What Lies Behind by J. T. Ellison Page B

enough.”
    Hilary put a hand on the dean’s arm. “I hadn’t thought of it before, this situation has been so alarming and unsettling. But I think Samantha might be on to something. I knew Thomas. He didn’t strike me as the aberrant type. He was very interested in stem cells and regeneration. He’d done work in the field, even landed a plum internship last summer at Stanford in their Regenerative Medicine program. He’s interned for several prestigious firms.”
    The dean was anything but mollified, but he backed down. “Be that as it may, as I said before, Mr. Cattafi refused to speak to us about the matter. We told him if he didn’t defend himself, he’d be expelled, and he simply shook his head and shrugged. I found it highly perplexing. Mr. Cattafi was one of our finest students. He had another two years of research ahead before he came back for his clinical work, yes, but I have no doubt he would have graduated at the top of his class when all was said and done. He already had offers from research teams, from residency programs—the Pasteur Institute wanted him. He was something special, and everyone who came in contact with him knew it.”
    “I’ve been hearing this all morning. What exactly was so special about him?” Sam asked.
    The dean scratched his chin. “He is...a genius. Ahead of his time. Conceptually, experimentally. As Dr. Stag said, he had a fascination with regeneration—of cells and tissue, but eventually, whole body. He was applying his talents to a cancer vaccine, and from what I know, was damn close to having a breakthrough. He believed he would eventually conquer death itself, and I have to tell you, Dr. Owens, I believed him. If anyone could, it was Thomas Cattafi. The boy’s as talented as any I’ve seen in my tenure at this school.”
    “Yet you kicked him out.”
    The dean’s face whitened, his hand gripped the arm of his chair. “I had no choice. He refused to defend his actions, to explain his rather unorthodox situation. And now he’s been stabbed, and might not live. Trust me, Dr. Owens, I’ve been rethinking my decision since the day it happened.”
    Fletcher closed his notebook, crossed his legs, spoke conversationally. “Between us chickens, do you have any idea what Cattafi would be doing with cholera and
E. coli
and a few other unsavories in a refrigerator at his house?”
    They both looked startled, and Sam knew that was news. It started her thinking, though. From all she’d heard, it sounded as if Cattafi was stealing tissue samples, bone marrow and semen and the like, not trying to get his jollies with the corpse. If he believed in regeneration, maybe, just maybe, he’d hit on something that he thought could be used to
prevent
the illnesses he had in his refrigerator. Or something in his cancer work was applicable to the pathogens he had.
    Dr. Frankenstein.
    You’re making leaps again, Owens. Keep that to yourself. You’re not in a bloody science-fiction film.
    “Did Thomas have any benefactors here in town? People who were helping him, off campus?” she asked.
    Hilary nodded. “He’d recently accepted a fellowship with David Bromley, at GW’s med school. They were in Africa until just before the semester started. You know we’ve been working hard to cross-pollinate the two universities for a massive International Medicine program. Bromley took one look at Cattafi and began his seduction. From all accounts, they were inseparable.”
    “What’s Bromley’s specialty?” Sam asked.
    “Virology,” Hilary answered. “He’s one of the preeminent virologists in the world.”
    Sam’s mind started spinning. Maybe she wasn’t as far off as she’d first thought.
    Fletcher glanced at his watch. “I hate to do this, but we have another meeting. Thank you so much for your time. I will do my best to respect your wishes about keeping this incident private, but please understand, if it becomes necessary, I will have to include it in the files.”
    The dean