“That’s a crazy question. It’s my workplace. I’ve been there for almost two years.”
“Your job is to treat and monitor a special set of patients, correct?”
“Since you’re one of those patients, you should know.” She dragged her fingers through her wavy, dark hair and clasped it at the nape of her neck.
One soft strand curled against her pale cheek. Whenever he’d seen her for appointments, her hair had been confined to a bun or ponytail. Now loosened and wild, it was as pretty as he’d imagined it would be.
“And the injections you gave us, the vitamin boost? Did you work on that formula?”
She jerked her head toward him and the rest of her curls tumbled across her shoulder. “No. Dr. Arnoff developed that before I arrived.”
“Did he tell you what was in it?”
“Of course he did. I wouldn’t inject my patients with some mystery substance.”
“Were you allowed to test it yourself? Did you work in that lab?”
“N-no.” She clasped her hands between her bouncing knees. “I wasn’t allowed in the lab.”
“Why not? You’re a doctor, aren’t you?”
“I...I’m... The lab requires top secret clearance. I have secret clearance only, but Dr. Arnoff showed me the formula, showed me the tests.”
He slid a glance at her stiff frame and pale face. Was she still in shock over the events at the lab or was she lying?
“Now it’s your turn.”
His eyes locked onto hers in the darkness of the car. “What do you mean?”
“It’s your turn to answer my questions. What were you doing at the lab? You weren’t scheduled for another month or so. Why can’t we call the police or the CIA, or Prospero, the agency you work for?”
“Prospero?”
She flicked her fingers in the air. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Nobody ever told me the name of the covert ops agency we were supporting, but I heard whispers.”
“What other whispers did you hear?” A muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Wait a minute.” She smacked the dashboard with her palms. “I thought it was your turn to answer the questions. What were you doing there? Why can’t we call the police?”
“You should be glad I was there or Skinner would’ve gotten to you, too.”
Folding her arms across her stomach, she slumped in her seat, all signs of outrage gone. She made a squeaking noise like a mouse caught in a trap, and something like guilt needled the back of his neck.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease out the tension that had become his constant companion. “I was at the lab because I found out Skinner was going to be there. We can’t call the police for obvious reasons. I’m deep undercover. I don’t want to stand around and explain my presence to the cops.”
“And your own agency? Prospero?”
“Yeah, Prospero.” If Dr. Whitman wanted to believe he worked for Prospero, why disappoint her? The less she knew the better, and it sounded as if she didn’t know much—or she was a really good liar. “I’ll call them on my own. I wanted to get you out of there in case there was more danger on the way.”
“You seemed convinced there was.”
“We were in the middle of the desert, in the middle of the night at a top secret location with a bunch of dead bodies. I didn’t think it was wise for either of us to stick around.”
She leaned her head against the window. “What should I do when I get home?”
He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel. If Tempest and Dr. Arnoff had kept Dr. Whitman in the dark, she should be safe. Tempest would do the cleanup and probably resume operations elsewhere—with or without Dr. Ava Whitman.
“Once I drop you off and hit the road, you can call the police.” He frowned and squinted at the road. “Or do you have a different protocol to follow?”
She turned a pair of wide eyes on him. “For this situation? We had no protocol in place for an active shooter like that.”
Maybe the whole bunch of them out there, including Dr. Arnoff, were clueless. No, not Arnoff. He had to have known what was going on, even if he didn’t know the why.