Williams ushered Rachel out of the elevator and through the building’s lobby, pushing through one of the outer doors and into the bright sunshine.
Together, they descended the short set of steps and continued before stopping over a hundred feet from the entrance, where Williams spun her back around. “We can’t talk about this anymore. Not in there. They’ll hear us.”
She peered over his shoulder. “What do we do? Go to the police?”
“With what?” he scoffed. “That people aren’t following the rules in our secret project?”
Her eyes returned to his. “So, we do nothing?”
“We have nothing, Rachel. Not right now.”
“We could still ‘talk’ to the police.”
“Things aren’t like they used to be. You know that. Besides, who’s to say Masten doesn’t have connections in the police department? We need more before we talk to anyone, and when we do, it shouldn’t be someone local.”
“But what if we don’t have time? What if they’re planning something?”
“I’m sure they are, but we need to understand what it is first.”
“And what if we’re too late? What if … they’re about to do something to John?”
Williams hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder. “Okay, listen. I’m working on something.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what it sounds like.”
She gave him a dubious stare. “What are you working on?”
“I can’t tell you. Not yet. But I should have more information soon.”
“Information about what?”
“About what’s going on here,” answered Williams.
“Then we go to the authorities?”
“It depends on what I find.”
“And what if you don’t find anything?”
“Then we keep looking.”
“For what?!”
“Anything. Anything pointing to who else is involved in this. Like who was given access to our systems.” After hesitating, he added, “Or how John Reiff came to be our patient.”
With Williams’s words hanging in the air, Rachel looked past him again, making sure no one else had followed them out. Then she pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “You mean like this?”
Williams took the page and unfolded it. “What’s this?”
“Another picture. He drew it this morning.”
After examining the sketch, Williams shrugged. “Okay, so…”
“Look again,” she said. “Closer.”
The older doctor inspected the paper, unsure what he was looking for. Then he finally saw it, prompting an immediate change in expression.
With widened eyes, he said, “Is this what I think it is?”
Otis screeched when Rachel burst into her lab. Rushing to her desk, she nearly fell into her seat.
Two cages down from the chimpanzee, Bella, the tiny Chihuahua-terrier, was already on her hind legs, eagerly wagging her tail and whining.
Rachel brought up a browser and typed in a short sentence. Then waited. A moment later, she began scanning through the results, and selected one of the links at the bottom of the page, which brought up an extensive news article along with several pictures.
As she read, something caught her eye, and she glanced away from the screen, noting the flashing red light on her desk phone.
She tried to focus on her monitor, but, unable to ignore the light, she returned to the phone. With a sigh, she reached forward and pressed the voicemail button next to the receiver to play the message.
“Hello, Dr. Souza. Samantha Reed here from the AZA, calling about the transfer to Phoenix Zoo next week. I just have a few details to go over regarding transportation, so if you could call me back, we can get everything sorted. You can reach me on—”
Rachel pressed the button again and ended the playback, then glanced at the date on the phone’s digital display.
Damn it. The transfers were next week. She still had to do fresh blood workups for each of the animals.
The zoo was taking the primates, but Bella, the rabbits, and pig Lester were bound for the Humane Society. Her heart sank at the thought. She’d been distracted and hadn’t thought much about it. The rabbits were not all that social, and Lester only marginally so. But Bella. Bella was different. After several weeks Rachel wasn’t ready to lose the little dog.
She closed her eyes and forced herself back to the task at hand: the computer screen in front of her and the article. Scanning again. Through several paragraphs and skimming down to the photos.
She knew it as soon as she saw it. Three of the images had what she was looking for, but it was the last that presented the best angle. She enlarged the picture and then held Reiff’s sketch up next to the screen.
Dear Lord.