Deadly Conspiracies: DEADLY MEDICINE, #2

By Laurie Gilbert

WINNER of the Daphne du Maurier Award for Excelence in Mystery/Suspense

 

Infertility specialist, Dr. Kristen Singer, has dedicated her life to helping women like herself who desperately want a child of their own. When her lab is destroyed, she wants to know who's responsible and why they made sure she alone survived. A new position opens for her that seems too good to be true, and she soon learns it is when her determination to find justice puts more than her work in jeopardy.

 

The use of military grade explosives to destroy a local medical research lab doesn't add up for Quinn Rafferty, a once respected investigative reporter and ex-Air Force Pilot. Though his career is in shambles after being disenfranchised by his peers for reporting a UFO sighting, his passion for uncovering the truth remains strong. When he learns who provided the connection to Kristen's new job, he suspects they are both being manipulated by the same people. Last time, he chose to go searching for the truth. This time, he doesn't have a choice.

 

5 Stars

Deadly Conspiracies was a rollercoaster ride of secrets, conspiracies, and betrayal. Laurie Gilbert had me strapped in for the ride and pulled me along by force. There were so many twists and turns that I never knew what would happen next. I was intrigued, and the suspense kept me on the edge of my seat. I was drawn into the medical world, and it was easy to become part of Kristen and Quinlan's lives. The plot was complicated and exciting, with not a single dull moment. The characters were authentic and relatable. My favorite was Kristen. I was invested in the trials and tribulations that Kristen had endured. The growing romance between Quinlan and Kristen was refreshing and welcoming during the darker side of the story. The story was well-researched and written with confidence. - Reviewed by Alma Boucher for Readers' Favorite

 

"Laurie Gilbert's extensive experience in the medical field delivers a chillingly believable story. The emotional, action-packed opening sucked me in and kept me reading. The main characters are easy to empathize with and cheer for. A fast-paced thriller with a satisfying, heartwarming ending." --from Cindy Hiday, author of DESTIATION STARDUST and winner of the Kay Snow Award for Fiction – on Deadly Images.

 

Deadly Medicine Series Book #2

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laurie Gilbert
• Release date: Apr 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393875741

Book preview

DEADLY CONSPIRACIES

A MEDICAL THRILLER

DEADLY MEDICINE SERIES BOOK #2

LAURIE GILBERT

COPYRIGHT

Copyright © 2022 Laurie Gilbert

SECOND EDITION

All rights reserved.

Updated from original publication, 2021.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Cover design by RL Design

www.gobookcoversdesign.com

Cover Image:  ID 48913671 Pavlo Vakhrushev Dreamstime.com

Cover Image:  ID 66340568 Vchalup Dreamstime.com

Cover Image:  ID 165081361 Kts Dreamstime.com

DEDICATION

For Devin,

May you find someone worthy of your trust...

And for Shea and April who were lucky enough to do so...

You all have my love and respect.

BOOKS BY LAURIE GILBERT

Medical Thrillers

Deadly Medicine Series:

DEADLY IMAGES BOOK 1

DEADLY CONSPIRACIES BOOK 2

(Winner of the Daphne Du Maurier Award

for Excellence in Mystery/Suspense)

Romantic Suspense Novels

Shadow Mountain Series:

NEVER TRUST A COWBOY BOOK 1

NEVER TRUST A LAWMAN BOOK 2

NEVER TRUST A DRIFTER BOOK 3

Single Titles:

HARD EVIDENCE

(Winner of the Golden Heart Award

for Romantic Suspense)

AUTHOR’S NOTE

WHEN I MOVED TO OREGON at age 22, Portland was one of the most beautiful, vibrant, clean and safe cities in the country. While Portland struggles to regain that distinction, as I’m sure it will one day, I chose to take a small step back and set my story during its glory days.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COPYRIGHT

DEDICATION

BOOKS BY LAURIE GILBERT

AUTHOR’S NOTE

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BOOKS BY LAURIE GILBERT

Questions and Ideas for Book Group Discussions

PROLOGUE

Northern Ireland, eight years earlier...

QUINLAN RAFFERTY HURRIEDLY belted himself into the Huey’s copilot seat, keeping a vigilant eye on the tarmac. Let’s get this bird in the air.

