With the MD...at the Altar?. Jessica Andersen

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СКАЧАТЬ it. “I can live with that. So what’s the deal? You two are giving off enough sparks to power a couple of sequencers and a cryofridge.”

      Luke would’ve winced, but he couldn’t deny the observation. Things between him and Rox had never been subtle. Something that strong just couldn’t be hidden. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be controlled, either. Couldn’t be trusted to last.

      “She and I used to have a thing.”

      “No kidding.”

      “I ended it.”

      “And from the looks of it, not very well.”

      This time it was Luke’s turn to say, “No kidding.” He didn’t bother trying to explain. Rox didn’t want to hear it, and it wasn’t anyone else’s business but theirs. So he said simply, “We’re here to do the job, end of story.”

      Bug seemed to consider that for a moment before nodding. But as he turned away and busied himself removing small tubes from the centrifuge and placing them in a rack, he said, “If you want to talk about it sometime, you know, I wouldn’t mind. I used to be married.”

      Luke couldn’t tell if Bug thought that made him an expert on relationships or exes. “Used to be?”

      “She wanted to stay home and do the family thing, and she didn’t want to do it alone, so she found a guy who didn’t disappear for weeks at a time on zero notice.” The geneticist’s shrug conveyed a sense of inevitability. “I don’t blame her, and I don’t blame the job. I love the job. The two just weren’t compatible.”

      “Sorry to hear it.” Sorry but not surprised. It was something of a theme in their line of work—the couples who made it were typically the ones who worked together, not the ones who struggled to keep things going long-distance. Then again, the couples who worked together also had a nasty habit of flaming out in public. It was a completely no-win situation as far as he could tell.

      Just then, the auto-sampler beeped to announce that it had finished its first run. Relieved, Luke reached out and clapped Bug on the shoulder. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.”

      He’d rather solve an unsolvable outbreak than try to figure out interpersonal relationships any day.

      The two men peered at the computer screen, where the results of the preliminary blood and urine tests were displayed.

      “What the hell?” Bug recoiled in surprise, then leaned back in for a second look. “Their hormone levels are off the charts!”

      And it wasn’t just one or two of the levels that were elevated, Luke saw. The plasma levels of cortisol, aldosterone, testosterone, DHEA, estrogen and several others had spiked in every one of the sick people. More important, the levels were nearly double in Violents compared to the nonviolent patients.

      “Not just any hormones,” Luke said grimly. “Steroid hormones.”

      “The Violents are on a ’roid rage?” Bug said, surprised. But then he nodded. “It fits the symptoms, sort of.”

      “Doesn’t account for the fever, the red-eye or the jaundice,” Luke said, punching a few keys to bring up another data screen. “The white blood cell counts are within normal limits, so it’s not an infection. Or at least not one the patients’ bodies are recognizing yet and mounting an immune response against. Maybe something is attacking their thermoregulatory functions.” Along with several other systems, he realized, as the skewed lab results continued to almost—but not quite—explain the symptoms.

      “We’re still missing something,” Bug said, frowning at the results.

      “Yeah. The trigger.” Luke ordered the computer to print up the results. “Let’s sit down with May and Thom and put our heads together. We need to go through all the environmental toxins and poisons, natural and unnatural substances that could have these effects. Hell, maybe we’re even looking at a mixture of agents, a pesticide or something. DDT messes with estrogen levels in pregnant women. Maybe our answer is something along those lines.”

      Bug paused at the doorway. “You want me to invite Roxanne to sit in?”

      “Don’t even try matchmaking,” Luke said without rancor. “And no, leave her out of this. She’s in town interviewing family members. With any luck, she’ll come up with a common thread. If we can figure out the ‘what’ and she finds the ‘how,’ we should be able to nail this illness before anyone else dies.”

      And then he could get the hell out of Raven’s Cliff.

      “HOW MUCH LONGER will Henry be unconscious?” Mary Wylde asked. Jiggling a tow-headed toddler on one hip, the young mother looked exhausted. Her gas station attendant husband had been sick for nearly four days. Thankfully he wasn’t among the Violents, but his vitals weren’t good.

      If he didn’t turn around soon, Rox feared he might not recover. “I don’t know how much longer,” she said honestly, “but a team of specialists is working on him now.”

      “Oh.” Mary’s expression relaxed fractionally. “Thank God.”

      Rox had heard a version of that reaction from every family member she’d spoken to so far, and she was trying not to let it bother her. Be grateful for the help, she kept telling herself. What matters most is saving lives and preventing new cases. Ego doesn’t come into it.

      Still, she couldn’t help feeling as though she’d failed the town, and herself. She’d spent the past two years trying to make herself part of Raven’s Cliff, yet many of the townspeople seemed to have more faith in the CDC outsiders than in her. Maybe it was because they remembered her fly-by-night father and his wild schemes. Maybe because some of them were still old-school enough to have more faith in a male doctor than a female.

      Or maybe, in the end, it was because she just didn’t belong anywhere in particular, no matter how hard she tried.

      “Well, if there’s nothing else…” Mary said, starting to ease back and shut the door as another baby began to wail inside.

      “Wait.” Rox held up a hand. “I just have a couple of quick questions.” She ran Mary through the survey she’d come up with, mostly focusing on the patient’s habits and how they differed from those of the family members who hadn’t gotten sick.

      Mary answered the questions as quickly as she could, casting glances back in the direction of the escalating cries. She pointedly didn’t invite Rox inside so they could continue their conversation, but that was okay. The young mother’s answers only confirmed what Rox had begun to suspect three houses ago.

      She was pretty sure the Curse had something to do with locally caught fish.

      The day before the symptoms began, three of the victims had eaten fish and chips prepared at the Cove Café. Two others, including Mary’s husband, had eaten fish purchased at Coastal Fish, a seafood market located adjacent to the piers. Mary, on the other hand, had eaten a salad because she was trying to lose ten pounds before beach season.

      Rox’s gut told her she had the beginnings of a pattern. Maybe she should’ve seen it sooner, but seafood was a staple of the local diet, and the symptoms were nothing like typical food poisoning. It hadn’t been until she had the time to really compare her patients’ diets that the obvious answer had jumped СКАЧАТЬ