was relaxed as he navigated Houston’s permanent traffic. The intensity she’d first noticed about him was banked but still there, lurking under the surface. This was a man who was passionate about his job, that much was clear. Would he apply that same passion to his relationships?
Doesn’t matter, she thought, shivering slightly. This isn’t the time to ask him out. She ran her hands briskly over her arms, trying to rub away the goose bumps.
“Cold?” His deep voice cut through the silence, making her jump. He reached over with one hand to adjust the knobs on the dash, and the airflow slowed. “I always crank it into the subzero range when I’m in the car. I forget not everyone likes to be frozen out.”
“It’s okay,” she said, offering him a smile. “I’d rather be cold than hot.”
“Me, too.” He grinned back, dimples winking from his stubbled cheeks. Hannah’s breath caught in her throat. Oh, my. With a smile like that, he had to have a trail of drooling women following him around.
He returned his focus to the road, and Hannah swallowed hard, determined to ignore the residual zings arcing through her system.
“We should be there soon,” he said.
Hannah glanced around at the parking lot that was I-45. “Uh-huh,” she said. “Don’t you think that’s rather optimistic?”
“Maybe a little,” he admitted. “Why don’t you tell me about ChemCure Industries while we wait.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Were you the only one working with nitrogen mustard compounds?”
She shook her head. “No, I was one of a team. There were five of us working on this particular project.”
“Only five?” He frowned slightly. “I thought this was a big company—wouldn’t the working group have been larger?”
“ChemCure Industries is a large company,” she explained. “But there are multiple divisions in the company, and each division worked on different projects. I worked in one of the chemotherapy divisions, and that division was further divided into smaller teams. My team worked on the aerosolized nitrogen mustard project, while other teams worked on drug discovery or other delivery projects.”
“I see. Who was the head of your team?”
“Ah. That would be me.” He cut her a glance, one eyebrow raised, and she shifted slightly under the scrutiny. “I was the senior scientist on the project.”
“What were your responsibilities?”
“I essentially steered the direction of the research. I designed experiments for the techs to complete, and used the data collected to guide the next steps.”
“Did you do any experiments yourself?”
She shrugged. “Some. But not as many as the techs.”
“So the techs would have the most access to the compounds?”
Hannah considered the question. “Yes. But they’re not the only ones. The division manager, Marcia Foley, would also have access, as would anyone else who walked into the lab.”
He jerked his head around to face her, his brows lifted and eyes wide with shock. “Are you telling me that the dangerous chemicals you worked with weren’t under some kind of restricted access?”
She frowned back at him, puzzled by his reaction. “There wasn’t a need.”
“How is that even safe?”
“Well,” she began, struggling to find the words to explain lab culture to an outsider. “We didn’t advertise what we were working with, so it was unlikely anyone outside the team really knew what chemicals we had in the lab. Besides,” she said, stalling his objection, “it’s considered very poor form, not to mention dangerous, for someone to walk into your lab and start rooting around.”
“And I suppose everyone in the company obeyed this unspoken rule?” His tone made it clear exactly what he thought of that arrangement, and she bristled slightly at the underlying accusation.
“I certainly never saw someone enter the lab without an escort.”
“I’m sure you didn’t,” he said, a little more gently. “But you weren’t there 24/7. Isn’t it possible someone could have gained access to the chemicals without your knowledge?”
The cars in the lane next to them began to move, and the detective merged smoothly into the stream. “I guess it’s possible,” she admitted, taking a deep breath as they rolled past the rows of vehicles. “But we kept detailed records—who accessed the chemicals, how much they used, for what experiments, that kind of thing. That way, we could always account for where the chemicals went.”
“And are you certain those records were well maintained after you left the company?” He let the suggestion hang between them as he drove.
Before the accident, Hannah would have said yes without any hesitation. But it was someone else’s mistake, someone else’s sloppy science that had nearly gotten her killed. She had trusted her coworkers without reservation, and it had nearly cost her her life.
Her hand moved up reflexively to touch her scars before she remembered Gabby’s warning. She dropped the offending limb into her lap and glanced at Detective Randall from the corner of her eye, but he kept his gaze on the road ahead. If he’d noticed her gesture, he gave no indication of it.
“Anything is possible,” she said softly.
“Did anyone show a particular interest in your project and the compounds you worked with?”
She scrunched her brows together as she considered his question. “Not that I recall. Sorry,” she added, almost as an afterthought.
“Why are you apologizing to me?” A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth, and an answering warmth kindled to life in her chest.
“I feel bad that I’m not more help to you,” she explained.
He let out a quick huff of a laugh. “Believe me, you’ve been a great help. More than what I’m used to getting. I really appreciate you coming with me today.”
She felt her face warm, and hoped she wasn’t blushing too darkly. She fought the urge to squirm in her seat with embarrassed pleasure, and instead turned her head to focus on the scenery zipping by her window. “I’m happy to assist in any way I can,” she said.
After clearing the initial snarl of traffic, it didn’t take long to arrive at ChemCure Industries’s gates. Hannah’s stomach twisted when they pulled into the visitorsʼ lane and Detective Randall rolled down his window. She hadn’t been here since the accident, and the once-familiar beige buildings now seemed forbidding and cold.
A security guard walked over to the car. “Can I help you?”
Detective Randall removed his badge and showed it to the officer. “We’re here to see Marcia Foley.”
The guard frowned. “Do you have
