Page 167

“I can’t be blamed. Printers are notorious divas.”

Ezra places the successful page on the wide worktable beneath the windows. His downstairs office has become our evidence room because he owns the only printer large enough to make the photographed pages readable without forcing all three of us to hunch over a phone. His art has been pushed carefully to one side. The digital tablet rests beneath a clean cloth. Camera equipment fills the shelves above us. A second monitor shows the cemetery feeds while his laptop holds the photographs Scarlet and Wes sent from the earlier GatorX investigation.

Theo comes through the office door carrying a cutting board loaded with apple slices, cheese, crackers, peanut-butter sandwiches, and chocolate cookies.

“Thinking snacks,” he says.

I stare at the neat rows.

Ezra leans toward me. “Daddy has entered the office.”

Theo gives him a flat look.

I smile despite the pressure behind my eyes. “Thank you for the snacks.”

“Eat, little rabbit.” Theo sets the board beside me. “Brilliant women need to eat too.”

My omega finds his tone more compelling than any evidence in the room. I take a sandwich triangle. Ezra reaches for a cookie.

Theo catches his wrist. “Food first, please.”

“Chocolate is food.”

Theo puts a piece of cheese in Ezra’s hand.

“You’re drunk with authority,” Ezra says. He eats the cheese anyway.

Theo moves behind my chair. His palms settle on my shoulders and squeeze once. “Show me what you’ve found.”

I pull Dr. Sawyer’s emergency protocol toward the center of the table. “The binder caught my attention first.”

Theo lowers himself into the chair beside me. “Why?”

“It’s plant-based and designed to remain stable in moisture.”

Ezra turns one monitor toward us. He has already opened the older laboratory summary from Scarlet’s files.

I point between them. “The GatorX compound wasn’t only the drug. It used a plant binder that clung to porous material and survived wet conditions. That’s why it could remain active in flowers, cloth, relief bundles, and route markers.”

Theo studies the two pages. “Is this the same thing?”

“I can’t prove that from these descriptions.” I point at the relevant lines. “But the design is similar. Both use a synthetic bond compound with a plant-based binder that slows how quickly it breaks down.”

Ezra asks, “Would that be unusual?”

“That’s what I’m trying to determine. Can you print the next attachment in the folder? The partner page.”

Ezra prints Dr. Sawyer’s research-partner page. The machine groans, considers rebellion, then produces a readable copy. He adds it beside the protocol.

“‘Crossroads Community Care,’” he reads. “‘Free clinic, mobile outreach, bond-pain services, suppressant injuries, no-insurance care.’”

Theo reads the description. “Sounds legit.”

“It’s real.” I tap the grant information. “It has public funding, licensed providers, and mobile units across three counties.”

“Then why did you want to print it?”

“Because Dr. Sawyer listed Crossroads as the source of several anonymous field datasets used to build her protocol.”