After putting her groceries away, she checked her phone again. No calls. Still no answer when she rang Quentin. Could he still be interviewing people at the pharmaceutical research facility? No, it’d been too long. He knew how worried she was. He wouldn’t have left her hanging like this.

He’d gotten in trouble.

She scowled. He’d been positive his credentials would gain him access to the scientists and managers there and that his well-known name would keep him safe. What if he’d been wrong?

Her fingers felt like stiff icicles as she booted up her desktop computer in her office alcove.

Quentin wrote conspiracy thrillers and occasionally ran across criminal information he’d share with the law. The FBI agent he usually talked with was here in Chicago and had a name like a restaurant chain. Denny…no, Dennison.

Although Audrey’s specialty was biology, since becoming a freelance internet researcher, she’d become very eclectic. And she was damn good at digging out information. It didn’t take long to locate the FBI Special Agent and only a few minutes longer to find his cell phone number.

She punched the number into her cell.

“I don’t recognize this number. You have ten seconds to prove you’re someone I want to talk with.” The man’s voice had a harsh New York accent.

“Quentin’s missing.”

A pause. His laugh was a bitter bark of sound. “That works.”

Over the phone, giggles and a high voice called, “Daddy, come and play. We got Candyland.”

“I’ll be a minute, kids. Ask your mommy to start the game with you.”

The disappointed whines disappeared as a door shut. His voice came back on the line. “Who is this? Why do you think he’s missing? Start at the beginning.”

“I’m Audrey Hamilton. I do internet research.” Moonlighting from her university job had seemed like fun last year. Her clients had the oddest requests—from articles on resilience in foster children, to apple production numbers in Wisconsin, to how to disappear in the computer age, to horseback travel times in the nineteenth century.

But blundering into an actual crime? Perhaps she should rethink her career choice.

“Quentin hired me to collect data about recent viral epidemics and vaccines.” Her hand clenched around her cell phone. “I found… First, do you remember the influenza last year? Because of the high mortality, the CDC recommended everyone get a vaccine booster that’d been developed by a small pharmaceutical research company. Xeno Labs.”

“I remember.” He snorted. “I got the booster.”

“Perfect. Quentin requested I find him articles about creating mutations in the influenza virus. Several scientists wrote about their research in developing vaccine boosters for unexpected mutations.”

“Ms. Hamilton, there are tons of articles about the flu, aren’t there?”

She could almost see him deciding to cut the conversation short.