"I think it's time to go to the press, sir," said M. J. "We've had three deaths."

"I thought it was two."

"Another OD died last night. At Hancock General."

"Have you confirmed it's the same drug?"

"Let's just say my suspicions are running high."

"Ah." Sampson sat back, suddenly at ease. "So you don't have confirmation."

"Toxicology screens take time. Especially when the drug's an unknown. By the time we get a positive ID, we could have a full-blown crisis in South Lexington."

Ed laughed. "South Lexington is a crisis."

M. J. ignored him. "All I'm asking for is a statement to the press. Call in the local news stations. Tell them we've got some bad stuff on the streets. Junkies are dying."

The mayor glanced at Ed with an amused look. "Some would say that's progress."

"Sir," said M. J., trying to stay calm,"you have to let people know."

"Now therein lies our problem," said Mayor Sampson, shifting forward in his chair. "Dr. Novak, in case you're not aware of it, we have a bicentennial celebration coming up. Parade, marching bands, the whole nine yards. We have the heads of eight major corporations coming to town to join in the fun. And to look us over, see if they like us. We're talking jobs they could bring to Albion. But they won't bring a thing to town if they start seeing headlines like 'Junkie epidemic' or 'Grim reaper stalks city.' They'll just move their companies to Boston or Providence instead."

"So what do you suggest?" asked M. J. "We sweep it under the rug?"

"Not exactly. We just… wait a while."

"How long?"

"Until you've got more information. Next week, say."

"A lot of people can die in a week."

"Lighten up, M. J.," Ed cut in. "These aren't the pillars of society we're talking about. These are the same folks who mug old ladies and hold up gas stations. The same folks I'm already sticking in jail." He paused. "The same folks who ripped off your car."

"How did you hear about that?" M. J. snapped,

Ed grinned. "We hear a lot of things at the office. Like who's been filing stolen car reports."

"Forget my car. I want to know when we can see some action on this."

"I think I answered that question, Dr. Novak," said Mayor Sampson.

"You're making a mistake."

"Christ," Sampson said with a sigh. "You can't even prove to me these deaths are related. Why go and get the whole town panicked about it?"

Ed added, "They're only junkies."

She shook her head in disbelief. "You know what, Ed?" she said with a laugh. "It's a continuing source of wonder to me."

"What is?"

"What the hell I ever saw in you." She turned and walked out of the room.

Ed followed her, through the receptionist's office and into the hallway. "M. J., wait up."

"I'm going back to work."

"Just love those stiffs, huh?"

"Compared to present company? Don't ask." She got into the elevator, and he slipped in beside her.

"Looks like life's been rough since you left me," he said, glancing at her bruised face with a grin.

"Not nearly as rough as it was with you. And you left me, remember?"

"You know, you really blew it in there with Sampson. Next time you should try a little honey, not so much vinegar. It'd be better for your career."

"I see your career doesn't need any help," she said, glancing at his tailored shirt.

He grinned. "You heard that Sampson endorsed me? The campaign coffers are already loaded."

"Be careful whose coattails you grab onto. Sampson's days are numbered."

They stepped out of the elevator and left the building.

"It's just a stepping stone," he said. "Today, DA. Tomorrow-who knows? Are you coming to the campaign benefit? I could use you there. Show of support from the ME's office."

"I've got better ways to spend my money."

He reached in his pocket and produced an invitation. "Here." He dropped it in her purse. "My compliments. Will you vote for me, at least?"

She laughed. "What do you think?"

"I think you're gonna need a friend in high places. Especially with the rut your career seems to be-" He broke off and stared as M. J. unlocked the door of the Mercedes. "This is your car?" he asked.

"Nice, isn't she?" M. J. slid into the driver's seat and slammed the door. She smiled sweetly out the window. "Those of us in career ruts have to find some way to compensate."

The look on his face was enough to keep her smiling for a block. Then the anger hit, anger at Ed and Sampson and Wheelock. And at herself, for acknowledging defeat. She could go around them all. Ignore the lines of authority, call up the news stations herself, and announce a crisis…

And promptly get herself fired.

She gripped the steering wheel, silently railing at herself, at election-year politics, at a system that made you park your conscience if you wanted to stay employed. She just didn't have the evidence to force the issue-not yet. What she needed was a pair of matching tox screens-just one pair, enough to link two of the deaths. Enough to go to the press and say, "We have a trend here."

The minute she got back to her office, she called the state lab. "This is Dr. Novak, Albion ME. Do you have results yet on Jane Doe number 373-4-3-A?"

"I'll check," said the technician.

A moment later, the tech came back on the line. "I have a blood, urine, and vitreous on Jane Doe number 0372-3-27-B."

"That's a different number."

"It was ordered by a Dr. Ratchet, Albion ME. Is this the one you want?"

"No, that's the wrong Jane Doe. I want 373-4-3-A."

"I have no record of any such request."

"I sent it in April third. Name's Dr. Novak."

"My log for April third doesn't show any Jane Doe specimens from Albion. Or anything from you, Dr. Novak."

M. J. tugged at a loose hair in frustration. "Look, I know I sent it in. It was even marked 'Expedite.'"

"It's not in the log or in my computer."

"I can't believe this! Of all the lab requests, you have to lose this one? I need those results."

"We can't run a test without specimens," said the tech with undeniable logic.

"Okay." M. J. sighed. "Then give me the results from another case. Xenia Vargas. I sent that in April fourth. You do have that one?"

"It was logged in. Let me check…" There was a brief silence, punctuated by the clicking of fingers on a keyboard. Then the tech said, "It was shipped to an outside lab."

"Why?"

"It says here, 'Nonspecific opioids detected. Unable to identify using available techniques. Specimen referred to independent lab for further tests.' That's all."

"So I will get an ID? Eventually?"

"Eventually."

"Thank you." M. J. hung up. Then it was something new. Something even the state lab couldn't identify.

But it was only one case. To prove a trend, she needed a second case, at the very least.

She rose and pulled on her lab coat. Then she walked down the hall to the morgue. One of the day attendants was tidying up the room. He glanced at her.

"Hey, Doc," he said. "What's up?"

"Hal, you remember those specimens I sent off on Monday? For Jane Doe? I put them in the out box. Did you see the courier pick them up?"

"Don't tell me they went and lost somethin' again?"

"They say they never got it."

Hal rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I heard ' em give Doc Ratchet the same story. So what do you want me to do? Run another set over?"

"If you're willing." She glanced at her watch. "It's four. Take an hour of overtime. That'll cover the drive. And make sure they log it in."

"Sure thing."

Now there would be another long wait for results. Luckily, they'd retained several tubes of Jane Doe's blood and urine, for just this situation. While it was rare for specimens to be lost, it did happen.