"You are expensive to know, January," Paula purred. The sound of her heels on the bare floor near the door jerked my eyes from Dr. Moriss' face.
"Don't leave," I said hastily.
"Why?" Paula asked, turning, her hand still on the knob.
"Because—" her father began.
"Shut up!" I snapped. "I'll tell her myself. Because if you do I might kill your father before I walk out of here."
Dr. Moriss nodded agreement, puffing contentedly, his features mocking me through the haze.
"He's afraid, Paula," he said abruptly. "It's the same fear that made him destroy his research and all the bills for materials and his notes, and let them smirch his name." He lifted on his elbows and leaned toward me. "The same fear that made you an alcoholic bum, January. But I'm going to get under that fear and find out what you discovered."
"You think so?" I sneered, my voice sounding reedy to my ears.
"Yes," he said. "You see, I've got to. I know everything you know—except what made you afraid."
"You think so?" I repeated monotonously.