Page 105 of The Price of Scandal

“Everyone,” I reiterated.

“Last Mini Marie Curie is out the door,” Esther said, ducking her head back into the room. “You ready for some boring ol’ data?”

“Give it to me!” Emily made grabby hands like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Lala, you good with clean up?” Esther called over her shoulder.

Lala gave the thumbs up and blew a bubble with her gum.

We followed Esther across the hall to the second lab. She flipped on the overhead lights and moved to a workstation with two desktop computers. A fat stack of papers sat neatly next to a mousepad picturing the periodic table. It said,I use this periodically.

Emily pounced on the report the way a cat attacked a laser pointer.

She pawed through the papers, skimming as she went. Her lips moved as she absorbed what was on the pages.

Esther plopped down on a wheeled stool and waited, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“It’s there,” Emily said, not looking up from the data.

“It’s there,” Esther agreed, spinning around to pull up some gobbledygook on one of the computer monitors.

Still clutching the papers, Emily peered over Esther’s shoulder.

“We’re geniuses,” Emily breathed.

“Motherfucking geniuses.”

I cleared my throat. “Can a layperson ask what’s there?” I asked.

Emily spun back around, a sparkle in her eyes. They were more gray than blue under the fluorescent lab lights.

“Enzymes,” she said.

“I’m afraid I’m going to need more than that.”

She practically skipped over to a whiteboard and gleefully grabbed a marker, sketching in quick, confident lines.

“Okay, so when someone has a significant cardiac event, we can measure high levels of certain enzymes in their blood that indicate damage to the heart muscles. What Esther and I and a few teams in similar labs around the country have been working on is finding indicators that can predict a cardiac event.”

“And you found one?” I was intrigued by both the hypothesis and Emily’s excitement about it. Her drawing was terrible, but her passion was enthralling.

She beamed. “We found a few. There are currently tests that identify an indication of inflammation, the high-sensitivity C-reactive protein, for example. But we found a specific enzyme that has consistently performed as a measurable predictor of a future significant cardiac event.”

“How far in advance have you been able to predict it?”

She grinned, and I felt a warm glow of desire settle in my chest.

“Six months,” Esther interjected proudly.

“Six months is adequate time for intervention. For diet and exercise and lifestyle changes. For clots and blockages to be identified and treated. This blood test could be the biggest preventative factor in cardiac medicine in almost a decade,” Emily said. “Best of all, we can do it inexpensively. This could become part of the complete blood panel at wellness checks. Doctors offices could require it for high school and college athlete physicals. We’re losing more and more kids to unknown cardiac defects. This could—”

“Save lives,” I filled in.

I hadn’t known Emily Stanton long. I didn’t know her nearly well enough for my liking. But I couldn’t think of another person I’d been prouder of in my entire life.

“Exactly,” she said. Her eyes danced.

“And you’re not going to let me use this either are you?” I sighed.