by MJ Rodgers
“Why?” Whitney asked.
“Because Crowe-Cromwell had just gotten approval from the FDA to release a new fertility drug on the market. Of course, that drug had only proved thirty percent effective on women previously labeled infertile and came equipped with serious side effects, including a staggering increase in ovarian cancer. But they didn’t care. All they cared about was recouping what they had spent on R and D for the drug.”
“I don’t understand,” Whitney said. “You presented them with a new, safe process, with no side effects, that was far more effective. Why didn’t they just pull the other drug and wait until your process was approved by the FDA?”
“Because it took eleven years and close to two hundred million dollars to get their other drug approved. CroweCromwell wanted their two hundred million back in drug sales before they submitted anything new.”
“So, for the sake of money, they were ready to unleash a seriously flawed drug on women desperate enough to take it because of their desire to conceive? That’s despicable,” Whitney said.
“And that is what I told them, Ms. West. I had to watch my wife die of cancer. I didn’t want it happening to other women. I told them I wasn’t going to shelve my formula until they had recouped their money. I told them I was going ahead with my process and getting it out to the women who could use it.”
“What did they say, Dr. Miller?” Adam asked.
“They told me it wasn’t my formula, it was theirs. Their big-shot lawyer, Stanford Carver, sent me a threatening letter which said if I violated my contract by saying anything about my new fertility process to anyone outside the company, I would be fired, all health benefits to my dying wife would immediately be cut off and they would see to it that I was prosecuted and disgraced in every scientific circle.
“I left the office in a daze, clutching all those horrible memos in my hands, and went to the hospital to see my wife. I kept thinking ‘I’ll read these to Maria and we’ll figure out what to do, just like always.’ I was so stunned by their threats, I had even forgotten that the cancer that was taking my Marla’s life had long ago taken away her capacity to participate in those warm, intimate talks we had once shared.
“Patrice and Peter found me crying next to her hospital bed many hours later that night. They took me home. The next day, when I arrived at work, I found my supervisor had locked me out of my lab, and Patrice had been reassigned to another researcher.
“They put me at an empty desk in a corner of the steno pool. It didn’t even have a phone. They were doing everything they could to show me how powerless I was against them. When the hospital called that afternoon to tell me my Marla was gone, one of the stenographers had to relay the news.
“That was when I swore on the sacred memory of my wife that somehow I would get my fertility process out of CroweCromwell’s hands and into the hands of the women who needed it. I called the FDA. But the secretary insisted on first knowing my name and the name of the firm I worked for before she would even take a message for someone to call me back.
“I gave her what she demanded. When no one contacted me, I called back the next day. That same secretary said she had checked with Crowe-Cromwell, and they’d told her I was mentally disturbed due to the recent death of my wife. They told her to ignore me.
“Later that day on the way to my wife’s funeral, a truck ran my car off the road. I landed in a ditch, and my car had to be towed out. I can’t prove it, but I believe it was someone from Crowe-Cromwell driving that truck. I didn’t know whether they were trying to scare me or kill me. When I confided what happened to Grover McGrory at the funeral, he took me aside and told me I should disappear for a while, just in case. That’s when I got the idea of faking my own death. Grover agreed to help me with it and tell the police he had seen me get on my boat before it blew up.”
“What about Patrice and Peter?” Whitney said.
“I told them the truth, but made sure they were far away at the time I was supposedly killing myself, so there would be no question of their being in on it, should I get caught.”
“And McGrory?” Adam asked.
“He knew I’d swear to the police I jumped over the side before the boat blew and convince them that I duped him, as well as everyone else. And you’d best understand, I will, too. I won’t repay his friendship by implicating him in this.”
“We don’t want to hurt you or your friend, Dr. Miller,” Whitney said, her tone highlighting the meaning in her words.
Miller sighed. “It didn’t matter that Crowe-Cromwell had locked me out of my lab. I knew my formula by heart. I had copied all my data from the clinical trials onto computer disks. I had them at home, since I did so much of my work there.
“At my direction Patrice took the disks and flew to Vancouver to meet with a reputable pharmaceutical company that I knew was going through some rough times. I was certain they’d recognize the formula’s worth and use it. I was disappointed, however, when Patrice returned and told me she had exchanged it for stock. I wanted it given away, not sold.”
“Did she tell you why she took the stock?” Adam asked.
“She took it for me. She felt I deserved to get something for all my effort. I told her that discovering the process and getting it out to women was all the reward I needed, and I didn’t want the stock. I told her to give it back.”
“But she didn’t,” Whitney said.
“She said if I refused to benefit from it, she knew other people she could give it to who would. I tried to tell her how dangerous it was for her to be associated with that stock when Emery Pharmaceuticals came out with my process. But she wouldn’t listen. She said she had abandoned her job with Crowe-Cromwell, and there was nothing they could do. And then Peter went and pulled that damn stupid stunt.”
“What stunt?” Adam asked.
“He wanted revenge on Crowe-Cromwell for their treatment of me. He wrote a letter to them saying that he had the formula and the computer disks with the research data, and it would cost them two million to get them back.
