Tailspin

by Sandra Brown

  “He didn’t elaborate on Brady’s condition?”

  “‘Heart’s gone wonky.’ That’s all Wilson could tell him.” He paused. “Did you hear the rest of it, Brynn?”

  “Goliad and Timmy. Wilson and Rawlins. All after little ol’ me. I never wanted to be this popular.”

  “The deputies are on the wrong track, but at least they’re doing their job. Everybody else is after the drug.” He resettled, turning toward her slightly. “Can I toss out one thought?”

  “Will it be helpful?”

  “It might crystalize your thinking.”

  “Then, please.”

  “Okay, say you deliver the drug to the Hunts. Humble yourself. Make nice. All that stuff you said. What happens after you give it to him?”

  “His disease goes into remission, doesn’t recur, he’ll live a longer and healthier life.”

  “But will you?”

  “What?”

  “Are you sure they’ll call the dogs off?”

  “Once the GX-42 is in his system, what would they hold against me?”

  “Betrayal. You would have given it to Violet if they hadn’t gone out of their way to prevent it. They don’t strike me as forgiving types, Brynn. And since your plan to give it to Violet was foiled, what’s to keep you from blowing the whistle on the whole thing?”

  “I couldn’t do that without admitting my own culpability.”

  “But Senator and Mrs. Hunt would have a whole lot farther to fall. Talk about a spotlight. You could shine it right on them, and that isn’t the glare they would want to be caught in.”

  Her eyes seemed to plumb his. He held steady. This had to be her decision.

  In a quiet voice, she said, “What you’re intimating is that, no matter which patient gets the drug, I face exposure, censure, possible peril.”

  “Those are bigger words than I would use, but, basically, yeah.”

  “So it comes down to—”

  “You know what it comes down to, Brynn. You already said. Worst-case scenario? You had the means to try to save Violet and didn’t.” He touched the pocket of her coat that contained the vial. “As long as you’re in possession of the game ball, you’re winning.”

  She looked at him for a few seconds longer, then said in a rushed voice, “If I could get on a flight to Knoxville tonight, I could be on the Griffins’ doorstep first thing in the morning.”

  “Amidst media.”

  “But the Griffins would welcome me with open arms. I’m sure of that. I could lay it all out to them. They may say no to the GX-42, but at least they’ll have been given a choice. If they agree, we’ll devise a way for me to do the infusion.”

  “If they say no?”

  “I’ll bring it back to Richard Hunt.”

  “By eight p.m.?”

  “I bet they would cancel their flight crew’s weekend off.”

  He checked his watch. “With the mess the airlines are in, there probably won’t be a flight tonight.”

  “I’ll rent a car.”

  “Are you up to making that drive?”

  “How long will it take?”

  “However long, you were up all night last night and only got a short nap today.”

  “One way or another, I’m going.” She leaned forward and said to the driver, “Take us to the airport, please.”

  The driver grimaced into the rearview mirror. “Traffic on both interstates is going nowhere fast. If you’re trying to make a flight—”

  “Do your best,” Rye said.

  The driver shot him a resentful look. “This thing doesn’t have wings, you know.”

  Rye huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I know. But I’ve got a twenty in my pocket that can be yours on top of the fare, plus the expected fifteen percent, if you stopping bitching and drive. But don’t take the exit to the main terminals. Take the one just before it.”

  Brynn said, “Back way?”

  “Back alley.”

  “What’s there?”

  “Lots of porn.”

  Chapter 22

  8:58 p.m.

  Delores ended the call with a decisive tap on her phone screen. “They missed them by minutes.”

  Nate, still seated at the desk where she had assigned him a place, ran his hand over the top of his head. Richard gripped the rolled armrests of the easy chair in which he sat, an evident attempt to keep himself from flying into a rage.

  Only by an act of will did Delores keep her voice steady as she recounted for them everything Goliad had told her. “According to him, they must have used an emergency exit. It’s the only way they could have gotten out of the building unseen. He doesn’t know if they left the premises on foot, or if they have transportation now, but either way, they disappeared. He’s spent the past twenty minutes cruising through the complex in search of them.”

