I always hate it when people say things like “Don’t worry.” Oh really? I shouldn’t worry? Thanks. I hadn’t thought of that. But when Troy tells me to calm down, well, for some reason I actually do calm down a little. Don’t misunderstand me; I’m still scared, but not as scared as I could be, maybe not even as scared as I should be.

Chapter 72

Chapter 72

TROY STARTS HIS WALK down toward the river, and I push through the big, and unwashed, glass doors of the main GIH entrance.

Okay, I’ve got it. They purposely designed this place to look like a piece of crap.

Stained, worn gray linoleum, and I know it’s real linoleum because the same stuff was on the floor of every kitchen in Walkers Pasture. Two sofas face each other, covered in a dirty beige-and-brown tweed, perfect for showing off spills and stains. Yep, these two couches have more stains on them than a menu at a greasy diner. Jesus. This dump is a pharma company. If this were the only place that manufactured aspirin, I’d just as soon keep my headache.

Behind a long metal table—not unlike the metal dining tables in the residents’ cafeteria at GUH that the NYPD used—sit two classic “big guys.” They wear identical white short-sleeved shirts with black clip-on ties.

“Yes, ma’am?” the larger of the two says to me. His attitude is neither pleasant nor rude, merely robotic.

Nervously, of course, I say, “Is this GIH Pharma and Research?”

He ignores my question. He looks at his colleague. They both smile as if they just heard a lame joke. Maybe they have.

After the very uncomfortable pause the second guy finally says, “How can we help you?”

“Like I asked your friend, is this GIH Pharma?”

The first guy speaks. “Are you here to see someone?”

“I’m here to see Mr. Eagleburg.” My mouth is so dry that I’m amazed I can even speak.

“Eagleburg?” the guy says. “Did you mean Eagleton?”

Oh, Mom. I wish you would’ve remembered the right name. This could get me thrown out before I even begin. But there’s no going back now.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I’m exhausted from all the driving to get here. Yes, Mr. Eagleton.”

Another pause, and the second guy taps something into his laptop. After a few moments, he says, “They’re expecting you.”

I can’t help myself for spitting out, “They’re expecting me?”

“Ms. Ryuan?” the guy says.

“Uh, yes.”

Now my mind and heart are truly flooded with worry and confusion. I should have listened to Troy. I should have called Blumenthal. I should have stayed home today. I should have gone to law school. I should have…