Captain Sheldon Mason glanced Quinn’s way as he geared up for the take off. Who are we running from today?

The usual, people who’d rather not see me exposed the truth on the six o’clock news, Quinn said. Can we talk about this after we’re in the air?

There was always a cost for revealing the truth, but Quinn didn’t want to pay for this one with their lives.

Sheldon lifted off. Sounds like the making of another Pulitzer.

Quinn shrugged. More than garnering another investigative journalism award, he yearned to make Cathy understand the importance of the work he did.

Without further comment Quinn tuned the radio to monitor the rebel frequency.

You want the stick, too? Sheldon said. I could hop in back and take a nap if I’m in your way.

As they climbed into the darkness and headed out over the Atlantic channel, Quinn grinned at his friend. Sorry. It’s been too long since I’ve piloted one of these. I really do appreciate the ride though.

I was on my way back to the air base at Machrihanish anyway, Sheldon said. Where’re you headed next?

Quinn thought about the ultimatum Cathy had given him. He hated leaving his wife and five-year-old son alone, but there were stories that needed to be told. Glasgow, then home, I guess.

Wish I was headed stateside, Sheldon said with an odd note of foreboding as the helicopter reached the rugged Kintyre Peninsula on the western coast of Scotland.

Trouble in paradise? Quinn said. I thought you loved it here?

Let’s just say that since General Mead arrived at the base, things have been a little tense around here.

He noted the understatement in Sheldon’s tone, but before he could question him further, Sheldon slowed the Huey as they neared the shoreline. Straight ahead stood a small stand of trees, maybe two-hundred yards away.

What the.... Are you seeing that? Sheldon asked.

A silvery metallic disc hovered just above the tree tops. Staring at the sight before them, Quinn’s heart pounded more fiercely than when he’d been in the clutches of the terrorists. Fraid so.

He estimated the disc at about forty feet in diameter and sixteen feet high. Without taking his eyes off the craft, he reached for his bag and his camera. As the object lingered in the air for a moment, he watched in silent disbelief. Before he had the lens cap off, the craft made a high-speed, seventy-five-degree turn and blasted out of sight.

Sheldon faced Quinn. What the hell was that?

No idea, Quinn said, but I guarantee you won’t find it in Janes. As a pilot himself, and an avid aviation buff, he could confidently state what it wasn’t, but that knowledge did nothing to make him feel better. Did you see the way it maneuvered? That's flat-out impossible.

Sheldon nodded, holding the chopper on a steady course. Now what do we do?

Only two choices, Quinn said. Keep it to ourselves, or report what we saw.

Sheldon hesitated. They both knew what they were up against. Without proof, I’d get grounded, just like Casey and Wilson.

Quinn locked on the scent of another story. What do you mean? Have other pilots seen this thing?

A lot of strange stuff has been going on here, Sheldon admitted. I don't know what they saw, but anyone reports anything out of the ordinary and they’re grounded or shipped out to some hell-hole. Sheldon frowned, deep in thought. I didn't know Wilson that well, but Casey is a damn good pilot and straight as an arrow. He wouldn't have been drinking before a flight like the rumors say. I'd stake my life on it.

If we go ahead with this, that may be exactly what you're doing.

My gut tells me General Mead is somehow involved. Too many good people are being trashed. I’d like to find out what the brass is covering up.

Quinn ran a hand down his face, struggling with indecision. The two of them were credible eye witnesses, but would that be enough?

After a considerable pause Sheldon said, I’m willing to go on record, if you are. But you know that if you tell this story, you can kiss that next Pulitzer goodbye.

Quinn had a lot more at stake than a potential journalism award. If he revealed what they'd seen, he would be risking everything that mattered—his marriage and his career.

CHAPTER ONE

March 1998

I GUESS I SHOULD HAVE taken their threats more seriously, Dr. Kristen Singer admitted with growing unease.

The Lake Oswego patrolman strolled around her garage for the second time, then paused by the door to her backyard and scratched his head. I can’t find any sign of a break-in.

Kristen checked her watch again. They probably got in the side door with a credit card.