“Of course it didn’t work. Crowe-Cromwell turned the letter over to the police, and they arrested Peter for extortion. The instant I found out, I called Patrice and told her to pack her things immediately and disappear. I warned her that Crowe Cromwell would be after her, too. I wouldn’t let her off the phone until she promised me. I warned her not to get in touch with Peter, since they would be looking for her to do that.”
“Had Crowe-Cromwell discovered your foster-parent relationship to Patrice?” Whitney asked.
Miller shook his head. “No, but they found out Peter was my foster son when he made my funeral arrangements. And all Patrice’s co-workers knew that she and Peter were lovers. They were bound to believe she was in on it with him.”
“Neither you nor Patrice destroyed the formula or clinical data from Crowe-Cromwell’s computer?” Adam asked.
“No, of course not. We didn’t want the process destroyed. We wanted it used.”
“It was just another lie we were told,” Whitney said, exchanging glances with Adam.
“My mother had Alzheimer’s for many years before she died,” Miller continued. “I came here to hide. Dressed in women’s clothing, I became her nurse. The only ones who knew I was still alive were Grover, Peter and Patrice. I pretended to be my mother when I arranged for Peter’s lawyer.
“Then Crowe-Cromwell’s big-shot attorney, that Stanford Carver guy, told Peter they’d drop the charges against him if he turned over the computer disks and signed a statement admitting his guilt to theft and extortion and fully disclosing Patrice’s role in both.”
“How did Peter respond to their offer?” Adam asked.
“He refused it. He said he never had the disks and Patrice had nothing to do with any of it. It took nearly eighteen months for his case to go to trial, the first six months of which he spent in jail while I tried to make his bail. When I finally got him out, he went looking for Patrice.
“When he found out
she had changed her name to Waring and married you, Mr. Justice, he was very upset. He loved her from the first moment he saw her. Maria and I explained to Peter that Patrice’s early experiences had seriously impaired her ability to love. We immediately sent him to school in Europe to separate them. The day he returned was the day Patrice was graduated from college. He presented her with an engagement ring. She refused him. Still, he never gave up.
“I know he went to see Patrice the day after you returned from your honeymoon. She agreed to meet with him secretly during that next year as he waited to go to trial.
“Then, right before he was scheduled to go to court, the prosecuting attorney told him if he pled guilty to a lesser charge, the extortion charge would be dropped and he’d be credited with time served and his debt would be paid. Peter took the deal.”
“And that’s when he presented himself to my sister and pretended to court her—just so he could have an excuse to openly be around Patrice,” Adam said.
“And in the end, Mr. Justice, it afforded him nothing. Patrice still did not return his love.”
“She left me for him.”
“Patrice didn’t leave you for Peter. Patrice left because Crowe-Cromwell was hot on their trail.”
“What are you talking about?” Adam asked.
“The minute Emery Pharmaceuticals patented their new fertility process, Crowe-Cromwell knew Peter and Patrice had been responsible for their getting it. Peter came home that day to find Carver and two big, tough-looking guys pounding on his door, demanding to be let in, yelling they had a warrant for his arrest. Only Peter didn’t think they were policemen.
“Peter got away before they caught sight of him and went to see Patrice. He knew his open pursuit of your sister over the previous five months was sure to be discovered and lead Crowe-Cromwell right to Patrice and her new identity. He convinced her they both had to disappear.
“They called me from your place that day, Mr. Justice, to tell me that they were leaving for Canada and why. They told me I wasn’t to worry if I didn’t hear from them for a while. When the years went by and no news came, I thought they were still afraid to get in touch. It wasn’t until I heard that their bodies had been discovered in that seven-year-old car wreck that I understood why word never came. I kept thinking about Peter’s description of those men pounding on his door that day. I know you loved Patrice. I was sure you’d investigate until you found out the truth. That’s why I’ve been following you. I had to know if it was really an accident, or if those monsters at Crowe-Cromwell caught up with them and…”
“Crowe-Cromwell didn’t kill Peter and Patrice, Dr. Miller.”
“How can you know?”
Adam took a very deep breath and let it out. What he had feared most over the past seven years was now facing him.
“Because I killed them,” Adam said.
Chapter Fifteen
Whitney couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She felt as though a cold black hole had opened up inside her and was swallowing all the warmth in her body.
“Adam, no.”
He turned to look at her. The sadness in his eyes stopped her heart stock-still.
“Whitney, I’m sorry. I would have spared you this if I could.”
Adam turned back to Dr. Miller, and Whitney heard that cool, formal cadence of his voice as though it were coming from a great distance.
“A colleague and I returned to the house to pick up some papers I needed for a case going to court that afternoon,” Adam said. “We walked into the kitchen and found Patrice’s note.
“I couldn’t believe she’d been carrying on with Peter Danner behind my back. I was angry, determined to confront her face-to-face. I was certain they couldn’t have much of a head start. My colleague offered to assist by calling a close friend of hers, who was a Native American chief. She secured her friend’s permission for us to take a secret route through his tribal lands in order to make up for the head start Peter and Patrice had.
