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  She sat down and strapped herself in. A few minutes later, the plane moved to the runway and took off. As soon as they were in the air, she unbuckled and walked over to a table in the middle of the cabin. On it was a tray with a flat rectangle of modeling clay. A message had been cut into the soft clay. It read:

  Heard your report. I’m disappointed you were unable to retrieve samples, but you made the right choice to withdraw. You’ll be staying in residence 32 until contacted.

  She grabbed the thin slab of clay and mashed it into a ball, obliterating the message. Residence 32 was in Argentina, and it meant another persona, one that particularly suited her, and at least it meant no prosthetics. This turn of events brought a soft grin to her supple face. She got herself a drink and settled in for the long night flight to South America.

  5 The Crucifix and the Ice Pick

  N atalia Doxiphus strained to open one eye as she swiped at the buzzing phone on the small table. She missed and knocked it to the floor, where its vibrations were amplified and irritated her ears like a persistent mosquito.

  “Son of a bitch,” she grumbled.

  She sat up, grabbed the phone from the floor, and silenced the alarm. On a regular day, she’d be waking up now to get ready for class, but here she was, on a cot in her mother’s hospital room. Her father was in the recliner, his feet up. Though bloodshot and dark ringed, his eyes were alert. The two ended up spending the night in her mother’s hospital room, both agreeing that after the incident with the nurse and John Holden’s news that they wouldn’t leave her alone.

  “Morning,” Natalia offered.

  “Morning, sweetie,” he said, somehow managing a slight smile for her.

  Her eyes went immediately to her mother, but she didn’t see any change. “How’s Mom?”

  “I watched her all night. She’s the same, stable but nonresponsive.” Greg sighed, shifting in his chair to relieve the stiffness from the night in the recliner.

  “Did they come up with any ideas?”

  Her father shook his head. “Not yet. Tony, Dr. Jones, and Dr. Hernandez have been in a few times, but nothing yet. The next test they want to do is an fMRI, a functional magnetic resonance image, but the machine is down for maintenance, so it’ll be a day before that can be done,” he said, dejection coloring his voice.

  Nat stood and stretched out a knot in her lower back. “What’ll that tell us?”

  “The fMRI shows blood flow in the brain. When an area of the brain is active, the blood flow to it increases. It’ll tell us which areas are working and can respond to stimuli.” Nat knew it wasn’t the explanation Uncle Tony would’ve given, but her dad was a high-energy-particle physicist, not a neuroscientist. Looking back at her, he added, “Get cleaned up. I’ll order us breakfast.”

  Feeling only slightly less fried than she did last night, Nat excused herself to go to the bathroom and splash some cold water on her face. The air in the small room was heavy with the fumes of hospital-strength disinfectant, and the sound of the toilet flushing echoed off the tile. She made her way to the sink and found the eyes staring back at her in the mirror looked only marginally better than her father’s. She then ran the cold water and soaked her face and neck. The water shocked her a little and brought her fully awake. She dug into her bag for a hairbrush and some makeup to make the best of things and wished she could brush her teeth.

  In the room, breakfast had arrived: an egg, sausage, and cheese breakfast sandwich and coffee for her, and a container of oatmeal and a cup of tea for him. They ate for a moment in silence, drawing strength from being together and sharing a meal. Unlike the habits of most contemporary families, the Doxiphuses ate as many meals together as possible, and despite the surroundings and situation, this simple act was the most normal thing that had happened in the past twenty-four hours.

  “The head of hospital security came by, too, asking about that strange nurse,” Greg said, absently waving his plastic spoon over his oatmeal.

  “Did they find out anything about her?” Nat asked.

  “No, they didn’t have any news. They’re just starting to review the security tapes now. They were concerned she might be stealing drugs from patients’ rooms.” He paused to take a sip of tea. “Hey, have you seen your mother’s crucifix? I looked everywhere, and it’s not with her clothes or in her purse. Did you see it on her when she came in?”

  “I don’t think so, but I was pretty upset. I wasn’t looking for it.”

