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Saturday, June 6, 1987-Early Afternoon Sitting on a picnic blanket at Venice Beach, she slathered a handful of sunblock onto CJ’s arms. He struggled against her. Chris Farber and his long time-friend Ham Tyler approached, looking agitated. “Ain’t no sign of her yet,” he announced. “This is ridiculous!” Maggie got up, taking CJ with her. “You tried calling her at home?” “And at Gooder’s.” Tyler used his pet name for Donovan. “No answer.” “I say if she’s with Donovan, no telling what they might be up to,” Chris said. “What does that mean?” Maggie asked. “They ain’t seen one another for a long time,” he explained. “She ain’t with nobody. Neither is he if you catch my drift.” He wiggled his eyebrows for emphasis. “Better not let her hear you say that.” She remembered Julie’s negative response to a similar accusation last night. “I think we should go home and wait for her to call in case

Wednesday, June 8, 1987 -Evening Settled in her new hospital room, Julie tried to rest for most of the afternoon. Steve and her mother took turns at her bedside, while she wished neither was there. Steve spends way too much time here, she thought. Even when he does leave, he’s never gone long enough to be at work. He should be getting updates on the Seattle patients and overseeing the project in my absence. Around five that evening, Steve sat at Julie’s bedside when a nurse delivered dinner, a covered bowl of Cream of Potato soup. Julie watched the woman adjust her tray table and wheeled it toward her. Grimacing, Julie inched up the mattress, trying to sit up. “Do you need some help eating?” the nurse asked. “I’ve got it,” Steve said. “Okay. Just buzz if you need anything.” The nurse exited. Julie glared at Steve as he reached for her spoon. She shook her head. “Nn… thanks.” “Are you certain?” He gave a

Sunday, June 7, 1987- Afternoon Donovan returned to the lab complex that afternoon. Angry thoughts from a brief discussion with Connie about his “self-centeredness and lack of concern for Julie’s safety,” churned in his mind. Upon entering the building, he headed for the laboratory. At first, it seemed no one was there. Then Donovan started to search and discovered Pico lying unconscious on the lab floor. He tugged at Pico’s arm. It didn’t budge. He studied Pico’s chest. There was no movement. He placed his index and middle fingers against Pico’s wrist. No pulse… Heat rose in Donovan’s face. Tyler was gone and the old man was dead. What now? he wondered. Gather evidence. He spotted a small rectangular box on the lab table and pulled out a pair of snug-fitting latex gloves. Picking through a mess of glass and plastic containers on the table, he located a sealed vial filled with thick yellow liquid, then sorted