The Runaway Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #3)

by Thomas Fincham

  Lopez had to be careful. If Nataly realized they were investigating Rudy, she might clam up. Right now, they didn’t know what had happened and they were hoping Nataly could shed some light on it.

  Lopez said, “We are trying to find out everything about everyone. Rudy, Irma, and Bernard.” It was better to refer to the victims by their first names. It would make it feel less formal.

  Nataly nodded. “No, never. They were all friends. They got along really well. Maybe it had something to do with them being in the same college, but they were always having barbeque parties at their place—Brendan was great behind the grill. I’ve been to many of them. I’ve even watched movies until late at night with them. Irma and I loved romantic comedies so we’d watch in one apartment and Brendan and Rudy would watch some guy movie in another.” Suddenly, Nataly broke down again. Her roommate put her arm around her.

  Lopez decided it was time to leave when Pascale said, “Did you notice anything different about Rudy this morning?”

  Lopez glared him, but he wasn’t one bit fazed.

  Nataly composed herself and said, “There was something odd.”

  “Like what?” Lopez quickly asked.

  “When we were talking, the phone rang. Rudy got up and answered it. Then he just left.”

  “Left?” Pascale leaned forward.

  “On the camera I saw him leave the apartment. I thought maybe someone was at the door, but Rudy never came back.”

  “Did you hear anything?” Lopez asked.

  She shook her head. “I heard the front door close, and then I heard nothing.”

  Rudy Jr.’s laptop was at the IT unit. Maybe it’s time to go see what’s on it, Lopez thought.

  They got up to leave. Nataly asked, “Do you know who did it?”

  Lopez paused. “We’re working on it.” She replied.

  “I hope you find him and make him pay.”

  Lopez didn’t know what to say.

  THIRTEEN

  Carl Danka was completely dressed in black. He wore a black T-shirt with a black tie. His pants, boots, hair, and even nail polish were black.

  Lopez had heard someone once ask him if he was a Goth, but Danka claimed he just liked the color.

  The IT Investigation Unit was located in a dark room. There were no windows, and for some reason the lights were always turned down low. Lopez thought it maybe was due to the nature of the job. The members of the unit spent more hours staring into computer screens than spending it outside, so maybe they preferred it that way.

  The unit examined data in every shape and size. Whether it was web content or digital images, or even someone anonymously posting videos, the various technicians would analyze it in great detail.

  It was why Lopez and Pascale were there now. They were watching Danka go through Rudy Jr.’s laptop.

  Pascale looked uneasy. Lopez knew he didn’t like being confined in a place like this. He would have preferred she come alone, but this was too big a case for him to not be a part of her visit to the IT. So he stayed in the back with his arms crossed over his chest.

  “It’s not every day a pretty lady drops by,” Danka said, winking at Lopez.

  Danka was known to hit on anyone and everyone that dropped by the unit. Lopez had been on the other end of it many times, so she took it in stride.

  “What have you found?” she asked.

  “What do you want to see? That’s the question,” he said.

  “How about the transcript from Rudy Jr.’s conversion with his girlfriend.”

  “Sure, coming right up.” Danka typed furiously on the keyboard as if he was a drummer for a rock band. He hit the last button like it was a final note. “Ta-da,” he said.

  Lopez squinted.

  [Rudy] Gud morning

  [Nataly] Morning (smiley face)

  [Rudy] How r u?

  [Nataly] Happy (smiley face)

  [Rudy] How wuz da test last night?

  [Nataly] (sad face)

  [Rudy] Don’t worry…

  [Rudy] I’m sure you did gr8t (big grin)

  [Nataly] (happy face)

  [Nataly] How was ur lecture last night?

  [Rudy] Boring… fell asleep

  [Nataly] LOL

  “How much of it is there?” Pascale asked.

  “An hour’s worth,” Danka said. “And it doesn’t get any more interesting than this. Trust me, I’ve read it all.”

