Malice

by Jennifer Jaynes

  Teddy mixed another Bloody Mary. “Anyway, I’ve gotten to the point where I can barely pay the rent or the staff’s paychecks. That’s why Respira and the sixty other immunoceuticals in the pipeline are such a beautiful gift to us. Not only will these drugs improve the quality of life for our patients and their families, they’re going to save the practice.”

  There was a heavy, sick weight in the air. Daniel opened his mouth to say something, but Teddy held up a hand. “There are doctors. Leadership teams. Experienced medical professionals who are on top of all this drug safety shit. People like Jim and Cy. You have to trust them to do their jobs. You need to let them worry about the safety of these drugs, and you just worry about doing your job. If Respira is as unsafe as you think it is, it will eventually be taken off the market.”

  “So, you’re asking me to administer a drug that I know is hurting patients?”

  “Danny, you don’t know it’s hurting patients. And as long as you continue not to know, you’ll be fine. It’s called plausible deniability. It’s the way things are done.”

  Daniel’s breath quickened. He’d been right. The financial bottom line was taking precedent over the quality of patients’ care at their practice.

  Teddy stared at him, his face red. “Don’t you understand, Danny? Without Respira, we lose the practice. You lose your job. All the staff loses their jobs. It impacts people’s lives. And the patients? They would have to find new doctors. And you know how hard that can be.” Teddy snorted with derision. “You don’t understand. Pharma is a multibillion-dollar game, and you and I are just pawns. There’s nothing you can do to stop this drug. Nothing. They won’t let you. And if you force it, I’m going to have no choice but to let you go. Good luck paying off your student loans while delivering pizzas. Because if you leave, I guarantee you will never work as a pediatrician in California again. I’ll see to that personally. No one can afford to hire a rogue doctor, Daniel.”

  The threat stung. But Daniel knew what Teddy was saying was true. It didn’t matter if what he was doing was wrong or not, the reputation Teddy could give him would haunt him forever. To go against him would be career suicide. But he’d taken an oath to his patients. To do no harm. Not to do what was best for the practice.

  “We’re talking about kids’ lives here,” Daniel said.

  Teddy’s eyes flashed. He spun around and hurled his drink at the wall behind the bar. The glass exploded, and the tomato-red liquid dripped down the wall like blood.

  Teddy turned to face Daniel again. A vein in his forehead was jumping. He glared at Daniel and pointed a stubby finger in his face. “Listen and listen closely. This is the last time I’m going to say this to you, so don’t forget it: it’s never Respira. That’s all you need to know. Got it?”

  Teddy slipped behind the bar and grabbed a stack of bar towels. He took one and wiped his forehead. It was the second time in the last few days that Daniel had seen Teddy lose control. Now he understood why. He was having financial troubles with the clinic. Daniel thought about Chet. “Chet . . . he has seven grandchildren. I wonder if they’ve gotten Respira.”

  Teddy’s laugh was joyless. “Of course they didn’t. I’m sure they don’t get half the shit we give kids today.”

  Teddy went to the wall and started wiping up the mess. “Look, you didn’t sign up to be a Boy Scout, Daniel. You signed up to practice medicine. And these days, this is how we practice it. Not only that, but you insist on making more noise about this, unemployment will be the least of your worries.”

  Least of my worries? What does that mean?

  “Oh, that reminds me,” Teddy said, turning to face him. “My condolences about your friend.”

  Friend? “What do you mean?” Daniel asked.

  “Andy Cameron, was it? The kid from the clinic you said was asking around about Respira?”

  “What—”

  “You didn’t hear, Danny? He killed himself. Jumped off a cliff in the Hollywood Hills.”

  CHAPTER 28

  MIA

  THE MAN’S AWFUL screams sliced through Mia’s nightmare and jolted her awake. She tried to shake off the grisly images parading through her brain. Blood everywhere. Spraying on her face, on the leather couch, pouring from between the man’s fingers.

  Bruce stood from where he’d been curled up at the end of the bed and went to her. He sniffed her face and her hair and whined.

