Chapter Sixteen #2
“Completely off subject, Harlow, but I find you the most extraordinary, intriguing, amazing woman when you talk like that,” Wilder said, his voice sincere.
“And you’re going to have to explain to me exactly what that means,” he added.
“Unlike Rainier, my doctorate is in mathematics, not medicine. I’m going to have to really work to keep up with you. ”
Color swept up her neck into her face. She’d been called hot many times in her life by various men, but none of them sounded sincere and admiring the way Wilder did when he told her she was amazing and intriguing.
She knew he was very intelligent, but he made it sound as if he had to really reach to match her.
“It means,” Rainier answered, “that the result of the toxin binding to the protein is a permanent open state, so it is continually firing.”
“You’ve lost me,” Wilder said.
“Channels transmit electrical signals,” Harlow explained. “They are designed to switch off quickly. And they need to do that in order to be ready for the next response.”
“What made you think the toxin was binding to a protein?” Wilder asked.
“The responses in the victims,” Harlow said.
“If the nerves are in a hyperactive state and keep firing, that would produce sweating, excessive muscle tension, more saliva, all of which I observed. But then, once the neurotransmitter reserves are exhausted, the exact opposite occurs. Everything begins to shut down.”
“Holy shit, Harlow. There you go again. I can’t imagine how I managed to get you to even look my way. Believe me, mon rêve, I know how lucky I am.”
“That would lead to,” Rainier continued, completely ignoring Wilder’s ravings about Harlow, “things like systemic effects on the cardiovascular system, the heart and pulmonary edema. I noticed you didn’t call me amazing. Or even intriguing.”
“You aren’t nearly as hot as she is when she’s throwing out information,” Wilder defended. “And I definitely don’t find you intriguing.”
“I beg to differ,” Rainier said. “Shabina finds me incredibly hot when I’m answering her questions. I haven’t asked, but more than likely she thinks I’m intriguing.”
“We’re having a very serious conversation,” Harlow reprimanded, doing her best not to laugh. It was a serious subject, but the two men were veering far off topic. “Stay focused. We need to figure this out.”
“I’m following,” Wilder assured.
“All of the symptoms Rainier mentioned would be lethal to a human being if there is nothing to reverse them.” Harlow decided it was best to ignore the exchange between the two men and get them back on track.
“Why weren’t the experts looking for the cause of the toxin?” Wilder asked. “If they’re here for that express purpose, wouldn’t they want to know what they’re dealing with?”
“In cases like this,” Rainier explained, “they want to rule out a new disease. Chemical warfare, if you would. Sadly, we both know many countries weaponize viruses. Viruses escape from labs or are deliberately tested in populations, quite often in small towns or remote villages. Before anything else, it would be imperative to exclude that possibility to ensure they don’t have to quarantine the entire town, which they would if this were a new disease. ”
“Is that a possibility with the symptoms you described?” Wilder persisted. “A toxin binding to a protein? Is that seen in diseases?”
“Yes,” Harlow answered. “Anthrax, botulism, ricin poisoning.”
“Cholera, diphtheria, and,” Rainier continued, “things such as Parkinson’s disease, Huntington’s disease, even Alzheimer’s. The list goes on and on. That’s why the team would come in and look to see if a new or even one of the older diseases is causing these sudden, unexplained deaths.”
Wilder brought Harlow’s knuckles to his mouth almost absently, clearly thinking over the information they’d both disclosed to him. She instantly became aware of him, of the closeness and warmth of his body, and the feeling of safety she’d never had until he came into her life.
It meant everything that he listened to her. That he seemed to respect her opinion and encouraged her to tell him what she thought. Mostly, she loved that he listened to her.
“Neither of you believes it’s a new disease?”
“I don’t,” Harlow admitted. “Watching Lawyer’s body shut down was agonizing and very much in keeping with the way a toxin would work if it had a component that attacked the system the way we’ve described.”
“If that’s the case, that it isn’t a disease,” Wilder said, “what do you think is causing it?”
“It has to be a venomous reptile or insect of some kind,” Rainier said, his voice thoughtful. “But we’re back at the same problem of where did it go? Outdoors, whatever it is might get away easily without being discovered, but indoors or in a car, that wouldn’t be probable.”
“And if it’s a reptile or insect of some kind, why would you both have the same gut feeling that a human being is behind these deaths?” Wilder asked.