  “Did you give Goliad her home address?”

  “He’s on his way there now. But she would be a fool to go home, and she’s no fool, which has become all too obvious.” She turned to Nate. “How could you have let her out of your sight before checking the box to be certain that the vial was in there?”

  “She didn’t sneak the drug while I was with her,” he exclaimed. “Blame your two watchdogs. They were with her for hours. You should be castigating them, not me.”

  Delores hugged her elbows, running her hands over her upper arms in agitation. To a large extent, Nate was right, but she’d be damned before admitting it. Besides, who was he to correct her? He was getting way above himself.

  “Well,” she said, “we can be glad we made that preemptive strike. The girl is hundreds of miles away, surrounded by media and medical personnel. Dr. O’Neal can’t get to her. But we must get to Dr. O’Neal.” She checked her wristwatch. “Need I remind anyone that we now have less than twenty-four hours to start the infusion?”

  She went to Richard’s chair, bent over the back of it, and hugged him from behind. “We’ve been under shorter deadlines, darling.” She kissed the top of his head, then turned to Nate. “What was the pharmacologist’s last stand on sneaking another vial?”

  “He’s unbending. The offer of more money didn’t faze him. And, he, uh, raised another sticking point.” He left the desk, went to the bar, and helped himself to three fingers of their best scotch.

  Delores said, “Well?”

  Nate shifted his gaze to Richard, who sat contained, but rather like a volcano building up pressure before an eruption. Delores recognized the signs. Nate did not. He faced Richard squarely.

  “During our last conversation, the pharmacologist used the word ‘transparency.’ More than once.”

  “In what context?” Richard asked.

  “The upcoming Senate committee hearing. I believe it’s scheduled for week after next?” He sipped his drink, cleared his throat. “The opioid crisis has created a rush—many fear a dangerous rush—to put treatment drugs on the market. This has placed the commissioner of the FDA and the heads of several pharmaceutical companies in the hot seat to defend their haste. You’re sitting on that committee, Richard, as an outspoken critic of the accelerated testing, and as a banner carrier for enforcing stricter regulations.”

  “You’re telling me things I already know, Nate,” he said. “And the crisis I’m most concerned about tonight is the one taking place in this sitting room.” To emphasize the last four words, he made stabbing motions toward the floor with his index finger.

  “I understand, of course,” Nate said. “But, you’ve been advocating a ‘clamp-down’ on the sponsors of experimental drugs, especially those covered by the Orphan Drug Act. You’re quoted as saying it’s not ‘cost effective’ to spend millions on developing a drug when relatively few patients will benefit from it. As you know, GX-42 falls into that category.”

  He paused to let all that sink in, although Delores had gotten his point, and so had Richard.

  Nate swirled the scotch in his glass. “This has created a moral dilemma for the pharmacologist. He’s conflicted over provi
ding it to you, when you’re on a soapbox demanding budget cuts that would curtail its testing. To paraphrase him, it’s like you want to squeak in under the wire before limitations, heatedly endorsed by you, are implemented.”

  Richard’s fingers turned white with tension around the armrest. “To a man of integrity, as, according to you, this scientist is, I can see where that might create a moral dilemma.”

  “Well, then—”

  “But you have no integrity, Nate.” He leveled his fiercest glare on him. “How dare you take the high ground. Do not speak to me about moral dilemmas, or transparency. In short, do not fuck with me again.”

  Those reverberating words were punctuated by a buzzer, signaling someone at the estate entrance gate. “Media, no doubt,” Delores said. “Trying to follow up today’s story about that girl. The housekeeper will take care of it.”

  She picked up her gold lighter and fiddled with it, turning it end on end as she began to pace. “For the time being, let’s assume that the pharmacologist is a lost cause. Where would Brynn O’Neal have gone, Nate?”