  Her heart was pounding. “I’m okay, boy,” she said and patted him on the head. She worked to slow her breathing. “It was just a bad dream.”

  That was only half-true.

  The dog stretched his long body, stared at her, then released a big yawn.

  It was already 10:00 a.m. She grabbed her phone, checked her texts, and felt a wash of disappointment. She’d texted Daniel several times since he’d left for Teddy’s cabin, but he hadn’t responded even once.

  She’d picked up the orchids last night on the way to the valley, then texted Daniel a story that she’d manufactured about the flower mix-up and had hoped with her explanation the distance between them would disappear. She hoped his behavior—at least where she was concerned—was due to those orchids and nothing more.

  Bruce thumped his tail and stared at her.

  She forced a smile. “Come on, handsome. I’ll let you out.”

  She crawled out of bed and threw on her robe. By the time she got downstairs, Bruce was already waiting by the door. She let him out, then went to brew a pot of coffee.

  She’d driven home from Christian’s at 2:15 a.m. and strangely slept like a rock for the rest of the night, which was very unusual for her. This morning, despite the nightmare, she actually felt refreshed for the first time since they’d returned from the Caymans.

  Bruce trotted back into the house, barked, and took off across the living room to the foyer.

  Weird, she thought. Was someone at the door? She hadn’t heard a knock. She followed Bruce to the foyer and watched a shadow pass across the pane of glass to the right of the front door. Then the shadow was gone.

  “Hello?” she called out, walking slowly to the front door.

  Silence.

  She pressed her eye up to the peephole. But she didn’t see anyone. Bruce stood next to her, whining and sniffing at the bottom of the door.

  She unlocked the door and opened it. Someone had left a brown 9x12 envelope on the doorstep. The words Dr. Winters were scrawled across it in thick red marker.

  She bent and picked it up, then looked around again. But there was no one in sight. Whoever left it had vanished.

  A little before 3:00 p.m. Bruce sprinted to the front door again.

  Daniel was home.

  Mia licked cream cheese frosting from her fingers and grabbed a hand towel as she walked to the door to greet him.

  She opened the door just as he was sliding his key into the lock. “Beat you,” she said, smiling. But when she got a good look at him, the smile fell from her face.

  Daniel was wearing the same flannel shirt as yesterday, only it was now wrinkled. His unshaven face was bloated, his skin was pale, and he reeked of alcohol. Despite it all, it was his eyes that really threw her. They were intense and stormy.

  “You okay?” she asked, reaching out to hug him. “I called and texted you. I was worried.”

  “There was no cell service at the cabin.”

  He brushed past her and walked to the kitchen, then set his phone on the charging station and opened the wine cabinet. He pulled out a bottle of merlot and set it on the butcher block.

  “Want a glass?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

  He was drinking early again. And if his glassy eyes and the stink of alcohol emanating from him were any indication, this wasn’t his first drink of the day.

  “Did you get my text about the mix-up with the orchids?” she asked, reaching out and fingering one of the blooms. She’d watered them—and placed an aspirin in the water so they’d keep longer—and had arranged them
in the center of the island.

  He nodded, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

  “Thank you for these. They’re really lovely.”

  Daniel grabbed two wineglasses from the cabinet.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  He shook his head no and reached for the corkscrew.

  “You sure? I baked a cake. Red velvet. Your favorite.” She pointed to the cake she’d just finished covering in lemon cream cheese frosting.

  “I’m sure,” he mumbled.

  “So, what did Teddy want to talk about?”

  Daniel poured the wine and handed her a wineglass. He took a long sip from his own glass before responding, then rubbed at his swollen eyes. When he opened his eyes, she saw anger in them. “He wanted to let me know that he cares more about his fucking bank account than the well-being of our patients.”

  “I’m sorry . . . what?”

  A deep frown creased his brow. “And my friend, Andy?”

  “What about him?”

  “Apparently, he killed himself.”

