I was getting ready to turn in, at midnight, when I got a text from Lindsey Reese, reporter for the Belport Clarion.
“What’s the story?”
I dialed her number.
“Are we really doing this over the phone?” I said, relaxing into the couch.
“You know, people experience a heightened paranoia when they know they’re being recorded. I’m sure it’s worse when reporters are doing the recording.” I fluffed the pillow, adjusting it just right so I could stare at the TV, which was off.
“Good,” she sounded smug. “So what’s your involvement in all of this?”
“All of what?”
“The new drug in Belport.”
“You’ll need to take that up with Collins,” I said automatically. My eyelids drooped, and I had no incentive to raise them.
She clicked her tongue, and I’d bet she also rolled her eyes. “Typical. Come on, I know there’s something going on. People in the hospital with weird symptoms. A couple have died from this strange new condition, all around the same time word of a new drug in town. I know the Russians are pissed since their markets have taken a hit. And I know you’re involved.”
“How’s that?” I yawned.
“Because I was at that same party as your assistant.”
My eyes popped open. “Say that again?”