Lethal Intent

by Cara C. Putman

  “It’s not about making a profit. Just breaking even works. Especially if my investments keep churning out dividends.”

  “It’s a good idea.” The man asked a few more questions. “All right, let me work on some options and get back to you.”

  “Thanks.” He ended the call and tucked the phone in his pocket. Looking into switching the funding model at Almost Home might not be enough to change the Stones’ minds in time, but it was the next right step. He’d keep doing that over and over again until he ran out of steps. He was good at that, even when he couldn’t pull a big breath like the time Jeff Saturday pile-drived him at a Pro Bowl practice. Man, that had hurt, and it had taken twenty minutes to get his lungs cooperating with his brain again.

  “Mr. Brandon, will you catch the football?” Zeke’s voice pulled Brandon’s attention back to the playground area. Grass stained the boy’s sweatshirt along the arm. Alaina would have fun getting that out.

  Brandon clapped his hands. “Send it right here.”

  Zeke’s pass wobbled like a lame duck, but Brandon chased throw after throw until his shirt was as grass-stained as Zeke’s. Then he picked the boy up instead of the ball and ran to his cottage with the boy bouncing against his shoulder. Evan chased them, and each time he got close, Brandon would sprint ahead just enough.

  These boys. They were worth every bit of struggle and creativity it took.

  He’d make it work for them. And if he was lucky, he’d find a way to keep the Stones too. Somehow.

  * * *

  Caroline’s toes felt pinched in her shoes as she stalked down the hallway. Being short had its hazards, and one for her was the high heels she shoved her feet into each day to get the extra four inches that put her closer to average height. Next to Brandon she still felt like a pixie, but right now she needed to be seen like an avenging Wonder Woman type. The one who demanded the truth and would fight for what was right.

  Lillian stood in front of her desk, arms crossed, but if that young twentysomething thought she was going to stop Caroline, she had another thing coming.

  “Excuse me, Lillian.”

  “You can’t go in there.”

  She made a flicking motion with her hand, but Lillian didn’t so much as flinch. “Move aside.”

  “It’s your funeral.”

  Caroline knocked once before opening Quentin’s door. She might be small, but she had learned to appear mighty even when she quaked on the inside. She’d ignore the tremors until they disappeared or she forgot about them, a skill she learned in junior high when home life got so bad. She stepped into Quentin’s office. “Could we discuss Patrick Robbins?”

  The man wasn’t behind his desk. As she spun to take in his office, he wasn’t sitting on the loveseat or staring out one of his massive windows. He wasn’t anywhere.

  She spun on her pointy heel and stalked back to Lillian. “Where is he?”

  “Out.” The girl’s hot-pink lips tugged into a smirk that Caroline didn’t understand. As far as she knew she hadn’t done anything to earn the hostile vibe. She’d probe later, but right now she needed to find her boss. She glanced at the desk, snagging an upside-down look at the old-school paper calendar. Lillian had marked the man out for the rest of the afternoon but with a note about his off-site office.

  Lillian stood in the doorway watching her.

  “Where’s his off-site location?”

  “It’s a coffee shop down the street.” The girl watched her warily as she crossed her arms. “You haven’t been here long enough to know how much he hates being bothered there.”

  “Thanks, but this is important.”

  “That’s what everyone says until they pack their office.”

  “Which coffee shop?”

  “The Sheepdog. He loves the dark roast. Says it powers him through the days.”

  Caroline had been there a couple of times. It had good coffee, but the real perk was the multitude of little nooks where one could hunker down and work with limited distractions. It was the perfect place for the CEO to slip out and focus.

  “Thanks.”

  Lillian shrugged and Caroline wondered if it indicated a slight thaw. “Just be careful. This is his time to focus.”

  * * *

  It took Caroline ten minutes to walk to the coffee shop, and when she entered the cute storefront tucked in a strip mall, she spotted Quentin at a table slid next to the window with a couple she couldn’t identify, thanks to the glare. Caroline hesitated inside the front door. She should get something before she rushed his way.

