Dr. Quinn Sharma? The name sounded vaguely familiar to Charlie, but she couldn’t quite place it.
Charlie’s mother hesitated. “No. I’m here with my children. You’re on speakerphone.”
“How can I help you?” Dr. Sharma asked guardedly.
“I—we found a note that led us to . . . you.”
“Has . . . has something happened to Dr. Wilde?”
“He’s been abducted.”
Charlie could hear a small intake of breath on the other end and a momentary silence.
Mrs. Wilde continued. “How do you know him?”
“I worked with him at . . . in the past.”
Charlie sat up, her eyes widening as she realized why Dr. Sharma’s name sounded familiar. It was one of the names listed on a cover sheet inside the envelope she’d taken from the warehouse. But did that mean she was on their side? Or on the side of the soldiers?
Mrs. Wilde paused and narrowed her eyes. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t.” The words landed hard. “But your husband left you my number, so it seems he trusts me.”
“That was ten years ago.”
“True. And I understand your hesitation. Maybe I can tell you a few things that might help.”
“Okay,” said Mrs. Wilde, her voice guarded.
The woman continued. “I’m a genetic biologist. I worked with Charlie at Talos Global ten years ago.”
Charlie could hear more typing, and then Dr. Sharma said, “You have two children, Charlotte Paige and Andrew Finn, ages twelve and ten. Your husband’s middle name is Alexander, and yours, Diana, is Rae. You lived at 15538 Balder Street in Chicago until recently.”
“Whoa,” whispered Andy and Charlie together.
Mrs. Wilde blinked, her face still betraying a hint of uncertainty. The woman seemed trustworthy enough to Charlie—after all, her dad had said this person could help them. Still, it felt a little weird talking to a complete stranger.
It appeared that Mrs. Wilde had similar doubts. She proceeded cautiously. “Do you know anything about a . . . a package?”
“Ah,” said Dr. Sharma. “Yes. I had a package delivered to Charlie. And a note. Right before you moved.”
“But I’m Charlie now,” Charlie blurted out before she could stop herself. “He’s Charles.”
Mrs. Wilde silenced Charlie with a look. “And the package contained . . . ?” she prompted.
Dr. Sharma hesitated. “A wrist device that he created. One that alters . . . things. Wait. Charlie, did you open it?”
“I thought it was for me!” she cried.
Mrs. Wilde placed a comforting hand on Charlie’s. Charlie swallowed hard and fought the urge to say anything more. She knew her mother had to handle things right now, but she had a lot of questions for Dr. Sharma.
“I’m sorry—I never thought—” Dr. Sharma’s distress was evident in her voice. She stopped abruptly and then whispered, “Oh dear,” like she was imagining all the things that could have happened with the bracelet finding its way into a twelve-year-old’s hands. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “Let’s figure our way through this mess.”
Mrs. Wilde closed her eyes and sighed. “Thanks, Doctor.”
“Please—you can call me Quinn. I’m just a lowly biologist.”
Charlie almost smiled despite the dire circumstances. Dr. Sharma talked like her father. That “lowly biologist” line—it was something her father had said frequently about himself in the same manner. Somehow it made her trust the woman completely. She caught her mother’s eye and nodded. This person was safe. It was such a relief to find someone who could help them fill in the blanks. Mrs. Wilde squeezed Charlie’s hand and gave Andy a reassuring smile. They were getting closer.
Charlie’s mom finished telling Dr. Sharma everything she knew. Charlie chimed in to answer some of the more specific questions about the soldiers and the bracelet. They could hear the biologist typing occasionally on the other end of the phone. “You did the right thing in calling me,” she told them. “The project was a top secret government contract. When it was shuttered, Victor Gray was acting suspicious, so we set up this emergency system. I’m glad we did, because Victor’s obviously up to something. I suspect he’s the one who called you.”
Charlie, Andy, and their mother looked at one another, confused. “Who is Victor Gray?” asked Charlie.
Dr. Sharma paused. “Our fellow scientist on the project. Dr. Victor Gray—wasn’t he there with the soldiers you fought?”
“I don’t think so,” said Charlie, “but nobody exactly took the time to introduce themselves before attacking me.”
“Of course not,” the woman murmured thoughtfully. She hesitated, as if weighing her options. “I feel like I need to let you in on some of this intel now that you three and Charles are facing danger. But I’m not comfortable doing this on the phone after what happened to your house.”
“Can you at least tell us why you think Dr. Gray would do this to Charles?”
Dr. Sharma was silent for a moment. “If he abducted your husband, it’s because he needs him to help further whatever his cause is.”
“So you don’t think he’s going to hurt my dad?” asked Andy.
“I don’t think so. As long as you keep the police out of it like he said, he should be fine. But,” Dr. Sharma went on, her voice worried, “if Gray has moved his lab and all his soldiers across the country in pursuit of your device or someone who can re-create it, I worry he’s doing something . . . big.”
Charlie, Andy, and their mom waited, expecting Dr. Sharma to explain. But the woman was quiet for a long moment as she typed something. After a while she spoke decisively. “I’m looking at flights for first thing tomorrow. I’ll text you my details once I have them. I think it would be better to discuss all of this in person.”
While Mrs. Wilde and Dr. Sharma firmed up details, Charlie snuck a peek at her phone screen for the first time since her mother had told her and Andy not to text their friends or go online. There was a text message from Maria.
“Mayday! Mayday!” it read. “I’ve got a little problem over here. HELP.”