A Necessary Risk
A Necessary Risk
Kathleen Long
He couldn’t get Jessica Parker out of his head.
Once again, her image flashed across Zach’s mind. All buttoned up and drop-dead gorgeous.
Something stirred deep inside him, but he tamped down the sensation, shoving it far, far away.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned his head, but he wasn’t about to let Jessica Parker do so now.
He had to focus on his brother, on clearing Jim’s name and shutting down the clinical trial. For that he needed Jessica Parker the scientist.
Zach had to ignore any unwanted thoughts about Jessica Parker the woman.
And he would.
A Necessary Risk
Kathleen Long
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Annie, the most unexpected—and wonderful—
blessing of my life. Thank you for reminding me that
dreams really do come true. I love you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After a career spent spinning words for clients ranging from corporate CEOs to talking fruits and vegetables, Kathleen now finds great joy spinning a world of fictional characters, places and plots. Having decided to pursue her writing goals when her first daughter taught her that life is short and dreams are for chasing, Kathleen is now an award-winning author of breathtaking romantic suspense for the Harlequin Intrigue line.
A RIO Award of Excellence winner and a National Readers Choice, Booksellers Best and Holt Medallion nominee, her greatest reward can be found in the letters and e-mails she receives from her readers. Nothing makes her happier than knowing one of her stories has provided a few hours of escape and enjoyment, offering a chance to forget about life for a little while.
Along with her husband, infant daughter and one very neurotic sheltie, Kathleen divides her time between suburban Philadelphia and the New Jersey seashore, where she can often be found hands on keyboard—bare toes in sand—spinning tales. After all, life doesn’t get much better than that.
Please visit her at www.kathleenlong.com or drop her a line at P.O. Box 3864, Cherry Hill, NJ 08034.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Jessica Parker—She’s a lead researcher at New Horizon, a large clinical research facility. When the lifesaving drug trial under her supervision presents with dangerous side effects, will she accept the necessary risk, or will she fight to keep the drug from going on the market?
Zachary Thomas—His younger brother Jim committed suicide while a participant in the most recent Whitman Pharma drug trial. He’s vowed to do whatever it takes to expose the truth—including tapping Jessica Parker.
Scott McLaughlin—He once led the Whitman Pharma trial before abruptly leaving the company. Was he falsifying study results, or is he a whistleblower with just the information Jessica and Zach need to expose the truth?
David Hansen—He’s the holder of the magic key—the encoding information for the Whitman clinical trial. Will he help Jessica match the names of victims to participants, or will he alert the guilty parties that she needs to be silenced?
Miles Van Cleef—The head of New Horizon, he’s dedicated his life to pursuing the safe and ethical development of new pharmaceuticals. But now he’s faced with a tough choice—helping Jessica uncover the truth or doing whatever it takes to protect his company. Which will he choose?
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Jim Thomas pivoted slowly on one heel, frantically scanning the wall of his dorm room, searching for something—anything—familiar.
Framed photos assaulted his senses, distorted faces taunting, haunting. Their voices jockeyed for position inside his brain, screaming, threatening. He pressed his palms to either side of his head and squeezed.
Who were they?
Why wouldn’t they stop?
His gaze landed on a calendar and he recognized his own handwriting. His room. He must be in his dorm room. Familiar surroundings. Safe.
Maybe the voices were a dream.
A very bad dream.
Maybe he’d wake up any moment now and the voices would be gone. The pain would be gone.
For a split second, a teasing sense of calm whispered through him before the unrelenting paranoia and dread took over once more.
Jim’s chest ached and he struggled to draw in a breath, struggled to slow the racing beat of his heart. He opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t call out for help, his throat tight with fear and panic.
The pressure inside his head continued to build, becoming so intense he wished his brain would blow apart to end the agony.
Jim squeezed his hands harder against his skull and turned aimlessly. He bounced off the wall, then reached for the bed but staggered, losing his balance and slamming into the opposite wall.
He slid down the length of the cold plaster, fingers tracing the worn paint until they bumped up against the edge of the sliding glass door.
He sank to the floor momentarily but pulled himself up, using every ounce of strength in his body to will his legs to support his weight.
His heavy, bone-weary weight.
Heavy head.
Heavy heart.
Heavy life.
