by Jane Godman
Once inside, she went to the desk. The receptionist looked up with a smile. “Oh, Dr. Matthews. Hi.”
The friendly greeting made the situation seem even more surreal. “Dr. Porter is expecting me.”
The receptionist consulted her computer screen. “Yes, he is. Please come with me.”
The last time Abigail had been into this part of the building, she had accompanied Evan Hardin to his office. As she and Griffin followed the receptionist, the thought chilled her. Was there something she could have done that day that would have changed the outcome for Evan? Had anything she had said or done contributed to his death? It was impossible to believe that the man she’d known and cared about was dead, that his murder could somehow be linked to her. The thought jogged something in her memory. Something Evan had said...
When they reached Dr. Porter’s office, the receptionist knocked before moving aside to let them enter. The administrator rose from his seat behind his desk when they stepped into the room. Although he was nearing retirement, he still had the air of a man who had occupied a position of authority for many years.
“Dr. Matthews.” After nodding to Abigail, he turned to Griffin with an inquiring look.
“Mr. Colton is my attorney.” A brief look of annoyance flashed across Dr. Porter’s features and Abigail was glad. She wasn’t here to make things easy for him.
“I’m not sure—”
“You’re not sure if Abigail is entitled to representation at a meeting with her employer?” Griffin’s tone was pleasant, but his manner reminded Abigail of a hawk about to swoop on its prey. “Why would you be in any doubt about that, Dr. Porter?”
“That’s not what I meant.” There was a hint of snappiness in the response and Dr. Porter waved them to two seats on the opposite side of his desk as he resumed his own seat. “I was simply unaware that this meeting required such formality.”
“Clearly it does,” Griffin said. “Since the person you have appointed to replace Dr. Hardin as the Anthrosyne investigation lead is not only junior to Abigail, she is also known to be antagonistic to her.”
Dr. Porter frowned. “I’m not aware of any antagonism.”
“Jenna Avery was publicly and recently confrontational to me,” Abigail said. “She accused me of being involved in the RevitaYou con and blamed me for the fact that she had become ill after taking some of the vitamins. Her allegations were witnessed by at least twelve Danvers University staff.”
“This raises a number of issues for you, as the head of Human Resources, at this university,” Griffin said. “The first, of course, is the potential damage to Abigail’s well-being from being subjected to such a distressing personal attack in her workplace.” Griffin leaned forward slightly in his seat, ensuring he had the other man’s full attention. “She prefers to hope that these accusations, whether they are from the families of participants, or whether they are anonymous, will die out over time. However, it was particularly upsetting to be confronted in this way by a colleague, someone who should have the intellectual strength and emotional resilience to know better. Abigail has not raised a formal grievance against Dr. Avery. Although she could.”
He paused, allowing the impact of his words to sink in. Abigail felt a little of the tightness around her heart loosen. She didn’t know if Griffin had managed to change Dr. Porter’s mind. But he was on her side. He had thought about this from her perspective. He’d said he would help her fight and that was what he was doing. Win or lose, she would always remember this moment and the look in his eyes.
“I will look into this.” Dr. Porter’s whole body had stiffened as though concrete had been injected into his veins. “But your other objection, Dr. Matthews, that Jenna Avery is junior to you is not valid. Prior to his death, Dr. Hardin sent an email to myself and the other members of the Danvers University leadership team informing us that he was removing you from the Mem10 project with immediate effect. You were demoted and Jenna Avery was to be your replacement.”
For a moment, Abigail felt as though the earth had tilted off its axis. A curious sense of acceptance came over her. So that was it. She had lost her job without even knowing. Jenna had said as much when Abigail had seen her outside Evan’s office but she’d hoped it wasn’t true. Jenna was incapable of doing justice to the project to which Abigail had dedicated so much of her time and expertise. And now Jenna would oversee the Anthrosyne investigation and do everything she could to implicate Abigail further.
“How long before Dr. Hardin’s death did he send that email?” Griffin asked.
“I don’t see why the timing is important,” Dr. Porter blustered.
“It could be very important. Dr. Hardin was killed on the day he told Abigail she was being investigated. From what I’ve heard of him, he was a very fair, very ethical man.” Dr. Porter inclined his head in agreement. “It seems odd to me that he would make the decision to replace Abigail without having even started an internal investigation into the allegations. It is even more strange that he would have informed you about it without telling her.”
Dr. Porter tented his fingers beneath his chin. “What are you suggesting?”
“I think the police would like to take a look at that email, particularly in relation to the time of Dr. Hardin’s death and his other activities that day.”
Abigail raised a shaking hand to her throat. “Do you think it was written by someone other than Evan?”
“I’m almost certain it was,” Griffin said. “And I’d like a copy of that email so I can take it to Detective Emmanuel Iglesias.”
* * *
When they arrived at the Grand Rapids Police Department building, the front desk cop, Michaela Martin, recognized Griffin. Some of his cases brought him into contact with the police and, of course, his CI work meant he liaised closely with local law enforcement.
“I need to speak to Detective Iglesias,” he told Michaela.
