Lethal Intent

by Cara C. Putman

  “Because it’s a billion-dollar industry. Every medical research facility in the world relies on those cells, even though they’re so small they easily contaminate other experiments. That hasn’t changed our reliance on them.” Lori looked around and then leaned closer. “Imagine grabbing even a fragment of the market. It would fund everything else Praecursoria wants to do. Initially Quentin and Samson thought genetic testing would be the cash cow, but that didn’t work out. So now the hunt is on for the next HeLa cells.”

  “But those were an anomaly.”

  “Yes, yet Sarah was convinced she’d found that next anomaly. She submitted a patent application a week before her death, just in case.” Lori sighed. “I would have liked to be listed on it, but she only put herself and Quentin.”

  Lori’s words echoed in Caroline’s mind as she returned to her office. Tod had looked nervous as he left the table, and Lori had seemed to hold back as she talked. Why? Were they concerned that what had happened to Sarah and Justin could happen to them?

  It was a string of tragic accidents.

  Or was it?

  She sat at her computer and pulled up Sarah’s obituary. From the obituary she found Sarah’s mother’s name and then located the woman’s phone number on the white pages site. Her call was answered on the second ring. “Is this Mrs. Whitten?”

  “It is.” Hesitancy laced the woman’s words and Caroline rushed in before she hung up.

  “My name is Caroline Bragg, and I’m an attorney at Praecursoria.”

  “Oh, good. I’ve left so many messages I was beginning to think my answering machine didn’t work. When can I come get Sarah’s things?”

  Caroline froze. “What things?”

  “Her private things. It’s been months, and I’d think you’d want to be rid of them.”

  “I’ll be happy to check on that for you, ma’am.” She started typing a message to Hannah as she continued. “I never met your daughter, but I’m sorry for your loss. Did you know one of her colleagues died Wednesday?”

  “I’m sorry, but what does that have to do with me?”

  “Did she ever mention Justin Grant? Or Dr. Anna Johnson?”

  “She and Anna had been friends since undergrad. Justin? She mentioned several men she worked with, but I don’t believe I met a Justin.”

  “Okay. Thank you. I’ll check on Sarah’s things for you. Would you like me to bring them to you?”

  “That would be nice.” The woman rattled off her address. “Or you can let me know when they’re ready, and I’ll drive over.” She cleared her throat. “There was a Grant Sarah talked about.” Maybe she’d called Justin by his last name? “They were working on some big project before Sarah died. She talked about how she was the brains and he was the brawn and how much Brian liked to sneak into their experiments.”

  Brian? “Do you mean Brian Silver?”

  “I think that was his last name. They’d worked together for a few years, but I’d say he felt threatened by her. My Sarah was brilliant, and at least the way she described him, Brian wasn’t at her level even if he had a postgraduate placement of some sort.”

  That had to be Brian Silver. “Thanks. Again, I am so sorry for your loss.”

  Caroline hung up and finished the email to Hannah. Almost as soon as she hit Send, her phone was ringing.

  “Why are you asking about Sarah’s personal things?” Hannah didn’t sound happy about the interruption.

  “Her mother asked when she would get them.”

  “And she was talking to you because?”

  Caroline kept her voice calm and steady. “Do you know where they are so I can take them to her?”

  “I’ll have my assistant put them in the mail.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “You have other things to do.” A crinkling noise like a necklace clanking against the receiver hurt Caroline’s ear. “What’s the address?”

  Caroline rattled it off, then hung up.

  A few minutes later she strolled by Lillian’s desk. “Did Hannah bring a box to you?”

  “Yes.” The young woman grimaced. “I’m not her assistant, but she likes to act like I am.”

  Caroline eyed the banker’s box at the side of her desk. “I’d be happy to handle that on my way home today. Then you don’t need to mess with it.”

  “That would be great.” Lillian gestured at a stack of files on the corner of her desk. “I’m supposed to read and condense all these articles for Quentin. The man is committed to keeping up on the research, but he thinks I need to help him. Have you ever tried to make sense of a medical study? It isn’t easy.”

  Caroline picked up the box. “I’ll take care of this for you, since I wouldn’t be much help with those articles.” She paused. “How are you doing, really?”

  “I’m not as sick in the morning. That’s good.”

  “Quentin mentioned you were out. Everything okay?”

  Lillian dropped her voice. “It will be. I was interviewing and got an offer earlier today. I’ll tell him Monday I’m taking it.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Thanks. It’ll make things less weird with the father.” The way she said father was only slightly caustic.

  “If you need anything, let me know. I can connect you with good attorneys.”

  The younger woman grimaced. “I didn’t want to be in this position, but I’ll take you up on that. I don’t want him in my life anymore, but he will support his child.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “I hope not. He’s in manufacturing. Let’s just say I lost my head and good sense to a handsome face. If only there’d been more to him than that.” She absently rubbed her stomach. “Guess I had to learn the hard way.”

  “I’ll email you a couple names.”

  After taking the box back to her office, Caroline called Mrs. Whitten back. “I have Sarah’s things and can bring them by tonight.”

