I'm so caught off-guard that I don't even know where to start my questions. I start with a simple, if not stupid one.

"Why are people randomly bursting into flames on the sidewalk?"

It must have been stupid because Dr. Groth lets a smirk grow across his face. He quickly remembers that it might not be the most tactful thing to laugh out loud at the death of a human-being just seconds ago. He gets serious again.

He slowly returns to his chair, laboring as though to say it's a long story without actually saying it.

"Have you ever heard of caloviridae, Detective?"

I have. It would be especially difficult not to know about it since the world is panicking about it on a near daily basis. It's a bug that's mostly under control, but for the handful who do get it, the results are excruciating. Some have described it as being like having your blood boil your organs until you can't take it anymore, then you live just a little longer before you die.

I play dumb and let the doctor explain it to me anyway. You never know what you might learn if you let someone tell you something you already know. What I learn here is that Dr. Groth is a true scientist. Where I feel like I might start turning green while he describes exactly what happens to the human body as your body temperature rises to unreasonable heights, he is strictly clinical about it. Just straight facts and no emotion to be had.

He goes on to explain that they're working on a top secret vaccine for caloviridae. They're in private clinical trials right now and the man that she had the encounter with on the road was one of the volunteers. Given what happened to him, they'll obviously be pausing the trials.

"That doesn't explain why people burst into flames for no good reason."

"I agree. It's something we're looking into, but if I had to hazard a guess it's that our latest cocktail seems to hasten the heating, for lack of a better term, to such an exponential rate that our patients burst into literal flames. It's gruesome, but also an interesting discovery that could lead to any number of useful outcomes in the future."

"What about Dr. Winslow? Was he a part of the trial? Did he explode in his apartment?"

Dr. Groth looks taken aback. Not quite the hearty laugh I was getting before, but still a big reaction given he was just telling me about people baking their kidneys inside their body like it was a recipe for a pot roast.

"That's quite a conclusion you've come to," He leans into his desk, almost belittling me with his follow up question. "You do know the process of how vaccines are made, correct?"

I play dumb again.

"Well, in order to create the antibodies to fight the virus that may infect you, you have to give the antibodies something to target. Given that we've been lucky enough to avoid the spread of this virus in our country, we had to get our samples from somewhere. Dr. Winslow remains on assignment as we speak."

"So what? You're telling me Dr. Winslow is overseas trying to get samples himself? Rather than having samples sent back here or something like that?"

"The nature of our business implores that we do as much as we can in-house. This is the best way to maintain our intellectual property."

"Then why am I here? Why are you telling me all this?"

"As I mentioned, I know you'd have questions. What I'm trying to do is be as open and frank with you as I can. In return, I only ask for some professional courtesy."

"In the form of what? Are you expecting me to sign something?"

"No, no. Nothing like that. We're simply trying to quell your curiosity in hopes that you will allow us to continue operating unencumbered. Lives are at stake and every minute is valuable, as I'm sure you understand."

I don't buy his spin, but I'm getting a lot more information than I was down on the street. I don't push this issue any further.

"Tell me, what did I see at Dr. Winslow's that night if not his scorch marks on the walls?"

"I don't keep a manifest of whom my colleagues consort with. I couldn't tell you who was in his apartment that night."

"Interesting. Your rep there, Gabby, was on site before any of us could get there. You're telling me it wasn't to cover anything up?"

Dr. Groth doesn't answer my question. Instead, he pages Gabby and tells her to join them in the office. Seconds later, she makes her way in and stands at the end of the desk, just between myself and Dr. Groth.

"Can you tell Detective Rose here what you were doing at Dr. Winslow's the night you two had first met?"

Gabby gives an uneasy look to Dr. Groth.

"You can tell her anything you would tell me," He assures her. "Treat this as a conversation between our peers."

"I was there to feed Dr. Winslow's cat."

That seems like a weak alibi.

"I didn't see a cat there," She immediately starts to tear up. I put it together right then.

"Wait. The fire wasn't electrical. It was the cat?"

Gabby can't bring herself to answer. Instead, she just nods her head.

"Why didn't you tell me that night?"

"I couldn't. We have strict non-disclosures. Since it was part of the trial-"

"So, you lied to a police officer?"

"No. I didn't lie."

"You said it was an electrical fire when you knew it wasn't."

"No," Dr. Groth interjects. "The automated system told you it was an electrical fire."

"A lie by omission is still a lie."

"Bygones, Detective. Gabby meant nothing by it. She was making a logical choice and decided whatever ills may be wrought by omitting a few details from her answers to you, which she was by no means compelled to divulge, were less harsh than whatever ills breaching her NDA might have wrought."

I stew in my seat while Gabby wipes away tears from her eyes. Maybe I was too harsh on the girl. If she was really just there to feed the cat and found a pile of ash instead, only to then be grilled by a detective, she held it all together quite well until now.

"Were you experimenting on cats? How does a cat get this virus?"

"It originated in cats. Given that Dr. Winslow was routinely exposed to the virus on his various excursions, even with all the precautions he's taken, it's entirely possible he unknowingly passed it onto his poor departed feline companion."

It's a stretch that I'm not willing to buy, but I'm not going to get anywhere with this line of questioning. Dr. Groth starts to shift in his seat, clearly losing interest in the novelty of having a detective grill him.

"Any more questions?" Dr. Groth asks.

I tell him I have none for now, but I'd like to keep this line of communication open. He says he's happy to, as long as their understanding remains intact. I tell no one what I learned today and he'll keep the line open for as long as my curiosity deems fit.

I'd say that I would believe that when pigs fly, but who knows what floor they might have that on.