Wolf Untamed (SWAT - Special Wolf Alpha Team #11) - Paige Tyler Page 0,64
this way?” Diego asked.
“You’d think so, but I’ve done a full tox screen on the blood from the dead suspect at the diner and the three men currently in jail from the bank holdup, as well as preliminary bloodwork from the four baggage handlers who attacked you at the SWAT compound the other day, and still haven’t gotten a single hit for any known street or prescription drug. At least no drugs in the traditional sense.”
Diego frowned. “What do you mean, traditional sense?”
She let out a sigh. “Every one of the blood samples we’ve tested so far displayed an extremely high level of cortisol and adrenaline.”
“What could cause something like that?”
“Typically, cortisol and adrenaline are the by-products of extreme stress. You know, the whole fight-or-flight thing. But in those cases, the amount of chemicals released into the bloodstream is relatively minuscule and is usually burned off relatively fast. I can’t imagine what a person would have to go through to produce the amounts we found in these samples.”
“Would cortisol and adrenaline make people do what they did in these delirium cases?” Hale asked. “Could they have purposely taken them?”
Dr. Mills shrugged. “As far as taking them on purpose, it’s possible. They both have dozens of legitimate medical uses. Just not in the levels we’re seeing in these people. Regardless, all they do is raise your blood pressure, provide a burst of energy, and deaden pain to a degree. They don’t change your moral behavior and certainly don’t make you lose track of time.”
“So, that’s a dead end,” Diego said.
“Not necessarily,” she said. “I think the cortisol and adrenaline we’re finding are actually a secondary outcome of being exposed to something we haven’t found yet that’s causing these suspects to behave the way they did and creating the memory loss.”
“Any ideas what this something might be?” Diego asked.
“Not yet.” Leaning forward, she flipped open a folder and took out a map of downtown Dallas, spinning it around so they could see. There were little numbered yellow dots all over the place. “These markers are where the people claimed to be right before their memories went fuzzy.”
“They’re all near the financial district,” Diego remarked.
“Exactly,” she agreed. “The task force is focusing its attention on the known drug dealers who work that area.”
“Maybe we should check some of these locations and see if we can find anything the task force might have missed,” Trey suggested.
“Good idea.” Diego glanced at Hale and Connor. “Trey and I will take Uptown Plaza and see if we can find out anything on those college kids who tried to rob the bank. You guys head over to the construction company and ask around about the workers who hit the armored truck.”
“Sounds good,” Hale said.
Trey looked at the doctor. “If we find anything, will you tell us if it means something?”
She nodded. “I’ll look.”
A slow smile curved Trey’s mouth. “Thanks. We appreciate the help.”
Samantha Mills returned his smile with a flirtatious one of her own. “I’m not doing this for your appreciation. It’s all about that favor you’re going to owe me. And when it’s time for you to pay up, I’ll make sure to come looking for you.”
* * *
“I can’t thank you enough for helping me out, Detective Collins,” Bree said as the former DPD robbery cop escorted her up the lesser-used service elevators to the ninth floor, which was occupied by the offices of Garrett, Wallace, and Banks. “I would never have gotten up here without your help.”
The big man with the slight belly and the walrus mustache laughed, the sound echoing in the elevator and bouncing off the stainless-steel walls. “First off, I haven’t been a detective for almost five years, so you can call me Ryan. And as for getting you onto the ninth floor, if you can find a way to stick it to one of those stuck-up pricks up there, I’ll consider the favor more than repaid. Those snobs are one of nearly forty businesses in this building, but they act like they’re the only ones who matter. They treat everyone in this building—especially my security people—like crap.”
Bree could kiss Diego right now. Reaching out to Ryan Collins, the head of security for the building, had been a lifesaver. If not for that, she probably would have been escorted from the building already. Garrett, Wallace, and Banks weren’t the easiest people to approach without an invitation. Unless you were a multimillionaire looking to invest, of course. And since she hadn’t learned anything