  Shock waves rolled through her body. Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, my God, Daniel. I’m so sorry!”

  Daniel started pacing the room and told her what he knew. He said that the younger doctor had tried to reach out to him a few days ago. That he’d said it was important, but by the time Daniel was able to get back to him, Andy hadn’t responded. And now he was dead. She could see he was torn up about it.

  He took another long sip of his wine, then set the glass down and reached for the bottle again. “Suicide,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “It just doesn’t sit right. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

  Mia reached in the cupboard and grabbed a dessert plate and a knife while Daniel talked. A ray of afternoon sun filtering in from the kitchen window glistened on the sharp blade of the knife, and remnants of her nightmare came flooding back. Trying to shake it from her head, she sliced the cake. Then she remembered Daniel telling her that Andy had been asking him about Respira. She thought about the Hemsworths. “Wait. Do you think it was possible he was murdered?” she asked. “For asking around about Respira?”

  Daniel turned toward the ocean. He stared at it and rubbed the back of his neck. “It sounds pretty far-fetched, but honestly . . . at this point, I don’t know what to think.”

  Daniel told her some of the things he and Teddy had discussed at the cabin. About the practice being in financial trouble. About Teddy’s threats. “He made it clear that I prescribe Respira or I’m out of a job. Maybe even a career.”

  Mia noticed his left hand was shaking. He seemed to notice it, too, because he stopped talking for a moment and stared at it. She also noticed that he kept checking his phone.

  Since waking up this morning, she’d been doing more research on Respira, curious to find out more about the drug. She’d read that there was a huge push to get it on the shot schedule. Quickly. Much quicker than any other drug that had been awarded a spot. They wanted to establish a precedent with it. “If they get it on the schedule, parents will be forced to give it to their kids if they want them to have access to public schools. Even day cares,” she said.

  Daniel raked his hand through his hair and stared out the window at the ocean again. “Yeah, I know.”

  Several hours later, they made it to bed. They lay silently, Mia’s head resting on Daniel’s chest. They didn’t talk. Didn’t turn on the television. They just lay, listening to the waves lap the shore outside. They’d talked about a lot, and Mia wondered how much of their conversation Daniel would remember tomorrow.

  He’d almost singlehandedly polished off two bottles of wine. She knew he was hammered, but she was relieved that he had warmed up toward her again. He wasn’t shutting her out or being cold, like he’d been yesterday. It was a step in the right direction. She only hoped he’d continue to let her in once he sobered up.

  She wondered again if Daniel would be in danger if he continued to question Respira. Continued to talk to people about it. If she would be in danger. If what Hemsworth’s father was saying was true, they both could be. She would need to talk to Daniel when he was sober. Figure out what they should do to protect themselves.

  Daniel’s phone lit up and started dancing across the nightstand.

  He turned away from her and fumbled for it. She lifted her head and watched his eyes move across the screen. A peculiar expression flashed across his face.

  “Daniel?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

  He ignored her, jumped out of bed, and staggered from the room.

  CHAPTER 29

  DANIEL

  DANIEL BARELY HEARD Mia’s voice behind him asking what was wrong as he stumbled his way into the hallway. He reread Billy’s text, and his breath caught in his throat.

  You were right to be suspicious. Mikey had an emergency, so I had to bail, but we should meet in the morning.

  You were right to be suspicious? What the hell did that mean?

  I’ve been telling you this all along. She’s—

  Anger flooded his belly. “Shut. Up!” he said, his voice shattering the silence of the house.

  Shit. He hadn’t meant to shout. What the hell was happening to him?

  For one, you’re drunk. You’re also—

  He shoved the voice away. He had no idea how it was even still awake. He’d had a lot to drink.

  Daniel called Billy, but the call went directly to voice mail.

  Shit!

  He typed: Answer your phone!

  He pressed redial, shuffled into his home office, and slammed the door. Again, Billy didn’t answer. Dammit!

  He typed: WHAT did you find out?

  He sat down, stood back up, paced the small space of the room. Why the hell wasn’t Billy answering?