If she’d been alone, she’d have gone straight to the lab without stopping to report the incident. But Carter Howe, her ten-year-old nephew, had found the empty pink-and-white sugar box on her garage floor. She couldn’t bear to think about what might have happened if Carter had come out earlier while the vandal was dumping the sugar into her gas tank. I’ll show you the letter I received at the lab last week. Their accusations are unfounded. They didn't even bother to check with me and ask about how the research is carried out.

She led the officer inside. This is from a new radical group calling themselves Affirmative Action for Animals. They demanded I shut down my project immediately, or suffer the consequences.

The officer frowned. You use animals for research?

The research I do for infertility doesn’t hurt the animals; it helps them. It has already helped several macaques who were thought to be infertile to reproduce. And it may someday help repopulate endangered species. More importantly, it has brought the first real hope to a lot of women who desperately want to have children and can’t. She didn’t add that she was one of them.

If it’s that important, the officer said as he gathered his papers to leave, then I guess you should feel lucky they targeted your car and not your lab.

Kristen froze, her stomach dropping to her shoes.

Quickly, she dialed the direct line into her section at the lab. What else might they have done? As she waited for her friend and chief lab assistant, Natalie Campbell, to answer the phone, Kristen’s heart rate escalated.

Natalie picked up on the fifth ring.

Is everyone all right? Did everyone make it in today? Kristen asked.

Sure, Natalie said with a slight hesitation. We’re fine.

She didn’t sound fine.

I’m glad you called though, Natalie said. Dr. Beauchamp says he urgently needs to talk to you. He’s been yelling at Tony ever since I got here.

Yelling? Kristen’s pulse kicked up a notch. She quickly explained the damage to her car, then said, I’m on my way. And Natalie, be careful. We don’t know what else these people might do.

A few minutes later, she and Carter slipped on their coats and ran down the sidewalk to the waiting cab. Inside, she tucked her wool scarf under her collar while Carter covered his dark brown hair with a green Oregon Duck's cap he wore backward on his head.

The twenty-minute trip to the research complex, located fifteen miles southeast of Portland, seemed like an eternity. She worried about her partner, Jonathan Beauchamp, and what he had to tell her that was so important. She hoped it wasn’t about their project, now that the end was in sight.

Even more puzzling was him yelling at Tony. In the six years they’d worked together, the only time she’d ever seen Jonathan lose his temper was when two men from the government showed up the year before and demanded to talk to him. He’d never told her what they wanted, but she was used to that. There were parts of his life he didn’t like to talk about.

As they turned onto the busy Oregon City street where the Clackamette Biotechnologies Research Center’s two-hundred-acre wedge of land separated a residential area from a light industrial complex, Kristen pushed back her coat sleeve to check her watch. Instead of arriving an hour early to discuss the project with Jonathan as she’d planned, she was ten minutes late.

The taxi driver slowed the car as they approached the gated entrance and craned his neck to look up at the tall chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Wow! What do you do inside there? Build nuclear weapons?

We do biomedical research, Kristen said, subduing her irritation as she gauged her nephew’s reaction.

Carter’s attention was elsewhere. He’d twisted in the seat to look out the back window. "Did you see that army guy’s clothes? I wish my mom would get me some cammo pants and a shirt like his."

She frowned. Another secret visitor for Jonathan?

Kristen pushed the thought aside and managed a smile for her nephew. She was at least relieved to know she’d made the right choice when she’d purchased the camouflage fatigues to go along with the X-Files poster for Carter’s upcoming birthday. Determined to keep this year’s present a secret, she changed the subject. Do you want to open the security gate?

Carter’s expression brightened with the curiosity she adored. Sure! What do I do?

She pulled her plastic access card from her wallet and guided him through the process.

Carter did as she instructed and the gate lifted.

Good job, Kristen said, placing the card back in her wallet. Acres of freshly mowed lawn surrounded the facility. Her project occupied one of two older buildings connected by long corridors to each end of the main reception lobby at the center of the campus.

The cab pulled to a stop at the circular turn-around in front of the reception area and she paid the fare. Just follow the green line on the road and it will take you out. The exit gate will open when you drive up.

