lab. And while she just wanted to be mad, tears once again blurred her vision.
Stop thinking about him.
Easier said than done. It was hard to turn off the hurt. She blinked and sniffed—and tried to focus. The voices grew louder. Unable to hear more than the fact someone else was in the lab, she supposed a couple of fellow scientists had decided to put in a few more hours just like her.
But they probably weren’t using work to distract them—to keep their minds off of people better just forgotten. Unfortunately, work wasn’t doing anything to help her forget.
She studied the specimen, trying to see it through her tears. And finally gave up. She’d thought Toby was different, that his interest in her work was because he was interested in her. Boy, was she a lousy judge of character.
Heated words snapped her head around. “What in the world?” she muttered.
Curious, she removed the slide from the scope and returned it to its secure slot in the box next to her. She slipped off the gloves and tossed them into the hazardous waste bin. Most of the lights had been turned off and she usually liked it that way, but right now, they held a foreboding that crept over her. The farther she walked from her workstation, the darker it got, the blackness like a glove closing around her.
She shivered.
Then laughed at herself, mentally reviewing the security in the lab. No one without authorization could get in. And no one with authorization was anyone to be afraid of. While the university lab wasn’t a Level 4 secure lab working with deadly pathogens, Robin still considered her research and teaching an important part of the process for training upcoming scientists. And it was very secure.
Light returned. Someone else was working at the far end of the large building in a corner station. Or had been working. Possibly. Right now, the two men standing face-to-face looked like they were ready to start throwing punches.
“The bidding has already started. I need that virus now!”
“It’s not ready. I told you. I’m still working out some issues, but I should have it soon.”
Their words echoed through the large area.
Virus? Bidding? She didn’t recognize the first voice, but the second one belonged to Alan Roberts—a virologist like her.
“How soon is soon?” the first voice asked.
“Soon! Okay? I’ll call when I’m ready.” A pause. “I’m serious. I think I’ve got it, I just need to run a couple of more tests and then it’ll be ready.”
“How much longer?”
“Twelve hours, okay?” Alan threw the notebook onto his workstation area and it landed on top of the manila file folders that always seemed to overflow his desk. “I have to make sure it’s right. The first test said it was.”
“Then why more tests?”
“To make sure. If you sell a defective product, your investors might take exception. Just let me do my job, then you can do yours.”
“Twelve hours. That’s it. I’ll let the buyer know we’re a go.”
“Fine,” Alan said. “You have my account number. Make sure the money lands there like it’s supposed to.”
“Of course.”
Robin eased closer, careful not to do anything stupid like knock something over or misstep. She could see the two men huddled in the corner. She and Alan shared a love of the classics, and he usually had a jovial personality in spite of his daughter’s medical bills. Leukemia had taken its toll on the family.
A deep scowl creased his lean face. “I’ll figure it out. Get out of here before someone sees you.”
“Right.”
Robin held her breath as the second man turned on his heel and strode to the door that would lead him out of the back of the lab. How had he even gotten in? He’d need a key card to get out. The sick feeling that had been growing as she listened now blossomed into full-fledged nausea.
They were selling a virus? But what kind? And how would they get access to it? Or had they built it?
Alan slammed a fist on the desk and closed his eyes for a brief moment. Unsure whether to leave or confront him, she hesitated. A shot sounded, and Alan jerked, then dropped to the floor. Robin clapped a hand over her mouth.
Blood from the bullet wound in the middle of his back stained his white lab coat. Robin swallowed a sob, terror pounding through her. Alan rolled with a grunt. Another pop stilled him. The killer ran out the door. She heard two more gunshots as she turned to run. But she had to check on Alan. She hurried to his side and knelt next to him. His eyes were open with his pupils fixed.
Robin scrambled to her feet, her lungs desperate for air, adrenaline racing. The door opened and Alan’s killer stood there, hand grasping the collar of the man Alan had been speaking with. He dragged him back into the lab, then released his hold. In slow motion, she watched the victim thud to the floor.
Time sped up again when the killer swept a hand over Alan’s desk, raking up the files he’d been working through. Vaguely, her mind registered that the shooter had been in the lab the whole time. He’d heard the same conversation she had. And he’d had a gun. Why?
Frozen, she ordered herself to move and couldn’t. The man turned and jerked when he saw her standing there. Hard eyes never left hers. Breath caught in her constricted throat. “You killed them,” she whispered. “Why? How could you?”
“Call it an unexpected moneymaking opportunity that I’d be crazy to pass up.” He lifted his phone. “I’ve hit a small snag in the plan. Warn me if anyone approaches while I take care of this.”
“Snag in what plan?” Why wasn’t she running? Run!
“Sorry, Robin.” He lifted his weapon.
Robin screamed and lunged sideways. The bullet shattered the beaker on the table behind her. Stumbling, refusing to fall, she got her feet under her and raced through the lab, dodging chairs and tables, her goal the back hallway that held the break room, conference room and restrooms. She’d never make it to the exit.
Another shot whizzed too close to her cheek as the footsteps behind her pounded faster. No! She would not die like this. She burst into the men’s bathroom, slammed the door and locked it. If he saw her dart down the hallway, he’d assume she’d go into the women’s bathroom. Locking herself in the men’s might buy her an extra lifesaving minute or two.
She shoved her hand into her lab coat pocket and froze. Her phone. Where was it?
A picture of it sitting on her workstation flashed through her mind. With no way to call for help, her panic bloomed, exploding through her.
Think. Think.
Panting, lungs straining for air, she went to the window.
A loud boom shuddered through the building and sent her to her knees. The door exploded inward and slammed into her like a missile, knocking
