Deadly Contact by Lara Lacombe

had made her feel more...aware. Not nervous per se, but she had watched him take in her living room, had seen the way his gaze rested on the pictures on her bookshelves and the pile of folded clothes on the couch. He wasn’t overt in his assessment, but she was willing to bet he could describe everything he had seen in great detail, right down to the crooked painting hanging on the wall.
    She headed to the bedroom, stripping off her T-shirt as she walked. Her eyes felt as if they’d been rubbed with sandpaper, but there was no point in going back to bed—she’d never get any sleep with the sun streaming into her room. Time to get cleaned up and go into work. If she had to be awake, at least she could be productive.
    Forty-five minutes later, she unlocked the lab and settled in at her desk. As she waited for her computer to boot up, she heard footsteps in the hall and a door unlocking. That was unusual, but not alarming. Sometimes people came in early on the weekends, wanting to get their work done so they’d have the rest of the day free.
    Her ancient computer was taking its time about coming to life, so she decided to walk down the hall and say hi to the other early bird.
    She stepped out of the lab, expecting to see another lab a few doors down with the door open and lights on. Instead, she found George’s office door open and heard the sounds of rummaging. It seemed the FBI had gotten an early start on their search.
    She stood in the hall for a moment, debating what to do next. Should she poke her head into George’s office and say hi? It was probably James conducting the search, since he was the one who had the key, and after their reunion yesterday it would be rude to ignore him. On the other hand, she really didn’t want to get involved in this investigation any more than she already was.
    In the end, her manners won out. She walked down to George’s office, rapping her fingers on the partially closed door as she pushed it open. “Good morning...” she said, the words trailing off as she realized James was not the person digging in the office.
    The man straightened from behind George’s desk, pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose with a gloved finger. “Good morning,” he responded politely. “You must be Kelly Jarvis.”
    He didn’t appear threatening, but the hair on the back of Kelly’s neck stood up and she could feel her heart thumping. “That’s right,” she said slowly, unsure of how much to reveal. “What’s your name?”
    “Caleb,” he said, sending her a smile. He had dimples, she noticed, but there was something about his eyes that made her uncomfortable. Despite his friendly appearance, they remained cold and assessing.
    “Are you with the FBI?” she asked. “I didn’t see you yesterday.” She watched him carefully, saw his smile slip a bit when she mentioned the FBI. Interesting. “Of course, there were so many new faces, I may have just missed you.”
    He nodded, then said, “I have trouble with names and faces, too, especially when I meet a lot of people at once.” He rounded the desk and moved to stand in front of it, a few paces away from her.
    She backed up a step, not liking him so close. He hadn’t answered her question, but she decided not to press. Whoever this man was, he didn’t belong here, and she didn’t want to provoke him.
    “Well, I just came to say hello. I’m down the hall if you need anything.” She gestured vaguely with her left hand, backing out the door at what she hoped was a reasonable, non-suspicious speed.
    “Actually, there is something you can do for me,” Caleb replied, advancing on her.
    She didn’t stop moving. “What’s that?”
    Quick as a flash, his arm snaked out and his fingers wrapped around her wrist in a painful grip. He yanked her toward him, close enough that she could smell the stale coffee on his breath.
    “You’re going to help me make things right.”
    * * *
    James tugged on the glass doors of the research