“I suppose you’re right,” said Ralph. “The idea of further Ebola outbreaks terrifies me. Maybe that’s why I want to believe in the official position myself. If it’s correct, the threat may be over.”
“Damn,” said Marissa with sudden vehemence. “I’ve been so concerned about myself, I completely forgot about Tad. Dubchek must know it was Tad who took me into the maximum containment lab. I’d better get back and check on him.”
“I’ll let you go on one condition,” said Ralph. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Let me take you to dinner.”
“You are a dear. Dinner tomorrow night would be a treat.” Marissa leaned forward and kissed Ralph’s forehead. He was so kind. She wished she found him more attractive.
As Marissa drove back to the CDC she realized her anger at Dubchek had been replaced by fear for her job and guilt about her behavior. Ralph was undoubtedly correct: She’d not been acting as a team player.
She found Tad in the virology lab, back at work on a new AIDS project. AIDS was still the Center’s highest priority. When he caught sight of Marissa he shielded his face with his arms in mock defensiveness.
“Was it that bad?” asked Marissa.
“Worse,” said Tad.
“I’m sorry,” said Marissa. “How did he find out?”
“He asked me,” said Tad.
“And you told him?”
“Sure. I wasn’t about to lie. He also asked if I was dating you.”
“And you told him that, too?” asked Marissa, mortified.
“Why not?” said Tad. “At least it reassured him that I don’t take just anybody off the street into the maximum containment lab.”
Marissa took a deep breath. Maybe it was best to have everything out in the open. She put her hand on Tad’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry I’ve caused you trouble. Can I try to make it up to you by fixing supper tonight?”
Tad’s face brightened. “Sounds good to me.”
At six o’clock Tad came by Marissa’s office and then followed her in his car to the supermarket. Tad voted for double loin lamb chops for their meal and waited while the butcher cut them, leaving Marissa to pick up potatoes and salad greens.
When the groceries were stashed in Marissa’s trunk, Tad insisted that he stop and pick up some wine. He said he’d meet her back at her house, giving her a chance to get the preparations going.
It had begun to rain, but as Marissa listened to the rhythm of the windshield wipers, she felt more hopeful than she had all day. It was definitely better to have everything out in the open, and she’d talk to Dubchek first thing Monday and apologize. As two adults, they surely could straighten things out.
She stopped at a local bakery and picked up two napoleons. Then, puffing in behind her house, she backed up toward the kitchen door to have the least distance to carry the groceries. She was pleased that she’d beat Tad. The sun had not set yet, but it was as dark as if it had. Marissa had to fumble with her keys to put the proper one in the lock. She turned on the kitchen light with her elbow before dumping the two large brown bags on the kitchen table. As she deactivated the alarm, she wondered why Taffy hadn’t rushed to greet her. She called out for the dog, wondering if the Judsons had taken her for some reason. She called again, but the house remained unnaturally still.
Walking down the short hall to the living room, she snapped on the light next to the couch. “Ta-a-a-affy,” she called, drawing out the dog’s name. She started for the stairs in case the dog had inadvertently shut herself into one of the upstairs bedrooms as she sometimes did. Then she saw Taffy lying on the floor near the window, her head bent at a strange and alarming angle.
“Taffy!” cried Marissa desperately, as she ran to the dog and sank to her knees. But before she could touch the animal she was grabbed from behind, her head jerked upright with such force that the room spun. Instinctively, she reached up and gripped the arm, noticing that it felt like wood under the cloth of the suit. Even with all her strength she could not so much as budge the man’s grip on her neck. There was a ripping sound as her dress tore. She tried to twist around to see her attacker, but she couldn’t.
The panic button for the alarm system was in her jacket pocket. She reached in and juggled it in her fingers, desperately trying to depress the plunger. Just as she succeeded, a blow to her head sent her sprawling to the floor. Listening to the ear-splitting noise, Marissa tried to struggle to her feet. Then she heard Tad’s voice shouting at the intruder. She turned groggily, to see him struggling with a tall, heavyset man.
Covering her ears against the incessant screech of the alarm, she rushed to the front door and threw it open, screaming for help from the Judsons. She ran across the lawn and through the shrubs that divided the properties. As she neared the Judsons’ house, she saw Mr. Judson opening his front door. She yelled for him to call the police but didn’t wait to explain. She turned on her heel and ran back to her house. The sound of the alarm echoed off the trees that lined the street. Bounding up the front steps two at a time, she returned to her living room, only to find it empty. Panicked, she rushed down the hail to the kitchen. The back door was ajar. Reaching over to the panel, she turned the alarm off.
“Tad,” she shouted, going back to the living room and looking into the first-floor guest room. There was no sign of him.
Mr. Judson came running through the open front door, brandishing a poker. Together they went through the kitchen and out the back door.
“My wife is calling the police,” said Mr. Judson.
“There was a friend with me,” gasped Marissa, her anxiety increasing. “I don’t know where he is.”
“Here comes someone,” said Mr. Judson, pointing.
Marissa saw a figure approaching through the evergreen trees. It was Tad. Relieved, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck, asking him what had happened.
“Unfortunately, I got knocked down,” he told her, touching the side of his head. “When I got up, the guy was outside. He had a car waiting.”
Marissa took Tad into the kitchen and cleaned the side of his head with a wet towel. It was only a superficial abrasion.
“His arm felt like a club,” said Tad.
“You’re lucky you’re not hurt worse. You never should have gone after him. What if he’d had a gun?”
“I wasn’t planning on being a hero,” said Tad. “And all he had with him was a briefcase.”
“A briefcase? What kind of burglar carries a briefcase?”
“He was well dressed,” said Tad. “I’d have to say that about him.”
“Did you get a good enough look at him to identify him?” asked Mr. Judson.
Tad shrugged. “I doubt it. It all happened so quickly.”
In the distance, they heard the sound of a police siren approaching. Mr. Judson looked at his watch. “Pretty good response time.”
“Taffy!” cried Marissa, suddenly remembering the dog. She ran back into the living room, with Tad and Mr. Judson close behind.
The dog had not moved, and Marissa bent down and gingerly lifted the animal. Taffy’s head dangled limply. Her neck had been broken.
Up until that moment Marissa had maintained cool control of her emotions. But now she began to weep hysterically. Mr. Judson finally coaxed her into releasing the dog. Tad put his arms around her, trying to comfort her as best he could.
The police car pulled up with lights flashing. Two uniformed policemen came inside. To their credit, Marissa found them sensitive and efficient. They found the point of entry, the broken living room window, and explained to Marissa the reason why the alarm hadn’t sounded initially: The intruder had knocked out the glass and had climbed through without lifting the sash.