  The atmosphere of the small coffee shop was a vibe of books and jazz mixed with the aroma of rich coffee and warm pastries. The tables were dark wood, and the color and grain were mirrored in the exposed beams that crisscrossed the ceiling. It was the kind of spot perfect for spending a Saturday morning nestled at a corner table with a journal and book. An excuse to get out of the house while also spending a bit of time solely for her.

  The barista had a bright smile, her hair curling in humid wisps around her face in a way that suggested a long day serving the caffeine-deprived. “What can I prepare for you?”

  “A macchiato would be great.” The price reflected how great it would be, but this new job gave Caroline more flexibility to enjoy the treat. She added a tip as she signed the receipt, then went to wait for her mug of coffee. Five minutes later she had her order but hesitated to approach Quentin’s table. Lillian’s warning came to mind. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had.

  “Ma’am, can I help you with anything?” The bright-faced barista was smiling, but her eyes and forehead crinkled as if she was worried. “The sugar and sweeteners are on the stand over there.”

  Caroline smiled apologetically as she picked up the mug and saucer. “Thanks.”

  After she collected a packet of raw sugar and a wooden stirring stick, she scanned the space for an open seat. Many of the tables were filled with one or two people hunched over laptops. It was the office-away-from-the-office for many, the place gig-economy workers went to be productive.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t grabbed a file to work on, so she couldn’t stall too long without it being obvious she was stalking her boss.

  Her phone dinged, and she set the mug on the counter in front of a vacant stool. A glance at her screen showed an email from Justin Grant, a colleague in charge of one of the CAR T-cell trials.

  Heard from my contact at the FDA. Says we’re about a week from approval pending answers to a new round of questions headed our way Monday. Something to look forward to.

  She keyed a message back.

  Thanks for the heads-up. I’ll be ready to hit it hard with you.

  A shadow fell over her, and she glanced up to find Quentin standing next to her, a frown marring his face. “Please tell me you didn’t follow me here.” As she opened her mouth, he held up his hand, stopping her words. “Lillian texted me. Let. It. Go.” Each word was a punch.

  At that moment Caroline decided to change her approach from antagonist to ally.

  “You’re right. I know you are.” Caroline watched as some of the defensiveness leached from his posture. “While you might not believe this, I’m very aware of how much I have to learn about Praecursoria and all the good you want to do in the world. But I’m also really good at what I do. I know the law and I know how to find answers. There’s precedent, Quentin. The law is clear that the kind of therapies you’re working on must follow protocols. Don’t get so excited about helping one terminally sick child that you race ahead of a process that’s designed to protect you and this company and all the other terminally sick kids who could benefit down the road.” She edged the cup a quarter turn on the saucer, then glanced at him. “Please understand that’s all I want. Keep me in the loop. I’ll learn fast that way and be better positioned to do my job.” The work the company did was important, but maybe she was there to help protect them from a reckless rush to save everyone they could.

  After she finished, he waited
as if convinced she’d start talking again. “That’s it?”

  “Yes, sir. It’s your company, but I’m here to help you make it stronger if you’ll let me.”

  He seemed to ponder her words before he nodded. “I will, but you need to understand this about me. I’m willing to take some risks to save a life. Someday when you’re a parent, you’ll understand.” He leaned closer. “If you can accept that, we’ll be good.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good.” He glanced back at the table where the couple had turned.

  “Is that Mr. and Mrs. Robbins?”

  “It is. They’ll be by first thing in the morning to get their copy of the informed consent. That way they can have an attorney review it before they sign.”

  “I’ll have it ready for them tonight.”

  He nodded. “I know how to protect my company too.”

  As he walked back to his guests, she waved to the barista. “Can I get this in a to-go cup?”