  He contemplated driving to Billy’s place, but he’d had far too much to drink. Besides, he had no idea where Billy even lived. All he knew was that it was somewhere in the San Fernando Valley.

  He tried to call again.

  Once more, he got Billy’s voice mail.

  He felt his mouth tighten. Shit! Fine beads of sweat sprung from his forehead, and he glanced wildly around his office. There were printouts strewn across his desk. Research. A couple of sheets of paper had fallen to the floor. Two cans of Dr Pepper were on his credenza, both empty, one crumpled.

  He was never untidy like this.

  Deciding to make use of the adrenaline pumping through his veins, he began straightening up his mess. He tried pulling the paperwork together, but his hands weren’t cooperating. They were shaking badly now. He glanced at his phone and saw thought bubbles had popped up. Billy was finally typing a reply.

  He picked up the phone and waited for the reply to come through. Billy seemed to type for ages. But then the ellipses vanished.

  Shit!

  Daniel typed again: Where are you? Give me your address. I’ll come to you.

  He would get an Uber or a Lyft or something. There was no way he could wait until the morning to find out what Billy had discovered.

  Shit, Billy! You can’t leave me hanging like this. Pick up your damn phone! Mia was cheating, wasn’t she? He should’ve known. He should have trusted his instincts that first night at the bar. Why hadn’t he trusted them? He’d started drinking, that’s why. He’d started drinking while he was talking to her, and it had made him stop thinking.

  He’d been such a fool. He thought again about how Mia didn’t have an internet footprint. That wasn’t normal. Even he had a Facebook account. He didn’t really use it, but at least he had one. Mia, on the other hand, was a ghost. He wondered if maybe cheating wasn’t all she was doing. If there was something more that he didn’t know.

  A message finally came through: Meet me at that diner in Brentwood at 6 a.m. tomorrow. The one we saw Matt Damon at last year.

  Daniel stared at the message, wondering how the hell he would be able to wait until six in the morning. Thought bubbles appeared again. Then: UR old lady is not to be tru
sted.

  CHAPTER 30

  DANIEL

  WHEN DANIEL WALKED into the diner the next morning, the sky was still the color of ink, and the wine he’d drunk yesterday was still pumping through his bloodstream.

  Arriving half an hour early, he slid into a booth and texted Billy to let him know that he’d arrived.

  A middle-aged waitress walked over. She looked tired, as though she was on the tail end of a graveyard shift. Daniel tried not to stare at the red smear of lipstick on her front tooth. “What can I get you, sugar?”

  “Coffee, please.”

  “That all?”

  “Yes.”

  “We have fresh doughnuts.”

  “No, thanks.”

  “And cherry turnovers. They just came out of the oven. They’re real good.”

  “Just the coffee.”

  She nodded and walked off.

  Daniel scrolled back through his and Billy’s conversation.

  You were right to be suspicious . . . UR old lady is not to be trusted.

  The words had haunted him all night. What had Billy found out?

  Rage ballooned in his chest. It had all been a lie. Since the night they met. Hadn’t it?

  The waitress placed a coffee cup on the table and filled it with hot coffee.

  “Sure you don’t want something to eat?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Okay, then.” She motioned to the plastic creamer and sugar packets that were in a bowl on the table. “Help yourself.”

  She walked away again, and Daniel took a sip.

  He peered down at the brown envelope in front of him. He’d discovered it this morning on the island in the kitchen. It had his name on it. He was just about to tear it open when a text message came in.

  He set the envelope down and picked up his phone.

  It was Mia.

  What’s going on? Is everything okay?

  He’d left early this morning without telling her.

  Ignoring her message, he propped his elbows on the table and held his head between his palms. He was so disappointed, so disillusioned, so angry. He’d wanted so badly for Billy to say that Mia had a good explanation for everything so that they could go back to the way they’d been. All he had to hang on to now was the possibility that Billy had gotten something wrong. Or that he was exaggerating. After all, both scenarios were possible.