She looked at him, her mind whirling. There was something his words sparked. Something important that she couldn’t quite remember.
It didn’t take him long to notice. She was staring at him while she grasped at his words. What had he said?
“Cecilia?”
“Say that again.”
“What?”
“What happens when people try to talk.”
He looked at her oddly but complied. “Heart attack. Food poisoning. Electrical problems—”
“Food poisoning! That’s it. Someone I know had food poisoning. Someone…”
She grabbed her phone and dialed. Dennis answered immediately. “Yeah?”
“Who was it at that last conference we went to? The one in New York. Someone had food poisoning.”
“What?” Dennis had obviously been deep in something else.
“Just answer the question. Who had food poisoning?” She started to remember. “He was a speaker. Presenting some paper about junk DNA turning people into wolves.” Oh my God. How they’d laughed about that. The wolf part hadn’t been in the title. It had been something about DNA adaptation in previously blah, blah, blah. She couldn’t remember. But when the speaker had started talking, he’d definitely been talking about werewolves. She was sure of it now.
“Oh yeah,” Dennis said, his voice getting lighter. “Poor bastard was hallucinating on stage, remember? Kept throwing up and yet still trying to talk. Had a bucket and everything, but—”
“What was his name?”
“What?”
“Dennis, it’s important. What was his name? Where is his lab?”
A pause. “You’re losing it big time.”
She sighed. “Just look it up for me. Please?”
“I am.” There was clicking in the background as he typed. “FYI, no more bodies last night. I think it’s slowing down. We’ve gone eighteen hours without a new case.”
She nodded, waiting impatiently. She could have looked it up on her own phone, but she didn’t remember as much as Dennis did. He’d attended the guy’s lecture and had been laughing about it for weeks afterward. She’d just about given up when Dennis abruptly laughed.
“Got it! The guy’s name is Dr. Oltheten of the Gunnolf Lab in…Well, look at that. It’s right here in Detroit.”
Of course, it was. “Text me the address, will you?”
“Sure. Are you going to tell me why?”
“I think he’s got data that can help us.”
“Werewolf guy? Please.”
“He was sick, Dennis. I’m sure you say all sorts of crazy things when you’re feverish.”
Dennis snorted. “Yeah, but the poor bastard is always going to be known as werewolf guy. His career is finished.”
“Yeah, maybe. Thanks.”
Her phone dinged, telling her the text had arrived. She ended the call with Dennis and showed the address to Hank. “Take me here.”
He frowned as he scanned her face. “You sure you’re up for another confrontation?”
