more like a year and a half,” Gabby retorted. “I know you haven’t seen anyone since Jake the Snake left.” She took a sip of her coffee and muttered, “Good riddance.”
Hannah smiled despite the pang that stabbed through her chest at the thought of her ex-fiancé. “Since when are you so obsessed with my love life?”
“Since you’re my friend and I care about you.” Gabby gave her a level stare, then smiled. “I just want you to be happy. And while I don’t know much about Detective Broody McGrumpyPants, he is handsome. You could definitely do worse.”
“I didn’t say I was going to be doing anything,” Hannah protested weakly.
Gabby gave her a wicked smile. “Oh, but you should. Doing things can be so much fun.”
“Gabby!” Hannah chastised. “Don’t be so vulgar.”
Her friend’s laugh was full-throated and rich, and it filled the room in a warm wave of sound. “Oh, honey. We’re not in a British period piece. Lighten up a bit.” She picked up her coffee and winked at her. “You’re too young to be so prim.”
Hannah focused on her own coffee, hoping the steam would explain the sudden redness in her cheeks. Gabby had always been the more outgoing one, quick with a clever comeback or play on words. Sometimes Hannah envied her friend’s ability to think on her feet. She was more deliberate, more cautious in her approach to conversations. Where Gabby was outgoing and friendly, Hannah was reserved and shy. More than once, she had marveled at their unlikely friendship, but at the end of the day, she knew their bond was unbreakable.
“Why don’t you tell me about these victims?”
Gabby leaned back in her chair, her playful smile fading as she turned her focus to business. “I don’t have much to share, unfortunately. There have been six deaths so far, one every week, and the pathology findings suggest they’re linked.”
“In what way?”
“The victims all suffered extensive trauma, and a lot of it occurred after death.” She shook her head. “I’ve seen some pretty terrible things in my job, but these victims really take the cake.”
Hannah grimaced, revulsion making her stomach roil. “If the injuries were that severe, why did you look for chemical traces?”
“Because I think the extensive external injuries were inflicted to distract from the real cause of death.”
“And you found something?” It was a silly question—of course she had. That’s why the detectives had paid her a visit yesterday.
Gabby bared her teeth in a fierce grin. “Yep. I’m really good at my job.”
Hannah couldn’t help but smile in return. “So if they didn’t die from physical injuries, you think it was the chemical that killed them?”
Her friend tapped her index finger on the tip of her nose. “It’s the only way I can explain the internal findings. As if the external injuries weren’t bad enough, when I opened them up, things got really strange.”
“How so?”
“Their lungs were totally wrecked. They didn’t even look like lungs anymore—they were disintegrating before my eyes.”
Hannah leaned forward a bit. “What do you mean?”
Gabby frowned and stared at the table. She cupped her hands and pantomimed a scooping gesture. “The chest cavity was filled with fluid. Like their lung tissue had dissolved.” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
A frisson of memory jolted through Hannah, making the fine hairs at the nape of her neck rise. “Was there a smell?” she whispered.
Gabby’s gaze jerked up, her eyes narrowing. “Yeah. Kind of like rotten fruit with some garlic tossed in for good measure. Definitely not the usual cadaver smell I’m used to.” She cocked her head to the side. “How did you know?”
Hannah shook her head, dismissing the question. “And how did you feel after the autopsies?”
Her friend leaned back, considering. “I got a headache,” she said thoughtfully. “But I just chalked it up to the weather. You know I get headaches whenever we have a storm system move through.”
“Any trouble breathing?”
Gabby shook her head. “No. What’s going on, Hannah? What do you know?”
“Excellent question, Doctor” came a deep voice from the doorway. “I can’t wait to hear the answer.”
* * *
Damn, Owen thought, watching the way Hannah flinched at the sound of his voice. She turned to face him, her eyes wide and troubled, and his stomach dropped. She is involved.
Disappointment settled over him like a heavy blanket. He’d been so sure that she wasn’t connected to these cases, but the fear shining in her eyes dashed his hopes.
How could he have misread the situation so badly? Were his instincts really deserting him? He’d heard the whispered comments, the remarks made behind his back. A lot of people thought he was weak for taking a leave of absence after John’s death. Even his captain had recommended working through the pain, saying the distraction of the job was the best way to deal with the loss of his partner. But Owen couldn’t bring himself to do the job without his friend, and he’d needed the time to get his head on straight and figure out if he still wanted to be a cop. How could he go on without his best friend? But in the end, he’d come back. Being a cop was the only thing he knew how to do, and quitting felt like a betrayal of John’s memory.
It was hard, though. Some days, he felt like a rookie all over again, and he spent a lot of time questioning decisions that would have been automatic before John’s death. The realization that Hannah Baker was indeed connected to this case, when yesterday he’d been so sure she wasn’t, did nothing for his shaky confidence.
“Please, Dr. Baker. You were saying?”
She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a second, as if calling up some inner strength. “It’s probably nothing,” she began, but Dr. Whitman cut her off.
“How did you know about the smell? And about my headaches?”
Hannah shook her head. “Lucky guess?”
Owen cleared his throat. “Try again, please.”
“The findings you described...” She trailed off. “I saw a similar pathology a few years ago, when I worked at ChemCure Industries.”
“What do you mean? I thought you didn’t do human experiments.” Dr. Whitman leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms across her chest, frowning slightly. Owen felt a flash of gratitude at the woman’s presence. Since she and Hannah had a history, Dr. Whitman’s questions added to his understanding of Hannah and her possible involvement in the case.
“I didn’t,” Hannah replied. “These were findings from some animal studies. We were testing a drug that had performed beautifully in cell lines, but cells in a dish are a far cry from cells in
