Page 157 of The Bone Code

Sullie Huger had worked for the Human Genome Project. So had Arlo Murray. And Melanie Chalmers.

More relevant than I thought?

I dug out my notes. Huger went to work for the HGP immediately after getting his first doctorate at UNC in ’90, left in ’95 to take a position with GlaxoSmithKline.

So Huger, Murray, and Chalmerswereall with the HGP at the same time. Murray and Chalmers were at MIT. Was Huger there also?

I hit my laptop. Found no answer.

Almost immediately, another data byte clicked in, triggering an avalanche of new questions.

Florence Sorg said a “hotshot colleague” got Melanie her job at InovoVax. Was Huger that hotshot? Had he also arranged a position for Murray?

More bytes.

The genetic genealogist determined that Sullie Huger and Harmony Boatwright were distant cousins.

Had Harmony and Lena come to Charleston to see Huger?

I hopped back online and found an address. God bless the internet.

Quick call to Vislosky. Voice mail. I left a brief message.

It was time for some follow-up.

The Maybank Highway is a schizoid two-lane meandering across James, Johns, and Wadmalaw Islands. Parts are home to gas stations, strip malls, and fast-food joints. Parts are residential. Parts are unrelentingly rural.

Huger’s business was located on one of James Island’s busier commercial stretches. Set off from the pavement by Palmetto palms and artificial turf impersonating grass, the brick three-story structure could have been anything—a medical plaza, an office building, a mail order center. No sign hinted at the nature of the enterprise housed within.

I added my car to a half dozen others parked on a rectangle of crushed oyster shells and entered through the unmarked glass door. The lobby was small, with a speckled tile floor waxed to a gleam, a single elevator to the right, and a glass and steel A-frame desk to the left.

The lady at the desk had silver hair swept high and fixed with copious spray. Harry Potter glasses hung from a chain around her neck. Hearing the door, she glanced up from filing one lilac nail.

“Good afternoon,” I added to be sociable. “It’s so beautiful out today.”

“Hasn’t the good Lord blessed us with the most glorious weather?” The drawl was so thick you could have poured it over Dixie Bell ice cream

“I’m here to see Dr. Huger.” Wording chosen to imply a prearranged meeting.

Face furrowing into gullies of distress, Dixie Bell set down her emery board, slipped on the Harry Potters, and began tapping keys. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t.” Smiling so apologetically my face hurt. “But I was hoping—”

A hand flew to Dixie Bell’s chest. “Oh, my zip-a-dee-doo-dah! You scared the tar out of me. I thought I’d made a boo-boo.”

“Perhaps I—”

“I’m sorry. But Dr. Huger is away for a few days.”

Crap.I said nothing.

“Perhaps I can be of help?” Eyes enormous behind the thick round lenses.

“My name is Temperance Brennan.” I crossed to the desk.

Dixie Bell grabbed a plastic bottle, sprayed both her palms, wiped each with a Kleenex.

“A girl can never be too careful.”