  “I—”

  “Excuse me, Senator, Mrs. Hunt.” The housekeeper was standing in the open doorway. “A Deputy Don Rawlins is at the gate. He says it’s important that he see you.”

  Nate covered his face with both hands. “Don’t these clowns ever give up?”

  Delores spun around to confront him, demanding, “What could they want with us?”

  “I have no idea,” Nate said. “When they saw me out of the parking garage, they were eating humble pie for wasting my time.”

  Turning to the housekeeper, Delores said, “Tell them that we’ve retired—”

  Richard cut her off. “Let them in.” The housekeeper withdrew to carry out the order. Richard said to Nate and Delores, “Information is power. Let’s see what they have to say. Maybe they’ve uncovered something useful to us about Dr. O’Neal or the pilot.”

  Nate downed his scotch. Delores checked her hair and lipstick in the wall mirror and was standing in her “senator’s wife pose”—feet in fourth position, hands clasped at her waist—when the housekeeper led the two officers into the sitting room.

  “Gentlemen,” Delores said, smiling. “Excuse our informality. We weren’t expecting company. Other than our dear friend Nate Lambert, whom I understand you’ve met.”

  Hats in hands, they introduced themselves by name and politely shook hands with her and Richard. “An honor, sir,” Rawlins said. He looked over at Nate. “Doctor.”

  Wilson’s greeting was equally uncordial toward Nate.

  Turning on the charm, Delores motioned the two officers into chairs and played hostess. “I know from Nate that you’ve had an awfully long day. It can’t have been much of a Thanksgiving for either of you. Would you care for something? I can offer you all the leftover turkey sandwiches you can eat.”

  They smiled as expected, but declined the sandwiches as well as an offer of pie. “Just coffee, please,” she said to the housekeeper. “I think we could all do with that.” She perched on the arm of Richard’s chair and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I think the senator and I are missing a link here. What brings you?”

  Richard said, “You know my stance on supporting law enforcement officers. How can we help you?”

  Wilson took the lead and consulted a note he’d made on his cell phone. “We have a Georgia license plate number we’d like confirmed as being registered to Mrs. Hunt. Black Mercedes.” He read off the number.

  Delores looked at Richard, and he at her, and then both turned to the deputies. She said, “I have no idea.”

  “Nor do I,” Richard said. “We’re not personally responsible for the upkeep of the automobiles we own and use, either here or in Washington.”

  “This car was in Howardville this morning.”

  “Oh! Then that must’ve been the car Goliad drove up there,” she said.

  “Goliad have a last name?”

  She laughed. “I’m sure he does, but I’ve only ever known him by the single name. I’m sure his full name is in our employee files.”

  “I’d like to have his full name when you can get it for me, please.”

  “Of course. He’s signed off for the night, but I can get it to you first thing tomorrow.”

  “Did he get a parking ticket in your town?” Richard asked with his most diplomatic smile. “If you’re here to collect the fine, I’m happy to pay.”

  Wilson forced a laugh. The other one, who in Delores’s opinion had a pugnacious face, didn’t crack a smile.

  The housekeeper wheeled in a serving cart. The next few minutes were spent pouring and serving everyone’s coffee to their liking.

  When the housekeeper left, Delores picked up the conversation. “We sent Goliad up to Howardville to ensure that Dr. O’Neal would make it back to Atlanta safely. She was on an important errand for us.”

  “Yes, the doctor explained the errand, but didn’t tell us on whose behalf it was.”

  “But I wouldn’t, would I?” Nate asked, at his most snobbish. “Patient confidentiality.”

  Not put off, Rawlins said to him, “Concerned as you are over that patient, I thought you’d be at the lab running tests on those time-sensitive blood samples, trying to match…what was it? Cell markers?”

  “I dropped the samples at the lab on my way here. I wouldn’t want to impose a tedious explanation of the matching process on Senator and Mrs. Hunt.”

  “I’m sure they appreciate that consideration,” Rawlins said. “You ever locate Dr. O’Neal?”

