Atlanta, Georgia

Parker exited the temperature-controlled airport and stepped into a hot wave of humid Georgia air. Her blouse melded to her skin as she headed to the taxi stand. Her body adjusted to the ninety-degree heat, and a light sheen of perspiration dotted her forehead. She grabbed the nearest cab, climbed in, and gave directions before she changed her mind. The empty feeling in the pit of her stomach grew, adding to her nervousness.

The mid-afternoon traffic was light as the taxi navigated the thirty-minute drive to Druid Hills. The closer they came to her destination; the tighter her chest became, and her breath grew more erratic with each bump, crossroad, and traffic light they passed.

Breathe in. Breathe out. She repeated the chant as she focused on her mission.

She had researched and analyzed every possible outcome of this meeting. Each resulted in the same ultimate conclusion. The only unknown was when.

Today? Tomorrow? Next Week?

She knew from experience that there would be no choice. They would follow procedure, and procedure dictated... Parker shuddered. She did not even want to think that far ahead. If she did, she might have the taxi driver turn around and head back to the airport.

She focused on her breathing again. I'm doing this to save lives, to protect my friends, and to keep them safe. The fact that she would probably never see them again pained her beyond belief. Her heart broke a little more each time Daniel's face crept into her thoughts. He would never forgive her for what she was about to do.

Their relationship, strange and tenuous as it was, would be the one thing she clung to in the undoubtedly harrowing days and months to come. The sound of his voice, his fierce pride and sense of responsibility, and the way he set her on fire with a single look. These memories of him would be the one place she would go in her mind to give her the inner strength she would need to get through this.

By the time the taxi approached the sprawling grounds of CDC's Arlen Specter Headquarters, she was focused, determined, and calm.

She strode into the building and approached the nearest security guard at the reception desk in the large lobby. "Good afternoon, my name is Parker Johnson. I have an appointment with Dr. Petra Baghurst."

The guard signed her in and directed her to a waiting area on the far side of the foyer.

She hid a smile as the molecular biologist she was here to see exited the lift a short while later. Petra Baghurst looked a lot younger in real life than she did on the CDC profiles page. People would be hard pressed to believe she was in her mid-forties. From Parker's investigation, the woman was married to her job, was liked by her team, and never seemed to take a holiday.

Dr. Baghurst pushed her hands into the pockets of her white lab coat and frowned. The doctor's eye's darted around the lobby.

She understood exactly why Dr. Baghurst looked confused.

To ensure that she could meet with the doctor in charge of the outbreak, Parker had hacked the team leader's computer, scheduled a meeting in her diary, and placed a couple of fictitious emails in her inbox. The emails implied that they had met before.

The doctor must have been mildly shocked when checking her calendar for that morning to find she had an appointment with a drug representative she couldn't remember scheduling.

She drew in a deep breath and decided to put the doctor out of her misery. "Dr. Baghurst, Parker Johnson. Pleased to meet you."

Dr. Baghurst schooled her confused expression and led Parker to a meeting room. The CDC doctor closed the door and took a seat across the table from Parker. "So, tell me, Ms. Johnson, how may I help you?"

Parker smiled warmly. "Actually, I am here to help you." She passed a sheet of paper across the table, along with her business card.

The doctor hesitated before picking it up and studying the page. "What am I looking at?"

"The one thing that all of the victims of the virus you are investigating have in common."

Dr. Baghurst looked up from the page. "I beg your pardon?"

She leaned forward and placed her arms on the table. "The virus is targeting only those with that protein, in that particular gene."

Dr. Baghurst narrowed her eyes. "Which drug company did you say you worked for?"

"Well, there might have been a little bit of miscommunication." She smiled calmly even though her insides felt like she was sinking into quicksand. "My company consults with a number of organizations on their IT security needs. By chance, I stumbled on some information I thought you should be privy to."

"And where exactly did you find this information?"

"I'm sorry. I can't tell you that."

Dr. Baghurst stood. She was angry. "Look Ms..." She glanced down at the business card. "Johnson, or whatever your name is. I don't have time for conversations like this. They are a waste of my—"

She broke in before the doctor could complete her sentence. "You're currently leading a team investigating an outbreak of a deadly and unknown virus. The results are showing Adenovirus 1, also known as CDV-1, a disease that until recently only affected canines. The infected patients are exhibiting the same symptoms as Ebola, but none of the tests are showing the typical markers. So far, the mortality rate is one hundred percent. You have no clue what's causing it, how it's being spread, or what it is." Parker took a breath. "Oh, and Dr. Kwong is recently engaged, and you took her out to celebrate at the new sushi place down the road."

The doctor gaped at Parker.

"Do you need me to go on?"

Dr. Baghurst sank into the chair.

"As I said before, my company ensures the safety of our client's firewalls and information. We make our clients unhackable. It wasn't too hard for me to get past the CDC firewalls."

Dr Baghurst's eyes shifted back to the slip of paper. She looked up and waved it in the air. "Okay, let's just say I believe you, and that you're not a complete nut case. How did you come by this?"

"As I said before, I can't tell you that."

"Then why are you coming forward with this information?"

It was Parker's turn to consider her next answer. She leaned back in her chair and looked straight at Dr. Baghurst. "Because I can't just stand back and watch countless people die. It's only going to get worse."