Jim sagged again but hooked one hand through the door handle, holding tight. The latch gave way and the door slid wide, opening to the pathetic patch of concrete the school called a private balcony.
He laughed through the pain, amazed he could remember the housing lottery, amazed how important winning this balcony had once seemed.
Now all he cared about was the pain.
The head-banging, excruciating pain that pulsated through his head. Minute after minute. Day after day.
The voices sounded again, urging him forward, promising him the pain would stop if only he listened.
He stumbled onto the balcony, welcoming the caress of the crisp autumn air against his face.
He gripped the railing and leaned over, studying the sidewalk below. The concrete drew a lazy pattern of curves through the carefully trimmed grass and the perfectly sculptured gardens. A group of students walking below laughed, no doubt consumed by the idiocy of college life.
They looked perfect. They sounded perfect.
Damned perfect.
Jim stepped up onto the bottom rail. First one foot. Then the other.
His headed pounded now as if his brain no longer fit inside his skull and pressed to break through. He looked to the sky and balanced, hoping the pain would ease. Hoping the pounding would stop.
But it never did.
The voices.
He had no choice now but to listen to the voices.
Jim stepped up onto the second rail and leaned forward, welcoming the rush of air against his face as he fell, arms spread wide.
He soared.
He flew.
He eagerly anticipated the imminent release from the pain, and as the ground rushed at him, Jim smiled.
At last.
Chapter One
Six weeks later
Nervous anticipation wound its way through Jessica Parker as she waited for Miles Van Cleef to introduce her to those gathered. She’d waited for this moment for a very long time. Years, to be precise.
Her newest promotion had been timed perfectly for today’s media showcase. New Horizon held the event twice each year to tout their latest clinical trials and keep community support strong for their work.
She’d been named lead researcher on Whitman Pharma’s testing of HC0815 two weeks earlier, and Van Cleef had asked her to handle one section of today’s presentation.
She couldn’t be more thrilled.
Or more nervous.
While she considered herself a whiz with facts and figures, people were another matter altogether. Let alone speaking in front of a crowd this large.
As Van Cleef covered the basics of New Horizon’s relationship with area pharmaceutical companies and New Jersey College, Jess scanned the crowd, taking note of the expressions of those present.
Some intent. Some quite obviously watching the clock.
When her gaze landed on one individual in particular, she found herself riveted, unable to look away. Her typically strong intuition told her instantly something was amiss.
He didn’t belong here.
His strong features showed no sign of emotion. Close-cropped dark hair neatly covered his head, and what had to be at least a three-day stubble graced the sharp line of his jaw.
While others in the room had shed their jackets due to the temperature inside the room, he wore a leather jacket yet showed no sign of perspiration.
No sign of weakness, actually.
She didn’t need her advanced science degree to know he stuck out like a sore thumb. There was no doubt in her mind he didn’t belong.
But who was he? And who was he with?
While the others present displayed an apparent interest—faked or not—in Dr. Van Cleef’s presentation, taking notes and asking questions, the man in question did neither. He stared so intently at the presentation screen it was a wonder his gaze didn’t sear a hole clean through the wall.
The appropriate media pass hung around his neck, but Jess couldn’t make out the name of the organization he represented, even though she squinted intently at the small square object.
Did he work for a competing institution? Had he gotten his hands on media credentials and crashed the showcase?
Investigational drug testing was a brutally competitive industry, and while they did their best to keep their work and specific details of their clients’ drug development a secret, a breach in security was always a threat at New Horizon.
When the man’s focus shifted unexpectedly to her, Jess looked away, her breath catching for a split second. She was being ridiculous, of course. He couldn’t possibly know she’d been studying his every move—or lack thereof. And what if he did? She had a right to stare just as much as he did.
She turned her attention back to the presentation, waiting for her cue to approach the podium, but felt the man’s eyes on her. She ignored the heat of his stare, focusing instead on the work here at New Horizon—specifically her work—and the comments she was about to make.
Taking over the Whitman Pharma testing had been a dream come true. While she’d been with New Horizon for the past two years, she’d spent the five years prior working in the New Jersey College medical research department. She’d learned firsthand just how miraculous today’s medicines could be when it came to curing illness.
Excitement skittered through her as Van Cleef’s presentation shifted to the topic of Whitman Pharma’s development of a revolutionary treatment for Hepatitis C. At long last, a cure sat on the horizon—a total and complete cure. With none of the psychological side effects of existing drug therapies.
