Boston Cream by Howard Shrier

seems low.”
    “It’s bound to grow as it becomes better known.”
    “Not everyone likes getting stuck with a needle.”
    “Of course not. And there’s a consent form, of course, and not everyone is comfortable with that. There are literacy issues with a large segment of our population. But we are confident the compliance rate will improve over time. And a new initiative we launched last month extends the study to visitors as well.”
    “Really? You think people coming to visit will give blood samples?”
    “Not without compensation, of course. Anyone who volunteers gets their name entered in a draw with some great prizes. A trip for two to the Bahamas, a new car, golf clubs, Red Sox tickets. All donated by hospital supporters. In fact, it would be great if you’d mention some of their names in your article. You could even give a sample yourself. Your colleague could take a photo of that.”
    She looked at Jenn and gave her a colicky smile. Jenn quickly flashed her and she flinched. She was off-balance. Time for a low block to shake up her legs.
    I asked her, “Was a man named Harinder Patel one of your participants?”
    Loved her reaction: eyes widening, tendons in her throat sticking out like harp strings.
    “I—I can’t comment on any individuals,” she sputtered. “That’s confidential. And why would you—”
    “Because he and David Fine are both missing.”
    “Who are you? You’re not a reporter.” Then she looked at Jenn. “You. Are you the woman who called me yesterday?”
    Jenn didn’t say a word. She just pointed the camera and flashed Carol-Ann again.
    “Stop that! No more pictures. And no comment. Get out of my office, both of you.”
    “You called David repeatedly before he disappeared,” I said. “And he called you. I’m going to go out on a limb and say you weren’t lovers.”
    “Lovers! Are you mad? Get out, before I call security.”
    “How about the Brookline police? Want to call them too?”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “They’re investigating David’s disappearance,” I said. “And they know about Mr. Patel too.”
    “Know what? What is there to know?”
    “Come on.” I said. “He was a patient here. His son told me so.”
    “So what? We have hundreds of thousands of patients here.”
    “How many go missing?”
    “You really need to leave now.”
    “No. You really need to tell us what you know about David.”
    “Nothing! Okay? I don’t know anything about him. He just left one day.”
    “We’re pretty sure he was abducted.”
    Her face went as grey as the cabinets behind her. “What do you mean? Who would abduct David Fine?”
    “Why don’t you tell me? That night, he told his roommate he was stopping at a lab on his way home. Around six. You might have been the last person he spoke to. Was he here?”
    “You have no basis for this—this interrogation.”
    “You think this is an interrogation? Wait until the cops bring you in.”
    Her complexion, like the song, was a whiter shade of pale. “I don’t know what happened to him! I—I wish I did. But I swear, he never said a word to me, not a word, not about leaving or anything.”
    “But he was here.”
    “Just to look at sample results. Morbidity and mortality statistics.”
    “Why all the phone calls between you two?” Jenn asked.
    “What calls?”
    “They’re recorded in his phone, Carol-Ann.”
    Her face grew tighter, as if strings were being pulled inside. “All right,” she said. “He did ask me out. I liked him and we talked a few times on the phone, okay?”
    “Why didn’t you tell us that before?”
    “Because it’s none of your business. But I can see that you’re not going to leave me alone until I tell you the truth, so I’m telling it. We were making plans to go out on a date and that’s all there is to it.”
    “What did you decide?” I asked.
    “About what?”
    “The date.”
    She hesitated before coming up with, “Dinner and a movie.”
    “Dinner