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 hisbadge. “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’dexpected, 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.”