So here she was. George was also equally resolved that no determinations would be made during the ensuing testing in NYC to negate her accomplishments or the accomplishments of the CDC lab. Besides being a point of professional pride with George, it was also a matter of funding—a double whammy.
Politics. George’s pride in her did not negate the fact that she was presently a pawn in the game, but she realized only too clearly that she was a necessary pawn who needed to uphold the credibility of the CDC. She was also beholden to George for his confidence in her and his support. He deserved hers in return.
Besides, George had made it clear in his own, sweet way that her future at the CDC depended on it.
Aware that she could do nothing more about the circumstances of her visit than she could about the NYC humidity, Natalie paused at the doorway of the lab, pushed it open, then stood hesitantly in the opening as a smiling, middle-aged, female technician in a lab coat approached.
“Miss Patterson?” And at Natalie’s nod, “How do you do? My name is Mildred Connors. We’ve been waiting for you.”
Waiting. Damn.
Natalie said apologetically, “It took me longer than I thought it would to get here from my hotel. I hope I haven’t messed up anybody’s schedule. I realize how important lab time is and I—”
Natalie’s apology came to an abrupt halt when she turned the corner of the corridor and saw the sober-faced group awaiting her. She stiffened her back determinedly.
Mildred Connors said formally, “Miss Patterson, I’d like you to meet Dr. Wilson Gregory, Dr. Philip Truesdale, and Dr. Phyllis Ruberg. Dr. Gregory will be conducting the test. The rest of us will be observing, including these two gentlemen, Detective Joe Stansky and Detective Brady Tomasini, who are here at the request of the New York City Police Department.”
Natalie acknowledged the introductions with quick, assessing glances. Dr. Wilson Gregory was trim, middle-aged, balding. He wore wire-rimmed glasses, a spotless lab coat, and surgical gloves. Dr. Philip Truesdale, sporting a well-trimmed beard, glasses, and the traditional lab coat, appeared younger and more intense than Dr. Gregory. Dr. Phyllis Ruberg, a slender, gray-haired, female contemporary of the other two, did not pretend to smile.
Natalie’s gaze halted abruptly on the two detectives standing back a few paces from the scene. The smaller, light-haired fellow acknowledged her with a polite nod, while the other—
The other detective was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a sports jacket that had seen better days and denim trousers that had been washed enough times to mold his long, muscular legs just a little too keenly. His thick, wavy hair needed to be cut, his light eyes were deeply shadowed under brows as dark as his hair, he needed a shave and he was scowling at her as if she were the enemy. She realized abruptly that he was prepared to dislike her. That was all right, because she didn’t like the looks of him, either.
As if reading her mind, the detective raked her up and down with a look so intimately insulting that she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks. She turned back toward Mildred Connors when the older woman said, “Shall we begin?”
Annoyed to have been even momentarily distracted, Natalie watched as Dr. Gregory snipped off a piece of the affected liver tissue and prepared to start.
Immediately engrossed in the procedure, Natalie observed in silence. Surprised when Dr. Gregory questioned her offhandedly throughout the test about the properties of Candoxine, the purpose it served in the British lab and the procedures used in handling it, she responded knowledgeably and succinctly. She watched him intently and cautioned him without hesitation at different points in the testing when he appeared to rush a step, explaining that the peculiarities of the drug sometimes demanded a longer response time if a more thorough and precise result was to be obtained.
Natalie took a relieved breath when the testing drew to a close. The lab became somehow stifling, a condition she was annoyed to admit no doubt resulted from the realization that she was again the focus of the Detective Tomasini’s insolent gaze. Doing her best to ignore him, she turned her attention to Dr. Gregory when he said, “We’ll have to wait until tomorrow for the final results, but I’d say the tests prove pretty conclusively that Candoxine is present in these samples, and that the liver deterioration of all those affected at the Winslow barbecue was caused by Candoxine poisoning. I applaud you, Miss Patterson.”
“I think it might be best to hold off on the congratulations, Dr. Gregory.” Detective Tomasini spoke up for the first time, his deeply voiced caution falling like a pall over the smiling group as he continued gruffly, “These results are too important for anybody to rush to premature conclusions and, like you said, the tests won’t be complete until tomorrow.”
Frowning, Dr. Gregory responded, “I suppose you’re right. We should wait for the tests to be formally concluded, but anyone with lab experience would assume the results would turn out positive. He’d also agree that Miss Patterson was exceptionally astute in identifying the source of the contamination by recalling an obscure article in a medical journal that was years old, and that she deserves congratulations and credit for her accomplishment.”
“Sure, fine, but I’d rather wait until tomorrow.” Turning unexpectedly toward Natalie, Tomasini addressed her condescendingly by saying, “If that’s all right with you, Miss Patterson.”
Miss Patterson.
Natalie forced a cold smile. Detective Tomasini had left no doubt in anyone’s mind what he intended to stress by his emphasis on the word Miss. He was putting her in her place—making sure she remembered that, with the exception of Mildred Connors, she was the only professional there who didn’t have a Ph.D., an M.D. or any other laudable initials of that status after her name.
Natalie responded, “You’re the homicide expert, Detective, but I think we can trust Dr. Gregory’s judgment in this case where he’s the expert.”
“Oh? I thought you were the expert. Isn’t that why you’re here supervising him?”
“I’m not supervising Dr. Gregory or anyone else.” Natalie’s face flamed. “I’m simply representing the CDC to validate the accuracy of these tests.”
“I guess you’ll have to show up here again tomorrow, then—when the tests are completed.”
“She’ll be here, of course.” Dr. Gregory interrupted opportunely, “There are some papers Miss Patterson will have to sign tomorrow when a formal conclusion is reached. I assume we can expect to see you and Detective Stansky tomorrow, too, Detective Tomasini.” Not waiting for his response, Dr. Gregory extended his hand toward the two detectives in informal dismissal and said, “And thank you for your concern.”
Accepting his hand, Tomasini replied, “You’re welcome.” He nodded at Natalie briefly, his gaze almost palpable before he turned to his partner and said, “Let’s get out of here.”
Unable to bear the awkward conversation sure to follow the detectives’ departure, Natalie said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave, too.” She paused to add, “I just want to be sure you understand that my presence as an observer doesn’t indicate the CDC’s lack of confidence in anyone’s ability here. As Detective Tomasini pointed out so clearly, Dr. Gregory, your experience and expertise far outrank mine, and it isn’t my intention to pretend otherwise. If that was the impression I gave, I apologize.”
“My dear…” Responding with a smile that was truly generous, Dr. Ruberg spoke up for the first time, saying, “I think I speak for all of us when I say that we understand your position and the importance of the findings here. Don’t concern yourself. Everything is fine.”
Back in the hallway later, Natalie approached the exit, overwhelmed by the generosity of the treatment she’d received from the professional staff at the facility