  “I’m headed out now and will come by the office.”

  “Okay, just call when you arrive and I’ll bring them to you. Was there anything in particular you were hoping to find?”

  “Her calendar. She kept meticulous records, and I’d like to have it to remember her life this last year.”

  Caroline pulled off the lid and looked inside. “There are some magazines, pens, a photo, oh, and here’s the calendar. Do you mind if I look at it?”

  “That’s fine. I’ll be there within the hour.”

  Caroline took out the slim, spiral-bound booklet and flipped through it. There was a series of meetings with SK and others with JG, LC, and TT. None with a BS, aka Brian Silver.

  That seemed odd since they all worked in the same lab. Maybe his presence was just assumed, but before she walked the box out to Mrs. Whitten forty-five minutes later, she snapped photos of several pages preceding Sarah’s death just in case there was anything else she could glean.

  Back at her desk, her email dinged.

  An email from Anna?

  That wasn’t possible.

  Was it?

  Chapter 34

  Was this someone’s idea of a cruel joke? She didn’t want to open it, not if it could unleash some type of malware on her computer and the Praecursoria server. But how would anyone know that sending an email with Anna’s name and address would tempt her to open it?

  She picked up her phone and dialed the IT office, where the call was quickly picked up.

  “Reynolds.”

  “James, I received an email from someone who died overnight. Should I open it?”

  “Forward it and I’ll scan it.”

  Caroline bit her lower lip. “Is there a way you can come here? It makes me nervous to forward something that could be malware.”

  The man sighed. “I’ll head your way. Confirm your office number.”

  After she did and the call ended, Caroline stared at her computer screen as she nibbled at the corner of her fingernail. The email’s appearance didn’t feel right. There was no reason for Anna to de
lay an email message a week. It couldn’t be from Anna. It couldn’t.

  But if it was?

  She didn’t want to delete something that could be important.

  Maybe Anna’s computer had been off with the email waiting in the outbox, and now someone had turned it on. It might be a stretch, but it was possible.

  When James walked in, his hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his soul patch made him look all millennial and her feel eighty years old. He gestured toward her chair. “May I?”

  “Oh.” She scrambled to her feet. “Sure.”

  He sat and clicked the mouse a couple of times. “This the email?”

  “Yes.”

  He punched a few keys. “Looks clean. But let me check one more thing.” He pulled up a program from somewhere in the bowels of her computer. Then he dragged the email to it and it started scanning. A moment later he pushed back from the desk and stood. “Good to go.”

  “So I can open it?”

  “Sure.”

  “Quick question: how would an email arrive a week after it was sent?”

  “Could have been scheduled, or maybe the computer was turned off. There are other possibilities, but those are most likely. Need anything else?”

  So Anna really had sent it. Maybe in case the mail didn’t reach her quickly.

  “No. I’m good.”

  He tipped an imaginary hat and left.

  Caroline returned to her chair. Her hand hovered over the mouse before she leaned in and clicked on the email.

  There was no content except for an attachment.

  She frowned. That couldn’t be right. Anna wouldn’t send her a blank email. James had scanned it, so she clicked on the attachment. A folder like the one that had been on the flash drive opened. It was like getting the flash drive data back.

  She scanned through the documents as she printed each. To be safe, she would take the paper home with her. It was the same columns of numbers and page of random thoughts.

  “What did you want me to see, Anna?”

  Caroline stared at the numbers, wishing she understood. Numbers could tell any story you wanted. They could be tinged with all kinds of bias and perspective. Essentially all the data from experiments was just that: statistical data. Something about t-values and p-values, things she hadn’t considered since her statistics course in undergrad. That was a long time ago.

  She needed coffee, something to warm her hands, because her heart felt iced. The break room was empty, so she slid a cup beneath the spigot and inserted a new K-Cup. She waited as the machine whirred and bubbled, her thoughts spinning.

  Her phone dinged. Brandon. anna’s funeral is monday. can you come?

  She should go. For him. It would be hard for him to walk into the den of relatives. She’d slip in the back and sit with him, then slip out at the end. No matter where their relationship stood, he needed her.

  Yes. I’ll be there.

  After doctoring her coffee with a splash of whole milk and a tiny sprinkle of raw sugar, Caroline returned to her office and her work. Waiting in her inbox were several new contracts for review.

  Her phone dinged again.

  sorry for last night, can we talk?

  Could they? It was foolish, but she felt drawn to Almost Home like a moth to a flame. She needed time with those kids . . . and with Brandon . . . like a fish needed water. Enough of the bad similes. She allowed herself to feel hopeful as she replied.

  I don’t have any answers. But we can talk. I’ll come after work.

  A few minutes later she received his reply.

  thx

  * * *

  Lights were on in each cabin when Caroline arrived a few hours later, and she saw a couple of the family groups sitting at tables sharing food.

  Some of the knots eased from her shoulders when she pulled into the parking lot and noted Brandon’s truck in its usual slot. When she stepped into the lodge, the large fireplace stood empty, swept clean for summer. The kids would use it as a hiding place until Brandon put the large decorative screen across it again.

