Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“That’s right.” Laurel’s pen scratched against her notebook, the ink bleeding into shorthand she would decipher later. “I believe some of the taxane derivatives could have anti-inflammatory or neuroregenerative properties.”
“Exactly.”
Laurel pressed her pen against the paper. “Dr. Liu was conducting research aimed at developing a treatment for dementia and Alzheimer’s disease.”
“Oh, fascinating.” Ortega spoke faster. “I suppose the polyphenols and flavonoids present in yew trees could potentially protect neuronal cells from oxidative stress, which, as you know, is a key factor in dementia.”
“And the anti-inflammatory properties?” Laurel prompted.
“They might reduce microglial activation, which is a key contributor to Alzheimer’s disease progression.”
Laurel sat back, the notebook resting against her thigh. The flames twisted in the hearth, licking at charred wood with an almost hypnotic rhythm. “Would any of that explain the lesions?”
“Well . . . I don’t know,” Ortega admitted. “Any compound could create brain lesions under the right, or wrong, conditions. And the yew tree is notorious for its toxicity. All parts of it except the arils—the fleshy red parts surrounding the seeds—contain toxic alkaloids and taxanes.”
“Toxic alkaloids,” Laurel echoed, her voice a whisper. Her fingers tightened around the pen, her knuckles pale. “Just like what the lab found in the blood.”
“Yes,” Ortega confirmed, his voice steady but grim. “If these alkaloids are involved, whether accidentally or intentionally introduced . . . we’re looking at something lethal. And something new.”
Laurel gazed out the window where Huck and Aeneas had vanished beyond her line of sight. “So you’re telling me they could be a lethal toxin?”
“They could be concentrated into one, yes,” Dr. Ortega replied. “I’ll fire off an email to the lab and have them look specifically for derivatives from the yew tree.”
Laurel recorded the note with precision, underlining yew tree derivatives twice. “Please inform me as soon as you acquire results. If any findings are linked to Dr. Liu, it will facilitate obtaining a warrant to search her former laboratory.”
“Understood,” Ortega said, the clatter of keys audible through the line.
Laurel tugged her laptop across the table and navigated through her inbox, her finger gliding methodically down the list. “Additionally, a judge has approved my motion to exhume the body of a woman who was employed at the same laboratory. Her name was Melissa Palmtree, and her cause of death was thought to be blunt force trauma to the head after falling down stairs. We’ll coordinate the scheduling, and I’ll have the cemetery contact you about when the body will arrive at your lab.”
“Excellent.” Ortega’s enthusiasm sharpened his voice. “Let me know, and I will definitely put that autopsy at the top of my list.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ortega. And good luck to your niece.”
He clicked off first.
Laurel set her phone down, the cold surface jolting her fingers as she reclined into the chair. Her mind drew connections upon connections, threads winding tighter until her temples throbbed.
Mark Bitterson. Tyler Griggs. Dr. Liu. All three had lesions on their brains. The Elk Hollow police officials—and Oakridge Solutions outside of town toward Everett. Everything wove together in a tangled mess.
She pressed her fingers against her temples, willing the thoughts to align, to slot into place with the cool precision of a puzzle snapping together. She could tie Mark Bitterson to the Elk Hollow police officials. She could tie them to Tyler Griggs. The same officials had investigated Dr. Liu’s death, and the lab hovered in their shadow like a ghost she couldn’t shake.
But none of that explained why Mark Bitterson had tried to run her off the road.
Why was there a sniper after her?
She leaned back, eyes fixating on the flickering fire, its flames curling like questions she couldn’t quite extinguish. The heat seeped into her, but her blood remained icy, her thoughts darting from one possibility to the next.
Nothing added up. She was still missing something. The connections were there, hidden beneath layers of secrets and agendas she hadn’t yet unraveled.
But she would. So far, two people had been shot just standing too close to her. As she looked again outside, not seeing Huck, her heart rate increased. She couldn’t get him killed.
Hands curled over her shoulders, and she jumped, yelping.
Laurel startled at the sudden pressure of Huck’s hands on her shoulders, his grip firm, unyielding. His heat seeped through her shirt, rough fingers on her skin as he leaned down, his breath warm against her ear.
“Enough, Laurel.” His voice was a low tenor that sent her nerves sparking. “You’ve been tearing yourself up all day. Let’s give that big brain of yours a break.”
She stiffened, her fingers frozen midtype over her laptop. “I can’t just stop, Huck. You know that.”
He made a sound, something between a grunt and a growl. “Yeah, well. Challenge accepted.” His grip shifted, hands sliding under her arms and pulling her to her feet with one swift, graceful motion. The world tilted as he lifted her out of the chair, her body colliding with his chest.