Marissa shook her head.
“Wine? I have a nice bottle of Chardonnay open in the refrigerator.” Ralph was running out of ideas.
Marissa just held him tighter, but her sobs were lessening, her breathing becoming more regular.
Five minutes went by. Ralph sighed. “Where is your luggage?”
Marissa didn’t answer, but did fish a tissue out of her pocket and wipe her face.
“I’ve got some cold chicken in the kitchen.”
At last Marissa sat up. “Maybe in a little bit. Just stay with me a little longer. I’ve been so scared.”
“Then why didn’t you call me from the airport? And what happened to your car? Didn’t you leave it there?”
“It’s a long story,” said Marissa. “But I was afraid that someone might be watching it. I didn’t want anybody to know I was back in Atlanta.”
Ralph raised his eyebrows. “Does that mean you’d like to spend the night?”
“If you don’t mind,” said Marissa. “Nothing like inviting myself, but you’ve been such a good friend.”
“Would you like me to drive you over to your house to get some things?” asked Ralph.
“Thanks, but I don’t want to show up there for the same reason I was afraid to go to my car. If I were to drive anyplace tonight, I’d run over to the CDC and get a package that I hope Tad put away for me. But to tell you the truth, I think it all can wait until morning. Even that criminal lawyer, who I hope will be able to keep me out of jail.”
“Good grief,” said Ralph. “I hope you’re not serious. Don’t you think it’s time you told me what’s going on?”
Marissa picked up Ralph’s hand. “I will. I promise. Let me just calm down a little more. Maybe I should eat something.”
“I’ll fix you some chicken,” he said.
“That’s all right. I know where the kitchen is. Maybe I’ll just scramble some eggs.”
“I’ll join you in a minute. I have to make a call.”
Marissa dragged herself through the house. In the kitchen, she glanced around at all the appliances and space and thought it was a waste just to be making eggs. But that was what sounded best. She got them out of the refrigerator, along with some bread for toast. Then she realized she hadn’t asked Ralph if he wanted some too. She was about to call out but decided he wouldn’t hear her.
Putting the eggs down, she went over to the intercom and began pushing the buttons on the console to see if she could figure out how it worked. “Hello, hello,” she said as she held down different combinations. Stumbling onto the correct sequence, she suddenly heard Ralph’s voice.
“She’s not in San Francisco,” he was saying. “She’s here at my house.”
Pause.
“Jackson, I don’t know what happened. She’s hysterical. All she said was that she has a package waiting for her at the CDC. Listen, I can’t talk now. I’ve got to get back to her.”
Pause.
“I’ll keep her here, don’t worry. But get over here as soon as you can.”
Pause.
“No, no one knows she’s here. I’m sure of that. ’Bye.”
Marissa clutched the counter top, afraid she was going to faint. All this time Ralph—the one person she’d trusted—had been one of “them.” And Jackson! It had to be the same Jackson she’d met at Ralph’s dinner party. The head of PAC, and he was on his way over. Oh, God!
Knowing Ralph was on his way to the kitchen, Marissa forced herself to go on with her cooking. But when she tried to break an egg on the side of the skillet, she smashed it shell and all into the pan. She had the other egg in her hand when Ralph appeared with some drinks. She broke the second egg a bit more deftly, mixing it all together, including the first egg’s shell.
“Smells good,” he said brightly. He put down her glass and touched her lightly on the back. Marissa jumped.
“Wow, you really are uptight. How are we going to get you to relax?”
Marissa didn’t say anything. Although she was no longer the slightest bit hungry, she went through the motions of cooking the eggs, buttering the toast and putting out jam. Looking at Ralph’s expensive silk shirt, the heavy gold cuff links, the tasseled Gucci loafers, everything about him suddenly seemed a ridiculous affectation, as did the whole elaborately furnished house. It all represented the conspicuous consumption of a wealthy doctor, now fearful of the new medical competition, of changing times, of medicine no longer being a seller’s market.
Obviously, Ralph was a member of PAC. Of course he was a supporter of Markham. And it was Ralph, not Tad, who had always known where she was. Serving the eggs, Marissa thought that even if she could escape there was no one to go to. She certainly couldn’t use a lawyer Ralph recommended. In fact, now that she knew Ralph was implicated, she remembered why the name of the law firm he’d suggested had sounded familiar: Cooper, Hodges, McQuinllin and Hanks had been listed as the service agent of PAC.
Marissa felt trapped. The men pursuing her had powerful connections. She had no idea how deeply they had penetrated the CDC. Certainly the conspiracy involved the congressman who exerted control over the CDC budget.
Marissa’s mind reeled. She was terrified no one would believe her, and she was acutely aware that the only piece of hard evidence she had—the vaccination gun—was resting somewhere in the maximum containment lab, to which she knew from painful experience her pursuers had access. The only thing that was crystal clear was that she had to get away from Ralph before Jackson and maybe more thugs arrived.
Picking up her fork, she had a sudden vision of the blond man hurling himself through the bathroom door in San Francisco. She dropped the fork, again afraid she was about to faint.
Ralph grabbed her elbow and helped her to the kitchen table. He put the food on a plate and placed it in front of her and urged her to eat.
“You were doing so well a minute ago,” he said. “You’ll feel better if you get something in your stomach.” He picked up the fork she’d dropped and tossed it into the sink, then got another from the silver drawer.
Marissa dropped her head into her hands. She had to get herself under control. Valuable time was ticking away.
“Not hungry after all?” asked Ralph.
“Not very,” admitted Marissa. The very smell of the eggs was enough to make her sick. She shuddered.
“Maybe you should take a tranquilizer. I’ve got some upstairs. What do you think?”
“Okay,” said Marissa.
“Be right back,” said Ralph, squeezing her shoulder.
This was the chance she had prayed for. As soon as he was out of the room, Marissa was on her feet, snatching the phone off its hook. But there was no dial tone. Ralph must have disconnected it somehow! So much for the police. Replacing the phone, she rushed around the kitchen searching for Ralph’s car keys. Nothing. Next she tried the adjoining family room. There was a tiny marble urn on the room divider with a few keys, but none for a car. Going back through the kitchen, Marissa went to the small foyer by the back door. There was a cork bulletin board, an antique school desk and an old bureau. There was also a door that led to the bathroom.
Trying the desk first, she lifted its cover and rummaged through its contents. There were some odd-shaped house keys, but that was all. Turning to the small bureau, she began opening drawers, finding a jumble of gloves, scarves and rain gear.
“What do you need?” asked Ralph, suddenly appearing behind her. Guiltily she straightened up, searching for an alibi. Ralph waited, looking at her expectantly. His right hand was closed. His left hand held a glass of water.
“I thought maybe I could find a sweater,” said Marissa.
Ralph eyed her curiously. If anything, the house was too warm. After all, it was almost June.
“I’ll turn the heat on in the kitchen,” he said, guiding her back to her chair. He extended his right hand. “Here, take this.” He dropped a capsule into Marissa’s palm. It was red and ivory in color.
“Dalmane?” questioned Marissa. “I thought you were getting me a tranquilizer.”
“It will relax you
Shaking her head and handing the capsule back to Ralph, Marissa said, “I’d prefer a tranquilizer.”
