Outlier: One mistake can destroy everything.

by Jacob Mesmer

  “OK. Not sure how I can help, but go on.”

  “Well, it turns out that Sheryl may have been involved in some kind of clinical trials or something, maybe for depression. I saw what seemed to be a form letter in her email, but I ran into a brick wall when I phoned them. From what I can tell, they are a subsidiary of Tanner Industries.”

  “Tanner?” Alan seemed to perk up at that. “They’ve got their fingers up in everybody’s pie. They are one of the big six.”

  “Big six?” Sean didn’t follow.

  “Well, if you take 90% of all companies that exist today, they are all connected to six very large, very diverse conglomerates. While they keep everything as close to the chest as the law will allow, we believe they’ve got maybe 20 individuals who serve on all six boards of directors.”

  “So you’re saying those twenty people pretty much run every single company in the world?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying. And these guys are very, very powerful. Where do you think politicians get all their money from when they spend all those millions and sometimes billions on elections?”

  “Jesus. How can that be legal?”

  “Well, they aren’t all based in the US, and international law is pretty vague on how those global corporations are treated. And since they pay the guys who make the laws, you could say they can pretty much do whatever they want.”

  “Hmm.” Sean let that sink in. He was not sure how that had anything to do with BioGyn and his dead fiancée.

  “So, anyway, could you help me pay a visit to BioGyn? Their headquarters is in Houston. They might be able to give me a little bit more information if I’ve got an FBI badge with me.”

  “Sure, I’d be happy to. Just don’t expect much. They actually would be less likely if they see the FBI, especially if it’s not a formal investigation, in which case we’d have to wade through a roomful of lawyers. But if we show up and be nice, maybe we’ll get some kind of info. What exactly are you looking for?”

  “Not sure. Just want to find out if she was in some kind of trial, and what kind of drug they were using. Then maybe we’ll go from there. Not even sure if they’d be accountable. Not even sure how those clinical trials work. But it’s all I’ve got.”

  Alan could detect the growing frustration in Sean’s voice. He checked his schedule.

  “How about Thursday morning? We’ll hit ‘em right when they open. Which means we’ll need a real early start.”

  “Works for me.”

  As soon as he hung up, Camila, the office dispatch, came in with an amused look on her face.

  “Detective Lovac, I’m really sorry to bother you, but the other two officers are out on calls, and the chief’s back is acting up again. This is kind of funny, and I don’t think it will require much.”

  Sean smiled. He’d known Camila for at least six years; she always addressed him as detective, and she always acted like she was interrupting something important when she addressed him.

  “What do you mean, ‘funny’?” he asked.

  “Well, the call came in from a sophomore over at Rockport-Fulton.” Sean’s ears perked up instinctively, followed by a sudden and expected wave of sadness. Shit, don’t start crying now.

  “OK, what happened; is she OK?” Sean asked.

  “Well, that’s the thing. What she told me doesn’t make much sense. She said she and another student, uh, Josh, were practicing for some debate when the school custodian started staring at Josh through the window—only Josh didn’t notice. She said, I quote, ‘Josh went into a kind of trance, and then he peed his pants.’”

  “So, her friend peed his pants while the janitor watched; were they in the restroom or something?”

  Camila chuckled nervously.

  “No, she claims the janitor made him, uh, pee himself.” She looked up, unsure.

  “By staring at him?” Sean asked incredulously.

  “She sounded really upset, Detective. She really believed he used some witchcraft or something on him and made him pee his pants.”

  Sean took a big slow breath. He didn’t have anything else until his trip to Houston. He didn’t want to talk to Dr. Nguyen until he had more info on LoZiet.

  “Well, I guess I’ll go and interview these kids, and maybe talk to the psychic janitor,” he replied.

  Both Sean and Camila shared a chuckle. Sean didn’t think he would need his gun, so he left it in his desk.

  He wondered how he’d handle going to the school.

  All those memories. Keep them locked up, he told himself.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sean sat in his unmarked car, in front—visitor parking. He looked through the windows. He took a deep breath and got out of his car.

  “Detective Lovac, responding to a call about some kind of disturbance,” he told the first woman he saw in the administrative office, flashing his badge quickly. God, he hoped everybody would keep it professional and not mention Sheryl.

  “Oh? What happened; is something wrong? Is everybody OK?” She must not have gotten the word. Sean pulled out his notepad, checking the names.

  “Yes, we got a call from a student, Chi Tran, regarding some kind of disturbance; can you bring her here, please? That would be easiest.” Keep it professional, Sean—keep it professional.

  “Sure; just a minute.” She jumped up from behind her desk and scurried off. She returned two minutes later.

  “I had an office request slip sent to her class. She’s still in her seventh period.”

