Bone Pit: A Chilling Medical Suspense Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 3)

by Bette Golden Lamb

  “I think you would. Maybe I’ll bring her down to say hello to you before you leave.”

  “I would like that.”

  Rhonda reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a black Revlon tube and freshened her lipstick. He could tell she wanted to say something else. She slowly put the lipstick back in her pocket, pushed a stray lock of hair away from her face.

  “You know, Harry,” she said in a quavering voice, her eyes dull, unresponsive, staring at nothing in particular, “I can’t help but think how quickly it all passes. One day your whole life is in front of you, just around the corner. The next, you’re crossing a bridge to nowhere.”

  Chapter 16

  David Zelint stared at the letter informing him that the FDA was postponing its hearing for the AZ-1166 study—for the third time. Fiery acid started working its way up into his throat. The news threw him into a deep depression.

  What's the hold up, damn it?

  Would the study now be lost in a bureaucratic eddy of paperwork and delays? Would all their investment monies disappear and leave them penniless?

  The FDA, of all people, must know the importance of this study … what it could mean to the world. For Christ’s sake; we have a drug that can cure Alzheimer’s. It’s the start of a new era in medicine!

  As if this FDA business wasn’t enough, Ethan Dayton and his Nevada operation were turning into a real problem.

  For two years Zelint had managed to stay clear of industrial espionage by simply toning down its publicity efforts. The study wasn’t hidden, it wasn’t a secret, but releases about it had been kept low-key to try to keep other pharmaceutical houses at bay— to keep them from trying to steal the formula for AZ-1166.

  Zelint had been lucky so far.

  Now Ethan had raised the ugly specter of OCI involvement. What if the investigative arm of the FDA started digging into their operation? What would happen to AZ-1166 if he were to actually be accused of health fraud? Was that the reason final FDA approval was being delayed? Were they getting ready to impound their records, nail the company?

  A sudden chill shook him hard. He knew it had nothing to do with the weather in Reno—Northern Nevada was having a beautiful autumn.

  I have only myself to blame.

  If his twin brother Saul found out what was really going on, he would hate David. The man was an unrepentant idealist, and that made it hard to move ahead with any plan. David knew they had to make money.

  Sink or swim.

  Why did Saul always have to have that moralistic, good guy approach to everything? If he wasn’t so noble, if he would get down in the dirt with everyone else, it wouldn’t be necessary to keep him out of the loop.

  And maybe I wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.

  David hadn’t taken the chance that his brother would say no to what had to be done. And they’d had to move fast. The company was already too deep into the early studies to turn back.

  I did what I had to do. Too much at stake to take a chance on Saul.

  If Zelint was found guilty of criminal activity, Saul, as a partner would go down, too. He and his brother were not only born together in a single breath, they were pretty much joined at the hip. They would both go to jail.

  He covered his eyes and rocked back and forth. When he could think again, he glanced at the pictures of his brother’s family on the back wall. His niece and nephew adored David and the thought of not having them in his life was unbearable. They were all that he had … other than his work.

  And if anything goes wrong, Saul will never speak to me again.

  His baby brother—a joke between the two of them because David entered the world first—would never smile at him in that special way again, and David would lose the one person who made life worth living.

  He picked at a nail, looked at his brother’s picture. Even after all these years, it was still strange to have another person with your face, staring back at you. But the two of them seemed to verify all the twin studies ever undertaken. It wasn’t only the face; at fifty-five both of them still had a full head of hair.

  Yeah, and a gut that I wish wasn’t there.

  He patted his middle and laughed for the first time that day.

  Too much deli!

  There was really nothing special about the looks of either one of them. You wouldn’t give either a second glance. But Saul’s wife adored the man, and when she looked at his brother, there was only love in her eyes. And both of their kids were wonderful.

  David wasn’t jealous; he’d been in the thick of things when he younger—had a great social life, spent his days with many women, some really fantastic. But he never clicked with any one woman. Not like Saul.

  Why am I thinking about this now? No time for that. And damn Ethan for even mentioning OCI. Now I can’t get it out of my head.

  He tried to quiet himself, look at things logically. If OCI came barging in, what would they find? There would be nothing in the Zelint facility or the factory where AZ-1166 was made—nothing suspicious at all for investigators to find.

  And what would the computers reveal?

  Nothing.

  He never fully trusted computers. It seemed like the whole planet was swimming in too much technology. Besides, it was very easy for any device to be hacked and its contents revealed to the wrong people.

  No, he didn’t worry about his computer; there was nothing in there to worry about. He looked across the room at his office safe. There was the weak point; the only place within Zelint where the step-by-step details of every action taken, every nuance of the AZ-1166 study, could be found. That weakness needed to be taken care of. Immediately, if not sooner.

  Either a bonfire or a safe deposit box.

  * * * *

  Ethan Dayton was still fuming.

  He’d called David Zelint so the CEO would be up to date, know everything, know every single detail that Ethan knew.

  That was the agreement.

