Red Alert Read Online Free PDF Page A

accident. There’s supposed to be a metal railing separating the construction site from the sidewalk. The contractor swears it was put in last week, but it’s gone.”
    “Contractors lie,” Erik said, having been stung on a few projects over the years. “Subcontractors cut corners. That doesn’t say ‘intentional’ to me.”
    But his instincts jangled. The sluiceway had opened at precisely the wrong moment. When he’d looked at the cement truck cab moments later, the driver had been gone, the door hanging open.
    Peters stared at him for a long moment as though assessing him. Finally he nodded. “Have a look at this.” He led them back through the police line, to the place where Meg had fallen through.
    Erik took one look at the wooden railing and cursed bitterly. The panel had been neatly sawn through.
    “So let me ask you.” Peters tucked the PDA into his pocket, giving an illusion of off-the-record, though he hadn’t turned off the recording feature. “Who was the target here? Boston General, Meg Corning…or you?”
     
     

Chapter Three
     
    Raine knocked on the door to Meg’s office almost an hour later, still looking polished and professional. Beautiful.
    In comparison, Meg felt like a train wreck. Jemma had managed to find her a T-shirt to wear under a set of green scrubs, along with a pair of gym shoes, but that had been the extent of scroungeable spare clothes.
    Meg was itchy and uncomfortable, and beginning to wish she’d taken that trip to the ER and from there gone home.
    But she’d wanted to speak with Raine personally. The dark-haired beauty might work for FalcoTechno, she might have come to the lab under false pretenses, but she’d inadvertently made herself one of Meg’s patients. Besides, whatever she’d done, she was a human being.
    A woman. An expectant mother.
    Meg waved her in. “Have a seat, Ms. Montgomery. I need to talk to you about something.”
    “If it’s about what Erik and I did this morning, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
    “It’s not about that,” Meg interrupted. “It’s about the blood sample you gave us. There’s a problem.”
    The bloom in the other woman’s cheeks drained to pasty white, then took on a hot flush. “With the pregnancy?”
    She didn’t call it the baby. She called it the pregnancy . That, in Meg’s clinical experience, was a telling detail. But this wasn’t a counseling session, so she focused on the information that could save Raine’s life. “It’s not just the pregnancy. Our genetic screen revealed that you carry two gene mutations that put you at a high risk for developing blood clots in your arms and legs, or having a stroke or heart attack.”
    Meg had long ago learned that the blunt delivery was usually best in these cases. Just get it out there and deal with it.
    “The pregnancy increases all of these risks exponentially. In addition, you have an increased risk of miscarriage—it’s your body’s way of trying to protect you from the other problems. There’s good news, though—we can put you on supportive therapy starting now. If you’re on interferon gamma and a strict monitoring program for the duration of the pregnancy, your chances are very good.”
    Raine moaned, a low exhalation of air that carried shock and fear. Her face reflected a shifting gamut of emotions, but she didn’t say anything. Just clasped her hands in her lap and breathed deeply.
    Tears glistened in her eyes.
    “Is there someone you’d like to call?” Meg asked. “A family member, perhaps? I’ll be happy to give you some privacy, if that would help.”
    But Raine shook her head. “No. No family.”
    “Your boss, then?” Meg realized she’d been petty to order Erik away from the lab. He and Raine might not be married, but she’d definitely sensed a connection between the two.
    And why did the thought bring a twinge?
    “No.” Raine shook her head, took a deep breath, and lifted her chin. “I can handle this on my own.”
    But there was a