Chapter 11 - THE THREAT THAT FOLLOWED ME TO SEATTLE
The Seattle conference began on a Tuesday.
I stood backstage holding my presentation notes.
My hands were shaking.
Noah stood beside me.
“You've got this.”
I laughed nervously.
“Easy for you to say.”
He smiled.
“You know the data better than anyone.”
I looked toward the auditorium.
Hundreds of scientists.
A giant screen.
My name on the program.
DR. CLAIRE BENNETT — ASTROPHYSICAL VARIABILITY ANALYSIS
I took a breath.
Then walked onto the stage.
The lights were bright.
The room was quiet.
I began speaking.
At first, my voice trembled.
Then I reached the data.
The graphs.
The models.
The evidence.
And suddenly, I forgot to be afraid.
For thirty minutes, I was exactly where I belonged.
When the presentation ended, the audience applauded.
I stood there stunned.
Professor Whitcomb smiled from the front row.
Noah gave me a thumbs-up.
I nearly cried.
Then my phone buzzed backstage.
A message from an unfamiliar number.
ENJOY YOUR LITTLE SPEECH. IT MAY BE YOUR LAST.
My blood turned cold.
I stared.
Then immediately contacted conference security.
The police were notified.
The message was preserved.
Investigators reviewed the earlier threats.
This time, they found a connection.
The number had been purchased through a service used by an employee of Julian Reynolds's former investment firm.
I sat in a conference office while an officer took my statement.
Noah waited nearby.
He looked furious.
“Who does this?”
I shook my head.
“I don't know.”
He sat beside me.
“Are you okay?”
I stared at the floor.
“No.”
He nodded.
“Then I'll sit here.”
I looked at him.
He didn't promise to fix everything.
He didn't tell me not to be afraid.
He didn't make my fear about himself.
May you like
He simply stayed.
And for some reason, that kindness made me cry harder than the threat itself.