  That’s the kind of relationship he was promised—the two of them would have each other’s back, at all times. They would be full partners, working for the good of the study and its outcome. David would be the front man. Ethan would handle the dirty work.

  The man sits in his secure office and has the nerve to brush me off. Leave me holding the bag.

  Things were starting to feel out of control, something medical examiners didn’t tolerate at all well. Cutting up a corpse, weighing, collecting, classifying organs was an emotionless, methodical, scientific procedure. The only thing that ever got in the way was the administrative process and Ethan had come to like doing things his way. He was beginning to see David in that administrative interference category, but with an important twist.

  Remember, Mr. Zelint, I know everything. Everything! Before you talk to me like I’m a fool, or an underling, you’d better reexamine our partnership. That’s right ... partnership!

  Ethan’s job in the Comstock Medical Facility was the dangerous one. David sat in his plush office building and deluded himself into thinking his hands were clean.

  He’d better remember that he’s the reason I’m here. You brought me here, David. Don’t forget that.

  He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out an expensive, four-color brochure about Zelint Pharmaceutical. He toyed with each page, remembered how he’d applied for the position after seeing an ad in one of the medical journals. At the time, he’d looked at so many medical Help Wanted ads that he now couldn’t remember exactly which publication he’d found the Zelint notice.

  When he’d first met the head of the pharmaceutical company, the interview began with the usual dog and pony show. David Zelint started with the history of the fairly new company, provided all the details about its heavy investment in biologics from the rain forests in South America. Zelint’s research into these substances had in the early stages produced a promising breast cancer drug, and now, their real winner: AZ-1166.

  “This study, this new drug, will be an explosion in the fiel
d of cognitive neurology. Geriatric medical practices will be changed forever,” David Zelint had said.

  Ethan was excited. He saw it as a great fit for him.

  But when he asked about the previous doctor who’d run the Nevada facility, David was not only evasive, he changed the subject all together.

  Ethan couldn’t turn down the opportunity, though. Not only would he get away from Southern California hospitals, he would be far away from his ex-wife, who didn’t seem to understand that divorced meant finished, over!

  Still, after slightly more than a year at Comstock, with the study in its closing phase and about to be up for review by the FDA, David Zelint was getting more and more difficult to deal with.

  Even though Ethan knew the up-front numbers appeared outstanding and Zelint was more than ready to provide the chief paper evidence of its safety and effectiveness, they were now into the tricky part of the operation, the part that would determine whether the drug would move into the next phase. And although AZ-1166 would continue to be monitored for its long-term safety and effectiveness, Phase IV would put the drug into the market … and the money would begin to roll into the company. And into Ethan’s pockets.

  They could take care of anything when the money started rolling in. Ethan had tried, but he couldn’t even imagine that much money. He had a huge number of shares in Zelint and as a principal holder in the company; he would never have to work again. He needed that so he could proceed with his own scientific investigations. Now it was Alzheimer’s. Who could know what new projects he might become involved with in the future?

  He had to drag his thoughts away from all of that and get back to the problem at hand.

  Can I trust these new nurses?

  Were they working undercover for the OCI? Was Ethan, or Zelint, being set up by those two?

  He’d always hired travel nurses for three-month stints at Comstock. He liked them coming from out of the area—short-term employees didn’t usually invest a lot of themselves into something that wasn’t permanent. They were certainly more likely to overlook irregularities.

  On top of that, he paid way over scale for their services. He might have spent his career dissecting dead bodies as an ME, but that didn’t mean he knew nothing about human behavior.

  Damn, I don’t have time for this if I’m going to stick to the schedule.

  Things were already screwed up. Emma Goldmich was supposed to have been out of his hair by now. If Mazzio and Lucke hadn’t met her on the elevator, things would have proceeded as methodically as a metronome clicking out its beat. Now, everything was out of whack.

  And all because of two California nurses. Damn!

  Chapter 17

  Rocky and Pete looked at Ethan, then at each other as they entered his office. It was strange the way they sat down like a pair of puppets, quick, but jerky.

  “Tell me, what do you think of the two new nurses?”

  “Lucke? Smartass Californian,” Pete said, without hesitation.

  Rocky chimed in, “Same for Mazzio only with a New York accent.”

  Ethan leaned back into his desk chair, looked across his desk at their snake-like eyes. “Okay, so the two of you don’t like them, but neither one of you like much of anybody. Is there anything that stands out?”

  “That Harry seems to always have his nose in the patients’ friggin’ charts.” Pete said. “Every time I turn around, he’s digging into their records for something.”

  “So?” Ethan said. “Nurses have to read the charts. No other way to document the care given, or to even know the history of a patient.”

  “Well, there’s something unnatural ‘bout it,” Pete said, “his body’s all tensed up like a cat with an eye on a mouse. He’s lookin’ for something.”

  “And I hate that skinny-assed bitch,” Rocky said. “One of these days I’ll show her a thing or two.” He gave them a dirty laugh. “The bitch might even like it.”

  “Woman!” Ethan said. “How many times do I have to tell you not to call women bitches?”

