had predicted this too. The Feds had notified the media to get publicity for her arrest.

One of the agents put his hand on her head and they pushed her into the back of one of the vehicles. Then the sirens came on and they made a quick trip to the Moakley Federal Courthouse. The winner of several architectural design awards, it was an impressive glass-walled building on the waterfront. And the site of some of Boston’s most infamous trials.

The Marathon bomber.

Whitey Bulger.

A place Pam never thought she’d see from the viewpoint of a prisoner.

More news media greeted them as she was pulled out of the back seat and marched into the building. Down to the basement. Photographed, fingerprinted, and locked in a six-by-eight foot cell with a metal bunk, a toilet and a sink.

There was no window and she had no idea what time it was. That was the worst of it, not knowing when her lawyer might come. When she might get out. Remember what Jake and Anita said. Keep calm.

It seemed like forever before Anita was finally brought back. But when she asked, it turned out to be only a little after ten.

“Just hang on,” Anita said. “The worst is over and we’ll have you out soon. You haven’t said anything to them, have you?”

“No, nothing. Like you advised.”

“Okay, good. Just remember, they’re not your friends. We’re scheduled to go before a judge magistrate at eleven thirty, so just keep it together for the next hour. They’ll bring you up to one of the courtrooms and I’ll meet you there.”

• • •

Waiting in the courtroom with a half dozen other prisoners was like being in a cattle car. Processed like some kind of animal, no longer a human being. Finally her case was called and she stood before the bench with Anita. Suddenly it was rapid fire.

A plea of not guilty.

Provisional trial date in six months.

Then the judge asked about bail.

“The defendant is an established member of the community, a Harvard professor,” Anita said. “She has no record and is not a flight risk. All she wants is the chance to establish her innocence of these unfounded charges. We ask that she be released on her own recognizance.”

“Your Honor, this is a major crime with a sentence of up to ten years in prison,” the AUSA said. “The defendant has already been investigated and found guilty of fraud by her scientific peers. She has the means and motive to flee. We ask that she be retained in custody until trial.”

Pam’s heart sank. She couldn’t survive being locked up for months.

Anita started to respond, but the judge raised a hand to stop her. He looked bored. “Alright, enough. Bail is set at ten thousand dollars and the defendant will surrender her passport.”

• • •

Jake and Anita were both there to meet her when they let her out half an hour later. She fell into Jake’s arms and broke down in tears.

He held her tight. “It’s alright. It’s over,” he said.

Anita gripped her shoulder. “We’ll fix it, Pam.”

Pam looked up, her face streaked with tears. “I can’t believe what this was like. Being processed and locked up like an animal.”

Jake pulled her head back down onto his chest.

“Let’s go get some lunch and a drink,” Anita said. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“Okay,” Pam said. “At least the drink sounds good.”

They walked around the corner to the restaurant, which Anita explained was a lawyers’ hangout. The host seated them at a window table, looking out over the water. Anita ordered her usual martini and a lobster roll. Jake asked for a Sam Adams and fried clams.

Pam felt blank when the waitress turned to her. “I could do with a martini today, too. I don’t think I can eat, maybe I’ll just steal a little of whatever he’s having.”

The waitress looked sympathetic and hustled off to get their drinks. She’d probably served people who’d just gotten out of jail before.

When the martini came, Pam took a big gulp and shook her head. “That was so awful.”

Jake squeezed her hand. “It’ll get better.”

“Yes,” Anita said. “Now we have time to prepare for trial.”

“How do you see our strategy?” Jake asked.

“Well, finding that there’s a real drug is an important step,” Anita said. “But we’re going to have to be careful with that information.”

“Pam still has to figure out what the drug really is,” Jake said. “But then couldn’t you use it to negotiate a plea bargain?”

“Maybe, but it’s risky,” Anita said. “The prosecution could very well argue that Pam conspired to steal the drug from the beginning.”

“But if I did that, why would Holly have committed suicide with a note saying that she and I were guilty of fraud?” Pam asked.

Anita sighed. “I didn’t mention this before, but I’m afraid the Feds would start looking at the possibility that Holly was murdered, with you as the prime suspect. The theory would be that the two of you were co-conspirators and you killed her because you were afraid she’d crack under the committee’s inquiry. Then you faked a suicide note that would ring true with the committee, but leave you free to rediscover the active drug later. You could find yourself under investigation for murder, not just fraud.”

Pam recoiled in horror. Murder. It seemed like there was no way out of this. “What can we do then? It sounds like it won’t even help to figure out what the real drug is.”

“It’s tough,” Anita said. “Identifying the active drug is important, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. We’re going to have to figure out the full story of how and when Holly swapped the real drug for the fake. We need to prove it was her, not you.”