  Chapter 9

  Saturday, April 24

  Brandon slipped his hand into Caroline’s and glanced down at the way their fingers intertwined. Her slim fingers were engulfed by his. He wanted to hold on tightly, amazed that she would choose to be here with him.

  “You okay, big guy?” Her face tipped toward him but he couldn’t read her eyes thanks to the Jackie O sunglasses she wore. She didn’t really need them, not with the dappled sun that shone in spots through the trees lining each side of the trail. He couldn’t have ordered better weather for a couple of hours hiking along Seneca Regional Park trails with his girl. She bumped her shoulder into his side. “Huh?”

  “Yeah. I’m good.” Couldn’t be better actually, except . . . There was always a cloud on April 24, but it was a cloud he didn’t share with many.

  “I almost believe you.”

  Their arms swung in unison, he trying to keep the pace slow enough that she didn’t have to two-step to keep up. If he wanted this relationship between them to develop to forever depths, he had to let Caroline in. But once he started, where could he stop? “Today is my brother’s birthday.”

  Caroline stopped and he turned around on the pivot of their connected hands. “Brandon, I’m so sorry.” She pushed her sunglasses up, and the pity in her eyes . . .

  It was why he kept this part of his life securely quarantined, especially from the good parts like Caroline. “I didn’t say it so you’d be sorry for me.”

  Pain flashed through her eyes but didn’t disappear. “Where is he? We could call and sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him. I don’t have the world’s best voice, but I make up for it with enthusiasm.” She grinned and started singing loudly enough to cause the couple coming toward them to start laughing. “See? Even they’re entertained.”

  The couple clapped softly as they walked by, and Caroline executed a small bow.

  His phone buzzed and he pulled it out to check the message. One thing about running Almost Home: he was never off the clock.

  “What is it? Do we need to head back?” Caroline started to pivot. “I’m not as fast as you, but we can run, well, jog back to the car.”

  Thinking about you today, Brandon. We’ll find Trevor. Someday he’ll walk back into your life with a story you won’t believe, and you won’t care because he’ll be back. Call if you need anything.

  Brandon swallowed as he read Anna’s text. She might not be his official sibling, but she did her best to keep pulling him into the family circle, especially when others ignored his existence. If they felt guilt for what happened after his mom died, they exhibited hostile indifference.

  “Brandon?”

  He shook his head then turned his phone so Caroline could read the screen. “It’s from Anna.”

  “I like her.”

  “Me too. She’s the closest thing to a sister I have.”

  “What happened to Trevor? You never talk about him.” Caroline started tugging him toward a large boulder that sat next to the trail. “We can sit here and you can tell me about him.”

  “I’d rather keep walking if you don’t mind.” If he was going to share this part of his story, it would be easier if he couldn’t see her expressions.

  “When our mom died, Trevor was eight to my seventeen. We had different dads, but the state couldn’t find either one.” He shoved his free hand into his pocket as his shoulders hunched forward. “Somehow I got my caseworker convinced I had a good place to live. I did, too, until the family relocated a month later, but by then she wasn’t checking on me. Other kids had more urgent needs. Why focus on me when I’d age out in a year?”

  “Oh, Brandon. I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” The words were harsh, and he sighed. “I’m sorry, too, but I made it. I’d crash on couches, kind of like the kid in The Blind Side. Only I didn’t get adopted.”

  “What about Anna’s family? Why didn’t they help you?”

  “They were halfway around the world. It wasn’t as easy to keep up internationally then as it is now. Amazing how barely a decade can change things.” He swiped under his eyes, hoping Caroline missed it, but the tightening of her grip suggested she’d noticed.

  “Trevor was initially taken in by some paternal aunt who wouldn’t take me because I wasn’t a blood relative.” One more person who hadn’t wanted Brandon. “We couldn’t even get visitations scheduled. Then he disappeared.”

  “No wonder you give Almost Home everything you have.”

  “I don’t want other kids to experience what I did.”

