by Rita Herron
EMOTIONS WAGED A BATTLE within Craig. He had tried to comfort Olivia, but the truth stared him in the face, cold, hard, unforgiving. So far, they had a few details about the virus, its source, the way it attacked the body and how it was contracted. And everyone who’d gotten it had committed suicide.
If Olivia had the virus, she might die.
He wouldn’t let that happen. He’d stay with her around the clock. Hospitalize her if he had to. Restrain her until they found a cure.
“I’ll call you as soon as I receive the results,” Dr. Carrington said. “Thankfully, we have determined that the virus isn’t passed through physical contact or we’d have to put you in isolation. But I would like to hospitalize you overnight for observation and to run more tests.”
“Can I go home and get some things?” Olivia asked.
“Actually, let me run this preliminary test first. If it’s positive, I’ll call you and you can come back in to be admitted.”
“Fine.”
Olivia looked so pale, Craig took her elbow and helped her up. “Let’s talk to the doctors at CIRP one more time.”
She nodded. “I’d like to see Dr. Fulton’s reaction when he learns I may have contracted the virus.”
“So would I.” His cell phone rang as he and Olivia headed to his car. “Agent Horn.”
“It’s Devlin. I just got word that Milaski is in the States. I’m catching a plane now. We have agents searching for him. We think he may have recently been in Savannah.”
“You definitely think there’s a connection?”
“Yes. We’ve uncovered information that leads us to believe Milaski is spearheading a terrorist cell, and that Thornbird might have created the virus and sold it to this black market terrorist group. My guess is the European scientists discovered Thornbird’s plan and were killed to silence them. We’re looking into the location of the terrorist cell now.”
Craig grimaced. If Thornbird was responsible, then he’d destroyed a half-dozen lives already and that might just be the beginning. Worse, his own daughter might die now because of it.
“We also think Thornbird may have been working on an antidote. But we haven’t cracked his files yet. The team is getting close, though.”
“Good, we need it.” He angled his head away from Olivia as they made their way outside, then relayed the latest turn of events.
“Damn. Do you know how she contracted it?” Devlin asked.
“No.” Craig remembered the fire, the smell of gas. But he didn’t have any symptoms and he’d inhaled the same gas. Besides, the virus wasn’t supposed to be airborne. So how was it possible that Olivia had become infected?
You’re jumping the gun. You don’t know for sure that she has.
Yet Olivia’s worried expression and odd behavior indicated she might be ill. She wasn’t normally a paranoid or weak person.
Dread hummed in the air as he hung up and they drove to CIRP, the gears grinding, breaking the quiet.
“I’m trying to understand how you could have become infected,” Craig said, evading the issue that weighed heavily on his mind, the issue that had to be tormenting Olivia—was she going to die?
“Do you think that man injected me with it when I was in the hospital?” Olivia asked.
Craig shrugged. “It’s possible. But it should have shown up in the blood work Dr. Elgin did before you left the hospital.”
What other possibilities were there? If she hadn’t been injected and the virus wasn’t airborne, could she possibly have ingested it? He mentally ticked back over the last two days. Olivia had eaten all her meals with him. She’d barely been out of his sight.
Except at the hospital. “Olivia, did you eat anything at the hospital?”
She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t stomach the food. The only thing I had was bottled water.”
He mentally replayed their actions. When they’d arrived at his cabin, he’d made dinner. Then her co-worker had arrived with flowers and candy.
He swerved sideways and nearly hit the curb.
The truffles. Olivia liked chocolate—anyone could have discovered that detail.
He needed to have the candy tested. If they pinpointed the original source of the virus, maybe they could find the cure. And maybe someone at CIRP could create an antidote before it was too late.
His heart racing, he dialed Detective Black and asked him to pick up Jerry Renard for questioning. If Renard had given Olivia tainted chocolates, then he was guilty of attempted murder.
CRAIG SUDDENLY SWUNG the car around and headed in the opposite direction. The abrupt change and movement made Olivia dizzy, and she gripped the door handle, paranoia setting in again.
“What’s wrong? Why did you ask Agent Devlin to pick up Jerry?”
“I have a hunch. We’re going back to my cabin and grab those chocolates. I want to have them tested.”
“You think I might have gotten the virus through the truffles?”
“If you weren’t injected with the germ, it’s possible you ingested it through food. Since the symptoms showed up within the last forty-eight hours, we’ll look at that time period. I prepared your meals since you left the hospital.”
“We ate at that diner once.”
“But you and I had the same thing, and I’m not experiencing any symptoms.” Craig tapped the steering wheel. “The only other thing you’ve had were those damn truffles.”
“But Jerry gave those to me.”
His lethal look sent a surge of horror through her.
“I can’t believe Jerry would do such a thing. We’ve competed for bylines at the paper, but…he wouldn’t try to kill me.”
“Maybe he was desperate and decided to create a story so he could break it.”
She twisted her hands in her lap, sweat beading on her palms. “Where would he get the virus?”
