Rachel barely slept, tossing and turning most of the night, until finally waking from a restless slumber to find her room still dark, with the window shade above her bed allowing in only a faint glow of morning light. Her watch told her it was just after 7:00 A.M. when she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position.
It was stress that had deprived her. Not just about their predicament, but over John. Including her guilt over how he had been treated. Regardless of whether she could have done anything about it. And now, what she feared might be happening to him.
The last thing she wanted to do was to jump to any conclusions, which almost always led to overreaction. But the more she thought through the details, the more concrete it was beginning to feel. And the sicker her stomach became.
After a few minutes of contemplation, she threw the cover off and stood on the carpeted floor, and dressed in the near darkness.
It was a single-story house with what looked to be four small bedrooms on one end of the home. Treading quietly down the long connecting hallway, Rachel emerged into the kitchen area with an adjacent dining room, where three people sat. Waterman, Reiff, and the owner of the house, whom she’d briefly met the night before. Mick? Nick? She couldn’t remember.
The owner was dressed in a checkered flannel shirt with blue jeans atop a pair of worn, light brown cowboy boots. Waterman was still in his desert-colored fatigues, while Reiff had changed into clothing similar to Mick-or-Nick’s.
All three men stopped talking and turned when she approached.
“Morning.”
She smiled politely at all three and nodded. Glancing at the fourth chair, she continued past to the sliding glass door, where she looked out at the early-morning sky.
“How’d you sleep?” Mick-or-Nick asked. An older man whom Rachel guessed to be in his early seventies.
“Good,” she replied, and turned around. “I’m sorry, was it Mick?”
The old man smiled. “Nick.”
Nice, Rachel, it was only a fifty-fifty chance. She glanced at all three before clearing her throat. “I, uh, was hoping to make a phone call.”
“To who?”
She rounded the remaining chair and sat down, curtly patting Reiff’s outstretched arm as she did so. Still cold. “I need to get some information from someone.”
Waterman studied her quizzically. “Care to expand on that?”
“Nothing having to do with any of this.” Okay, probably more lie than truth, but it was defensible. As long as they didn’t ask too many—
“What does it have to do with?”
She wanted to be forthcoming. She really did. But she didn’t want to worry everyone unnecessarily. At least not yet. If she was wrong about what was happening to Reiff, it would just be another wrench in the works, while they were just trying to survive. “Just some medical information.”
All three men were watching her. Eyes fixed, but without any obvious judgment. Did she look nervous to them? God, she was a terrible poker player.
“Information about what?” pressed Waterman.
She tried to think of something. But instead folded, raising both hands and covering her face in a sign of exhaustion. “I can’t do this.”
The men looked at each other. “You okay?” asked Nick.
Behind her hands, Rachel shook her head from side to side, eventually dropping them onto the table. “No. No, I’m not.” She looked at each man and stopped at Reiff. “I think we have a problem.”
“You just realized that?”
She shot Waterman a sarcastic glance before returning to Reiff. “How do you feel?”
“Okay.”
She continued staring at him. “Really?”
“Yes.”
With a modest grimace, she dropped her right hand, letting it fall onto Reiff’s forearm, and squeezed. “Really?”
“What’s going on?” Waterman asked.
She didn’t answer.
“How … are you feeling?” she asked again.
John Reiff merely stared back.
Waterman looked back and forth between them. “What is this?”
“Beats me,” said Reiff, prompting Rachel to turn to him. Without a word, she grabbed one of Waterman’s callused hands and pulled it forward, placing it on top of Reiff’s.
Waterman stared in confusion, opening his mouth to speak, but then stopped. Instead, he looked at Reiff, then down at his own hand. The temperature difference would have been noticeable to anyone.
“John?”
“What?”
“You okay?”
“Yep.”
Waterman turned back to Rachel, who was watching. “He’s not okay,” she said.
There was a long silence around the table before Rachel spoke again. “As I said, I have to make a phone call.”
“To whom exactly?”
“A doctor named Samantha Reed. At the Association of Zoos and Aquariums.”
“What for?”
She was still looking at Reiff when she lowered her hand back down onto his arm. This time for comfort. “There’s something you don’t know,” she said, “about the animals.”
“What animals?” asked Waterman.
“Our test animals. That we used to perfect the thawing process.”
“They’re in her lab,” said Reiff.
Rachel shook her head. “Not anymore. At least, they shouldn’t be. As of two days ago. The AZA was scheduled to pick them up for transport to the Phoenix Zoo. I need to find out if they were picked up. And if they were, where they are now.”
“Because?”
“Because some of them were exhibiting the same issue. The same problem as John.” Again, she squeezed his arm reassuringly. “With disturbing outcomes.”
Reiff watched the other men’s eyes widen in surprise as he replied, “Disturbing how?”
She frowned. “Lethal.”
Nothing more was said. Until Nick finally spoke up and motioned with his head. “There’s a phone in the den.”
Rachel looked questioningly at Waterman.
“If they’re expecting the call, it could be traced.” He then looked at Nick, who suddenly appeared nervous. “What exactly is this phone call supposed to tell you?”
“Hopefully, that the remaining animals are still alive.” She turned to Reiff. “Which could suggest that this is not what I think it is.”
“And if we don’t call?”
Rachel considered the question. “Then we pray that it’s something else. Some other slow, lingering side effect.”
Reiff cleared his voice. “What exactly happened to the other animals?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t have time to diagnose it. Or even to understand it. But several of the smaller animals died, with body temperatures abnormally low when I found them.”
“So they froze to death.”
“I don’t know how that’s possible. Freezing results from exposure to external temperatures that are too low. But my lab was never below sixty-five degrees. It’s thermically impossible.” She looked around the table. “But if it is happening to the other animals, I need to know, so that I can study the problem while they’re alive. And to give me a chance to arrest it.”
“But if you make the call,” said Nick, “and they find us…”
Rachel nodded. “A bigger problem.”
Waterman eased back in his chair, folding his arms. Wearing a thoughtful, almost brooding expression. “Arizona is a nontracking state,” he said with a shrug.
Nick almost spat. “Like that means anything.”
“We can’t risk it,” Reiff said.
Rachel looked at him. “We didn’t come this far to lose you now.”
“It may not be up to you.”
Before she could reply, Waterman put his hands on the table. “Take it easy,” he said. “We’ll make the call. But not from here.”
He pushed himself up out of the chair and towered over the table. “It’s time to find out how your man Masten is doing. And what cards he’s holding. We’ll get a burner phone on the way, and you can make your phone call.” He then looked at Reiff. “Let’s see if we can keep you alive a little longer.”
With that, Rachel was out of her chair, making her way back to the bedroom and her things. On the way she passed Yamada, who had just entered the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“We’re going to see Masten.”
“How about some breakfast first?” Yamada called after her.
“Have a Pop-Tart.”