Humphries slipped back into his contemplative mode. “There’s certainly evidence of insect behavioral shifts as a result of, let’s say, light pollution, or thermal factors, or air pollution, or various forms of radiation. Have you followed what’s been happening to the honeybee population?”

“I have,” Darlene said while Lou was shaking his head. “Colony collapse disorder.”

“Right on, ma’am. The explanation for CCD is still widely disputed. The number of Western honeybee colonies have been declining quite impressively for a couple of decades, but more rapidly over recent years. Some of my colleagues are blaming biotic factors such as viruses or mites, but others purport that environmental shifts—cell phone radiation, pesticides, even genetically modified crops are to blame.”

Lou’s face lit up. “So, it’s possible that GMO crops caused the bees’ colony collapse?”

“Evidence for that is slim and certainly not proven as far as I know. It’s still a controversial subject at best.”

“Could the pollen from GMO crops be a contributing factor?” Darlene asked.

Humphries shook his head—a firm warning not to jump to any conclusions. “It’s almost impossible to say. If that were the case with your termites, I’d expect there would have been a corresponding mass kill event, or perhaps a dramatic reduction in the termite population. A full-on mutation would be something quite startling.”

“But assuming what I observed is fact, how would you explain it?” Lou asked. He felt like he was feeling his way down an endless pitch-black corridor.

“I couldn’t,” Humphries replied. “That’s my point. Not by nature, anyway.”

“Or by mutation,” Darlene added.

“Or by mutation.”

“So, what now?” she asked, unable to mask her disappointment.

“I’d say the best thing for us to do now is have a look at those bugs,” Humphries was saying, apparently unaware of the subtext going on between his visitors. “Dr. Lou, you promised to bring me some samples?”

Lou nodded, and he hoisted his briefcase from the carpeted floor.

Darlene’s eyes widened. “You had those flesh-eating bugs with you this entire time?”

Lou grinned sheepishly. “I didn’t want you to get creeped out before the expert was around to assure you that these guys can’t eat through glass.”

Lou handed Humphries two large covered baby food jars. In one of them, the bottom was nearly coated with termites. The other contained a single gigantic bug, pumpkin in color, with a segmented body, long scimitar-shaped pincers, and pure white disks where its eyes might have been.

“Joey, the collector I spoke to you about, assured me that the huge, puffed-up one is a queen.”

Darlene shivered and hunched her shoulders, perhaps again imagining the bugs were crawling up her arms. She glared at Lou but could not hold the reproving look very long. “No secrets next time,” she said, her eyes glinting.