Lethal Intent

by Cara C. Putman

  He studied her through his dark glasses. “Really?”

  “What do you know about the sale?”

  “Not much. It was sold to a group of investors.” Brian shrugged. “At the time I thought Quentin was crazy. Genetic testing was our cash cow. But he knows best. Always does.” There was an edge to those last words.

  “Were you part of the sale?”

  He studied her with furrowed brows. “No.”

  “When did you start working here?”

  “Must have been within the first year.” He frowned as he stroked his chin and looked into the distance. “I wasn’t the first scientist hired but came right after my postdoc at Hopkins. I’ll be paying off that debt for years.”

  “Were you part of the genetic testing when it was run here?”

  “On the fringes. Once the program was up and running, it didn’t require PhDs to maintain. Technicians received the tests, analyzed the results, and managed the process unless there were anomalies that required input from someone with more knowledge. The goal was to streamline the process from intake to results sent to customer as much as possible.” He shrugged. “It was profitable, but when CAR T-cell therapy came along, Quentin argued the genetic testing distracted us from the real reason Praecursoria exists. That’s why Quentin and the others decided to sell that part of the company. The sale also helped fund new research that ultimately became what we’re doing with CAR T cells.”

  “Who was it sold to?”

  Brian considered the question for a minute. “I think Samson was one of the members of the consortium, but like I said, I wasn’t involved. What’s all this about?”

  “I need to know who has liability for the tests performed before the sale.”

  “I’d say the buyer assumes all risk, wouldn’t you?”

  “Not necessarily. Do you know where I can find a copy of the buy-sell agreement?”

  He shook his head. “Why?”

  “Quentin received a letter threatening to sue for genetic testing letters Praecursoria mailed.”

  He rubbed his jaw. “We’re a research company. Someone’s always suing. That’s why Quentin hired you. So handle it.” He stood and tipped an imaginary hat her direction. “If you want to know more, talk to Samson. He was part of the group that bought that part of the business.”

  Chapter 24

  The day was colored with grief and concern as Caroline kept trying to reach Brandon. Her mind spun out an endless variety of what-ifs and worst-case scenarios as she tried to learn how Anna was. Caroline tried to settle into work, but every ten minutes or so, her gaze trailed to her phone.

  After an hour, she’d had enough.

  She had to focus and get work done. Everybody had a point where a thing became too much. The tipping point where what had been precariously managed tumbled in shattered dreams and hopes. Brandon had edged closer to that with each roadblock that Almost Home had faced. Then he’d had the giddy wash of hope that he’d found a solution for the group home, and now Anna.

  Caroline wasn’t sure how to help, but if he didn’t return her call or text, she’d go to him.

  No hiding allowed, even if she had to wait until her workday ended.

  Many items filled her to-do list, but her thoughts flitted among the letter and corporate research, the trials and internal controls, and Brandon and Anna.

  Who would advocate medically for Bethany now? Who would ensure the trials were run properly from the medical side?

  Caroline stood and grabbed her keys and cell phone. She needed to clear her head before she spent the day ineffectively. As she neared the side door, Lillian stepped out of the break room and ran into Caroline.

  Lillian steadied herself. “Sorry about that.”

  “No worries. I was pretty focused.” Caroline studied the younger woman. Mascara had flaked under her eyes and her eyeliner had smeared. “Are you all right?”

  The woman nodded then shook her head. “But it’s not your concern. I’ll handle it.”

  “Are you sure? I’m headed outside for a quick walk. Want to join me?” Caroline gestured to the door. “Sometimes a change of scenery, even for a minute, helps.”

  “Okay.” Lillian sighed. “A bit of distance would be good.”

  The moment she hit the side door, humidity slapped Caroline in the face. Walking out here wasn’t like being in DC and near the Mall. Instead, the rumble of cars overwhelmed any nature sounds. Still, she took a moment to just be. Then she focused on Lillian. “Want to tell me what’s going on? You don’t have to, but I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

  Lillian’s hand fluttered to her ridiculously flat stomach. The girl must plank for hours. “I’m pregnant.”

  Caroline blinked. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Aren’t you glad you asked?” Bitterness crept into Lillian’s voice. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not some terrible romance novel gone wrong, yet that’s exactly my life right now.”

  “Do you need help?” Her mind scrambled to pull up the name of the crisis pregnancy center her church supported.

  “No, I’ll just make the dad pay. He’s got the money, but he’s not going to like it.” She sighed and closed her eyes as if the sunlight blinded her, but then a tear trickled down her cheek. “I promised myself I wouldn’t make my mom’s mistake, and yet that’s exactly what I’ve done.”

  “Will the father want to be involved?”

  “No, and I wouldn’t let him.” She shivered even in the heat. “I’d better get back to work. Promise you won’t tell anyone.”

  “Attorney-client privilege.” It was a weak joke, but she held up three fingers in the Girl Scout salute. “Why did you tell me?”

  “You seem to really care about people, even when people like me aren’t always welcoming.” Her shoulders pulled in, and she looked away. “I hope I didn’t read you wrong.”

