“Uh-huh,” Jethro returned.
“You can have my sandwich—I’m not hungry,” Dana said, nudging the plate toward him.
Jethro dropped into the adjacent seat. “Perhaps we could split it.” He neatly tore it in two and leaned to the side. “What were your symptoms?”
“Euphoria, arousal, and then missing memory,” Dana said, accepting the other half.
“Hmmm.” Dr. Georgetown set his bag down on the table. “We’ll do a blood test and not worry about urine since there should still be time to get everything we need from your blood. I’m dating the medical director of Lambert Hospital, and he’s a board-certified pathologist. I’m sure he’ll do us this favor since you were both dosed.” He drew out a syringe and several vials. “Any other symptoms?”
Wolfe leaned against the fridge in an obvious attempt to appear casual. “Nausea and an aching jaw.”
The doctor pushed his spectacles back up his nose. “Aching jaw? Interesting. With the euphoria, I was guessing GHB, but with the jaw aching, it’d be MDMA.”
Dana held out her arm after making sure the syringe had been in its original wrapper. “I don’t know what those are.”
“Liquid X and Ecstasy,” the doctor said, smoothly withdrawing blood after using a rubber tourniquet. “I’ll have Donald check for those as well as a few other drugs that could’ve been slipped in your drinks.”
Had they finished their drinks? Dana couldn’t remember exactly, but she didn’t think so. “Long-term effects?”
“You’re coherent, and this was a one-time thing, so I’m not concerned about long-term. However, you should consider making a police report.”
“We’ll handle it,” Wolfe said.
Dana winced as the doctor settled a Band-Aid over her vein. Handle it? What in the world did that mean? She stared at Wolfe, but he wouldn’t look at her. The doctor finished with her and turned to Wolfe. “Was there, ah, sexual activity?” he asked.
“Why?” Wolfe growled.
“Because MDMA would possibly make you tired or lethargic, so I’d rule it out except for the jaw tightness. GBD can cause sexual arousal, which would make sense if you so engaged.” The doctor drew the tourniquet around Wolfe’s arm. “Also, as your doctor, I’d have to recommend STD testing.”
“We’re both clean,” Wolfe said, his words clipped and his jaw rock hard.
Dana remained quiet.
The doctor turned to her. “I can get you a morning-after pill, if you’d like.”
She blinked. “No. Thanks, though.”
Wolfe just watched her, no expression on his face.
Dana turned back to the pages in front of her, wanting to make the men in the room disappear. She turned the page and found more hieroglyphics.
Jethro sat up. “What’s all this?”
“My friend, who’s missing, used a code when she worked on sensitive articles,” Dana murmured. “I can’t decipher it.”
Jethro rubbed his whiskered chin, leaning over to look. “Fascinating.”
Dana lifted her head. “Are you any good with codes?”
He frowned and pulled the notebook closer. “Not really. I’m more of a philosophical interpreter of data, if you know what I mean.”
She didn’t, but with his British accent, it sounded intriguing.
Angus drew out a vacant chair and sat. “I know a code breaker. Well, she’s a lot more than a code breaker, but she consulted with us on a couple of cases when I worked for the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit. I could give her a call, if you like. What’s this about?”
Dana pressed her lips together. Thank goodness they were talking about work again and not drugs or sex. “This is about my friend Candy Folks.”
“The journalist who disappeared?” Angus asked, looking toward Wolfe. “This is the case you’ve been handling on your own?”