  Sean stood. He figured he’d look more official that way, and not invite any condolences. He could feel the curious eyes of the other two ladies in the office. He didn’t make eye contact and didn’t smile. Didn’t want to invite conversation. He knew there would be plenty of chatter after he left.

  Chi came in, a very concerned look on her face. Five foot. Short black hair. Couldn’t be more than ninety pounds. When she saw that the police had actually sent somebody, she was relieved.

  “Is there a place we can talk in private?” he asked the first lady he’d seen. He didn’t want to know her name.

  “Yes, out the door, first classroom on the right is empty for the next 23 minutes,” she said, looking at the clock.

  Sean nodded without eye contact. He looked at Chi. “Come on.” She followed dutifully.

  “So, tell me in your own words what happened, from beginning to end,” Sean said, suddenly realizing he didn’t know if this girl was one of Sheryl’s students or not. She taught freshmen and sophomores. If so, he hoped she didn’t know her teacher was dating a cop.

  “Me and Josh were practicing for our debate this Saturday. He plays football, so we have to get ready before Thursday because Friday is his football day,” she said faster than he thought possible.

  He held his hand up. “It’s OK. Just slow down for me, OK? What is Josh’s last name?”

  “Branston. So anyway, we were talking.”

  “Where exactly was this, in a room like this?”

  “Yeah, just like this, only there was a window over there,” she pointed at a big poster board with students’ pictures holding various academic awards.

  “OK, show me exactly how you were standing?”

  “I was here, and Josh was here.” She moved to where she’d been in the other room. About center, facing him, and Josh had had his back slightly against where the window would have been.

  “OK, then what happened.” Not a question. Focus on the notepad. Get this over with.

  “Well, he was talking about what he was going to say, and then he just stopped. He froze and got this weird look on his face. Like he wasn’t there or something. His mouth just closed and he was staring straight ahead. I poked him in the stomach and he didn’t respond; and he’s like totally ticklish!”

  “OK, and how long did he stand like that?”

  “I don’t know, maybe twenty seconds or something? But after I poked him, I saw that janitor guy staring at him from outside the window. And then I looked
back at Josh, and he was just standing there peeing his pants!” She started crying.

  “Don’t worry; I’m sure it’s nothing. This happens sometimes. Where is Josh now?”

  “Oh my God! He was so embarrassed. First he looked confused, and then he saw his pants and ran. I think he went home. He doesn’t have anything seventh period.” Sean wrote everything down. Professional.

  “And you think the janitor is somehow involved?”

  “Well, yeah! He was staring right at him like he was putting a curse or something on him. My grandmother’s told stories about witch doctors back in Vietnam. That stuff is totally real! You believe me, right?”

  “Sure; sure, I believe you. Listen, I’m going to talk to Josh, and then I’ll talk to the janitor here, all right? About five foot seven, kind of skinny? Kind of balding?”

  “Oh my God! You know him? Has he done this before? Are you going to arrest him?”

  “No, no; I just know him from somewhere else. You know—small town? I’ll talk to him, and we’ll get this sorted out, OK? Is there anything else? Did you see the janitor leave? Did he notice, uh, Josh—I mean, what happened?”

  “I don’t know. After Josh—you know, ran away—I looked up, and the janitor was gone.”

  “OK; I’ll fill out a report, and we’ll talk to everybody and see what happens, OK?”

  “So, are you going to arrest him or something?”

  “Well, we can’t really arrest somebody before we question them, but we’ll see how it goes. You going to be OK?” he asked, making sure that was it.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine!” She looked at the clock. “Do I have to go back to class?” There were only five minutes left.

  “Tell you what. I’ll leave, and you wait here till the bell rings. Then you can split.”

  “Cool!”

  Sean walked back into the hallway. He may as well talk to Jay, see what he had to say. Wasn’t sure if talking to a football player who peed his pants was such a good idea.

  He popped back into the office.

  “Hi. One more thing. I need to talk to the custodian; I believe his name is Jay.”

  The nameless woman he had spoken to before looked disappointed.

  “You just missed him. Normally he stays two hours after the last bell, but he said he had to leave. He said it was an emergency. But if you ask me, I think he left because he saw your car.”

  “He go home?” he asked, no smile—only the briefest eye contact.

  “I honestly don’t think he’s got anywhere else to go.”

  “I’m gonna need his address,” Sean said, his pen and pad ready. It wasn’t a question.

  Why would simple Jay be spooked by an unmarked police car?

  He was going to find out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jay burst through the front door in a panic. Slammed it behind him. He knew his mom wasn’t home, so he let out a scream. What was happening? He hadn’t thought of that incident in years. Why now? He paced in his living room, too agitated to sit. Everything was going fine. He went to work, did his job, and got paid. No problems. No issues. No confusion.