  “I’m still fuzzy on what happened. Tell me again, please?” her father asked.

  “A nurse came in here yesterday afternoon, a little before you arrived. I didn’t recognize her, and she was acting shifty. She was doing something with mom. She wanted me to leave the room, and I kind of lost it.” Nat looked out vacantly, searching for the reason she had reacted so aggressively.

  “So I heard. What was she doing that made you so upset?” he replied as he put down the empty oatmeal container.

  “She said it was a neuro exam. She was touching Mom and looking in her eyes with a light.” The anger rose in her voice as she relived the incident. “She was looking at Mom’s EEG and fiddling with the IV…but what got me was that she was trying to get rid of me and she wouldn’t look at me. I never got a clear look at her face.” Nat was leaning forward in her chair, lips pursed and eyes flaring.

  “Take it easy,” Greg said in a steady tone, “I’m glad you were here.”

  Nat took a moment and settled back into her chair. “When the medic, John, came in then, she left. I asked the duty nurse to check Mom and asked if she knew who the other nurse was. No one had seen her before, and they haven’t seen her since.”

  Greg ran his hand through his hair and sighed heavily again. “I guess I really don’t care who she is or where she went.” His voice was rough and cracked. “We have enough to worry about here.”

  He turned to look again at his wife and silently took her right hand in his. A long silence stretched in the room, and Nat saw her father’s chin start to droop toward his chest. Thinking he was finally giving in to exhaustion and would fall out of his chair, she got up to go to him, but he spoke before she could reach him, his eyes still closed and his head slightly drooped. Nat recognized his posture; she’d seen him do this countless times in his office at home when he was puzzling things out.

  “What do you think about what the medic said? About how your mother was found or the timing of events in the lab tech’s story being off?” he asked.

  “I dunno, Dad. This whole thing doesn’t make any sense.”

  Looking up at her, he nodded and paused, then looked out into space.

  “Dad? What is it? What do you think?”

  “Oh…sorry.” He shook his head slightly and blinked hard. “I don’t know what to think either, but I’d sure like to talk to the lab tech.”

  In the hallway, the sounds of another day in the hospital were starting to pick up. Breakfast was being delivered to patients’ rooms, and visitors were arriving.

  “The lab…we haven’t checked the lab for Mom’s necklace,” Nat said in a hopeful tone.

  “That’s true. If you could go check, maybe we could…”

  “Close the loop on one thing,” she finished for him.

  Nat crumpled her breakfast-sandwich wrapper and stuffed it into the paper bag, along with her coffee cup, ending the peace of the meal. “Trash?” she said, extending the open bag for her father to dump the remains of his breakfast.

  “Here. You need the lab keys.” He reached into his coat pocket for them. “I’ll call security to meet you there.”

  She started to protest, but he gently said, “Sweetheart, it’s for me. I’d feel better if someone were there with you. Please?”

  Nat conceded to his fatherly concern, knowing he was feeling shaken and vulnerable too.

  “Okay, Dad. I’ll call you from the lab.”

  He hugged her. “I’ll call you if there’s any news.”

  ***

  Fifteen min
utes later, Nat arrived at the lab and, not seeing campus security, let herself in. She was glad to have something to do. The lab was quiet, and though the lights were off, the room was almost too bright as the morning sun streamed in the eastern windows and cast brilliant rectangles across the gray countertops of the lab benches and the white linoleum floor. The lab benches stretched to her left about twenty feet or so, and her mother’s office was diagonally across the lab from the door through which she had just entered. She started walking along the length of the lab bench, searching for her mother’s heirloom necklace, and was halfway down when the click of the closing door made her jump. She spun around to see a man in a campus security uniform.

  “Sorry, miss. I didn’t mean ta spook ya like that,” he said, flicking on the lights.

  “No, that’s okay. Um, I’m okay. Thanks for coming” was all she could muster.