“Join the queue.” She rolled her eyes and pointed to a stack of papers on the reception counter. “Those are his messages.”
“It’s urgent.”
Something in his tone must have resonated with her because she looked from him to Abigail, then nodded. “Let me see if I can contact him.” She moved away from the desk.
“Will Detective Iglesias listen to what we have to say to him?” Abigail murmured. “It all sounds so far-fetched.”
“He’ll listen.” Griffin was now certain that whoever killed Evan Hardin was also trying to frame Abigail. That person was determined to ruin her life and he, or she, had to be stopped. The idea of a faceless killer plotting to harm her made his blood run cold. If anything happened to her or Maya... “I’ll make him.”
A few minutes later, Emmanuel approached the desk. He looked tired and distracted.
“Griffin. Dr. Matthews.” He nodded at them in turn. “I haven’t been in touch because I don’t have anything new to tell you—”
“We have some information for you,” Griffin said.
“In that case, you’d better follow me.”
He led them along a corridor to a small office. If the amount of paperwork on his desk was any indication, Emmanuel was either very busy, or very disorganized. He cleared stacks of files from two chairs so that Griffin and Abigail could sit down. After moving to the swivel chair behind his desk, he took out a pad and pen.
“I take it this new information relates to Dr. Hardin’s murder?”
“Indirectly,” Griffin said. “I told you I believed someone was trying to frame Abigail.”
“That’s right. You asked us to look at the son of one of her former patients.” Emmanuel flipped through his notepad. “A Ryan Thorne.”
Griffin drummed his fingers on the desk. “He’s one of several people you need to consider. But there is new evidence of attempts to ruin Abigail’s reputation. If you can find out who is behind those, it might bring you closer to discov
ering who would make it look like she killed her boss.”
Quickly, but succinctly, he outlined how he and Abigail had found out that her name had been removed from articles on the Danvers University website. “We haven’t checked every report that credits Abigail. Of the few we have, we’ve found evidence of tampering.”
“Who has administrator rights to the university website?” Emmanuel asked Abigail.
“When I’ve written articles for inclusion on the website, I’ve submitted them to Dr. Porter’s personal assistant. They are then approved and uploaded to the website,” she said. “I’m not sure who else has access to the website.”
“I guess it could have been hacked?” Griffin suggested.
“That’s something I’ll need to check out.” Emmanuel scribbled a note on his pad. “I agree that this appears to be a campaign against Abigail but I’m not sure it’s strong enough to link it to the murder of Dr. Hardin.”
“There’s more.” Griffin outlined the conversation they’d had less than an hour ago with Dr. Porter. “On the day of his death, Dr. Hardin allegedly sent an email to Dr. Porter and other senior colleagues. In it, he told them that he was going to demote Abigail and replace her with a junior colleague, someone who was not qualified to lead the Mem10 program.”
“I can see how much this troubles you.” Emmanuel looked from Griffin to Abigail. “But I don’t work in your world, so I need you to explain why.”
She cleared her throat. “Evan Hardin and I had worked together for five years. He was one of the fairest men I knew, and he always upheld the high standards of the university. He had been appointed to lead an investigation into the allegation that I had used Anthrosyne in my research. He would not have taken his responsibility to me, or the university, lightly. There is no way he would have made the decision to demote and replace me before he’d even started that investigation or proven the allegations’ veracity.”
Emmanuel tapped his pen on his pad. “I see what you mean. If he’d done so, it would have looked like he’d already made a judgment that you were guilty.”
She nodded, and Griffin could see the relief in her eyes. This police officer understood. “Exactly. And, even if he had concluded his investigation and decided that I could no longer be part of the Mem10 trial, Jenna Avery was not qualified to be my replacement. Danvers University has a small faculty, but there are half a dozen others who could have stepped in to take over my role.”
She turned to look at Griffin. “I haven’t told you this, but I remembered something while we were at the university. When I was in Evan’s office on the day before he was murdered, he told me that, in addition to the Anthrosyne investigation, he had another equally urgent staffing matter to deal with.”
“Did he give you any details?” Emmanuel asked.
“No. That was all he said.”
“Have you done as I asked and checked the security camera footage of the area around Dr. Hardin’s office before and after his death?” Griffin asked the detective. “We need to know if anyone entered after the first crime scene search and before the second. That would tell us who could have planted Abigail’s bracelet.”
“The security cameras were disabled,” Emmanuel said.
“Well, isn’t that convenient? Looks like someone didn’t want to be seen.” Griffin shifted impatiently in his seat.”
“Thank you. It had occurred to me.” Emmanuel turned to a clean page in his notebook. “Tell me about Dr. Avery.”
“Oh, goodness. I wasn’t implying—”
“I have to look at everyone involved in a case,” Emmanuel said. “I’m already aware that Dr. Avery was one of the last people to talk to Dr. Hardin. Now it seems that she may have more information that can help with my inquiry.”
Abigail cast a doubtful look in Griffin’s direction. “No one is suggesting that you are trying to cast blame on Dr. Avery,” he assured her.
