My stomach is tight after all this talk of her maniacal grandfather. But I should probably eat something. Maybe it’s a good sign that Riel hasn’t lost her appetite. She hates her grandfather, there’s no doubt about that. But I don’t think she’s actually afraid of him.

“Yeah, thanks,” I say. And a second later she is handing me a sandwich. She hands one to Jasper, too, and when our eyes meet, his brow wrinkles: What are we doing here? That’s what he’s wondering. Are you sure we should stay? These are valid questions. Except I can’t possibly leave until Riel tells me everything. And watching her assemble her sandwich in the mostly dark, then push herself up onto the counter—her fuck-you to the rules of the house—I feel this twinge. There is something she has left out. Something important. Why did she have a change of heart? Why did she let us come along?

“Did you look into any of the stuff I told you about?” I ask, taking a stab in the dark. “The hospital and everything?”

Riel nods, then takes another bite of her sandwich. Finally, she pushes herself off the counter and pulls out her laptop. The screen glows brightly in the darkness when she open it on the counter.

“You wouldn’t be here if your story hadn’t checked out. It wasn’t easy to find, though, I’ll tell you that much. There was nothing on the Boston General Hospital servers. Like the whole thing doesn’t even exist.” She waves me over as she clicks through some screens. “I had to get to the Dr. Cornelia guy first through Metropolitan Hospital and then find my way to a totally sketchy Gmail he’s been using for this entire thing. By the way, no mention of the NIH anywhere. And then I searched for Alvarez like you said. And that’s when I found this.”

I step forward to the computer and begin to read an email open on the screen. It’s from Dr. Cornelia to Dr. Alvarez.

“Read it out loud,” Jasper calls from where he’s still leaning against the wall near the door, arms crossed, like he’s afraid of being blindsided by something if he commits to the center of the room.

“Thank you for your concern and your thoroughness, Dr. Alvarez,” I begin to read from her screen. “It is precisely this kind of dedication that makes me so glad that you are a part of our team. However, the issues you have presented have been assessed and determined to be without substantial merit or warranting further review. Do not raise them again or we will be forced to evaluate our future collaboration. Sincerely, Dr. Cornelia.”

“Well, actually, that was his reply,” Riel says, reaching over to scroll down to the original message.