“The shortcut allowed us to catch up with them just as they were starting up a narrow mountain road. I beeped my horn to attract their attention. Peter must have recognized my car, but instead of pulling over, he gunned the engine of his Porsche and burned rubber up that mountain.
“I was right behind him. We flew up that dangerous, winding, narrow strip without a whit of sense. My colleague was in the passenger seat. She tried to get me to slow down, but I wouldn’t listen. I had let my anger take over, and it was all I heeded. And then, suddenly, I saw the Porsche miss a tight turn and sail over the side of the cliff.
“I slammed on the brakes, screeched to a stop, jumped out of my car and ran over to the edge. The Porsche had landed on its back on a ledge about twenty feet down. I scrambled down the steep slope to get to it.
“I could see Patrice pinned inside. She wasn’t moving. The frame was smashed and twisted around her. Somehow I got the passenger door open. I was just reaching inside to pull her out when the car lurched and plunged off the ledge, headed for the deep ravine below. The jagged metal on the passenger door caught me as it tumbled past, whipping me back against the rock.
“The next thing I knew, it was three days later and I was awakening in the hospital on the Indian reservation. I had a severe concussion and a wound that had opened me from neck to chest. My colleague had saved my life by dragging me back up to the road and then driving me to the hospital.
“When I asked about Patrice and Peter, she told me that Peter’s Porsche had burst into flames when it landed at the bottom of the deep ravine. She told me there was no way either Patrice or Peter had survived. She also told me she hadn’t reported the accident and that she wasn’t going to.”
“Why not?” Dr. Miller asked.
“Because she said she didn’t believe the accident was my fault. She also knew that unless she prevented me from doing so, I would tell the police it was, and they would charge me with manslaughter. Even if I escaped jail time, I would be disbarred. She knew how much my work means to me.
“Dr. Miller, do not judge her harshly. My colleague is not a letter-of-the-law kind of attorney. She is ruled by her heart. And her heart told her nothing would be gained by reporting the accident. Peter and Patrice had assured us they had no family.
“When I realized my colleague had not reported Peter’s and Patrice’s deaths, in direct violation of the law, I also realized that were I to report it, I would get her in serious trouble. She had saved my life and then remained silent to protect me. To protect her I remained silent.
“However, Dr. Miller, had I known that Peter and Patrice had left a father, not even my concern for my friend would have kept me silent. You had the right to know the truth. And the truth is, I forced Peter into excessive speeds that made him lose control of his car and ended up killing both your foster children. If you call the authorities, I will accept whatever consequences that are due me. I will, however, keep silent about my friend’s part. I alone am to blame.”
Whitney understood now why Adam sought so diligently to control his anger. The one time he had let it control him had ended in tragedy. But now that she heard the circumstances, she couldn’t blame him. She could only admire how his deep conviction to do the right thing was causing him to sacrifice his career.
Tears filled her eyes—tears of respect and love.
Miller let out a long sigh. “No, you’re not to blame for their deaths.”
“Everything I just told you is true, Dr. Miller.”
“I believe you, Mr. Justice. And if I thought you responsible, believe me, my paternal anger would prohibit me from sparing your feelings. But you could not have caused Peter to lose control of his car and run off the road.”
“How can you be so certain?”
“Because when Peter was studying in Europe, he made his living test-driving race cars. He was an expert behind the wheel. He thrived on the kind of speed and sharp turns you described. His reflexes and timing were superb.”
“I didn’t know.
Still, under the duress of being chased—”
“Duress?” Miller interrupted. “I knew my foster son, Mr. Justice. He always took mountain roads at full speed. He didn’t know how to drive slowly. When you beeped your horn and Peter turned around and saw you, he could have stopped and let Patrice simply convince you it was over. But the truth is, he was probably delighted with the idea of a chase.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Peter was jealous of you. Patrice wasn’t leaving you because she loved him. He was only getting her because they needed each other to escape Crowe-Cromwell’s grasp. Peter probably looked on the opportunity of confronting you on that mountain road as a duel over Patrice. And he chose the weapon for which he was the master—driving. The fact that you were in sight of his car when it went over the cliff tells me he was still toying with you at that point. Had he wanted to, he could have left you in his dust at any time.”
“Then why did his car go off that cliff?”
Miller sighed. “That I can’t tell you. All I can say is that it wasn’t driver error. Peter didn’t make those kinds of errors. So there’s no reason for me to be calling the authorities about you, Mr. Justice. Are you going to be calling the authorities about me?”
“For what, Dr. Miller?”
“For faking my death.”
“Was there an insurance policy on your life?”
“No.”
“Did you leave any debts unpaid?”
“No, I gave Peter the money, and he paid them.”
“Since you didn’t endanger anyone when you blew up your boat, nor defraud any creditors by your death, I don’t see any problem, Dr. Miller. You can come out of hiding anytime. The statute of limitations for obstruction of justice—which is all the police could have charged you with—expired after two years.”
“But what about Crowe-Cromwell?” Dr. Miller asked. “What if it was their man behind the wheel of that truck that ran me off the road nine years ago?”
