Page 22 of Conspiracies and Chemistry

“Wait,” Lucie said. “You’re offering up the Fortress of Solitude?”

“Savannah lives with me now, so it’s not so solitary anymore,” I said.

“It’s quite lovely,” Savannah said. “Even if the cats do run the place.”

“Then it’s settled,” Lucie said. “Next weekend, we’re all going to Tessa’s, and you’ll have your on-camera debut. I promise if it sucks, we won’t make you do any more.”

“If it’s okay with Tessa?” Savannah asked.

It was about time I let my friends see my place. They’d all invited me to theirs. Besides, I trusted them. They’d never expose me the way Harry had.

“Is it all right if Andrew comes too?” Carly asked.

“Yes.” I forced out the word from my too-tight lungs. “But please don’t mention it to Oliver. I need to keep my work and personal lives separate.”

“Of course.” She pursed her lips.

“I do,” I insisted. Because bringing those two parts of my life together was like exposing phosphorous to oxygen. Explosive.

11

Sensitivity

Sensitivity:A test’s ability to correctly identify individuals with a disease.

Specificity:A test’s ability to identify individuals without a disease.

OLIVER

Another Friday, another status report.

I leaned back in my office chair and stared out the window behind my computer monitor. It was a typical gray, freeze-your-ass-off December day in Silicon Valley. Light rain spritzed the window.

Still, if I couldn’t be in my lab doing science, I’d rather be outside, cold and wet, than stuck here in my climate-controlled office writing reports. Simon and I had started the company with dreams of doing only what we loved—meteoric business growth and interviews on CNN for him; breakthrough discoveries for me—but that wasn’t how it turned out. The growth had waned after Simon’s death, and the science? Sure, we’d had some successes, but they’d slowed too.

I’d been tempted to make my report sound like we were further along than we were—with 75 days left, according to Tessa’s poster—but that wouldn’t help anyone. Maybe it would keep Dr. Perrell off my ass temporarily, but when we fell further and further behind, everyone would find out. Better to signal now that we were lagging than to surprise everyone in March when we were supposed to deliver a test to clinical trials.

I clicked to send the email off to Tessa, who’d add her assessment and forward it to Dr. Perrell. She always copied me, which was decent of her, I had to confess. And although her notes were rarely flattering, they were fair. She always complimented the team for their hard work, and she’d learned enough of the science (I admitted grudgingly) to highlight key achievements that would set our product apart. Though when I’d pointed out last week she’d usedsensitivitywhen she’d meantspecificity,she’d gone off on me about my pedantry and my triple-validations until my skin felt raw.

I knew as the operations chief it was her job to ensure things at the lab proceeded smoothly and according to schedule. But what I did in research and development had an almost artistic element to it. Creativity didn’t always follow a schedule. Simon understood that.

I picked up my phone to check the time. Almost five. I’d been hoping to start an assay this afternoon, but I’d spent too much time on my status report. I could ask Sadie to kick it off, then I could verify she’d done it correctly when I returned from my run.

Standing, I stretched my arms toward the ceiling, then I grabbed my gym bag from under my desk. Running in the icy rain would clear my head.

Inside the lab, I dropped my bag on the floor under the hooks, shrugged into my white coat, and glanced around the space. After five, it was around half full, so Sadie should’ve been easy to spot. But she wasn’t at the bench she normally used or at the workstation where she ran simulations. I remembered seeing her earlier today. Where was she?

I strode through the lab, poking my head around corners, accidentally startling some people as they worked. Finally, I found her at the far end of the lab where we kept the spectrophotometer and where old cell counters went to die. Sadie leaned her hip against the bench, talking to Tessa.

My stomach clenched. What right did Tessa have to steal one of my employees’ time, especially this close to the end of the day? I stepped closer, but they must not have heard me because they continued their conversation.

“Don’t you want to advance in your career?” Tessa crossed an arm over her stomach and propped her other elbow on it, resting her chin on her freckled knuckles.

“Yes…” Sadie drew out the word. She twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger.

“You sound unsure.” Tessa tilted her head.

“I owe so much to Ollie. Oliver, I mean. He gave me this opportunity when I was lost. I don’t want to leave him. It would seem ungrateful.”

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