Chapter 11
Doug and I sped home and flicked on his computer. We searched for the Montana Genetics Project. It came up, but all the links were dead as doornails. I wondered how doornails actually died. Did a hammer kill them?
“I guess that makes sense, the dead links,” said Doug, who was sitting in front of the computer as I stood over him. “This all must’ve happened two decades ago. All these links look news related, no official government sites. Based on the confidentiality agreement Lou signed, I’m guessing there were no official sites to begin with. Probably all hush-hush.” He scanned the Google pages. “Still, you get the first line or two. Looks for anything that jumps out.”
It jumped a moment later. It jumped to my throat and lodged there, in fact. I pointed, eyes bugging. “Council
