Placebo by Steven James Read Free Book Online

it takes me awhile to find the one I’m looking for. “Okay. Here: ‘Nothing exists except atoms and empty space; everything else is opinion.’”
    She considers that for a moment. “Sure. Even solid objects are mostly space, the electron orbiting the nucleus. Who wrote that? Dr. Tanbyrn?”
    â€œNot quite. A little bit before his time.”
    â€œEinstein?”
    â€œDemocritus. He died in 370 BC.”
    â€œThat’s amazing.”
    I hand her one of the books. “Here. You can read this one if you want. I highlighted all the good stuff. Up to chapter 9.”
    But she straightens up. “Actually, I was thinking I’d take a quick shower, freshen up. It was a long day in the car.”
    â€œAh, yes. Well, maybe later.”
    She pats my shoulder. “I’ll let you do all the heavy lifting. You can fill me in when you’re done.”
    Then she leaves me alone to my reading, and I settle in with my pen, highlighter, and the shorter, more recent of the two textbooks, and flip to the chapter on quantum entanglement and theories about the results of a meta-analysis of studies on identical twins. As I do, I can’t help but think of Drew and Tony, who, just like so many identical twins, seemed to communicate with each other in unexplainable ways—finishing each other’s sentences, making up words that the other boy seemed to instinctively know the meaning of, even, at times, giving the impression that they knew what each other was thinking.
    As I begin to read, the memory of my two sons pinches my heart, and I can’t help but wonder if this research will help me to understand them better or just make me miss them all the more.

    Riah Colette showed her ID to the security guard in the RixoTray Pharmaceuticals corporate headquarters’ lobby, took the elevator to the top floor, and entered the suite where her paramour worked in his corner office.
    Whenever Cyrus was in his office—no matter what time of day—his secretary, Caitlyn Vaughn, would be stationed at the reception desk out front. Riah nodded to her, and the young woman gave her a half-frown but waved her through.
    Since Cyrus was a married man, he’d wanted to avoid his place from the beginning of their relationship, and Riah never let him come to her apartment, so that limited their choices. Sometimes they would slip off to a hotel room, but more often than not they stayed here in his office.
    Riah had the sense that the twenty-something redhead was jealous of her liaisons with her boss, and she wondered how many times Caitlyn had leaned close to the door to listen to the sounds coming from inside the office during her visits. It was something to think about. Perhaps she would ask her about it one of these days.
    Quietly, Riah gave the door a light one-knuckle knock, just enough to let Cyrus know someone was there, but then entered before he had a chance to call her in.
    He was on the phone, and she could tell he was taken aback by her arrival, but he quickly put on a smile and signaled to her that he would be with her in a moment, then gestured toward a chair: Have a seat.
    She chose not to, but instead angled toward the window.
    Impeccably dressed in a suit that cost more than most people’s entire wardrobes, Cyrus looked sharp, powerful, confident. But also stern. Any gentleness he might’ve tried to portray was betrayed by his eyes, which were like two steel balls, blank and emotionless. Two miniature shot puts embedded in his head. Riah had seen him enjoy himself, oh yes, but had never seen him happy, not really. And that intrigued her. Because she couldn’t remember a time when she’d been happy either.
    He let his gaze drift from her face and slide down her body, along the curves of her dress, and she didn’t discourage it. She felt no shame in using her looks and figure in her research into human nature, into attraction, into love. She kept in shape for this,