“Dr. Cornelia. He’s an immunologist who is affiliated with Metropolitan New York Hospital. He’s my supervisor at Cornell.”

Dr. Cornelia from Cornell, of course. I should have made the connection as soon as Dr. Haddox mentioned some “disorder” and the NIH. Obviously, it’s all connected. I consider calling my dad right back, adding that Dr. Cornelia is involved. But I am now afraid of giving up to Dr. Haddox the connection between Cornelia and my dad. Right now, at least, it still seems like Dr. Haddox has no idea who I am.

“Do you want to try to call someone else?” Dr. Haddox motions to the phone for emphasis. He wants to be sure I know he’s not standing in my way.

I nod as I dial Jasper’s number. When the call goes again straight to voice mail, it makes my stomach lurch. I wish I hadn’t called.

I think about trying Gideon, too, but he was so very angry this morning. And then there is the fact that he pointed them in the right direction without even warning me. What if he is glad this happened? What if he doesn’t try to hide it? And beyond Gideon there isn’t anyone else to call except Rachel. But I want to talk to my dad first before I invite her to wade in and maybe make things worse. I don’t trust Rachel’s judgment, at all.

“Anyone else?” Dr. Haddox asks.

I shake my head. “No, that’s okay. Maybe later.”

WE CONTINUE THROUGH two swinging doors into a small lobby area. Creepily empty, too, like everywhere else, but for the furniture—two smooth, light-gray leather sofas across from each other and a steel-colored rug with a grid marked out in even, cream-colored lines. There’s also a coffee table and a group of sleek armchairs lined up along one wall. But there aren’t any magazines stacked up on the tables or discarded coffee cups on the sideboard. Like no one has ever really been here. Like no one is supposed to be. The signage on the other side points this way and that—Francis J. Dwyer Memorial Wing to the right, Staff Meeting Room and Augustus Burn Center left.

I’m about to ask where Dr. Alvarez is. To demand that we find her so she can tell me what she knows about Jasper when we turn a corner and almost collide with her.

“There you are,” Dr. Haddox says.

“I’m sorry, Wylie, that I took so long.” She smiles. But she’s uncomfortable.

“Did they find Jasper?” I ask.