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Westing was walking trouble.
       "Thank you. And thank you for listening." His voice was an empty, polite formality.
       "Any time." There was a brief, uncomfortable silence, during which he signaled an end to the conversation by looking around the lab.
       She stood, more to get away from him than out of any necessity. "Hang on a sec. I need to check something." She walked over to the bench where the gels were and peered at them closely. To her dismay, he followed her, and she could feel him standing behind her. "No, not ready yet!" she said with a forced cheerfulness. "It'll be a late night, I'm afraid."
       "What are they?" He was standing so close to her she could practically feel the heat of his body.
       Cassie retreated into teaching mode. "Gel electrophoresis. It separates macromolecules—DNA in this case—on the basis of size and charge. Then, by comparing it with known standards, we can identify the DNA. It's the same method they're using in the Human Genome Project, if you've heard of that."
       "Of course." His warm breath coursed along her cheek. "Do you use the entire DNA, or do you have to break it up?"
       She straightened and looked at him in surprise. Was he actually showing interest in something outside his little world? She doubted he really cared, but the teacher in her could never ignore a question. "We break it up, using restriction enzymes."
       "What DNA are you trying to identify?"
       "Actually, we aren't trying to identify it at all. We know perfectly well what it is, but we need to see if there are any differences in the DNA in specimens from the different locations we study. We don't expect to find anything, but we have to prove the differing habits aren't the results of differences in the species."
       "I don't think I know precisely what you're researching. Something about waste nitrogen."
       She glanced at him, wondering why he was interested, wishing she weren't quite so aware of how close he stood to her, and that they were alone in the lab. "The effects of excess nitrogen in waste water on the salt marsh habitat. There's a lot of fertilizer use here. The Cape is an oversized sand bar, and it isn't suited to growing lawn grass. But people want their picture-perfect lawns, so they pour on the fertilizers, and then the fertilizers end up in the wastewater and then the rivers. It's like a free feast when it reaches the salt marsh, and it disturbs the natural checks and balances of the ecosystem." She almost bit her tongue when she remembered the swath of manicured grass that surrounded Scott's house.
       But he didn't seem bothered by it and continued to ask questions about the different equipment in the lab. She showed him the specimen tanks, usually the most interesting part of the lab for visitors. Most would dip a finger in the seawater piped in from the harbor or ask to touch one of the crabs. Calder just looked from a distance as she identified the specimens. As she discovered he could grasp most of the concepts involved in her research, her explanations became more technical, until he inquired about the contents of a large metal container over the Bunsen burner at the end of the bench.
       She laughed. "I'd love to tell you it's a new experiment we're trying, but in fact that's marinara sauce. Lab dinner, you know. I should be putting in the spaghetti as well. The water must be boiling by now. It takes forever." She lifted the lid of a lobster pot sitting on a hot plate, releasing a small cloud of steam. "Yes, it's ready. People who are working late will generally drop by for some. It's a specialty of our lab."
       He didn't look pleased at the idea of people stopping by. "It smells good."
       She smiled, wondering if he would say the same thing if he knew the history of the dish. She wasn't afraid to challenge him. "Well, you're welcome to stay for some, but I don't think you'd find it up to your usual standards."
       "As long as there