  “You didn’t. I’m humbled you’ve trusted me.” The news was a treasure. “I’ll pray for you and this baby, and if I can help let me know.”

  Lillian nodded and turned toward the building, away from Caroline, but didn’t leave. Another tear slowly slid down her cheek. “I don’t know how long I can stay.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t see him every day and pretend everything’s okay.”

  “The father?”

  Her nod was so small Caroline almost missed it.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” The woman lifted her chin. “This is the only job I have right now, so I’d better get back to it.” She marched toward the building as if it housed a firing squad.

  What dreams had been decimated by someone who worked in there?

  Caroline waited ten minutes and prayed for Lillian. This would not be an easy road for her, but Caroline would do what she could to be a friend in the process.

  When she returned to her office, she forced her thoughts to turn from Lillian’s revelation to digging through the company’s server hunting for the corporate minutes. As she clicked, part of her expected to get a call from IT, but it never came. When she finally located the minutes, she combed through the prior years’ reports until she found a record of Praecursoria’s board vote to spin off Genetics for You, Inc., the genetic testing service. The vote occurred at one of the annual business meetings, but it didn’t look like the sale was finalized until the following year. She tried to trace Genetics for You through the Virginia Secretary of State’s online database, but the buyer hadn’t filed paperwork for the last eighteen months. It might not be viable anymore, since an annual report had to be filed each year for a company to stay in good standing with the state. While it looked like a dead end, she’d call the number on record and drive by the address if necessary. One address was out in Chantilly, roughly twenty-three miles west of Tysons, while an older one was closer.

  Where was the buy-sell agreement?

  She backtracked through the records and printed off the list of officers. The officers for Praecursoria were the same then as now,
but she paused when she spotted a familiar name on the Genetics for You list.

  Brian Silver.

  He had been the vice president of Genetics for You at the time it bought the testing arm from Praecursoria.

  Why had he told her Samson was part of the consortium of buyers but failed to mention his own involvement? In fact, he’d denied any involvement. What did he have to hide?

  Someone knocked on her door, and an intern from George Mason University stuck her head in the office. “I’ve got a small package for you.”

  “Go ahead and bring it in.”

  The young woman slipped into the office and handed a padded envelope to Caroline. “Sign here.”

  Caroline complied, then the intern slipped from the room, closing the door behind her.

  There was no return address on the envelope, so Caroline examined it for a postmark. Falls Church. That didn’t mean much without a return address. She flipped over the padded envelope and pulled the string that opened it. The small Post-it note simply said for Caroline. She didn’t recognize the feminine handwriting. She tipped the package and a flash drive slid free.

  She flipped the drive in her hand, looking for anything distinguishing. It was a small black drive with a silver cap with no markings. Caroline frowned as she looked at it. Should she insert it in her computer, or would that compromise the computer network?

  It was overkill to think like that.

  She’d listened to too many Gabriel Allon thrillers on her commute. Time to try a different genre that didn’t have her seeing danger with each delivery.

  After a quick call, an IT staffer strolled into her office and validated the flash drive as being free of malware or bugs.

  As soon as the woman left, Caroline opened the drive and scrolled through the file directory. They looked like a random assortment of documents and Excel spreadsheets, until she reached the final item on the list. It was titled “ZforCB.” Could that mean Caroline Bragg? She clicked on the document and waited for it to load, then she slowly scrolled through it.

  It read like a memo draft with a bullet list of points that didn’t make sense. There was a discussion of stem cells but with words she didn’t know. Then there was a list of numbers that she thought referenced different research projects Praecursoria was running. She hit Print, then grabbed the pages from the printer on her hutch. She turned so her back was to the door and got out a highlighter and pen.

  Somewhere on the company server was a list of the reference numbers matched up to their projects. One of the technicians, maybe Justin Grant, had shown it to her during her first week when she was getting the whirlwind orientation. She flipped over to the network to see if she could locate it. When she couldn’t immediately put her hands on it, she jotted a note on her to-do list and turned back to the memo. As she read it, the contents confirmed this had to be from Anna.

  It devolved at the end into a list of disjointed thoughts that barely qualified as sentences.

  The list of projects is key.

  We’re missing something.

  It’s related to the cells.

  Somehow we got them, but there’s no clear chain of custody.

  Whose are they? Do we have the requisite consent?

  And what if someone else got the wrong cells? Is anyone else compromised?

  The list continued, a sequence of disjointed thoughts. She picked up her phone to call Anna, then let it drop to her desk. She’d need to find other experts to help her until Anna was out of critical care.

  Could there be a clue about the problem in the list of numbers Anna had included? There had to be a reason Anna included that list.

  Caroline clicked on the Praecursoria files and continued hunting for the matching numbers but couldn’t find them.

  Then her computer started flashing that it would shut down in sixty seconds for a software update. She frowned at it and started closing all the open files, then ejected the drive as the computer started the shutdown sequence.

