Only Wrong Once

by Jenifer Ruff

  Chapter Fifty

  Los Angeles

  November 6th

  Quinn called Holly again on his way home. No answer.

  “Damn,” he said to himself.

  He had already checked to see if she had flown to Spain without him. Holly’s ticket had not been used. He understood why Holly was furious, but was it fair? It’s not like he went out drinking with friends and lost track of time. His mind was groggy and his eyes were irritated. He blasted cold air through the car to stay alert, and braced himself for the fury waiting. There was no way to prepare for it. He would have to ride it out until it eventually dissipated. The sooner he faced her anger, the sooner they could move past this episode. He hoped. After they spoke, he would call the airlines and try to switch the tickets. If not, he would buy new ones. Just as soon as the FBI and CDC established beyond a doubt that E.C.1 was no longer a threat to the public.

  He parked his car next to Holly’s and closed the garage door. He expected her to burst into the garage, eyes blazing with anger. He took sidelong glances at the door, dreading what was to come. The door stayed shut. Craving sleep, he crossed his arms over the steering wheel and leaned his head against them. A few precious moments of peace. Without meaning to, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

  An hour later, he woke with lower back pain and a cramped neck. The events of the past few days flooded back to him. He looked at his watch. His first instinct was to check on the case—to get an update on viral containment from Maddie and see what had been learned from further interrogation of Amin Sarif. But he knew what he still had to do at home.

  He lifted his stiff body out of the car and entered the house without further hesitation. He’d get it over with like peeling off a bandage. He thought of the Secretary of Defense and her conspicuous Band-Aid again. The Security Council would be needing another update soon. He opened the door and almost tripped over an empty suitcase. Clothing was scattered all around it. Blankets trailed from the couch onto the carpet. An uncorked champagne bottle, make that two of them, and glasses were spread across the counter.

  He crossed the living room, alert to sudden movements, and walked toward the bedroom, where he expected to find his wife. He hadn’t announced he was home, but she must have heard him come in. So far, she had done nothing to acknowledge his presence. Strange. What did she have planned to demonstrate the depth of her anger? Fear of the unknown had his nerves on edge. Ridiculous, he told himself, after the real danger he had witnessed at work. Yet reprimanding himself did nothing to alleviate his apprehension. He stepped cautiously down the hallway and into the master bedroom like the lead character in a horror movie.

  And then, with no warning, he was.

  Holly lay sprawled out across the floor, next to the bed. Her eyes were closed. She was almost unrecognizable. Not the Holly he knew with meticulous hair and makeup. This Holly looked deathly ill, ravaged by disease. Her appearance made him gasp. He called out, “Holly!”

  I’m dreaming. I’m still asleep in the garage and this is a bad dream. My work life mixing with my home life. Wake up!

  He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them only to confirm the scene was real.

  “Holly.” He said her name quietly at first. Then he screamed it. “Holly! Wake up! I’m here! Wake up!” When she didn’t move, he pressed two fingers against her carotid artery and her cool bruised skin, still begging her to wake up. He moved his hand under her breast on top of her heart, searching again for a pulse. He felt for breath. There were no signs of life. Tendons bulged in his neck and forehead as he pressed down hard on her ribs for the first chest compression. Blood streamed out from her nose and mouth as if her body had become a giant sack of liquid. He jumped back in time to avoid contact, his own heart leaping like mad in his chest.

  His training kicked in with his attempts to revive her. She was his wife. Of course, he’d do everything in his power. But he had ignored the part of his training telling him to take precautions and avoid exposure to an unknown illness, the possibility of a deadly virus or bacteria.

  Quinn paced the room with his arms crossed and hands stuffed under armpits. He stole glances at Holly. From behind, it looked like she was resting on the floor. It felt wrong to leave her there. Wrong not to rush back over to help her up. He choked back a wave of painful emotion, sat down on the edge of his bed, and dropped his head into his hands. Holly was dead. Beyond help. No point in calling an ambulance. With a trembling hand, he called Madeline.

  He swallowed hard to keep his emotions in check. “I need your help. I need you to come to my house.”

  “Quinn. Hi. I just got into the office and we’re so busy, as you can imagine, trying to make sure E.C.1 is contained. I’m about to step onto a conference call. Is there someone else you can call? I mean, what is it you need?”

  “My wife is dead. I think she was infected with E.Coryza 1. She’s on the floor. She’s dead.”

  “What? What do you mean?”

  “I came home and I found my wife dead. Her body looks a hell of a lot like Pivani’s. Like she hemorrhaged to death. There wasn’t anything wrong with her when I saw her last.” He could hardly believe what he was saying.

  “Oh, my God. Are you okay? I’m so sorry.”

  “I need to know if she’s dead from the virus.”

  “Okay. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Let me think. When did you see her last?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been a few days because… You know, this fucking ISIS virus! But she would have told me if she wasn’t feeling well. She hates being sick. She can’t handle it. She would have let me know. She’d have said something about it in her messages at least. We were supposed to be in Spain right now.” He paused, realizing he was grieving to Madeline about his personal loss. “I’m sorry. I called because I’m not sure…. I can’t . . . She’s dead. And unless I’ve lost my mind, she has E.C.1.”

