Part 40 (2/2)
Nice work, for a doctor.
Jill couldn't feel pleased with herself, not after such a bittersweet day. After all the people who died, and at the end of the day, the ones she felt sorriest for were the girls. Victoria would need time to understand her father, and Abby had her work cut out for her, starting over in school. Jill thought of Megan, with a pang. They would have a lot more conversations before she understood what had happened, and Jill felt terrible for being wrong about her panic attack. It's true that more than one thing could have caused it, but she'd lost touch with Megan this week. She'd been guilty of diagnosis momentum, with her own daughter.
Jill mulled over the events of the day. The only bright spot was Rahul. That hadn't been an easy diagnosis, and she thanked G.o.d that she hadn't stopped asking what was behind Rahul's ear infections. That's where the truth lay. Behind. Under. Hidden.
Jill's gaze fell on her laptop screen, aglow with the all the files William had made, about tons of drugs. He had made tons of money, too, but he wanted more, and that had gotten him killed. She eyed the screen. Something felt wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on it. And she found herself wondering.
What's behind this?
Chapter Seventy-three.
”Sam, wake up,” Jill whispered, giving him a quick kiss on his grizzled cheek. She'd showered and dressed as if on fire, then made him a mug of black coffee, and its aroma scented the air. ”Wake up, I have something to tell you.”
”What?” Sam s.h.i.+fted over, groggy. ”What's got into you?” He glanced at the clock, its digital numbers glowing in the dim bedroom. ”Babe, it's five o'clock in the morning.”
”I know.” Jill rubbed his back in the thin T-s.h.i.+rt. It was still dark outside, but dawn was on the way and there was no time to lose. ”We have to hurry. We have to leave.”
”Okay, okay.” Sam edged up in bed, blinking, his hair ruffled. ”What's happening?”
”I figured out something. The diagnosis is wrong.” Jill switched on the lamp, and Sam squinted against the light, putting up a hand to s.h.i.+eld his eyes.
”What are you talking about?”
”We stopped asking, what's behind this? We mistook the first answer for the right answer.”
”What diagnosis? Wrong about what?”
”Okay, well, here goes.” Jill handed him his coffee and launched into telling him what she'd figured out last night, and he drained his cup while she finished. ”And now that I know the truth, I'm going to do something about it. This morning. Are you with me?”
Sam blinked. ”You really want to do this?”
”Yes. Absolutely.”
”Then I'm with you, all the way.” Sam smiled, shaking his head. ”I figured us out, you know. I'm a thinker, and you're a doer.”
”So what are you waiting for?” Jill smiled back. ”Do!”
Sam threw off the covers, and Jill ran for his clothes.
Chapter Seventy-four.
Jill approached the Pharmcen building, walked through the gla.s.s entrance, and strode past the security desk to the granite reception banquette, with its phones and monitor screens. The pretty young receptionist was the same one as yesterday, and she hung up the phone, recognizing Jill.
”May I help you?” she asked, already wary.
”Yes, h.e.l.lo, I don't need an appointment, but I have some doc.u.ments for Elliott Horton.” Jill handed over a manila envelope, which contained copies of a few of William's emails to himself, without the identifying information. ”Can you get these to him, as soon as possible?”
”Yes,” the receptionist answered, but her attention s.h.i.+fted to the right, and Jill guessed that the security guard was coming up from behind, so she turned around and saw that he was the same one, too, with the funny soul patch.
”h.e.l.lo, Barry,” Jill said, with a smile.
”How may I help you today, Miss?” he asked, coldly.
”I'd appreciate it if somebody could take these doc.u.ments to Elliott Horton.”
”Doc.u.ments?” The guard eyed the envelope with suspicion. ”What kind of doc.u.ments?”
”It's only paper, and he'll want to see it.” Jill lifted the flap, showing him. ”Okay?”
”Fine.” The guard nodded at the receptionist, who extended a hand, and Jill gave her the envelope.
”Thanks so much. Please give those to Elliott as soon as possible. I'll be leaving now.” Jill turned and walked to the entrance, with the security guard on her heels. He stood watch outside the building while she went to Sam's Lexus, got inside, and drove away.
She had reached the first traffic light on Weehawk Boulevard before her cell phone rang. She checked the screen. She didn't recognize the number, but she knew exactly who was calling her.
”h.e.l.lo, Elliott,” Jill answered, bracing herself.
Chapter Seventy-five.
Jill waited on a wooden bench in the corporate park behind Pharmcen, with her purse and BlackBerry beside her. The park was beautiful and quiet, a several-acre tract of open s.p.a.ce for company picnics and softball games, bordered by willow trees, boxwood, and hedges. There was a man-made pond on the left, and a mallard duck landed on the pumped-in water, its wings extended, showing bright blue stripes. The only other people in the park were a young man and a woman a few benches away, their heads bent together.
Jill straightened up when she spotted Elliott Horton entering the park. He came stalking toward her across the gra.s.s, his head down and his thin, white-blond hair catching the sunlight. He looked to be in his forties, tall and skinny, in a white oxford s.h.i.+rt and dark blue pants, and he was frowning deeply. He hadn't even reached Jill before he started firing questions at her.
”Is this some kind of joke?” Elliot's voice was on the high side, and his diction precise. ”Who are you and where did you get that information?”
”Sit down and I'll explain.”
Elliott remained standing. ”That information is confidential, the property of Pharmcen. It's a ma.s.sive breach of company security.”
”Yes it is.” Jill thought a minute. ”Yet you came to meet me alone, and it couldn't have been easy to get away this morning, with Pharmcen in the news. The government indicted the biggest hedge fund on Wall Street last night, for insider trading in Pharmcen stock, specifically with respect to recalls. I would think somebody would want to interview you.” Jill c.o.c.ked her head. ”Come to think of it, how did you get away?”
”Our PR department handles all that, and I didn't think this would take long. Now who are you, and where did you get that information?”
”Oh, I guess I was wrong. I was thinking that your bosses and maybe some security types told you to come out and meet me, to see what I wanted.”
”No, not at all.” Elliott's eyes widened slightly, a wan blue. His skin was as pale as a lab rat's. ”Now answer my question. Who are you, and how did you get our data?”
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