“I don’t know. But he’s an investigative reporter, I’m sure he has contacts. And he was in Iraq and Afghanistan before coming to Savannah.” He paused and, when she didn’t argue, continued, “Devlin said he thinks the leader of a terrorist cell, a man named Milaski, is here in Savannah. He believes that someone sold the virus to him. Maybe even to others.”
Olivia’s mind raced. “Oh, my God. Jerry has been investigating the possibility of a local terrorist group.”
Tires squealed as he veered into the driveway. Remembering her father’s diskette, Olivia hurried into the bedroom and retrieved it while Craig grabbed the box of chocolates. The next half hour passed in a blur as he dropped the truffles off at the hospital for testing.
While he met with the doctor, she excused herself to go to the restroom. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and she peered outside, then hurried into a vacant office and inserted the disk in the computer, hoping their systems held a program to break the encryption. Again, she tried several passwords she thought her father might have used, but failed each time. In a last frantic attempt, she plugged in the date of her mother’s death. Bingo. Information spilled onto the screen, part gibberish, but occasionally she made out a phrase or word, enough to realize the disk did have information about her mother’s death.
The skin on the back of her neck prickled, and she suddenly spun around to see if someone was behind her. But the room was empty. Still, she felt eyes watching her, felt as if someone was breathing down her neck. Her hands trembling, she removed the disk and jammed it back in her purse. Why had her father saved this disk? Why hadn’t he given it to someone? And what the hell was on it?
She remembered how he’d refused to pursue an investigation over her mother’s death, and a sense of unease mushroomed inside her. What if he hadn’t pursued it because he knew the truth and wanted to cover it up himself?
No. Her father wouldn’t do such a thing. The paranoia was putting suspicions in her head that had to be groundless.
But what if he had known more about the virus than he’d admitted? What if he’d even had something to do with it falling into the hands of terrorists?
Could she bury the truth?
Craig’s attitude toward journalism raced through her mind, making her wonder.
Then the ringing echoed in her ears again, and a sharp pain split her temple. She pressed her hand to her mouth to stifle a groan. But inside, her head reeled.
First, Craig had made her question Jerry’s loyalties.
Now she was questioning her father’s.
This couldn’t be happening.
She debated whether to give Dr. Carrington or Craig the disk as she hurried back to the doctor’s office. After all, what if it had something on it that could help save lives, even her own? Then she had to turn it over…
Craig met her at the door. “Are you all right?”
She nodded. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yes.” They walked back to the car in silence.
Craig slid his hand over hers as they climbed inside. “It’s going to be okay, Olivia. Trust
She squeezed his hand and leaned against the seat, grateful for his support. So far, Craig had been nothing but honorable. He’d lived up to his promise to keep her informed and give her the story. The questions pertaining to the diskette plagued her. If it contained information that might help them with this virus, that might save lives, she couldn’t hide it, or she’d lose her integrity.
She removed it and held it out to him. “Craig, I…found this at my father’s.”
His gaze cut toward her, eyes narrowed. “What’s on it?”
“I don’t know. I tried to look at it, but it’s encrypted. Maybe you can find out.”
“You were keeping something else from me?” His eyes darkened. “I thought we were working together.”
“It’s not like that,” Olivia argued. “It was an old disk, stuffed in the attic. I had no idea if it related to something recent or not.”
His mouth softened a fraction. “But you think it contains information about the virus?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. No telling how long it’s been up in the attic. It might be data about an older research project, but I saw my mother’s name on it, so who knows.”
“Your father must have hidden it for a reason.”
She nodded, endless possibilities in her mind. Some she understood. Others…she didn’t want to consider.
“I’ll have it checked out.” Craig brushed her cheek with the pad of his thumb, lowering his voice. “Maybe it’s what we’ve been looking for.”
Something to save her life. He didn’t have to say the words, but the silent acknowledgement lingered between them anyway. Odd how she’d thought of Craig as the Iceman, cold and unfeeling, yet he was soothing her now, offering her hope in a near hopeless situation. But he was making promises he might not be able to keep.
She still had to beat a deadly virus, one that no one else had ever survived.
And if she discovered her father had had something to do with the virus, what would she do? Could she ask Craig to bury the truth?
DR. FULTON PULLED AT the frayed collar of his white shirt. “You think you’ve contracted the virus, Miss Thornbird?”
“Yes.”
“We think she may have ingested the germ through tainted chocolates,” Craig said. “Dr. Carrington is testing them now.”
“What have you learned from my father’s research?”
Fulton paced the small confines of his cluttered office. “So far, not much more than what we discussed the first time we talked.”
Craig cleared his throat, sensing Fulton wasn’t being quite honest. “Was there anything in Thornbird’s notes to indicate an antidote for
“No. If there’s a cure, Thornbird hadn’t discovered it,” Fulton said. “I need to speak to Dr. Carrington when he gets your blood work back, Miss Thornbird. In fact, if you’ll allow me to draw some blood samples, there are a few tests I’d like to run.”
“Sure,” Olivia said. “I’ll do anything I can to expedite the research and find a cure.”
“Have you ever heard of a man named Iska Milaski?” Craig asked as Fulton drew blood.