Dr. Baghurst crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back in her chair. "And you know this how?"

She reached into her bag and placed two bottles of carbonated colas, a range of chewing gum, and other manufactured food on the table between them. "A virus has been combined with the artificial caffeine in some of these products. That is how the disease is being transmitted."

Dr. Baghurst's brows rose high on her forehead. "Wait...so you're telling me this is a virus that has been deliberately released into an unsuspecting public? And a man-made one at that?"

Disbelief was evident in the older woman's posture as well as tone.

She nodded. "Yes, that is exactly what I am telling you."

The doctor reached for one of the bottles. "You do understand the ramifications of what you are saying if it's true?"

"Dr. Baghurst, I have no intention of hiding. I've worked with the FBI enough over the years to understand what will happen next." Parker counted on her fingers. "One: you'll go back to your lab and discover what I said is true. Two: you'll also discover that the gene and the protein is one you weren't aware of before. It's one that, had you found it, would have been considered junk DNA. You will also find evidence of the virus in some, if not all, of these." She gestured to the items on the table and then looked directly at Dr. Baghurst. "And three: you'll have no choice but to notify Homeland Security, and they will take me into custody."

Parker's heart pounded in her chest as she pulled out a small blue book from her purse and handed it across the table. This was her last chance to convince the doctor she was sincere. "That's my passport. I have no intention of running, and I have nothing to hide. Despite what you may think, I'm not involved. However, I can't divulge how I came by this information. You have my business card, which you can hand over to the authorities once you have confirmed what I have just told you. But I implore you to get the contaminated food off the shelves as soon as possible."

Dr Baghurst picked up Parker's passport and flicked through it absently. "You do realize this will be considered an act of terrorism? They will press you to find your source...and there is no amendment that can protect you."

Parker contemplated the question. She met the doctor's gaze head on. "What's worse? I don't say anything and countless innocent lives are taken, or I pass on what I know, and suffer the consequences?"

***

Parker began breathing again the moment the taxi drove away from CDC's headquarters. She rested her head on the seat back and closed her eyes. The meeting had taken a toll on her. She was tired, and her nerves were beyond shattered.

By her calculations, she had twenty-four to forty-eight hours before Homeland Security came knocking. That gave her a limited amount of time to get everything in order. She spent the five-hour flight back to Portland planning the things she would need to do before her arrest. Her personal assets would be seized, but provided she delegated signing authority to her business manager, the company should be safe, and her employee's jobs not at risk.

By the time the plane landed a little after one a.m., she was emotionally and physically exhausted. Rather than going straight home, she headed to the office.

Shit. The AC's out again.

The hot air that filled her lungs made it difficult to breathe. Beth's flowers, still sitting behind reception were now dead, wilted from the heat and lack of water.

Beth, why didn't you take them home? You knew they wouldn't last the weekend here.

When she headed toward the back of the floor, an unpleasant odor wafted through the office. She scrunched her nose at the sharpness and her skin became clammy.

Her lips set into a grim line. Someone's left their damn food out, and the heat's spoiled it. She sniffed, trying to identify it. Whatever it is, it's rancid.

She wandered down the hallway toward the break room. The closer she got to the darkened room, the surer she was of her guess. The stench grew stronger with each step. She swept a hand across her forehead to wipe off the sweat. "How many times do I need to get that damn AC fixed?"

She reached for the light switch in the darkened room. The fluorescent bulbs crackled and flickered into life. She searched the room for the rotting food, and froze. Denial gave way to horror as a bone chilling fear rushed through her body and threatened to overwhelm her.

"No!" ripped from her throat when her muscles relaxed enough to allow movement.

Holding back a scream, she managed a single step forward before she began to shake uncontrollably as her mind registered the gruesome scene. The overpowering stench assailed her nostrils and bile rose in her throat. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled, and she resisted the urge to flee. Pushing the vomit that threatened to erupt from the very depths of her stomach back down, she ran to the middle of the room, dropped to her knees, and reached for the broken and bloodied body.

She pulled the woman into her arms. "Beth, Beth, wake up." Her voice cracked and she realized Beth's body was limp and cold.

Beth's face was unrecognizable, her cheeks purple and swollen. Deep lacerations covered her face and upper body, and blood matted her hair.

She rocked Beth in her arms and sobbed. Her shoulders jolted her body and each cry of despair threatened to crush her heart and lungs.

Her empty gaze took in the rest of the room. Splatters of blood coated the walls. Tables were overturned. Broken glass and crockery was haphazardly strewn across the room. A second body lay in the far corner against a wall like a limp, broken doll. The man's head lay at an odd angle, and his face was hidden from view. His feet wore her bodyguard's trademark sneakers.

"Oh no, Trevor."

She was losing what was left of her tenuous hold on reality, but she summoned all her strength and gently placed Beth on the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks and dropped onto the face below, muddying the clotting blood. She needed a phone. She needed help. She needed her friend to be alive.

Parker focused on the three-digit number she needed to dial, turned, and stopped short. Her heart lurched in her chest. Fear rooted her to the spot and her legs almost gave way.

Cruel, unbalanced eyeslocked with hers. "I've been waiting for you,Bella. Do you like my handiwork?"