  “My name’s Bernie.” He smiled but didn’t extend a hand. “I was the first one on the scene here yesterday, besides the lab tech. I was told to come here to help you, but I see you didn’t need any help getting in…so what do you need me to do?”

  Finally, someone with some answers. “Can you show me where my mother was found? I’m looking for her necklace. She always wears it.”

  “Sure. Well, when I got here, she was lying in the aisle, between the two benches.” He moved around the end of the first bench and started down the central aisle. Nat followed.

  “The lab tech was standing here, looking at her. He was seriously spooked.”

  Nat squatted to search the floor in the general area Bernie had shown her but found nothing. “Lemme give you a hand. What does the necklace look like?” he said.

  “It’s a gold crucifix, about an inch and a half long, on a gold chain,” she said, standing up.

  Bernie walked to the end of the aisle and started his search, crouching as well to get a better view of the floor and the kick space under the benches.

  “What did the lab tech say about what happened?”

  Bernie duck-walked down the aisle. “He said he got in at eight, and Dr. Doxiphus was in her office. He left for a few minutes, came back, and found her lying here in the aisle. He called 911 and waited.”

  Several old dust-covered moving boxes sat atop the bench next to where her mother had been found. Nat knew they weren’t important to her mother, as they were still tightly sealed. “I’m going to look around the lab and check her office. Can you keep looking here?” she asked the guard.

  “Sure, I’ll check the hallway too. Maybe it fell off when the medics took her to the elevator.”

  Nat went to the opposite end of the aisle and walked slowly, swinging her gaze around, hoping to see a glint of gold. Not seeing anything, she moved on to her mother’s office. The office had been built at her mother’s request when she had acquired this lab. It had windows from about waist height up to the ceiling. The door had been built to match—wood on bottom, glass on top. Like everything else in her mother’s life, the space was warm and welcoming, with a few plants and neat as a pin. The only thing out of place was the open desk drawer where her mother kept her purse while at work. Security had brought it to the hospital room last night. Finding nothing, Nat left the office and closed the door behind her.

  “I didn’t find anything out here, Miss Doxiphus,” Bernie said as he stood up. “I’m gonna check the hallway now.”

  “Thanks. I’ll keep looking in here.”

  To the right, out of the office, Nat spied a different set of rooms that were on a raised platform. This space also had been custom built to house her mother’s work. She stepped onto the platform and the insulating black tiles. They weren’t rubber, but Nat always thought of them that way, as their purpose was to help electrically isolate the platform. Before her was a thick but surprisingly light composite door with a sign that read tmd/tds, but the common name for it was the “stim room.” It had no lock and easily swung open at her tug. The inside was dark except for the glow from a few small LEDs. She flicked the light switch; the cramped space felt stifling. The outer room she now stood in was small—no more than two people could fit in here comfortably. Most of the space was occupied by a console, a chair, and racks of servers, their onboard fans whirring madly away as they emitted loud beeps. Aside from a weak fluorescent light overhead, the only source of illumination was a drafting lamp attached to the side of the console.

  Beyond the console was a window into another room that held the actual transcranial magnetic stimulation/transcranial direct stimulation equipment. In contrast to her mother’s office, this room didn’t look like much, its spare contents consisting of a treatment chair procured from the college of dentistry, a table, and some shelves and equipment. In the corner of the room was a device on the end of an extension arm that looked like a large figure eight or an infinity sign, depending on which way it was oriented. This was the magnetic coil of the TMS part of the lab. On a shelf behind the chair were sets of what looked like crude, bulky hairnets that had wires attached, like the EEG sensor caps back at the hospital. This was the tDCS part.

  Hovering over the chair, suspended by a strong support arm that grew out of the ceiling, was a squat tube with an opening at the end. This new device was the focus of her mother’s work. Although her father was deeply involved with this project as well, her mother was the principal investigator.