Side-by-side, she and Carter climbed the concrete steps flanked by the giant logo CBRC. Seeing that her lab was indeed safe released some of the tension plaguing her. She placed her hand on her nephew’s shoulder. Come on. Let’s go inside.

She took two steps, then a deafening boom rent the air, hurling smoke and debris into the sky over her lab. At the same time powerful vibrations shook the sidewalk beneath her feet. Instinctively, she grabbed Carter and cradled him with her body as she dove sideways to the damp lawn in one quick motion.

The double doors at the entrance shattered outward, propelling shards of glass above their heads like missiles. Kristen was stunned and confused as her lab and six years of research exploded before her eyes, but a more horrible realization overshadowed everything else. Her friends were still inside.

She lifted herself off her nephew, holding her breath as she quickly scanned him for any sign of injury. Are you all right?

He rolled to his side and looked up with wide, frightened eyes. I... I think so.

Kristen turned to gape at the building. A yellow wall of flames belched from a hole in the roof in the area which housed her study. Oh, my god!

Except for the glass, the front of the structure stood pretty much intact. Fire alarms wailed throughout the compound.

She looked down at Carter’s ashen face, then gave him a quick hug for reassurance. I know you’re scared, sweetie, but everything’s going to be fine. I need your help. The alarm goes to the fire station automatically, but in case the front gate doesn't open, can you take my key card and open it for them?

Trembling, he nodded.

Take my purse and run back to the entrance. Use the card in my wallet just like you did for the taxi. Okay?

Again, Carter nodded.

If it’s already open, come back and sit over there on the grass. She pointed to a spot in the distance she thought would be safe.

He grabbed her sleeve. What are you going to do?

I have to help my friends. Now hurry, she said, grasping him firmly by the shoulders, and don’t go near the building—no matter what!

As Carter ran for the gate, Kristen raced up the steps, broken glass crunching beneath her feet. She yanked the wool scarf loose from her collar and wrapped it around her nose and mouth before entering the burning building.

She tried to slow her breathing, but couldn’t. Knowing her friends were inside—trapped, injured or worse—made her heart pound with fear. Her steps faltered as she turned the corner from the long corridor into the first section of the lab which housed their offices.

The explosion had demolished the central work area. The smell of burnt electrical wire and old wood emanated from the lab and mixed with a different, familiar, but horrifying odor. Her stomach retched and her throat tightened with dread. Since her first surgical rotation, she’d never forgotten the unique smell of cauterized human flesh.

She had to find her friends.

Fighting the ever-thickening smoke, she crouched low and made her way across the hall by her office to the entrance of the main work area. Natalie, she yelled.

A huge worktable blocked the lower half of the doorway. She braced her back against the jamb and shoved at one end until she’d opened a space wide enough to crawl through. Fire crackled and popped around her. Sweat broke out on her face from the growing intensity of the heat.

Help. Natalie’s weak cry barely reached Kristen’s ears. The sound came from a few yards straight ahead.

Kristen shouted. I’m coming!

Burning timbers fell from the ceiling off to Kristen’s right, startling a scream from her as she made her way forward.

My leg, Natalie gasped. I’m stuck.

Kristen tried to lift the overturned workbench, but the piece was too heavy.

Desperation filled Natalie’s eyes. I can’t get out!

Kristen battled her trembling muscles with determination. I won’t leave you.

Overhead, dense clouds of smoke grew more oppressive with each second that passed. Kristen’s eyes burned. I need a lever.

Natalie pointed off to her left. There.

Kristen blinked furiously to clear her vision, and finally glimpsed the broken stud. She quickly grabbed the board and wedged it under one end of the workbench, then leaned all her weight into it until the bench began to give. Hurry! Slide out.

Natalie wiggled and scooted until she cleared the overturned workbench.

Can you walk? Kristen asked, clutching the scarf to her mouth.

I think so.

Kristen helped her to the door, then said, Where are Jonathan and Tony?

I just left them in the surgical lab, Natalie said, clutching Kristen’s arm. But you can’t go back in there.

Kristen grabbed Natalie by the shoulders. My nephew, Carter, is out front. Find him and look after him, she said. Now go.