  His story was one of those tragedies that happened too often. Family too far flung to step in. Agency too overworked. And siblings split, a family destroyed by circumstances. The fact both boys had different fathers and essentially no contact with their paternal families made it easier to get lost.

  “Where’s Trevor now?”

  “I don’t know. As soon as I got my first paycheck from the Colts, I hired a private investigator.” The first of several. “None of them found Trevor. Even as his brother I couldn’t get his records from the state. He’s gone.” Brandon stopped and Caroline turned toward him. “The crazy thing? I really thought that when I made it to the pros he’d show up. That’s what everyone warns you about. The supposed relatives who crawl out of the woodwork looking for handouts. I would have gladly given him anything, only he never came.”

  * * *

  The pain in Brandon’s voice could be her undoing.

  This big teddy bear of a man had experienced the worst of life, yet he still gave freely of himself to those who needed him. She hadn’t thought she could love him more than she already did, but her heart was proving her wrong. He was a hero in the way he’d turned his point of greatest pain into a call to help others.

  “I think I love you, Brandon Lancaster.” Her free hand flew up to cover her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

  His lips turned into a grin, the one with a bit of Jack Sparrow and Cary Grant mixed in. “Oh, I think you did.” He tugged her closer. “Come here, fair lady.”

  She squealed and tried to tug free. “What are you doing?”

  “A woman can’t say she loves a man and then walk away.”

  “She can’t? And I didn’t.” Was it getting hotter in the shade or what? She wanted to fan her face to ease the red that must be gushing into it. “Brandon Lancaster, let me go.”

  “Not until I get my tribute.”

  “What’s that?” Her voice sounded breathy to her own ears.

  “A kiss will do.”

  She reached up to peck him on the cheek. But he swiveled and their lips connected.

  The world stopped, then turned into a kaleidoscope of colors that swirled around them. Two people. Standing on a trail. In a forest of tall trees. The sun shining above them. The hint of forever filling her heart.

  Applause and whoops startled her, even as Brandon pressed her closer. He growled, actually growled, and she peeked around him to see a group of college-aged guys grinning at them.

  “Way to
go, dude.”

  Brandon stiffened even more. “Nothing to see here, boys.”

  “Then get a room.”

  Caroline giggled. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Life felt good and rich right now. She wanted to take a camera and capture it. Why not?

  “Hey. Would one of you snap our photo for me?” She pulled out her phone and handed it to the kid in the Georgetown sweatshirt. “Thanks.”

  She turned to Brandon and grinned at him. Then he surprised her and turned for a kiss that he deepened. The boys started whooping it up again, but she couldn’t speak. Didn’t want to. Then he eased back.

  “Be careful what you ask for, Bragg.”

  The guy in the sweatshirt laughed as he handed the phone back to her. “Way to go, man.”

  Brandon’s smile for this kid was more like baring his teeth. “Wait until you find a treasure like my girlfriend. She’ll be worth it.”

  The guys chuckled then continued down the path.

  Caroline pulled up the pictures and scrolled through several shots. She’d have a closer look later, but she liked what she saw: a man who looked at her with adoration. She could get used to it and wanted to bottle the moment so she could pull it out when she felt alone.

  When the nights were dark and she couldn’t sleep.

  She wanted to remember what it felt like to have his hand covering hers.

  Remember the feeling of security and lent strength.

  Remember that he found her worth loving.

  Chapter 10

  Monday, April 26

  First thing Monday morning, Caroline read the informed-consent release form one more time, then printed three copies. The Robbinses would take one with them, but she wanted one for the patient’s file and one for hers. A backup just in case.

  At nine she walked the halls to Quentin’s office.

  The door was closed, but when she tapped on it, Quentin told her to enter.

  Samson Kleme sat with Michael and Mary Robbins at the round table in the corner of the office. Quentin stood at the small refrigerator collecting bottles of water. “Have the forms?”