I stand by her side for another few minutes, then a few minutes more as she winds her way through a maze of computer screens.

“Wait, hold up, I think I might have something,” she says finally, peering more closely at her screen.

“What is it?” Jasper asks, coming closer.

“I’ve found a Frederick Mitchell,” she says. “But not in the NIH system. It popped up in Cornelia’s Gmail. In an order for a shitload of morphine being sent to Boston General Hospital, Dwyer Wing,” she says. “For the Frederick Mitchell project.”

“The Dwyer Wing is where the girls are.”

“If none of them are sick,” Jasper asks, “why the hell do they need so much morphine?”

“Maybe so that the next time the hospital burns,” I say, “there won’t be anyone getting away.”

23

“CAN YOU GET ME BACK IN?” I ASK, MY EYES STILL ON THE COMPUTER.

“Back in?” Riel asks.

“To the hospital,” I say. “I’d need to go back in through the locked fire door. That Dwyer Wing is new and super high-tech, so the security probably is, too.”

“Hmm,” Riel says, narrowing her eyes at the screen as she begins to type. “Brand-new is actually better. The security might be online.” Her fingers pick up speed. Soon she’s found an article talking about all the building’s bells and whistles, including naming the “cutting-edge” company that handles the security. “It’ll take a while, but, yeah, I think I can probably hijack the system. Everyone thinks high-tech is better.” She shakes her head. “You know what’s better? A fucking combination lock.”

“So you can unlock the fire door to the outside? You’ll also have to get the door to the specific floor open. Those are locked, too.”

Riel nods. “It’ll take me a couple hours to get in, and I won’t be able to keep any of the doors unlocked for long. You’ll have to move fast.” She looks up at me, and I can feel her certainty. I can feel also how much she wants to help now. “But, yeah. I can do it. We should agree on a time now. Texting back and forth while we’re doing it is the easiest way to get busted.”

I look at the clock. It’s almost two. “How about four a.m.?” I ask. “That’ll give me time to get back to Boston. And it’ll be easier in the middle of the night.”

“And let’s go with four thirty a.m. exactly,” she says. “But that’ll be it. That will be your only chance.”