  “No. I’m almost glad I haven’t. I’m very upset with her. Terribly disappointed.”

  “For not overseeing the tests with you?”

  “Among other things,” Nate replied and gave a delicate shudder.

  Richard set his cup and saucer on the small table at his elbow. “Nate has told us about Dr. O’Neal’s seeming infatuation with the pilot and their ill-timed interlude this morning.”

  Wilson said, “They left the rendezvous spot with your Goliad and another man.”

  “Who would that be?” Pretending ignorance, Delores looked to Richard for clarification.

  “A new man Goliad has taken under wing to train,” he said to the deputies. “I believe his name is Timmy. I don’t know his last name.”

  She waved her hand as though those details didn’t matter. “This is so out of character for Dr. O’Neal. Ordinarily she’s so stable, entirely devoted to treating that sweet little girl, and in pursuit of every possible avenue for her survival.”

  The two deputies looked at each other. Wilson came back to Delores. “Sweet little girl?”

  “Dr. O’Neal and Nate’s patient.” When the two officers gave Delores blank stares, she looked at Nate with perplexity and a trace of asperity. “Even without divulging Violet’s name, I was under the impression you had explained everything to these gentlemen.”

  Delores could have slapped him. He just sat there like a ventriloquist’s dummy, his mouth opening and closing but nothing coming out.

  Fortunately, neither of the deputies was paying attention to him. They were looking at her and Richard. Wilson coughed behind his fist. “Excuse us, senator, Mrs. Hunt. We had surmised that these blood samples were being tested for one of you.”

  “Oh,” she said on an exhalation. “No. Richard and I are blessed with good health.” She let her smile falter. “Sadly, not so for Violet. I learned of her situation through one of the foundations that Richard and I support. We wanted to do something meaningful for her and her family.”

  “Why don’t we play them the DVR?” Richard suggested. “That will explain things.”

  “We had just as well make some use of it.” Her smile to the deputies was modestly apologetic. “We wanted to keep this between us and the girl’s family, but the media got wind of it. There’s no longer a need to protect her identity.”

  Richard used an iPad on the end table to turn on the flat-screen fitted into a bookcase. The DVR had been p
aused at the place in the newscast where the story of Violet began.

  The deputies watched with interest, and, when Richard paused the recording on their private jet disappearing into the clouds, the two looked justifiably embarrassed. Wilson said, “Very generous gesture.”

  “Thank you. She’s had it rough and deserves some happy days.” Richard came to his feet. “If that’s all, Del and I have had a long day, too.”

  Both deputies stood up. Wilson threaded his hat through his fingers. “That’s not quite all, senator.”

  With visible but contained impatience, Richard divided a look between the two.

  Rawlins said, “We’ve still got a man up in Howardville who was attacked last night.” Turning to Nate, he said, “We’d like to ask Dr. O’Neal a few more questions about what happened out there at the airport.”

  Nate said, “Granted, Brynn has been indiscreet today, but she isn’t the sort to knock a man unconscious.”

  “But he’s the sort.”

  “Mallett?”

  Rawlins nodded.

  “Then I suggest you look for him,” Nate said. “We don’t even know that he’s still in Atlanta, or that they’re together.”

  Delores watched the deputies for their reactions to Nate’s lie.

  Rawlins said, “Oh, they’re together, Dr. Lambert. After she abandoned you, things got interesting in that parking garage.” He turned to Delores. “First, Mallett had a run-in with your Mercedes-driving friend and his second.”

  “My goodness,” she said on a shocked gasp. “Richard, did you know about this?”

  “Of course not.”

  Rawlins continued. “After the encounter with Mallett, security cameras show Goliad and the other guy driving out in the Mercedes. Also shows Mallett and Dr. O’Neal hooking up several minutes later in her parking space and leaving together on foot.”

  “It seems that this Mallett is at the center of all the bloodshed,” Richard said.

  “I shudder to think of him with Dr. O’Neal,” Delores said. “Do you think she’s in danger? He obviously has a violent bent.”