“Of course. The point is I discovered the top three researchers were hired by Xeno Labs two years ago. At the same time.”

Silence. “Were they now?” he muttered. “Quentin suspected something?”

“He’s pretty sure Xeno engineered a viral mutation, one that would necessitate a booster. Their booster. The profit must have been enormous.” The bastards.

“That’s a serious accusation.” Dennison exhaled noisily. “But Dane’s instincts are rarely wrong. Did you say he’s missing?”

“Quentin went to visit Xeno labs this afternoon. Now I can’t reach him.”

The sound of a keyboard being tapped came over the line. “Xeno Labs—north of Chicago.”

“Yes, that’s where he was going.”

“I’m sending someone there and someone to his home. What else can you tell me?”

“Uh, not much. I merely looked up articles for Quentin.”

“I see. If you have my phone, I assume you also have my email?”

“Yes.”

“Email me with the names of the people he planned to talk with. Attach the pertinent articles and anything else you think relevant. Can you do that?”

Quentin hadn’t been willing to point fingers at the lab, not without more information. But now… His scruples could go hang. “I’m emailing you the names now. I’ll send the files in a second email after I get them together.”

“Perfect.”

She’d never met Quentin. Her business was conducted over internet and phone, but he lived somewhere in Chicago. If she—

“Miss Hamilton, I know you’re worried, but I want you to stay put. I’ll call you once I know what’s going on.”

Darn it, she wanted to go and check out that lab herself, to look for him at his house. “All right.”

After getting the emails sent off to Dennison, she waited with her cell phone beside her. No one called.

Finally, she gave up and worked on information for a health food store client. Stats on the correlation between pesticides and early dementia for their blog.

Hours passed as she worked. Despite the loud music from upstairs, her small apartment felt adrift from the world and far too lonely. Now she really did wish Craig were here. Or a cat.

Or anyone.

A sound roused Audrey, and she blinked awake. Pushing her hair back, she sat up in bed. Her camisole and silky boxers were twisted around, and she wiggled them into place.

Had her phone rung? Maybe Quentin or the FBI agent called?

No…that wasn’t what she’d heard.

A sound came from the living room.

Did she have mice? Startled, she reached past the crystal vase of silk flowers on her nightstand to turn on the lamp.

Footsteps sounded.

Her eyes widened. There was someone in her—

The bedroom door was flung open, and a man charged across the room. He landed on her, knocking the wind out of her. His palm covered her mouth.