“Sorry,” Platt said.

“It’s not your fault.”

“If I wasn’t here he wouldn’t have gotten the wrong impression.”

“He got the impression he wanted to get.”

Platt couldn’t read her. He wasn’t sure if she was upset, angry, sad? He had been concerned that Janklow had sent someone to retrieve her only to realize, and realize too late, that he had stumbled upon a lovers’ quarrel.

Paranoid. He was way too paranoid.

“I have to get back to USAMRIID,” he told her. “But I need to give you a shot before I leave.”

She nodded and sat down by the kitchen counter, shoving the bouquet of flowers to the side. She looked tired, drained and not just from the confrontation outside.

“Did you have anything to eat this morning?”

“I usually eat after I run.”

She’d been out running. He stopped himself from scolding her. Instead, he took the liberty of opening her refrigerator. It was well stocked. He grabbed a carton of eggs, milk, a package of cheddar cheese and a green pepper.

“Skillet?” he asked.

She pointed to a drawer under the oven.

“I don’t have time to eat,” she said without moving from her place at the counter. “I have to get to work. I need to shower. I have an appointment I need to make.”

“I can’t give you the vaccine on an empty stomach. So go make your appointment. Get your shower. I’ll have omelets ready by the time you’re done.”

“I thought all Army doctors had wives to cook for them?”

“Army doctors aren’t home enough to keep wives.”

“Is that what happened?”

He stared at her, wondering how she did that. She had a way of throwing him completely off guard when he least expected it.

“How did you know I was divorced?”

“Old trick. You just told me. I also know you have a dog.”

“Excuse me?”

“Something white, but not a Lab because the hair on the sweatshirt you loaned me isn’t as coarse.”

“How do you know it’s not a cat?”

“You’re definitely not a cat guy.”

“Hmm…pretty good trick.” He pulled out a cutting board and knife and started chopping the pepper. “His name’s Digger. He’s a West Highland terrier. He’s good company. He was my daughter’s dog.”

“Your wife wouldn’t let your daughter have Digger at her house?”

“My daughter died five years ago.”

“Oh, God, Ben.”

He could feel her eyes on him now. He didn’t look up. He continued to work, breaking eggs, sloshing a dab of milk.

“It’s okay,” he said. He had the phrase down pat.

“That one I didn’t know.”

“She died of complications from the flu. I was in Afghanistan. It was right after the war began. My wife thought Ali would get better. Said she knew the Army wouldn’t let me come home just because Ali had the flu, so she didn’t tell me. She didn’t tell me until it was too late.”

He realized he had stopped working with his hands. They were gripping the edge of the counter as if he needed to hold on to something. He didn’t want to know if Maggie noticed. He reached for the mixture of eggs and milk and then tried to think of something, anything, to get back on track.

“Since we’re sharing,” he finally said. “How long have you been divorced?”

It was her turn to be surprised.

“No trick,” he smiled. “It’s in your file.”

“Ah, of course. It’s been about four years.”

She didn’t sound sure. Platt figured that was a good sign.

“Was that the ex-husband?”

“No.”

She didn’t offer more of an explanation. He didn’t push.

“It’s interesting,” she said without prompting, “how much you realize…how much I realized…”

He waited and listened. He already knew she didn’t share easily.

“You asked me,” she said, “if you could call someone for me. And I realized there was no one.”

“But someone did visit you.”

“A friend. A very special friend.”

He wanted to ask about the guy outside. Why he didn’t seem to know about her weekend in the Slammer. Why she hadn’t called him. Instead, he said, “Most people would consider themselves lucky to have at least one very special friend like that.”

“There’s someone at USAMRIID you suspect.” She said it without question, a statement of fact. “Is that why you thought it was too dangerous for me to stay?”

He looked up at her this time and held her eyes.

“My commanding officer wants to make all of this disappear.”

“Including the four victims.” There was a spark of panic in her eyes. “Can he do that?”

“No, he can’t. The victims’ family members were being contacted early this morning. I started dispensing the vaccine yesterday without his official consent. The outbreak in Chicago means there could be others. What happened in Elk Grove can’t disappear now.”

“Is it possible he’s covering for someone at the facility?”

“That I don’t know.”

“But you think it’s possible this killer may have access to USAMRIID?”

“We have quite a few big egos and most of them with access to Level 4 agents. Whether any of them are capable of sending Ebola through the mail, I just don’t know. But I’m going to try and find out.”