  “I’m coming. Stay there. Don’t touch anything.” Madeline paused. “Did you touch her? Were you wearing PPE?”

  “I checked to see if she was still alive. And no, I wasn’t expecting to find her dead so I wasn’t wearing protective gear. I don’t think I came in contact with any of her fluids.” He lowered the phone and studied each of his hands and arms. No blood. “And she wasn’t breathing. But I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about…that.”

  “It’s okay. Text me your address. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Quinn spoke quickly, his words rushed together. “Thank you, Maddie. Thank you.”

  “If you can, try and find out where she’s been for the past two days, who she’s been with. Maybe we’ll finally find out how the carriers were infected. I mean, if that’s what’s happened. It seems…never mind. I’m coming. And I’m so sorry.”

  Quinn let out a huge breath after speaking with Madeline. Someone else would be in charge now, and he could let his grief take over. But Holly hadn’t fallen down the stairs or slipped in the shower. It appeared she had died of the same virus he thought they had under control. How was that even possible? There wasn’t time for personal grief or guilt. He needed to function before the situation escalated. It was imperative to determine who Holly had seen while she was sick. Everyone she came in contact with should be isolated immediately. He spotted her phone on the floor, partway under the nightstand. He ran to the laundry room to grab a pair of rubber cleaning gloves and used them to pick the phone up and look through her most recent calls. Her last contact was Reese. He pressed the call button.

  Quinn gritted his teeth through five rings before Reese answered.

  “Hi, babe. Are you feeling better? Did that asshole ever come home?”

  “Reese. This is Quinn.”

  “Quinn? Why are you calling me? I’m not sure if I want to talk to you.”

  He couldn’t tell her everything. He needed to choose his words with caution, or he would incite the panic he had just helped the country avert.

  “Reese. Listen carefully. This is serious. Holly is s
ick. What she has is highly contagious. I need to know who she’s been with the past few days. I need to know if you’re sick too.”

  “Do you think I’m stupid, Quinn? Who she’s with is none of your business. If she wanted you to know she would tell you herself. And if you were around like you should be, you wouldn’t have to ask. You’re supposed to be in Spain right now. Do you even know that, Quinn? Do you? God, you’re an asshole. I’m not telling you anything about Holly. She’ll tell you, if you’re lucky enough to ever speak with her again.”

  Quinn choked back his rage. Was this really happening? Holly dead, permanently and irrevocably dead, and Reese insulting him? The good news, at least, was that Reese sounded full of energy and venom. She didn’t seem to be sick, at least not yet. He tried to control his emotions. “Just tell me if you saw Holly in the past two days.”

  “Yes, Quinn, I did. I saw her when she called me, devastated about you blowing off the trip she planned. Who does that, Quinn? Who does that? You are an asshole!”

  Quinn ignored most of her words. She had been with Holly recently. “Listen, Reese. I’m going to send someone to your house to speak with you. I need you to stay there. Don’t leave your house. You need to be checked and we need to make sure you don’t get anyone else sick.”

  “Fuck you! Don’t you dare send anyone to my house. What the hell is wrong with you? You had so many chances. Just walk away. She’s so much better off without you. She doesn’t need you.”

  Reese hung up the phone. Quinn’s nostrils flared and his nails dug into his clenched fists. That had not gone well. He couldn’t handle this. It was too personal. Madeline’s team would have to deal with Reese. He prayed to God that Reese, and anyone else who had recently been in contact with Holly, stayed inside.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Los Angeles

  November 6th

  Madeline parked her rental car in front of Quinn’s home. Nothing about this was real. Here she was putting on an impermeable gown, double gloves, and a face shield to see him. She walked to his front door, unsure of what to expect. She was surprised he lived in such a large and opulent home, and so close to the ocean. Quinn opened the door and stepped aside for her to enter. Madeline felt a lump form in her throat. He barely resembled the man she knew. He wore a rumpled dress shirt, needed to shave, and his red-rimmed eyes looked tired and wild at the same time. It hurt Madeline to see him so emotionally pained. She pushed back against the flood of sympathy threatening to derail her professionalism.

  “I’m so sorry, Quinn.”

  The muscles of his face contracted, but he didn’t look at Madeline. And he hadn’t really looked at her when he opened the door. Madeline got the sense he couldn’t bear to see her, even though he had called and asked her to come. “This way,” he said gruffly, walking with his shoulders slumped forward.

  Madeline followed quietly, passing impressive originals on the grey walls, a reminder of Holly’s connections in the art world. She noticed the disarray, which made her think there had recently been a party, but she didn’t know for sure. Perhaps it was the usual state of the home.

  Quinn stopped outside a large master bedroom with an unmade king-size bed in the center. “There she is,” he said, in a voice Madeline didn’t recognize.

  Holly lay on the floor next to the bed. Madeline knew Holly only from pictures she’d seen long ago, and she’d done her best to erase those images from memory. Lush red hair fanned out around Holly’s head and across the carpet. Even with bruised, jaundiced skin, her beauty was still evident. Madeline crossed the room and crouched down beside the body. The moment seemed surreal. Putting emotions aside, she did her job, using a swab to place a drop of Holly’s blood onto the DxH device. She waited silently while Quinn paced around the room wringing his hands. When the DxH device beeped, she lifted it close to read the results and swallowed hard before speaking. “Of course, we won’t know for sure without the lab tests, but it appears you’re right. I’m sorry. I just…This is horrific.”