Harlow bit down on her lip and then took a deep breath. “This is going to sound kind of crazy, but just bear with me, please.”
“I think at this point we’re willing to entertain any theories,” Rainier said.
“Have either of you read Sherlock Holmes?” she asked.
“I read just about anything I could get my hands on,” Wilder admitted. “My younger brother loved stories, and I read to him. We’d have long discussions. So yes, I’ve read Sherlock Holmes.”
Both looked at Rainier with raised eyebrows. He gave a faint smile and a shrug and shook his head. “I must have missed that one in my vast and varied education.”
“I loved everything Sherlock Holmes and read every story a hundred times,” Harlow told him. “There was one story titled ‘The Speckled Band.’ Do you remember that one, Wilder?”
“Absolutely.”
“I always thought it was fascinating,” Harlow said.
“Rainier, in the story, someone would be staying in the house and end up dying a mysterious, shocking death. It turned out that the man who owned the house had a snake he had trained to do his bidding. There was a way for the snake to get into the room next to its master’s.
It would bite the victim, killing him or her, and then return at its master’s call.
The master would reward it by feeding it. ”
There was a short silence, and then Rainier shook his head. “I don’t know, Harlow. I suppose it would be possible for someone to have trained a venomous snake to kill for its food.”
“I know it sounds far-fetched,” Harlow said, “but I’m trying to find a way for a person to be orchestrating these killings.”
“Just because it’s unlikely doesn’t mean it can’t happen,” Wilder pointed out.
“No one would ever have believed the ‘games’ my father played with human lives. Or how many people he killed just for the hell of it. He didn’t have a reason, but he still tortured and killed.
The games he invented were macabre, straight out of a horror novel. ”
“He’s right, Harlow,” Rainier said. “I agree with you that the idea is improbable, but I’ve seen some pretty crazy things in my life. People come up with all kinds of inventive ways to kill one another. A pet snake isn’t out of the realm of possibility.”
“How would the snake get out of a car unseen if people witnessed the accident?” Harlow asked. She’d felt a bit of a fool for advancing her snake theory, but now that the men hadn’t dismissed it as fanciful, she wanted to see if any of the puzzle pieces fit.
“I think in the chaos that wouldn’t be as difficult as you might think,” Wilder said. “If the killer was riding behind the vehicle or even helped facilitate the accident, he would be right there to recover the snake.”
“Here’s the other, and maybe biggest, problem with my theory,” Harlow said.
“We have rattlesnakes here. More than one kind, but their bites and venom are recognizable. The reaction in the body is different from what we’re seeing in the victims. A rattlesnake bite is very distinctive.
Look at Raine. The venom causes damage to skin tissue, destroying cells and affecting the circulatory system, causing internal hemorrhage. ”
“Typically,” Rainier added, “we would see some similar symptoms, such as nausea, sweating, salivating, weakness, difficulty breathing.”
“Rattlesnake bites can be fatal,” Harlow added, “as I’m sure you’re well aware, Wilder, but it’s rare these days. A lot depends on where the victim was bitten, how sensitive they are to the venom and how quickly they get treatment.”
“The other thing to note,” Rainier continued, “is that in recent years, and no one knows why, the long-term side effects have increased in severity.”
“Is that why you’ve been worried someone has experimented with snakes to increase the strength of their venom? Or perhaps mutated it so it’s unrecognizable and therefore fatal?” Wilder asked.
“It can’t be a rattlesnake,” Harlow said. “We have far too much experience to mistake the bite for anything else.”
Rainier stood up slowly and stretched. “I need to get home. I didn’t call in Rafferty’s death.
He won’t show up for work, and someone will go looking for him.
They’ll find him. There won’t be a trace leading back to me.
In any case, I don’t think the ME is going to find out anything new when she autopsies his body, even if she had it immediately. ”
Harlow was certain he was right. They didn’t seem to be making any progress finding the toxin.
She was absolutely certain it was a bite, not a virus of some kind.
The fang marks were distinctive. And Rainier had said Rafferty had three distinct places where the fangs had struck him.
She made a mental note to ask Raine if any of the other victims had been bitten more than once.
Rainier exited the room in his very silent way. Harlow had the urge to jump up and watch to see if he floated. It wouldn’t have surprised her.
“Do they teach that to you?”
“Teach what?”