Ben rolled his eyes. “Try to take your personal calls on your personal time.”
After he sat down, Joey mouthed a sassy mimicry of his words. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d heard anything though. The majority of the call, she’d simply been listening to Ryder, but she didn’t like that Ben had been listening. Where were his stupid headphones today?
Last night at Black Tower, she’d worked through some of the test data from Kensington’s CPB project. There were some things that didn’t add up, so her plan tonight was to verify the data on the equipment in the lab. She knew that just because the data on the server looked one way, it didn’t mean that the actual original test results were the same.
She’d spend some time in the lab, matching the data on the reports to the data on the machine. Thankfully, the records were very thorough and she’d be able to pinpoint equipment and results very quickly. She didn’t have to know what numbers meant in order to validate the data.
This would help them narrow down if the process was happening before the reports were generated or after they were on the server.
“Joey, can you come in here?” The request came from the door of a conference room on the edge of the open-concept office area. “We’re talking through updates to our internal firewall before the next vulnerability scan.”
She tipped back her coffee, gearing up for another late night.
CHAPTERELEVEN
Cole checked his watch.“Janet, you might as well go home. I’ll be here for a while, but there’s no need for you to miss dinner.”
“Are you sure, Mr. Kensington? Do you want me to order you some dinner?”
“No thanks.” He’d just grab a granola bar and try to leave right after he met with Laura. Her email earlier had been cryptic, but hopefully she would clear things up when they talked later. He had an hour and a half before he was due to meet her in the genetics lab on 2B. The basement laboratories of Zia were some of the most advanced labs in the country, with equipment he’d only dreamed about as a grad student twenty-five years ago.
Some days, he wished he could spend his time down there, running the tests and compiling the data. Instead, he was layers away. Any results he saw had been summarized and organized and sanitized for executive consideration. But he was a scientist at heart.
Still, even though he had the research background, he’d quickly recognized that others were far superior to him in intellect and analytical skills. He had something many of the technical staff didn’t: the ability to manage people and strategize the big-picture ideas. Setting aside his lab coat nearly fifteen years ago, he now trusted his employees to take care of the detailed work of research, development, and clinical trials.
When his calendar alert pulled him away from the financial reports he was reviewing at a quarter-to-seven, Cole grabbed his coat, wallet, and phone and got in the elevator. He swiped his access badge before punching the 2B button.
The elevator doors opened a few moments later, and Cole stepped out. The lab was quiet. It was Friday night, so he wasn’t surprised the research teams were gone. It was probably why Laura had invited him to meet at this time. When he worked in the lab himself, he’d realized quickly that more hours didn’t always mean more output. Instead, he encouraged his teams to plan their experiments so that lengthy processes ran overnight and to make sure they were well-rested. He’d rather wait an extra week than risk a mistake made due to researcher fatigue.
Through one more set of access-restricted double doors, the CPB lab spread out before him. Low-walled cubicles were scattered throughout the open room, with counters surrounding the edges sporting microscopes and centrifuges below shelves stacked with glassware and safety equipment. The surfaces gleamed, filling Cole with a sense of pride and satisfaction.
There was no sign of Laura, so he moved toward her office, a small private room to the right of the main door. Other rooms branched off the main workspace, smaller labs for specialized equipment, animal testing, and specimen storage. The light was on, but the door was cracked, so he knocked lightly. “Hey, I–”
His voice cut off in a strangled cry as he saw the splatter of crimson on the wall, his eyes then dropping to the pool of blood on the floor, the edges just visible from his position in front of the desk. Rushing forward, he found her. “Laura!” He pressed a hand to her neck, desperately hoping to feel a pulse. There was so much blood. Cool and sticky, it covered his hands as he searched for a sign of life.
“No, no, no. Laura!” He looked around helplessly. It was as if his brain wouldn’t work. He didn’t know what to do. He just stared at his friend.
“Cole?”
He whipped his head toward the door and saw Joey, her eyes wide with horror.
“Cole, what happened? What did you do?” She was backing away, hands up in front of her. Her eyes flicked down to Laura and then back to him.
He flinched at the accusation. “What? No. Laura. She’s been shot or…” He shook his head, desperately trying to comprehend what to do. “There’s so much blood, Joey. It’s her neck. What do I do?”
A door slammed out in the lab, and Joey’s head jerked toward the sound.
“Call 911!” she yelled before disappearing out of the office, leaving him with the body of his friend. He glanced down at Laura, recognizing for the first time the reality that Laura was already gone.
An ambulance wouldn’t do any good.
* * *
Joey ran toward the noise, bursting into the stairwell. No sign of anyone. She jogged up two flights of stairs, startled when footsteps pounded behind her. She glanced back and saw Cole chasing her.
Her heart accelerated. So this was where she would die—after witnessing a murder by a billionaire CEO. He probably had people who would clean the whole scene and no one would ever find her body.
Her legs and lungs burned with the effort of running from him.