  Lopez got the feeling he enjoyed reading someone else’s private conversations.

  “Was there a video as well?” Lopez said. “We know they had a face to face conversation in the morning.”

  “I think they switched to it later. It takes more bandwidth so maybe that’s why they didn’t use it right away. But the program doesn’t store anything on the computer. You’ll have to get it from the company.”

  “Where are they located?” Pascale said.

  “Alabama,” Danka replied.

  Lopez turned to Pascale. “We’ll have to send an official request or even subpoena it.”

  Pascale nodded, eager to get out of the IT unit.

  “Thanks for your help,” Lopez said.

  Danka replied, “You know, I hear there’s a great place down the block from here to grab drinks. Maybe you and I can go there now.”

  “I’m on duty,” Lopez said without skipping a beat. “Plus, I’ve been there and it’s overrated.”

  They left.

  FOURTEEN

  Nolan sat in a room, staring at a large painting that made absolutely no sense to him. Was it abstract? Was it modern? What was it? He kept thinking. It didn’t help that Nolan knew absolutely nothing about art.

  The room was bare, except for two leather sofas placed opposite each other with a coffee table in between. There were no windows, and the walls were painted white.

  The only thing left to look at was the painting.

  Nolan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a drink and it was making him hallucinate. For a second he felt like he was inside the painting. The colors, the shapes, the textures, they were all encompassing.

  He shook his head and slapped his cheek.

  There was a reason he was here, he reminded himself.

  He was at Devon Pharma, waiting for Dr. Myra St. Claire, Senior Director of Medical Development, to arrive.

  When Nolan had contacted them, they had refused to meet him, or even discuss any drug trials they were currently working on. But after Nolan explained the three packages from Devon Pharma he had found on the victims, and that he believed there may be a link, they quickly relented and agreed to meet him.

  Nolan looked at his watch. The doctor was late. He hoped she would show up soon. His mind was playing games with him. The painting was the catalyst.

  The door opened and a woman entered. She was wearing heels, a black skirt, and a white lab coat. Her hair was pulled back and she had on round glasses.

  “Call me Myra,” she said as she held out her hand.

  Nolan shook it. “Call me Nolan.”

  “Please have a seat,” she said. She sat across from him and placed a red folder on the coffee table. She adjusted her glasses and said, “Let me start by saying we at Devon Pharma are saddened to hear about what happened to those young people. It’s a tragedy and we will be conveying our condolences to the families of the victims. Having said that, if there is any insinuation that our drug had anything to do with what happened, then we will defend ourselves vigorously and at all costs.”

  “I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just trying to find answers.” Nolan said.

  She gave him a hard look. “What would you like to know?”

  “What is this drug study about?”

  “This will be kept strictly confidential, yes?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I hope you understand we have to take precautions when it comes to our competitors. A lot of money is involved.”

  “Understood.”

  “If you are concerned about the side effects, th
en I will say with full confidence the drug doesn’t cause any adverse reactions. It’s not possible, because we have eight hundred and eighty–two participants throughout the country. If there were any issues, we would have detected them by now.”

  “How do people sign-up for the study?” Nolan asked.

  “They fill out a detailed application, and, along with a medical report from their doctors, they submit it to Devon for review. They have to be healthy, between the ages of eighteen and forty-four, do not smoke, and be in good mental health. A psychological review is necessary as well. The study is for the duration of twelve months. So far eight months have gone by and we’ve received no response that is alarming or of grave concern.”

  “How much does the study pay?”

  “Between three-thousand and five-thousand dollars.”

  Nolan nodded, thought: So that’s why the students had signed up.

  “During the trial, we advise the participants to get regular checkups with their GP and monthly checkups with a psychologist.” Dr. St. Claire continued.

  “What does the drug do?” Nolan finally asked.

  “It controls mood swings. It never lets the user get too high or too low.”

  Nolan made a face. “If people don’t feel anything, aren’t you creating like… zombies?”

