Page 144 of Chemistry: The Chemist

5:28 a.m.

I’d worn down the first layer of polish on the floor. A full hour ago, my pacing began and hadn’t stopped. A hundred scenarios played through my head at once. The phone I’d been issued was in my hand with Jack’s number on the screen. I planned to press send the second I correctly configured my words.

I wasn’t ready to give up everything I’d worked so hard to obtain in my field. Simultaneously, I wasn’t ready to give up Chem. Asking to be removed from the operation was the only solution.

I’ll never have them together.

Tossing caution to the wind, I plopped down on the couch and pressed send. Jack’s phone rang twice before he picked up. It was five-thirty in the morning, almost. The commotion in his background was least expected. We weren’t in the office until around seven each morning. Baffled, I began to stutter. I was expecting to catch him while he was home and able to hold a conversation. With the chatter and movement happening, I knew that wasn’t possible.

“Morning, Johanson. Got something for me?”

“Actually, Jack, I was calling for something else.”

“Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Pausing, I filled my lungs with oxygen before exhaling.

“Johanson. You there?”

“Yes. Just needed a second.”

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s the case, Jack. Things have gone far beyond my control. Prior to knowing who he was, Chemistry and I had begun forming a personal bond. I’d already gotten too close to the subject to be very effective in this case. My reason for calling this morning is to ask to be absolved from the–”

“Johanson.” He sighed. “We’re agents, my friend. We’re not fools. We’ve known for some time now your feelings were affecting your judgment and ability to help us close this case. I would’ve pulled you out two months ago, but we were afraid you’d blow the whistle before we got to him. We needed more time to build a case on our own with the little we did have.”

“Jac–”

“We got his phone number and were able to obtain a warrant to search his records and data. We narrowed his home and lab down to one of the three locations he frequented most. One was your place. The other two we discovered were his lab and his home, which we are preparing to raid as we speak. The lab looks promising. We got him, Johanson.”

My mouth descended so low it nearly swept the floor.

“What do you mean, you’re preparing to ra–”

As the revelation hit me, I sprouted from the couch in search of the phone Chem and I used to communicate. My heart hammered against my chest, so close to leaping out, I held it inside with my palm. The loft began to spin. Every inch of me felt the pain of my future. I grew anxious waiting for a response from Jack.

“Jack! What do you mean raid?”

“I’m sorry, Johanson. You were compromised. It happens. The raid is happening.”

I ended the call without my heart in my hand. My feet were moving faster than my brain. By the time I made it to the room, I’d forgotten what I had come for. But, the pain, it was clear. It knocked me to my knees. The air from my chest evaporated.

Underneath the bed, the rectangular device lay on top of the sheet that had fallen off the bed when my anxiety crept in this morning. My memory was jarred, instantly. I grabbed the phone, cradled it in my palm, and unlocked it. Chem’s number was the only one on the contact list. I tapped the screen to initiate the call.

“Pick up!”

Pick up.

Pick up.

Pick up.

“Please, baby. Pick up.”

Tears cascade down my cheeks. The wind was expunged from my lungs with each ring.

“Chemistry. Please!”

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