  Nat’s eyes drifted down from the tube-shaped device and rested on the chair. Then a flash from the table caught her eye. Eagerly she reached out and pulled on the door handle, but the door didn’t budge. She went to pull again; this time she put a foot forward so she could put her weight into it and stepped on a small foil mat that was different than the rest of the rubber floor. Then she remembered. Right, both feet on the mat, then a hand on the handle. This process completed a grounding circuit to ensure no static electricity was brought into the inner room. There was a slight click as the latch released, and the door easily swung open.

  Nat strode into the room. There, on the table next to the treatment chair, was the small crucifix on its chain. Reaching out to pick it up, she brushed a tissue aside, and underneath were a pair of her mother’s earrings. This is where she was. What the hell? After scooping up the necklace and earrings, she tucked them into the pocket of her jeans and headed to the outer room and to the lab, agitated and suspicious.

  “Whaddaya mean, I’m not allowed to be in here? I work here.” A scrawny man in a T-shirt and jeans was waving his hands and yelling at the security guard. Bernie was in the doorway, stopping the man from entering the lab.

  “I know you work here, Bill. I was here yesterday with you when the medics came for Dr. Doxiphus.” Bernie tried to calm the man. “But the lab is sealed. Dr. Kelley’s orders.”

  Bill’s head turned sharply toward Nat as she came through the stim room door. “Then what’s she doing in here?”

  The spark of Nat’s suspicion flared into a full flame as she locked on to Bill’s eyes and advanced on him. “I’m in here looking for this!” she said, pulling the crucifix from her pocket. “I found it along with her earrings, on the table right next to the chair in there!” The accusation hung in the air as she pointed behind her. “She was in that room, in that chair. That’s where she took these off, and she would’ve picked them up before she left!”

  Bill had gone silent at the onslaught, the color draining from his face.

  Bernie broke the silence, also fixing Bill with a cold stare. “What happened here yesterday, Bill?”

  Cornered, Bill found his resolve and fired back. “What the hell’s going on here now is what I want to know,” he said, staring down the guard. “I just came here to check on the lab, which I have a responsibility to do, and you two are accusing me? What is this, some goddamn inquisition? I told you everything yesterday.” Then he rounded on Nat. “Your mother was in here before me yesterday. She could’ve been in the stim room before I got here.”

  The guard looked at Natalia; he could see she was seething, but
she was taken aback by the lab tech’s argument and went silent.

  “All right, Bill. Take it easy. No one’s accusing you of anything, and it’s my responsibility to ask questions.”

  Mollified by the guard’s response, Bill backed down as well.

  “Thank you. Now, Bill, for Miss Doxiphus’s sake, ’cuz she wasn’t here yesterday, could you please tell her what happened?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m sorry about your mom. She’s really great to work for, and I’m worried about her too.” Bill was looking at the floor now. “So I came in right at eight a.m., and your mom was in her office. She looked fine and waved hi.” He looked up at Nat. “I dropped my stuff on my chair, then went to use the men’s room and grab a cup of coffee. When I got back at ten after eight, she was lying there on the floor,” he finished, pointing to the same spot Bernie had, in the aisle between the lab benches.

  “Why would she be there?” Nat asked in a controlled voice.

  “I dunno. Maybe she was working on something.”

  “Really? There’s nothing in that area except sealed, dusty moving boxes.” This is going nowhere, thought Nat. Having lost her patience, she blurted, “Did you see her in the stim room? Were you in there with her?” Her voice was rising again.

  Bill was just about to respond when his cell phone went off, filling the lab with the opening riff from “Highway to Hell.”

  Seizing the opportunity to separate the two of them, Bernie broke in. “Why don’t you take that in the hall?” Not waiting for a response, he herded Bill out of the lab.

  “Miss Doxiphus, you can’t just go accusing him like that,” he said when he returned.

  “The hell I can’t! My mother was in that room, and she wouldn’t have left her jewelry there. That little rat bastard knows something that he’s not telling.”

  “Okay, she was in there. Maybe she felt sick and got up in a hurry to get to the phone to call for help.”

  “The phone in her office is a lot closer to the stim room than the one here by the door,” she pointed out to the guard, which stopped him.