  She shook her head. “If we suppressed all emotion, then it would place someone in the state you just mentioned. The drug allows a person to experience emotion, but it doesn’t let the emotion consume their daily life. For example, a person may feel euphoric or even depressed for a certain period, but this feeling is quickly adjusted by the drug so that the feeling doesn’t persist for days or even weeks.”

  Nolan nodded as if he understood, but then a thought popped in his head. “How is the drug taken? I found no medication bottle from Devon in the victim’s homes.”

  She smiled. “That’s where our research comes in. Again, this is strictly confidential, yes?”

  “Yes, absolutely,” Nolan replied.

  From her coat pocket, Dr. St. Claire pulled out a clear plastic bag. It contained what looked like a Band-Aid. “It’s not what’s in the drug that makes it unique. Its how the drug is administered that makes it so.”

  “Do you mind?” Nolan held out his hand.

  She gave it to him.

  Upon closer inspection, it looked more like a nicotine patch.

  Dr. St. Claire said, “There are hundreds of tiny needles in that patch. They cannot be seen by the naked eye. Attached to the patch is a tiny computer chip. That chip controls how much drug to release into the blood stream. The chip has sensors to monitor a person’s emotional state, and when it is applied to the skin, which is usually once a month, it will keep track of their behavior.”

  Nolan looked at it in awe. “So each of the participants was mailed this patch?” he asked.

  She nodded. “At first we had wanted to do a controlled test, by bringing the participants in our lab and monitoring them, but we quickly decided against it as it would’ve been flawed. For one thing, there was no possible way we could bring close to nine hundred participants into one place. On top of that, we couldn’t hold them for twelve months. Plus, we needed to see if the drug worked on all types of people and was not dependent on where they lived, so that was why we had opened it to the entire country. This is the first phase, mind you. Like I’ve said, we have chosen healthy individuals from the ages of eighteen to forty-four. In the next phase, we plan on expanding the age group and then in the final stage to anyone, regardless of what their health issues are.”

  “Impressive,” Nolan said. “I’m curious, is it possible to get a sample?” Right now his head was pounding. His desire to give up alcohol, cold turkey, was stressing his mind and his body. He could use something like this to calm his nerves.

  Dr. St. Claire shook her head. “Legally, we are not allowed to prescribe it. Our study is strictly monitored. I’m sorry.” She held out her hand.

  Reluctantly, Nolan handed it back.

  “Okay,” he said. “Then can I get the list with the names of those involved in the study?”

  She looked annoyed. “I guess I don’t have to tell you again it’s confidential, and also, there are eight hundred and eighty-two names, so I’m not sure how helpful it would be to you.”

  “I’ll make sure to not share it with anyone, and yes, I do need to see it, even with the amount of names on it. I can get a court order, if you like.”

  She hesitated.

  “Listen,” Nolan said. “Three people from your study were murdered, so I’m sure a judge won’t mind signing the order.”

  “Alright, give me a minute,” she finally said.

  FIFTEEN

  Hyder and Felix were back at the Daily Times. They were trying to locate the landlord’s name. Hyder knew if they found him and were able to speak to him, they could get the victims’ names.

  The city’s land registry was closed, so they were trying to see if they could search for the name online.

  This was when Hyder looked at his watch. It was close to Iftar—the time to break his fast.

  He had been so busy that he didn’t realize the day had raced on by. This was good, of course. If it had dragged, all he would have thought about was food and drink.

  He told Felix he was heading home and quickly left the Daily Times.

  Normally, he would have ridden his bicycle, but with the humidity, even at this late in the day, it would drain his body of much needed energy and fluids.

  He decided to take public transit instead. Hyder got on the air conditioned bus and after finding a seat relaxed on the twenty minute journey to his destination.

  The bus dropped him off in front of a condominium. Hyder took the elevator to the twelfth floor.