  Rocky ignored the comment; his eyes narrowed until the whites of his eyes were barely visible. “Yeah, well they’re all bitches as far as I’m concerned, no matter what you call them.” He seemed to blow out tension, relaxed, and elbowed Pete. They both snickered.

  “Just keep your hands to yourselves! Otherwise, keep a close eye on them. Let me know if they do anything unusual.”

  With all the problems Ethan had encountered since becoming involved in the Zeilint drug study, hiring a professional staff for Comstock Facility hadn’t been one of them. That is until Gina Mazzio and Harry Lucke walked into the Comstock satellite.

  Nurses understood that a contract was a contract, were fully aware that they couldn’t walk away from a legal agreement without consequences, serious consequences. They also knew the large payments they received were because the facility was part of an unusual experimental drug development program, and that staffing was set at a bare minimum. Except for Delores, every nurse had left after three months—with fat wallets. And that was the way Ethan deliberately planned it.

  “I’m going to need the two of you tonight,” he said.

  The two orderlies sat across from him like a pair of cocky fools.

  “What time?” Rocky asked in his smart-ass, alpha dog way.

  Ethan ignored the attitude and looked at his watch. “In a couple of hours.”

  They both nodded, got up, and left.

  * * * *

  Ethan thought back to how he hooked up with the two incorrigible orderlies.

  He’d gone searching for staff at the Silver Mine Saloon in Virginia City one Saturday night. He wanted cheap, local help to train, not only as orderlies, but to do whatever else was necessary to carry out his plans.

  He was sizing up the local talent when Peter and Rocky wandered in, slid onto the two stools next to Ethan, and ordered up a couple of boilermakers. When they’d tossed those down, Ethan offered to buy them another round.

  The pair accepted without even asking who their new friend was, or why he was buying them a drink.

  Ethan struggled to keep from laughing out loud at the two of them, but after scoping out the town, he realized he was out numbered by the many misfits and low-life characters that roamed the streets looking to start trouble just for the hell of it. He decided it was better to keep his mouth shut than end up on the floor with a broken nose, or perhaps hauled away and dumped in some ditch by the side of the road.

  Hell, I’d rather spend hours cutting up a corpse than look at these two cretins for more than a few minutes.

  On the plus side, he’d certainly come to the right place to snag the sort of people he needed to do what had to be done.

  Each of the two was built like a brick shit-house—strong and square, and just as dumb.

  They look like they were spawned from the same mold; they’re even dressed alike, right down to their dirty jeans, plaid shirts, and scuffed Acme boots.

  Rocky was by far the one with the most marbles. But he was also the one who would fight a house fly for violating his space.

  Too damn aggressive for his own good.

  Because of that, Ethan wanted to hire only Peter. But the more he talked to them he realized the two men came as a matched set. Having grown up in the same foster home in Winnemucca, they’d continued to live together after taking up residence in Virginia City. There would be no taking just one of them.

  Ethan had been sorry ever since.

  * * * *

  Gina and Harry sat at their mini kitchen table, looking at a beautiful mixture of fresh, raw vegetables, topped with vinaigrette dressing.

  There was none of their usual back-and-forth chatter; they were both poking at their salads, not really eating much of anything.

  The meal sat there glaring at Gina.

  With a spark of annoyance, she realized that they were still in their work scrubs. After twelve-plus hours, she felt grubby and glued together; Harry’s duds still looked fresh—not o
nly that, they matched his baby blue eyes.

  Can the guy do anything wrong?

  After work, they almost always headed straight for the shower, not wanting to eat without really cleaning up after their shift. As a nurse, she never knew exactly what she might have gotten into, or what she’d been exposed to on the units. Even with the constant washing and disinfecting of her hands, she was still vulnerable to every microbe that existed. Gina and Harry never felt right until after they’d scrubbed themselves thoroughly in the shower.

  Throughout her career, Gina tried not to spend too much of her time thinking about the God-awful pathogens she might be breathing, or the microbes swimming through the body fluids she had to deal with. But every now and then, she wondered why she was so willing to be in the defensive line of stopping disease and suffering.

  She and Harry had talked about it many times and came to the conclusion that their choice of occupation had nothing to do with helping people. They were just plain crazy.

  They both looked up at the same time and started talking, stepping on each other’s words.

  Gina laughed, “You go first.”

  He took a quick sip of his water before answering. She watched the ice cubes wash up against the lip of the glass, and then bump his nose.

  “You were right, doll,” he said after swallowing. “There’s definitely something not right about this place.”

  Gina’s surge of relief came with a rush of warmth. She was up and around the table, kissing his lips, his cheeks, then back to his lips again. “I can’t tell you how much better I feel,” she said with a wide smile. “I mean, I’m the one who’s always so god-awful distrustful. Sometimes I feel like an idiot.”

  He drew her onto his lap. “Truth be told, you are a little strange … but damn, you’re beautiful.”

  “What made you change your mind?” She nuzzled his neck waiting for him to go on.

  “Several things. But what nailed it was a missing computer page, the one that covers questions and answers from the trial participants. No sign of that page … anywhere!”