  He could talk to Sheryl once in a while. They even exchanged emails a few times a week. It was fun, and she was nice. He knew she was going out with that policeman, Sean. He didn’t mind. He had tried talking to her back when they were students after she’d been nice to him. He had asked her to sit with him at lunch, and she’d politely refused. That was OK. She was still nice. Or at least, she wasn’t mean to him like the other kids.

  Jay had always been a loner. He hadn’t made friends in kindergarten or elementary school. That’s why his dad had left. His mom told him so. That’s why his mom rarely talked to him. That was fine. He didn’t need anybody. He liked reading his comic books. Some of the teachers at school were nice to him, and that was OK. So long as he could make enough money to not have to ask his mom for any, that was perfect. He had a place to stay, a TV to watch, and all the comic books he wanted. Sometimes he even took the bus to San Antonio and went into the shops and bought nice things.

  Everything was ruined now. Because of what he did. Or thought he did. He didn’t really know. For some reason, Sheryl stopped coming to work. People said she was gone. Maybe those men took her. The same men that he talked to last month. They were nice. They were all very nice. The doctors and the nurses asked him questions. They took measurements on their machines and wrote things down on paper they wouldn’t show him. They said everything was fine. That everything was going to be fine. Only things weren’t fine. Things were all upside down. Backwards. Messed up.

  He never wanted to go back to that school after what had happened today. Those two kids, the boy and the girl, they made him think of that time he was so embarrassed he wanted to die. Forced those thoughts into his head. He could never go back. What if they told the others? What if they told him how easy it was to put those thoughts in his head? They would all start doing it. Then he’d be like those dolls with strings he sees sometimes on those old TV shows. All those kids. Pushing him around and playing with his mind.

  But if he never went back, he wouldn’t get any more money. He’d have to ask his mom for money, and that would be terrible. She wouldn’t ever give him enough. She would look at him that way, that way where he knows she is thinking terrible things about him. He needed money, but he couldn’t go to work.

  Maybe if he got fired. He heard that if you got fired, you could still get money. He’d heard that on TV sometimes. He kept pacing back and forth. He ran into his room and grabbed the bookmark that belonged to Sheryl. She was gone; did that mean he could keep it? That would be nice. When he held it, he thought of her. Like he had that night. He’d held it tight and remembered when he’d asked her to eat lunch with him. He kept thinking of that until…

  When?

  He’d woken up on the couch the next morning. Maybe he’d fallen asleep. Of course he’d fallen asleep. That’s why he’d been on the couch. He kept pacing back in the living room, squeezing the bookmark as tightly as he could. Maybe it would make him think of Sheryl, and that would give him an idea of how to get fired. Maybe if he did something bad. Messed something up. Where they could blame him, and have to fire him.

  He smiled. He knew she would help him! He would have to do something bad so they would fire him. But what about the policeman? What about Sean? It would have to be something bad, but not something really bad. Something to get fired, but not go to jail. He’d have to be really smart.

  He kept pacing and squeezing the bookmark, hoping Sheryl would tell him what to do.

  He suddenly smiled.

  He knew.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dr. Nguyen was finishing up an old court inquiry when the phone rang.

  “Coroner’s office.”

  “Tony, Bernie again. I may have some information for you.”

  “Regarding?” Dr. Nguyen had been suddenly overwhelmed with a mountain of paperwork. Everybody wanted to cover their butts. This was the part of his job he hated.

  “BioGyn.”

  “Yes, of course. Sorry, my mind was somewhere else. What do you have, Bernie?”

  “Well, again, you didn’t hear this from me, but an associate of mine who’s done some consulting for them in the past still keeps in touch with some of the techs there.” Dr. Bernard Roth sounded a bit hesitant.

  “Uh huh.”

  “Apparently, they are working on a general nervous system depressant. What they’re calling a stress relief drug. However, they’ve done some monkeying around with some naturally occurring chemicals so they can cross the blood-brain barrier.”

  “Uh huh. That’s not entirely uncommon. A few stress drugs can do that.” Dr. Nguyen sat up a little straighter.

  “Well, the thing is that they are intending for this to be an over-the-counter medication.”

  “I see. I can definitely see the danger there. But that’s kind of in the opposite direction. A general nervous system inhibitor would tend to lower
blood pressure and other sympathetic systems. I was hoping for something that may have the opposite effect. You follow?” Dr. Nguyen sounded a bit let down.

  “Yeah, well, here’s the thing. This particular thing they’ve altered is a compound that itself does some other things than simply lower blood pressure.”

  “What’s the original compound?”

  “Well, my source tells me it’s aminobutyric acid, a neuro-inhibitor. They’ve added a phenyl ring so it will cross the blood-brain barrier, making it much more potent.” Dr. Roth wondered if Dr. Nguyen would see his line of thinking.