“Part of why I love this museum,” Arianna said, “is that they won’t succumb to the pressure.”
He nodded as they moved to the front of the line. After they paid, he turned to her.
“So now you have to tell me.”
“I’ll show you.” She led him into an elevator, out on the third floor, turned right into a narrow hallway, and followed it around a corner. Fewer and fewer people passed them.
“Someone knows her way around here.”
She smiled, walking past room after room of exhibits, turning left, right, left, until stopping in front of a plain black door. Trent glanced around the doorframe for a label; there was only a black rectangle the size of a piano key. No one was around. Arianna pressed her right thumb against it, and the door slid open.
“Whoa,” Trent said. “What—?”
She pulled him inside, and the door closed behind them. “This is a private exhibit,” she said. “Members only.”
The room inside was small and dimly lit. On top of a pedestal in the center, there was a single exhibit: a glass box that appeared to serve as an incubator, with fluorescent lights glowing around a red fist-sized lump. With a start, Trent realized what it must be. He held his breath and walked up to the box, seemingly floating in the darkness, supported only by its aura of light. He peered into it. As he expected, the lump was beating in oddly steady contractions that gave life to nothing.
“This is the stem cell heart,” he said.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know it was still here.”
“It’s the other reason I love this museum,” she said. “The main reason, actually.”
“Really,” he said, his own heart pounding.
He waited for her explanation, aware that they were suddenly at the periphery of his most crucial question about her.
“What, exactly, do you know about this heart?” she asked.
“Well, it was the first heart ever created using human embryonic stem cells,” he said carefully, feeling the words pinch his tongue—the words at the very core of his pursuit. “Like twenty years ago, right?”
“That’s right,” she said, nodding. “And it was donated to this museum after stem cell research was outlawed.”
“Right,” he said, “and there was a big outcry that the museum even kept it on display. I thought they got rid of it years ago.”
“Nope. The people at the museum weren’t cowards, just smart. They moved it from the entrance hall to this private room. To be admitted, you have to be screened and invited by the board. There’s also a security camera—” She pointed to a tiny bulb in the corner of the ceiling. “—and this box is made of an unbreakable glass called Quarx. All so no one can destroy it.”
“Wow. How do you know all this?”
A proud smile broke her solemn expression. “Remember I told you when we first met that my dad was a researcher? And you asked if he ever discovered anything?”
“Yes.”
“He was on the team that developed this heart.”
“Wow,” Trent exclaimed again, at once impressed, confused, and newly suspicious. “So was your dad famous, then?”
And, he wondered, why didn’t that tiny detail show up in my case research?
“No,” she said. “He had his name removed from the team after it became illegal. Back then, I thought he was a coward. But I came to understand that recognition wasn’t worth the hate mail and threats, and this all happened shortly after my mom’s death. He was still grieving, and it was easier on him to stay anonymous.”
“I see. So why are you telling me this now?”
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this type of research, to see how you feel about it, and I thought this was a good place to do it.”
A few seconds passed as Trent gathered his wits. “How I feel about it?” He paused, pushing away his actual concerns about immorality and focusing instead on what he knew she wanted to hear. “It’s sad this heart is a relic in a history museum.”
“I agree.” She flexed her ankle, wincing.
“Are you okay?”
She waved a hand.
“I remember,” he said slowly, “there was so much excitement.”
“And for good reason.”
He looked straight at her. “Do you think these cells really could have helped people?” They never did when they were legal, he thought.
“Absolutely. There just wasn’t enough time to research.”
Not like it mattered, he thought. Murder was murder.
“This heart makes me sure,” she went on. “And this was twenty years ago. Imagine what could have been possible today. The therapeutic potential is endless because these cells can turn into any cell of the body.”
“Still just a potential,” he responded automatically, delivering the skepticism drilled into him by the department. What the hell was he saying? Risking losing her trust, along with the entire case? He configured his features to seem sad. “Maybe if things had been different, without the DEP and the DEFP.…”
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought that.” Arianna leaned on her cane, shaking her head. “So many lives might have been improved, saved.… And what just makes me crazy is how many people today think that since this never helped anyone directly before, it’s no great loss now.”
“Maybe,” said Trent, “they just need to see proof.”
That word again.
She cocked her head, studying his face. “I can see you have a rational mind. You’re just stuck in a society that sees that as a liability.”
“What?”
“There’s a deeper issue here that involves more than your opinions on theoretical science, which have to be backed up by some kind of ideology. But we haven’t discussed your ideas, except for your family being religious and you, not as much. So let me ask you this: What do you believe?”
Trent felt a familiar uneasiness wriggling in his gut.
“I’m trying to figure that out.…”
“What do you know so far?”
He sighed deeply and began to pace. She looked so patient, so eager to understand him, that his words spilled out with little calculation. “I know that I was raised Catholic, but I’ve never felt at peace