The corners of her mouth turned down. “I’m not sure she would see it that way. She already hates me.”
“Dr. Avery bought some RevitaYou vitamins and got sick. She blames Abigail and has been publicly confrontational with her about it,” Griffin told Emmanuel.
“It certainly sounds like she has a reason to hold a grudge against you.” Emmanuel made a quick note as he spoke.
“If you’re using RevitaYou as your baseline, there are a lot of people who have a reason to hold a grudge against me,” Abigail said. “Does the fact that one of them happened to work with me make her more likely to be behind these attacks?”
“Maybe not. But it certainly gives her better access to the Danvers University website. And to Dr. Hardin,” Emmanuel said.
“Doesn’t it also mean she had a better chance of stirring things up among the families of the Mem10 participants?” Griffin asked.
Abigail frowned. “There’s been no suggestion that anyone did that.”
“So far,” he said. “But the group who took their family members off the Mem10 program when the RevitaYou scandal broke seems to have been quite organized and vocal. I think it’s worth considering whether they were being fed information from behind the scenes.”
“It’s something I’ll look into when I speak to Ryan Thorne and the others who withdrew their family members from Mem10.” Emmanuel spent a few moments reading through his notes. “I have a fairly detailed picture of Dr. Hardin’s movements during his last day. Do you have a copy of the email he sent to Dr. Porter and his other colleagues? The one in which he told them he was replacing Abigail with Jenna Avery. It will be useful to place it in the time frame of what else he was doing.”
Griffin took out his cell and found the email. “Dr. Porter was a little reluctant to share it with me but we told him we were coming straight here after we left his office, so he knew it would only be a matter of time before you subpoenaed his records.”
He handed the phone over to Emmanuel. After reading for a minute or two, the detective looked up. “Okay. Here are my initial thoughts. We have Dr. Hardin’s work laptop and his cell phone in our possession and I’ve already seen the messages he sent during the few days prior to his death. Although this message was sent from his Danvers University email address, it was not sent from either of those devices. Forward it to me and I’ll get our technicians straight onto finding out where it was sent from.”
“Do you agree with Griffin that there’s a chance Dr. Hardin didn’t send it?” Abigail asked. Without looking in Griffin’s direction, she reached for his hand. When he clasped her fingers, they were cold as ice, despite the summer temperatures.
“I know he didn’t send it. And the device is not my reason for saying that.” Emmanuel paused, clearly weighing his words. “This is confidential, but at the time this email was sent, Dr. Hardin was undergoing emergency dental treatment. Clearly, he could not have sent the email.”
“Which means that someone else did,” Griffin said. “And, when you find out who it was, you’ll know who is trying to frame Abigail.”
Chapter 10
They drove to Heritage Hill in silence, both wrapped in their own thoughts. Abigail was relieved that Emmanuel seemed to be taking her claim that someone was trying to frame her more seriously. At the same time, it made the looming threat of a shadowy figure who wanted to harm her even more real. More than ever, she was glad of Griffin’s reassuring presence.
“I don’t want to launch into a full-on conspiracy theory,” he said, as they approached CI headquarters. “But we have to consider the possibility that there is a group of people behind the effort to discredit you as a response to your father’s criminal activity. They could have someone—not necessarily Jenna Avery—working inside the university feeding them information about you.”
Abigail shivered. “That’s a horrible thought.”
“I’m not trying to alarm you. But the RevitaYou con has made a lot of people angry. And it’s receiving
attention on social media. Who knows what people are saying about your father, or how they’re planning to get back at him? I’m just suggesting that we should look at all the angles.” He turned his head briefly to look her way. “And we need to be prepared for them. Let’s not take any chances with your safety, or Maya’s.”
“I could consider the possibility that people might have gotten together and plotted revenge if it wasn’t for the fact that Evan has been killed,” Abigail said. “That’s too extreme. No matter how angry people are at what my father has done, I can’t picture a situation in which a group would see that as suitable revenge.”
Griffin pulled into the drive of the house where he had lived as a child and pulled up in the small parking lot at the rear. “You’re right, of course. It would only take one reasonable person within the group to hear of such a plan. They would immediately report it to the police.”
“So we’re back to a lone person with a grudge against me?” Abigail said, as they exited the vehicle.
“I guess that was always the most likely scenario. But let’s keep an open mind.”
Although Riley lived in their childhood home, which also served as the CI headquarters, Griffin had already explained that the other Colton siblings still came and went as they pleased. They entered through the rear door, which led them straight into the kitchen.
“It looks remarkably tidy,” Griffin said. “Maya can’t have been in here.”
Abigail dug him in the ribs with her elbow. “Just because you let a nine-month-old walk all over you...”
The sounds of laughter drew them along the hall and into the den. Riley and Charlize were both sitting on the rug with Maya. Their dog, Pal, was lying nearby, with her nose close to the baby’s feet. Griffin and Abigail paused in the doorway to watch the game that was in progress. Riley passed a ball to Charlize, who then passed it to Maya. The baby took it from her but, instead of passing it to Riley, she attempted to give it to Pal.