With that, she pulled away from Natalie and retied the scarf as she went back inside, praying the fire department would arrive soon, knowing there wasn’t time to wait. She crouched low to the floor and retraced her steps to where she’d found Natalie. From there, she continued skirting the perimeter of the large work space.

Flames climbed the walls across the room and the intense heat melted the rubber-sheathed electrical wires dangling from ragged gaps in the ceiling. The hot stench pricked her nose and sent ripples of nausea to her stomach.

Kristen crawled the last few yards to the back section of the building where the surgery suite and embryology lab were located. A broken ceiling tile crashed to the floor, grazing her head as it fell. She brushed singed hair from her eyes with hands already bloodied from crawling across the shattered test tubes covering the floor.

As she reached the surgical lab, an eerie banging and screeching rang out above the roar of the fire, raising the flesh on her arms. The sounds seemed to come from the pre-op animal enclosure at the back corner of the lab, but she knew that was impossible. Her monkeys weren’t supposed to be in the building.

Could the smoke be affecting her mind already?

She was running out of time. Jonathan. Tony, she called out.

Shrill, horrific screams pierced through the haze.

Kristen was certain the child-like cries came from her macaques. Her babies.

The howling continued. With a growing sense of despair, she pressed on toward the cages as she searched the floor for her friends. Pain crushed at her chest with each breath she sucked through the wool scarf. With sheer determination, she shoved debris aside and groped her way along the wall. Frantic tears washed some of the smoke from her eyes.

Splintered wood dug into her knees, piercing the tender skin like dozens of large-bore needles. She fought to ignore the pain as she continued her search.

The macaques’ screams slowly fell away into a more horrifying silence. A grievous loss descended over her.

As defeat siphoned the last of her strength, she heard a hoarse voice off to her right call her name.

Jonathan.

Encouraged by the weak cry, she scrambled across the floor. The autoclave machine lay on its side, the steel oven door violently ripped off of its hinges. She climbed over it and found her partner lying on his back, half-buried under a pile of fallen debris.

A scalp wound bled profusely down the side of Jonathan’s head and a large I-beam wedged across his lower chest and abdomen pinned him down.

Her heart nearly stopped at the untenable sight. We’ve got to get you out. Help me, Jonathan. She wedged her shoulder under one edge of the huge steel beam, trying to lift it. Push," she pleaded.

The heavy steel refused to budge.

Frantically, she looked around for another lever, but there was nothing big enough, or strong enough, to move the beam.

Each breath caused hot blades of pain to stab at her chest and she grew dizzy.

Jonathan’s fingers wrapped around her wrist with surprising strength. He lifted his head slightly, his expression more earnest than she’d ever seen before.

Kristen, you’ve got to get out...while you can, he said between coughs, tightening his grip until pain shot up her forearm. You’ve got to go back to....

Her heart felt like it was ripping apart. Placing her hand over his, she said, I’ll get help. Don’t give up.

Exhausted, she slowly made her way back out through the work area. Somewhere outside, the first siren wound down. Finally help had arrived, she thought, refusing to let go of the last embers of hope to save her friends, her animals and her work.

Eyes burning and throat raw from the stifling black smoke, Kristen crawled down the hall on bleeding hands and knees. Her muscles grew fatigued and her mind lost its focus.

She was ready to pass out when someone grabbed her arm. She tried to pull away, to point to where she’d left Jonathan, but the firefighter picked her up and hefted her over his shoulder before she had the chance.

Moments after he carried her outside, another much more powerful explosion slammed her and her rescuer to the ground. Jonathan! Tony! No! she screamed at the horrific loss, realizing neither could have survived that second explosion.  Despair finally overcame her.

CHAPTER TWO

KRISTEN STRUGGLED BACK to consciousness, the path a jagged haze of garbled words and sounds. And then she remembered.

Carter! she screamed, clawing at the oxygen mask on her face as she struggled to sit up.

Aunt Kristen! Carter’s voice sang out from a few feet away. Are you okay?

Kristen blinked until her vision cleared enough to see he was unharmed. Am now, she croaked.

Come on, honey, Natalie’s voice urged. Your aunt’s going to be fine. We’ll go to the hospital with her.

