As the Uber driver pulled up to BioMed’s gatehouse, Sarah sat forward in the backseat. “I used to work here. I have to be able to get in to pick up my car. They can’t just lock everything and walk away.”

“Did you hear what the guy did to himself?” The older woman made the sign of the cross. “My granddaughter showed me some pictures from the Internet. Who does that to themselves?”

“I can’t even guess.”

“Well … what do you want to do?”

There was clearly no one in the guardhouse, and it wasn’t like Sarah was going to climb up the gate’s fencing and pull a gymnastic move over all that barbed wire. And on the security note, she couldn’t see the complex from here, something that never had struck her as significant because hey, she’d always had her pass card and never spent any time parked at this entrance. But clearly, there was a rise and long drive for a reason.

Shoot. “I guess I’ll go back—”

“Someone’s coming up behind us.”

Sarah twisted around. It was an unmarked sedan. Dark gray. And she recognized the man behind the wheel.

“I know him. Gimme a minute?”

“Yup, sure thing.”

Opening her door, she got out of the Camry and was careful to show her hands as she walked forward. Special Agent Manfred immediately disembarked from his vehicle.

“Well, if it isn’t Dr. Sarah Watkins. You’re a hard lady to get ahold of.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“I’ve been calling your home phone. And your cell.”

Given that he worked for the frickin’ FBI, she figured it was stupid to ask him how he’d gotten the numbers. Besides, she had more important things on her mind.

Like whether or not he was going to arrest her for trespassing or something worse.

Except as she waited for him to Miranda her or something, he seemed content to wait for her to answer his implied where-have-you-been question.

Huh. Guess there weren’t any handcuffs in her future. At least not for this ten minutes.

“Again, I’m sorry I haven’t returned the calls.” She pointed to the closed gates. “Do you know how I can get my things? And my car?”

“Yeah, you were here Sunday night, weren’t you.” He smiled, but the expression did not make it to his eyes. “Working late on a weekend.”

“No doubt you know what that’s like.”

“You can bet your life I do.”

There was a pause. And Sarah shrugged. “Well, if you can’t help me, I guess I’ll go back home—”

“Where have you been, Dr. Watkins.”

As a cold breeze whipped around, her ears stung. Or maybe that was her anxiety. “Nowhere.”

“So you routinely do not answer calls from federal agencies? When the CEO of the company you work for is found dead?”

“I’ve never had them before. Calls from the Feds, that is.”

“Tell you what, how about you and I go in together. You can answer some questions, and give this Uber driver the opportunity do some actual driving instead of parking.”

“Am I being taken into custody for something?”

“If I were arresting you, you’d be handcuffed and in the back of my car.”

“You have such a way with people, Special Agent Manfred. Has anyone ever mentioned this?”

“My ex-wife. For about ten years straight.”

Sitting shotgun in Special Agent Manfred’s unmarked, Sarah couldn’t help but lean into the dashboard as they rounded the drive and BioMed’s low-profile, windowless expanse came into view. With all the snow on the ground, its white walls and gray roof blended in. What did not? All the FBI and other law enforcement vehicles parked right up next to the entrance, without regard to the yellow lines for parking spaces or even the arrows that directed traffic on the lane.

Manfred stopped cockeyed next to a blacked-out SUV, put his engine in park and turned things off. “That’s your car over there, right?”

Sarah looked out the passenger side window. Right where she’d left it. God, with everything that had happened, she almost expected the thing to be turned on its roof with its wheels spinning and flames all over the undercarriage.

“Yes.”

“It’s been here awhile. Look at the snow covering the hood.”

She thought of her front walkway, no longer cleanly shoveled. “Yes.”

“Tell me something, if you came here Sunday night to work and you left your car here, how did you leave? I mean, I’m assuming you didn’t decide to walk all the way back to your house. Nine miles is a long way to go. At night. In weather like this.”

As Sarah turned to face the federal agent, she was amazed at how calm she was. Then again, she didn’t really feel like there was a whole hell of a lot for her to live for. And that kind of made you unimpressed even by someone with arrest powers.

“Do you want to go inside?” she said. “It’s getting cold in here.”

“Sure.” His tone was dry. “I’d hate to be accused of false imprisonment.”

The two of them met up at his front bumper and walked to the entrance together. A member of the New York State police was guarding the interior door and Manfred flashed his ID to the officer.

“I’ve got a witness,” Manfred announced. “We’re walking through the scene.”

“Yes, sir. Head right in, sir.”

Sarah walked through into the lobby, but she didn’t proceed down the hall. Instead, she went to Kraiten’s photograph. As she stared at the portrait, she remembered him under the thrall of Murhder’s mental control, by turns combative and threatening … and then foggy and acquiescing.

“Is he really dead?” she murmured.

“Do you want to see the pictures?”

As she shook her head, she recalled everything about that night: Coming out of the secret lab with Nate. Seeing Murhder, John, and Xhex. Escaping with them and taking Kraiten along to the loading dock. Using Kraiten’s SUV to—

“Dr. Watkins? Hello?”

Sarah turned to the agent. “Who owns the company now?”

“No one. Kraiten shut everything down the day before he killed himself. Weren’t you here working?”

The shrewd light in his eye suggested she needed to step carefully.

“Will you take me to my lab?”

“Sure.” Same dry tone. “I’d be happy to.”

They proceeded down the corridor, going past all the divisions with their opaque glass walls and their closed doors. From time to time, they passed a cop or another agent. Sarah just kept her eyes straight ahead.

When they got to her lab, she stopped. Looked at him. “Do you want me to use my ID to get in?”

He smiled a little. And pushed the door wide. “Locking systems are turned off.”

Sarah stepped by him and stopped. The work area was exactly as she remembered, the cubicles with their desks in the same setup, the chairs where they had always been, the wastepaper baskets down on the floor.

But all the computers were gone.

“My pictures are in a drawer here,” she said as she went over to her assigned area. “Is it okay to take them?”