  Quinn stopped pacing. He stared at a spot on the wall, his eyes blazing with anger. “How the hell did this happen? Was I personally targeted somehow?”

  “I had the same thought. It’s too coincidental. Unless…?”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless people are stricken with the disease all over the country. Were we wrong in thinking the carriers didn’t infect anyone before they died?” Something bitter from her stomach and into her throat. She forced herself to stay calm. “We need to find out if any new incidences have been reported. Without being too specific. We can’t put the healthcare community on alert without causing panic. Or, maybe, I don’t know…maybe it’s too late to worry about that.”

  “I’ll find out right now,” said Quinn, removing his phone from his pocket. “And I sent you the address of her friend, Reese. She was here with Holly last night.” Quinn focused on his phone and didn’t look at Madeline. She couldn’t imagine what he was feeling, and she kept that in mind. Still, he made her feel like she had personally done something to make him angry. As if she might somehow be responsible for his wife’s death. Although diseases were her livelihood, she had no part in Holly’s death. But if Quinn’s grieving process demanded she be the target of his anger, so be it. She resisted the urge to put her hand on his arm and offer him a gesture of comfort. She only wished she could help him through his pain.

  Three other CDC epidemiologists met Madeline on the street in front of Reese’s apartment building. Together, they put on masks and walked to her front door.

  “We’re not going to tell her Holly died,” whispered Madeline. “We need her to be thinking clearly. Time is of the essence. Chances are good she’s infected. And this virus progresses lightning fast.”

  Reese answered her door barefooted, wearing yoga pants and a hoodie. She looked over each of the people standing on her doorstep wearing surgical masks. “What’s this about?” She gaped at their masks and then frowned. “Is this Quinn’s idea of a joke? He said he was sending someone over, but this? Guys, it’s too early for Halloween.”

  “I’m Dr. Hamilton from the CDC. We’re here because Holly Traynor is sick.”

  “This is for real?”

  “This is for real,” said one of the epidemiologists, keeping his voice professional. “We need to ask you some questions and examine you. What Holly has is highly contagious, so we also need to find out about anyone else who was at her house yesterday.”

  “This is fucking unbelievable. Is it because of Quinn’s job? Did he make her sick?”

  “We don’t know how Holly became infected. That’s what we need to find out, and quickly. Please, let’s start with you giving us names. We’ll follow up with each of them.”

  “What does she have? And what’s going to happen to me?”

  “We’ll tell you everything you need to know and we’re here to help you. But first, I need you to give me the names. Now. We need to prevent others from becoming sick.”

  “Well, if she’s sick, then I’m sick too. I was trying to console her and she was coughing and sneezing all over me. Damn it. I have a trip I can’t miss next week. For work. You need to tell me what sort of sick we’re talking about. Like pneumonia?”

  Madeline did her best to hold her temper. Did Reese actually believe the CDC made house calls wearing masks when someone contracted pneumonia? Even though it was hardly relevant, she couldn’t help thinking, this was Holly’s best friend? On the outside, Reese was incredibly beautiful, but on the inside, there was clearly room for an attitude adjustment. It made her wonder if Holly had been as shallow.

  “Who else was there, at the Traynors’ house?” Madeline asked.

  “Oh, for shit’s sake, you’re not going to answer my questions, are you? Fine. Well, first off, you should know about Christian. I called him to come over and help cheer her up. If anyone got sick, it would be him. They were having an affair.”

  “Oh?” said Madeline, her surprise evident. She hadn’t mean
t to say anything out loud.

  “That’s right. A purely sexual relationship. Some of my other friends were there too. I thought a little surprise party might lift her spirits.”

  “I need first and last names. Phone numbers and addresses if you have them.”

  Reese rattled off five other names. “I brought champagne. I poured a few glasses and we passed them around. So, whatever she has, we probably all have it. Fucking unbelievable. You need to tell me what it is.” Reese scrunched up her nose, turned her head to the side, and sneezed. The epidemiologists exchanged subtle but wary glances.

  “You’re going to have to come with us,” Madeline said.

  “What right do you have to—”

  “Can you handle this from here?” Madeline asked her colleagues, ignoring Reese.

  Both nodded.

  “Thank you, in advance, for your cooperation. You’ll be in good hands,” Madeline said to Reese, before turning and walking away with one of her associates. The other two epidemiologists would stay behind to let Reese pack a bag and get her to the hospital where isolation units were already being set up.

  Once she’d returned to the car, Madeline checked in with the CDC and with Quinn. No other new incidences of E.C.1 had been reported. She fanned herself with her notebook. She had expected a busy day, but not like this. It appeared Quinn had been intentionally targeted. Somehow, his wife had been infected. But Madeline didn’t have time to dwell on that aspect. Her next step was to track down the other partygoers, call them, and tell them to keep away from others until they could be officially quarantined.