been so lucky. Hers had been one of the first bodies they’d found in the village. “Febrile. No skin lesions visible.”
“Signs of pneumonia?”
“Not yet, which is why this seemed so strange. Most of the dead had complained to relatives of coughs along with fever and malaise.”
“Liver enlargement in the dead?”
She swallowed. “No autopsies, remember? The military destroyed everything.” Her voice cracked.
Ben’s gloved hand covered hers, and even through the layers of latex the familiar warmth of his touch comforted her in a way no one else ever could. “Why don’t you get those slides ready, while I set up the centrifuge?”
Glad to have something to take her mind off the horrific scene she and Pedro had stumbled on in São João dos Rios, she pulled several clean slides from the box and spread them across the table. Then, carefully taking the cotton swab from Ben’s outstretched hand, she smeared a thin layer of material on the smooth glass surface. “What are you looking for?”
“Anything. Everything.” The tense muscle in his jaw made her wonder if he already had a theory. “You’ll need to heat-set the slides as you smear them.”
He lit a small burner and showed her how to pass the slide across the flame to dry it and affix the specimen to the glass.
The sound of a throat clearing in the outer doorway made them both look up. Their guard cupped his hands over his mouth and said in a loud voice, “Your assistant has arrived safely at her home.”
Ben flashed a thumbs-up sign. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Tracy’s fingers tensed on the slide at the mention of Ben’s assistant, which was ridiculous. Yes, the woman had kissed him, but Brazilians kissed everyone—it was a kind of unspoken rule in these parts. Besides, the woman had a family. A new baby.
Her throat tightened, a sense of loss sweeping over her. Ben had wanted children so badly. So had she. When she’d fallen pregnant, they’d both been elated. Until she’d had a devastating piece of news that had set her back on her heels. She’d thrown herself into her work, angering Ben, even as she’d tried to figure out a way to tell him.
That had all changed when he’d sent the military in to force her out of a stricken village during a yellow fever outbreak. She knew he’d been trying to protect her and the baby—not from the disease itself, as she’d already been vaccinated the previous year, but from anything that had taken her out of his sight. She hadn’t need protecting, though. She’d needed to work. It had been her lifeline in a time of turmoil and confusion, and his interference had damaged her trust. She’d miscarried a week later, and the rift that had opened between them during their disagreement over the military had grown deeper, with accusations flying fast and furious on both sides.
In the end she’d opted to keep her secret to herself. Telling him would have changed nothing, not when she’d already decided to leave.
Work was still her number-one priority. Still her lifeline. And she needed to get her mind back on what she was doing.
Tracy took the long cotton swab and dipped it into another of her sample jars, laying a thin coating of the material on a second glass slide, heat-setting it, like she’d done with the first. “Do you need me to apply a stain?”
“Let’s see what we’ve got on these first.”
“There were pigs in a corral at one of the victims’ homes. Could it be leptospirosis?”
“Possibly.” He switched on the microscope’s light. “If I can’t find anything on the slides, we’ll need to do some cultures. Lepto will show up there.”
He didn’t say it, but they both knew cultures would take several days, if not longer, to grow.
Tracy sent a nervous glance towards the reception area, where the guard lounged in a white plastic chair in full view. He twirled what looked like a toothpick between his thumb and forefinger. For the moment his attention wasn’t focused on them. And he was far enough away that he shouldn’t be able to hear soft voices through the glass partition.
“That could be a problem.”
Ben turned toward her, watchful eyes moving over her face. “How so?”
“I told the military police you’d have an answer for them today.”
“You did what?” His hand clenched on the edge of the table. “Of all the irresponsible—”
“I know, I know. I didn’t have a choice. It was either that or leave São João dos Rios empty-handed.”
He closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking at her again. “You’re still hauling around that savior complex, aren’t you, Tracy? Don’t you get tired of being the one who swoops in to save the day?”
“I thought that was your role. Taking charge even when it’s not your decision to make.” She tossed her head. “Maybe if you’d stopped thinking about yourself for once …” As soon as the ugly words spurted out she gritted her teeth, staunching the flow. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Yes. It was.” He took the slide from her and set it down with an audible crack.
The guard was on his feet in an instant, his casual manner gone. “O que foi?”
Ben held up the slide. “Sorry. Just dropped it.” Although he said the words loudly enough for the guard to hear them, he kept his tone calm and even. Even so, the tension in his white-knuckled grip was unmistakable.
The guard rolled his eyes, his face relaxing. “I’m going to the cafeteria. Do you want something?”
How exactly did the man expect to get the food past the sealed doorway? Besides, she wouldn’t be able to eat if her life depended on it. “I’m good. Thanks.”
“Same here,” said Ben.
The guard shrugged and then checked the front door. He palmed the old-fashioned key he found in the lock before reinserting it again, this time on the outside of the door.
He meant to lock them in!
“No, wait!” Tracy stood, not exactly sure how she could stop him.
“Sorry, but I have my orders. Neither of you leaves until those samples are destroyed.”
She started to argue further, but Ben touched her shoulder. “Don’t,” he said in a low voice.
Holding her tongue, she watched helplessly as the door swung shut, a menacing snick of the lock telling her the guard had indeed imprisoned them inside the room. A familiar sting of panic went up her spine. “What if he doesn’t come back? What if we’re trapped?”
Stripping off one of his gloves, he reached into his pocket. “I have a spare. I know you don’t like being confined.”
Sagging in relief, she managed a shaky laugh. “You learned that the hard way, didn’t you?”
The vivid image of Ben playfully pinning her hands above her head while they’d tussled on the bed sprang to her mind. The love play had been fun. At first. Then a wave of terror had washed over her unexpectedly, and though she’d known her panic had been illogical, she’d begun to struggle in earnest.
A frightened plea had caught in her throat, and as hard as she’d tried to say something, her voice had seemed as frozen as her senses. Ben had only realized she was no longer playing when she succeeded in freeing one of her hands and raked her nails down his face. He’d reeled backwards, while she’d lain there, her chest heaving, tears of relief spilling from her eyes. Understanding had dawned on his face and he’d gathered her into his arms, murmuring how sorry he was. From that moment forward he’d been careful to avoid anything that might make her feel trapped.
A little too careful.