Upon arrival at the hospital, the paramedics transferred her to a gurney in the emergency department. A tall, thin man listened to her breath sounds while a nurse systematically removed her clothes.

I’m Dr. Frederickson, the man said. Your lungs sound clear, but we’re going to get a chest film and do some blood work. Any history we need to be aware of? Allergies?

Kristen gave her head a small shake. What about...the others? she asked, though every word she expelled felt like someone was dragging a cheese grater over her vocal cords.

Sorry, I have no information for you, he said. Try to concentrate on your breathing so we keep those lungs clear. He patted her shoulder before he walked out.

The health-care team zipped in and out, but no one could tell her anything. In all the thousands of hours she’d logged in various hospitals, she’d never felt more disconnected, more alone and on the outside, than she did at that moment.

Finally, Dr. Frederickson returned. Your blood gases are fine, he said, and the radiologist didn’t see any sign of chemical pneumonitis on your chest x-ray. He paused. Even so, I’d like to keep you overnight for observation. We’ll repeat the chest film in the morning, and if there’s no pulmonary edema, I’ll discharge you.

Thank you, she said, but relief hovered just out of her reach.

An orderly transferred her to a room on the second floor. Her nurse, Janet, a stocky woman with broad shoulders and a no-nonsense face, took her vital signs, then ushered Natalie and Carter into the room. Try not to do much talking now, the nurse warned Kristen.

Carter paused at the foot of her bed, staring.

I’m sure it looks worse than it is, she said. Have you called Grandma?

Yep. She’s on the way.

Natalie placed her hand on Kristen’s arm. I told your mom I’d stay with Carter until she arrives.

Thanks, Nat. How’s your foot?

Just a little bruised, Natalie said, her tone expressing relief and gratitude.

Kristen glanced at Carter, who was busy checking out the IV pump and cardiac monitor, then cautiously met her friend’s gaze. What happened?

Natalie hesitated. I’m not sure. I heard one of the firefighters talking about a gas leak at the lab earlier this morning. As soon as your parents get here, I’ll go back and see what I can find out.

Kristen stared into Natalie’s eyes. "Any word on Jonathan or Tony?

Natalie bit down on her lip and shook her head.

The nurse came back into the room. You’re on the news if you’re up to watching it. Might answer some of your questions.

Thanks, Kristen said.

Natalie grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. The bird’s eye view from a news helicopter displayed the extent of the damage, but the report focused on who heard the explosion and from how far away.

Amazing anyone lived through that, the nurse muttered.

Kristen had been thinking the same thing. How could they do that? If they had just talked to me, asked me about my research, I could have explained that no animals are harmed, that the opposite is true.

The whole thing doesn’t make sense, Natalie said.

The broadcast cut back to the station where the man-and-woman news team leaped to the next story. The solemn expressions on their faces gave way to amusement and the camera panned the male anchor. Up next, a Portland woman claims to have been abducted by aliens. He delivered the line with an indulgent smirk.

His female partner grinned. Not only does she claim abduction, she says the aliens took her unborn baby from her against her will and she demands the government help her.

The man’s eyes widened with disbelief. What type of help is she expecting?

I don’t know, but I hope she had her alien abduction insurance paid up.

Natalie clicked off the TV.

The nurse made a clucking noise with her tongue as she started for the door, shaking her head. I bet the woman had an abortion and didn’t want to tell anyone the truth.

Kristen frowned. If I were pregnant, I wouldn’t let aliens or the devil himself take my baby away from me.

Natalie met her gaze with understanding.

A short time later, Kristen’s parents, Blake and Muriel Howe, arrived. Worry added new wrinkles to her mother’s eyes. She embraced Kristen tightly, being careful of her cuts and bandages. How are you feeling, dear? Are you really okay?

In her mother’s arms, Kristen felt all the warmth and security she’d known as a child. She sensed her mother needed the contact as much as she did. I’m fine, Mom.

Her father’s handsome face was gaunt with concern as he kissed her cheek. We got here as quickly as we could, he said. It’s the first time your mother didn’t complain about my lead foot on the drive to Portland.

Thanks for coming, Kristen said while fighting tears. It’s good to see you both.

Hi, Grandma and Grandpa!

Her mother greeted Carter with a giant