Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Jo stood in front of the side door to Parker Studies, hidden away behind a row of shrubs. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the air, the ground littered with butts, as if someone had taken a break here recently. Her hand hovered over the door handle, her heart racing.
The other two entrances to Parker Studies had been locked tight. No phone number, no website, nothing. It was as if the place didn’t exist. She’d tried to dig up something—anything—before coming here. No contact information, no way to schedule a meeting. Nothing.
Her gut told her there was something off about this place.
Convale Energy was tied up in all of this somehow, and whatever Parker Studies was doing here, it wasn’t out in the open.
It reminded her of one of those secret government facilities in the movies, the kind you weren’t supposed to know about.
The kind that dealt with things people weren’t supposed to see.
When she’d found this side door, tucked away in the shadows, she’d been shocked to see it was slightly open. Not fully ajar but not latched either. A small twig caught underneath had kept it from closing.
Jo’s hand tightened on the handle, and she hesitated for a moment. She wasn’t supposed to be here.
But her instincts as a cop wouldn’t let her walk away. There were answers inside this place, and she wasn’t leaving until she got closer to the truth.
With a deep breath, Jo slipped through the door and into the building. She bent down to remove the twig so no one would know the door had been left open.
The inside was cold. Sterile. She paused just inside the side door, unsure of what to do next. She hadn’t told Sam she was doing this. She’d left him in the dark. She was officially off the case, and the less he knew about her rule bending, the better it would be for him.
The hallway stretched out in front of her, long and narrow, and it hit her immediately that something was weird about this place. There was no reception desk, no lobby area—just a maze of sterile corridors, all lined with white doors that were shut tight. It didn’t feel like a normal business.
She paused by one of the closed doors, pressing her ear against it. Faint sounds—machines whirring, maybe? But no voices. The whole place felt wrong.
She continued down the hall, glancing over her shoulder every few steps, coming up with what she would say if someone was going to come out of one of these rooms and confront her.
That was when she heard the voices.
“...a breach?” A woman’s voice, low and professional, echoed from a corridor ahead. “The door was left open longer than it should’ve been. We need to check the east wing.”
Another voice, this one male, replied, “Make sure no one’s inside. If someone’s here, lock it down.”
Jo’s heart leapt into her throat. Breach? Were they talking about her? Her eyes darted around for somewhere to hide. Footsteps echoed down the hall, getting closer. She didn’t have time to think—she spotted a door marked Restroom a few feet away and darted toward it, slipping inside.
The bathroom was small, as sterile as the rest of the building, but it offered her a place to catch her breath. She leaned against the door, trying to calm her racing heart. She was trespassing. If they caught her, she had no explanation.
Her mind whirled with the implications. Convale, Marnie Wilson, and now this place—Parker Studies. What were they hiding?
Then she heard it—a quiet shuffle behind her. A soft exhale.
Jo whipped around, eyes wide, her breath catching in her throat. Standing in the corner, his expression as shocked as hers, was Sam.
“What are you doing here?” Jo hissed, keeping her voice low.
Sam straightened, stepping out of the shadows. His mouth twitched, almost a smile, but the tension between them was unmistakable. “I could ask you the same thing,” he whispered back.
Jo stared at him, her mind racing. Of course Sam would be here. He’d been working this case just as hard, but she hadn’t told him she was coming here. And judging by the look on his face, he hadn’t planned on her showing up either.
Before she could fire back, the footsteps outside grew louder. They were right outside the door now. They were going to be found.
Sam moved closer, his hand lightly pressing against her arm, his breath warm on her skin. “Stay quiet,” he murmured.
Jo’s heart hammered in her chest as she felt him lean in closer, the air between them thick with tension.
There was something about being this close to him, pressed together in the small space.
She tried to focus on the danger outside, but it was impossible to ignore the heat of his body next to hers.
They didn’t move, standing frozen, listening to the footsteps pass.
The steps stopped just outside the door, and Jo could feel the tension in Sam’s body, inches away from her own.