Fulton shook his head, his bushy eyebrows wagging as he frowned. “No, who is he?”
“The head of a terrorist cell. We believe he’s in Savannah,” Craig said, grateful that their informant, Harlam, had come through for them. “We believe Milaski either has access to or is after the virus germ.”
Fulton’s head jerked up. “My God, you think that the virus is terrorist-related?”
“It looks that way now,” Craig said. “Do any of the scientists here have issues with the government?”
“You mean would one of our doctors sell this germ to a terrorist group?” Fulton stored and labeled the vials of blood, then pressed a bandage over Olivia’s arm before looking back at Craig. “That’s ridiculous. Besides, I thought the virus originated in Europe. Shouldn’t you be looking at some of the research facilities there for answers?”
“We have agents checking that angle,” Craig said, wondering again about Thornbird. If he’d thought the government had covered up his wife’s murder, maybe this new virus was his revenge. “You still didn’t answer my question, Dr. Fulton. Is there anyone on staff who might have a grudge against the government or the U.S.? Someone who’d use the virus to make a statement or to frighten the public? Or maybe someone who thought they were selling to a militia group to use against terrorists?”
“No.” Fulton gestured toward the door. “Now I need to get back to work. If Miss Thornbird is suffering from this virus, time is of the essence.”
Craig nodded. So far, it was the only thing he and Fulton agreed on.
AFTER THEY LEFT CIRP, Craig drove Olivia to the Savannah Funeral Home to make arrangements for her father.
If Fulton created the virus, he could alter the data, cover it up.
Craig had obviously agreed and had dropped the disk at the hospital for the CDC doctor to review.
“What kind of service would you like?” the funeral director, Harvey Binger, a small overweight man with a double chin and toupee, asked.
Olivia struggled to tune out the voices in her head so she could focus. “I… Just something simple. I’m afraid my father didn’t have many friends, but I’m sure some of his colleagues will come to show their respect.”
“Do you want to use our chapel for the service?”
“Let me show you our selection of caskets. We have a variety of models, ranging in prices and design, everything from ornate and elegant to simple…”
His voice droned on as he escorted her to another area, a large room that was ice-cold, filled with shiny bronze and pewter-gray caskets. Elevator music piped over the speakers, adding a melancholy feel to the morose atmosphere. Olivia’s stomach fluttered with nausea as she imagined her father lying on the layers of satin.
Then an image of her own body being placed inside another coffin and lowered into the ground replaced the image, and her knees buckled.
“Olivia?”
Craig caught her, his husky voice barely audible above the incessant yelling and ringing in her ears.
She pointed to a gray casket with off-white lining. “That one is fine.” Desperate for air, she raced toward the door, then hurled herself outside into the muggy heat.
CRAIG RUSHED AFTER Olivia, his cell phone ringing. “Horn here.”
“It’s Detective Black. I have Renard at the station.”
“Good, hold him. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
He found Olivia leaning against the porch rail outside, inhaling the humid summer air, looking pale. She desperately needed rest. He wanted to take her home, tuck her into bed and hold her. But he had to interrogate Renard. And he didn’t want to leave her alone, not when she was so vulnerable. Not when he knew the fate of the other victims.
He stroked her back, rubbing small circles near her spine. “You’ve been through a hell of a lot these last three days, Olivia. I’m amazed you’re still standing.�
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Her gaze swung to his, the shadows of fear and truths inside. She might not be standing for very long. Or be alive much longer.
His heart swelled with compassion and admiration. Another layer of that self-protective armor was chiseled away. He reached to pull her into his arms, but his cell phone trilled again. “Agent Horn.”
“This is Dr. Carrington. I have results from the blood tests we ran on Olivia Thornbird and from the truffles.”
His heart skipped a painful beat. “And?”
“She’s definitely been infected.” Dr. Carrington’s voice warbled slightly. “And the truffles were tainted with the germ.”
OLIVIA WONDERED at Craig’s sudden brooding as they drove to the police station. When he’d hung up from the phone call, his expression had gone completely rigid. He hadn’t spoken since. Not even to explain the call. He’d simply driven like a madman to the precinct.
Jerry glared at them as they entered the police interrogation room. “What in the hell is going on?”
“I might ask you the same question,” Craig snarled.
Betrayal sliced through Olivia as she imagined Jerry buying the truffles, actually injecting the germ into them, then hand-delivering them to her door. She didn’t want to believe he was capable of such a thing.
Jerry leaned forward, thick hands on his knees. “I don’t have a clue as to what this is about. But I have work to do, so get on with it. These detectives have been acting like I’ve murdered someone.”
The breath rushed from Olivia’s chest. “I’m not dead yet.”
Craig’s jaw snapped tight, and Olivia gripped the side of the table, the world tilting sideways as realization dawned. The phone call…the tests were back, and they were positive. Craig hadn’t said anything, but that was the reason he’d grown so sullen. He was stalling, not wanting to deliver the bad news.
“Olivia, please wait outside,” Craig said in a rough voice.
“No.” She straightened, summoning every ounce of courage she possessed. “You promised me a story, and I’m going to get it.”