  He stopped outside one apartment and knocked. After a few seconds, the door swung open and he was face to face with his older brother. Akbar Ali was taller than him. His beard was trimmed and his hair was gelled and coiffed. Dr. Ali worked at Franklin General Hospital, where he was now a cancer specialist.

  “It’s almost time,” he said, not concerned with pleasantries. Akbar was a stickler for punctuality, and so Hyder didn’t bother with excuses that would only fall on deaf ears.

  Hyder entered the condo, and his sister-in-law came out of the kitchen with a smile on her face. Aisha Ali was now a full-time pharmacist, dispensing medication not far from where she and her husband now lived.

  As per tradition, Aisha had decided to move into the house that Akbar shared with Hyder and their mom, but it was their mom who had thought it best that the new couple get a place of their own.

  As they were both busy with their careers, and Akbar was averse to mowing the lawn in the summer or shovelling snow in winter, the condo became their only option.

  “How are you, Bhabi (sister-in-law)?” Hyder asked.

  “I’m good,” she said. “What’s going on with you?”

  Ever since Aisha came into their family, she knew more about Hyder than even his own brother did. Aisha watched over Hyder like he was her real brother. Hyder never had a sister, so he enjoyed the attention he got.

  He shrugged. “You know how it is, being good looking and famous can be a burden,” he joked.

  “I’m sure it can,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  Another woman came out of the kitchen.

  “Assalamu alaikum (Peace be upon you),” Hyder said to her.

  “Wa alaikum assalam (And upon you be peace),” Mrs. Ali replied.

  Mrs. Fatima Ali wore a traditional orange Pakistani dress, called a shalwar kameez, with a matching dupatta (scarf) over her head.

  Her hands were covered in dough.

  “Beta (son) when did you get here?” she asked.

  Hyder went over and kissed her. “I just got in.”

  “Go and say Salaam (greeting) to uncle and aunty,” she quickly said.

  Hyder didn’t realize until he reached the living room that Aisha’s mom and dad were there as
well.

  Hyder hugged and shook hands with Mr. Ahmed and then lowered his head for Mrs. Ahmed, who patted him as if blessing him.

  Mr. Ahmed owned several restaurants in Indiana and Mrs. Ahmed was a homemaker.

  Next to them was a young man.

  “What’s up, Nasir?” Hyder said with a grin. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  Nasir Ahmed laughed and gave Hyder a big bro-hug. Nasir was Aisha’s younger brother and he was a student at Indiana University. Hyder rarely saw him, but whenever he did, they always had a good time together.

  “I thought I’d surprise Baji (older sister),” Nasir said.

  Aisha came over and placed a bowl on the dining table. “I was so shocked to see Nasir. No one said a word about him coming over.” She glared at Akbar, knowing full well that he was aware of it.

  He shrugged. “Your brother said not to say a word, so give him the dirty eye, not me.”

  “It’s about to open,” Mrs. Ali said.

  As the clock ticked down to the final seconds before the end of the fast, they all recited the following verse from the Quran:

  Alla-humma inni laka soom-to. W' bika aa-manto. W'alaika ta-wak-kalto. W'ala rizki-ka af-tar-to (O Allah! I have fasted for You. I believe and depend on You. And open the fast with what You have provided).

  Hyder watched the clock and then said, “It's open!”

  They all grabbed a date and ate it. For thousands of years, dates were a principal fruit in the Middle East and as such were the food that Prophet Muhammad ate when he broke his fast.

  Akbar quickly poured a glass of milk mixed with Rooh Afza (concentrated syrup made of herbs, fruits and vegetable extracts) for everyone.

  Hyder then placed sheets on the floor where they performed in congregation the evening Salat (prayers).

  Afterwards, they sat at the dining table and had a meal that consisted of traditional Pakistani and Indian dishes.

  Once done, no one had the energy to get up and clear the table. After going an entire day on empty stomachs they were now completely spent. Akbar finally took the lead and pulled Hyder in to help him put away the dishes. Soon, Nasir joined in, and together they put everything away and even managed to fill the dishwasher.