His face was so close to hers, his breath brushing against her cheek.
Her mind flashed with memories of long hours spent together on cases, the unspoken connection that had always been there.
Then the door swung open.
A security guard stepped inside, his sharp eyes taking in Sam and Jo standing awkwardly by the sinks. His gaze lingered on the pair then darted to the door as if questioning why they were both inside.
“What are you doing here?” the guard asked, his tone skeptical.
Sam straightened, recovering quickly with an easy smile. “Chief Sam Mason,” he said, flashing his badge. “This is Sergeant Harris. We’re here following up on a call about a break-in.”
The guard frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Break-in? We don’t usually involve law enforcement for something like that. We have our own security measures.”
Jo folded her arms, meeting the guard’s gaze without blinking. “Well, we got a call, so here we are,” she said evenly, backing Sam’s play.
The guard’s suspicion softened slightly. “This area’s supposed to be restricted. What are you doing in the bathroom?”
“I understand. This is a bit of a sensitive facility, isn’t it?” Sam asked, avoiding the question about why they were in the bathroom.
The guard nodded, his suspicion melting away. “Yeah, the research we’re doing is very hush-hush—high success rate, cutting-edge treatments. But that also means other companies try to steal our protocols, so we keep everything locked down. Only staff and patients are supposed to be inside.”
“Treatments?” Sam asked.
The guard frowned. “Cancer treatments.”
“Of course,” Sam said.
Jo exchanged a glance with Sam, her mind racing with this new information. A cancer research facility? High cure rates? This wasn’t at all what she’d expected, but it raised even more questions. What did Marnie Wilson have to do with a place like this?
“You’d better come with me. We’ll find out who called this in.”
Sam gestured for Jo to go first, his calm demeanor unshaken, but inside, Jo could feel the tension rising. The guard was suspicious—rightly so—and they needed to be careful.
The guard escorted them down the hallway to a small room, his steps brisk, his eyes constantly flicking over his shoulder as if to catch them doing something. The visitor station was a sterile corner of the building, manned by a receptionist who barely glanced up as they approached.
“Who called for outside help with a break-in?” the guard asked her sharply.
The receptionist frowned, confused, and shook her head. “No one’s mentioned anything to me.”
Another guard nearby, an older man with a clipboard, chimed in. “Maybe it was Dr. Leavitt,” he muttered, scratching his chin. “That guy’s always complaining about security issues.”
The first guard rolled his eyes but didn’t press further. He turned back to Sam. “I’ll need you both to sign in for the record.”
Jo went straight to signing the log book, which had all the visitors’ names. A name jumped out at her. Marnie Wilson. “Marnie’s been visiting here a lot, huh?” she asked, keeping her tone light. “Running a campaign and dealing with a sick family member—it’s a lot for anyone.”
The receptionist barely looked up, but a nurse walking by hesitated, her clipboard clutched to her chest. “Oh, Marnie’s mother is doing so much better,” the nurse offered brightly, eager to share. “Practically a miracle.”
Jo shot Sam a quick glance, and his face stayed neutral, but she saw the flicker of realization in his eyes. “That’s good to hear,” he said, his voice steady.
As they stepped outside, Jo exhaled, the cold air cutting through the tension still clinging to her. She turned to Sam. “Thanks for backing me up in there.”
“Let’s just hope no one mentions you pretended to be here officially and I played along.”
Jo grimaced. “I know. Sorry about that. It was worth it, though. Marnie’s mother is here. That envelope Beryl gave her—it’s gotta be about paying for her treatment. She’s funding all of this.”
Sam’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening. “Which means Beryl isn’t just involved—she’s pulling the strings. And Marnie’s doing her dirty work.”
Jo nodded, the pieces clicking into place in her mind. “Marnie must be desperate to keep her mother alive. But what does this have to do with Garvin’s death and the land?”
“That’s what we need to find out. Let’s stop by Holy Spirits for a drink and figure out exactly how to do that.”