  A clank came from the industrial kitchen, so Caroline headed that direction. Used to prepare the community meals, it looked like a standard church kitchen with a pass-through to the larger space. Industrial ovens stood next to a stove. Across from them was a large butcher-block table with a supersized refrigerator and freezer next to it. The sink was used only occasionally, because the large dishwashing machine was where the fun happened.

  Brandon worked the lever that brought the guard down so the water and dishes could be superheated. He wore large headphones and was singing along to some song. His voice sounded a bit like a screeching cat, so she leaned a hip against the doorframe and watched, a smile teasing the edge of her lips while an ache pressed against her heart.

  This man was something else with his enthusiasm for everything, even washing mounds of someone else’s dishes. He raised the guard and steam swooshed around him. He turned to grab a large plastic bowl from the workspace and froze at the sight of her.

  He slid the headphones from his ears. “How long you been standing there?”

  “Long enough.”

  There was a heartbreaking vulnerability in the way his shoulders slumped. “I wasn’t sure you’d come after last night.”

  “I’ll always be your friend. Hopefully we can figure us out too.” She felt shyness steal over her.

  * * *

  Brandon watched as color flamed up Caroline’s cheeks. He might not know exactly where they stood right now, but he knew Caroline.

  Her days were long too, and he wanted to chase the shadows from her eyes.

  He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about what I said last night.”

  She picked up a dish towel and started to dry a plate. “What part? We said a lot of things, Brandon.”

  “The part about your work. The part where I implied I don’t respect your work boundaries.” He took the plate and towel out of her hands, then stood in front of her. When she didn’t look up, he tipped her chin up. “The part about breaking up. Caroline, I didn’t mean it. You coming here? This is the best part of my days. You’re the sunshine that makes life worth living.”

  “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

  “I won’t. I mean it so much I asked Reid to sell my stock in Praecursoria today so that it won’t be a barrier between us.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if the company ends up making tons of money in a year or two? When it goes public, that could happen.”

  “It’ll happen without me. I’d trade every what-if for a future with you, Caroline.”

  Her gaze darted everywhere but at him. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “I’ve already done it. You are more important.” He’d stamp those words on her heart if he could. Help her understand how much he meant them. “You are what matters.”

  “Wow.” Before he knew what was happening, she reached up on tippy toes and pulled his head down. “You’re going to make me cry.”

  “Not allowed when I’m around.” He lowered his head the rest of the distance until his lips found hers. They tasted like peppermint. Fresh. Perfect. Intoxicating. Her fingers wove into the hair at his neck, and he picked her up. She squealed and kicked, and one of her stilettos fell off.

  He eased her back down, and she hid her face in his chest. “We’ve got some things to figure out, big guy.”

  He nodded, but she couldn’t see. “We will.”

  “We didn’t last night.”

  “Today’s a new day. It’s a fresh start.”

  “Only if you want it to be.”

  “I do.” With everything in him.

  He returned the towel to her, snagged one for himself, and together they started drying dishes side by side.

  “How are you, Brandon? With what happened to Anna?”

  He’d wanted to keep things light, far away from the edge of grief. “Dreading the
funeral. Grateful you’ll be there.”

  She nudged his arm with her shoulder. He put a plate on the stack. He cleared his throat. “Do you have plans for tomorrow night?”

  She looked at him with curiosity and something else, maybe hope, in her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I thought we could go out. Maybe a double date with Reid and Emilie.”

  “Did you just say date? That’s the D-word, you know.”

  “I did.” He swallowed as he waited for her response.

  The slow smile let him know before she said a word. “I’d like that.” Then she stood on tiptoe and brushed his cheek with a soft kiss.

  He didn’t move, willing himself to stay still. Instead, he did a mental fist pump and matched her grin. “It’s a date.”

  She laughed. “Then I’m going to leave now so we can enjoy our time tomorrow night.”

  Without another word she turned and sashayed away, and it took everything in him not to drag her back into his arms. No, he’d focus on making tomorrow night an evening of promise. If he was lucky, it might become a foundation on which to build their future.

  Chapter 35

  When she reached her apartment that evening, it was extra dark.

  Caroline frowned as she climbed the stairs to her second-floor apartment.

  The lightbulb in the entryway must have gone out, but it was crazy no one had called maintenance. She pulled her keys from her bag and her fingers brushed against the folder filled with Anna’s files. The weight of uncertainty and responsibility pressed against her. She was glad things were moving back to solid ground with Brandon but felt burdened with what was happening at Praecursoria. There were answers; she just wasn’t sure how to find them.

  Once this day was behind her, it would make sense. In comfy clothes, with a mug of warm tea and a cozy blanket across her lap, she’d parse the truth and figure out some things.

  She had a feeling the answers were in those pages.

  Like what was so special about Patrick’s recovery.

  And what Anna had theorized about Bethany’s rejection.

  And whether the flash drive’s contents were enough to cause . . . what? Two deaths? Three?