  After she slipped the drive into her desk drawer, she reviewed the conversations she’d had with Anna. The early conversations hadn’t indicated that anything bothered her about the work Praecursoria was doing. Instead, she’d seemed excited by the potential represented in the research. Then her perspective had changed. Why? Was it related to Bethany’s decline? Had she dropped a clue that Caroline had overlooked during their lunch Thursday? Anna had mentioned a concern, but Caroline had thought it was just related to Bethany’s response to the trial. Caroline reviewed the conversation in her mind, but nothing came to her. Anna had been oblique, wanting to do more research.

  This flash drive probably contained everything she’d found.

  But Caroline didn’t know how to connect these files to Anna’s concerns.

  She needed Anna’s version of a Rosetta Stone to decipher the contents.

  She went back to the memo.

  Does it tie to the testing?

  Silver might.

  What did she mean by Silver might? As far as Caroline knew, silver wasn’t used in anything, and what testing did she mean? All of the studies involved elaborate tests to determine efficacy of the proposed drugs.

  She picked up her phone and dialed the lab.

  “Silver.”

  “Do you have a few minutes? I had a couple more questions, and it’s probably easier to ask in person.”

  “I don’t know anything more than I told you about the sale.”

  “This isn’t about that.”

  He seemed to weigh this. “Do you want to come to the lab?”

  There’d be fewer people to overhear if he came to her. “Would my office work?”

  He hesitated a moment. “I can do that but not for long.”

  Chapter 25

  “The treatment’s not working.” Tara Descane, Bethany’s caseworker, studied the girl where she languished in the hospital bed. She turned to Brandon. “I’m not sure we should keep her in the study.”

  “You can’t give up on her.” He motioned to the hallway. This was not a conversation they should have next to Bethany’s bed. He lowered his voice but not his will to fight for his charge. “She hasn’t given up.”

  “Look at her, Brandon.” Tara pointed back at the ghostly girl. “She’s disappearing.”

  He wanted to argue with Tara, but he couldn’t force his attention to stay on Bethany.

  Over the weeks Bethany had been in the hospital, Brandon had brought a few things to make the room feel homier, but right now she lay there without energy or animation. The books were unread, the movies unwatched.

  He’d come to the hospital from his aunt Jody’s home and now felt even more out of control.

  Bethany shifted against the sheets. “Mr. Brandon.”

  He glanced at Tara and she waved him in. “I’ll wait.”

  He settled on the edge of the chair and leaned close to Bethany. “How you doing, kiddo?”

  Bethany swallowed, and he grabbed the cup of water and held the straw to her lips. “I’m so tired. When will Dr. Anna come? I didn’t see her yesterday.”

  He ran his hands over his head and frowned. How should he play this? The truth. “I don’t know when she’ll be back. She was hurt in a car accident.”

  Bethany’s eyes closed for a minute, and when she reopened them, they were glassy. “Will you fight for me?”

  “Absolutely.” A soft throat cleared in the hallway. “Would you like to see Tara? She’s here.”

  Bethany glanced at the door but shook her head the smallest bit. “Not now.”

  “That’s fine. I need to go talk to her.”

  “Okay. Will you tell Gabriel I miss him and love him?” Bethany closed her eyes again, and a tear leaked out.

  “Yes.” He reached out and wiped her tear. “I’ll be back.”

  When Brandon reentered the hallway, Tara was standing with a man who looked like he should be a doctor in some sitcom.

  “Brandon, this is Dr. Taylor Hamilton. He’s taking on Bethany’s care w
hile Anna’s recovering.”

  “I hear you’re her foster placement.” The man extended his hand. “I look forward to working with you as we try to get her to health.”

  “I won’t give up on her.” He leaned against the wall outside of Bethany’s room.

  “That’s what she needs right now. We’re treating her GVHD with heavy doses of steroids, but I’m not seeing a response yet. It can take a few days to a week to start a turnaround.”

  Tara shifted her messenger bag. “Brandon, you need to prepare yourself. She may not survive, no matter how hard she’s fighting.”

  “Don’t give up hope.” Dr. Hamilton glanced at the door. “She’s a fighter from what I can tell.”

  “So is Brandon.” Tara cleared her throat. “That’s why I placed the kids with you, Brandon. I knew you would keep believing and fighting for her as long as she needed.”

  “I will.” He needed to be strong as one more boulder-sized weight landed on his shoulders. He tried to inhale but couldn’t with the heavy antiseptic smell locked in his lungs. “Anna expressed concern Saturday. Thought something was wrong with the trial.”

  At his words Tara blanched. “I learned of her accident when I arrived.”

  Dr. Hamilton glanced at the tablet he carried. “Dr. Johnson didn’t mention anything in any of our team meetings. She’s a committed collaborator who brings problems to the greater team. I’ll recheck her patient notes for anything that might be bothering her.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.” He seemed committed, but Brandon doubted anyone would pour their heart into Bethany’s care like Anna had.

  Tara lowered her voice as if to shield Bethany from whatever she planned to say next. “Bethany won’t survive a month without a miracle. Praecursoria absorbs the cost of the trial, and the hospital has waived the costs of her continued care, but that’s not enough to save her life. We need her body to fight too.”

  “It’s easy to fight for her.” With everything in him, he wanted to see her healthy. When he adopted the new structure, she and Gabriel would be the only children he personally fostered, and he couldn’t lose her. Could not.