Jess wrapped her arms around herself and smiled. Wasn’t this what every kid dreamed about? Being part of developing a lifesaving cure?
Today Hepatitis C. Perhaps tomorrow MS.
Her mind shifted quickly to her father’s struggle, but she refocused immediately, not wanting to miss her signal to begin her talk.
Van Cleef called her name and Jess stood, winding her way between the row of chairs on stage as a smattering of polite applause filled the room.
She stole one last glance at the man in the leather jacket, her thoughts on finding cures evaporating into thin air when her eyes met his, still locked on her face.
Jess’s stomach tilted inexplicably. Her warm smile slipped, yet the man’s expression changed. One corner of his stern mouth lifted into a crooked smile, crinkling the skin around his dark eyes and softening the furrow that apparently had permanent residence between his brows.
She looked away, focusing on the podium and Dr. Van Cleef. The only thing she needed to worry about now was her presentation. She stole one last glance at the man as she arranged her notes before her, adjusting the microphone. Surprise slid through her when she found him making a notation on his pad, the first she’d seen him make all morning.
Yet her surprise was quickly replaced by unease when his dark stare lifted once more to her face.
Jess knew with certainty that any notation he’d made had nothing to do with New Horizon and everything to do with Jess herself.
But why?
If he was from the competition and he’d pegged her as an easy mark, he had another thing coming.
DETECTIVE ZACH THOMAS stared at the show before him, doing his best to contain the pent-up fury seething through every inch of his tense body.
New Horizon. The latest and greatest in conducting clinical trials for area pharmaceutical companies. And the last place his brother Jim had held down a job—albeit a very part-time position.
Clinical trial participant. Healthy clinical trial participant.
Zach shook his head, mentally berating himself for what had to be the millionth time since his younger brother’s death. Why on earth had he encouraged Jim to take the job? For a bit of financial independence? For the contribution to science?
Damn.
Jim had been so excited. So thrilled to be helping test potentially lifesaving medicine and to be getting paid well for the work. He’d been alive.
So very alive.
And now he was gone.
Zach straightened in his seat, adjusting the blank tablet on his lap. All around him reporters made notations or whispered into handheld recording devices. If Zach cared about blending in, he’d do the same, but he had no desire to waste time writing down what were obviously practiced talking points.
If questioned, he’d explain he had a photographic memory. Hell, it was true, after all.
No matter what the coroner’s report had concluded, there was a link between Jim’s work for New Horizon and his death. Zach planned to do whatever it took to get to that truth.
He’d borrowed a buddy’s press credentials to gain access to the new pharmaceutical testing company’s open house, hoping to gain some insight into how the company worked, into who he might tap on the inside for information.
So far he hadn’t spotted anyone who might be a potential target. The parade of staff had comprised hardened individuals. No one bearing the expression years of police work had taught Zach to zero in on. The open, curious, caring face.
Jim had been gone and buried for six weeks now. Six.
The kid hadn’t lived to see his twenty-first birthday, yet here the New Horizon people sat bragging about their efforts to make the development and release of new drugs safe for the public at large.
Safe, his ass.
His younger brother had taken a header off the balcony after a supposed bout with depression and psychosis. The coroner had refused to call the death anything but suicide, but Zach knew better.
Jim hadn’t been depressed or confused a day in his life, no matter what sort of statements his college buddies had given the officers on the case.
When Zach had pressed the investigating officers for their case notes, they’d told him to take care of himself, to leave the investigation to them.
When he’d tried to swipe those same notes from the files, the department had told him to take a hike.
After all, Zach wasn’t stupid. He’d been around long enough to know how the game was played. Push hard enough, and sooner or later Internal Affairs would push back—straight to the department shrink and then straight to a paid leave.
Zach wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but he also wasn’t about to apologize for manipulating the system to his advantage—all the way to a three-month sabbatical.
More than enough time to investigate Jim’s death and expose New Horizon.
The white-haired gentleman in a badly fitting suit—Van Cleef—continued to drone on, using a laser pointer to highlight features on a graph.
Zach sat back against his chair, patiently waiting for the next topic on the printed agenda.
The Whitman Pharma trial.
HC0815.
The drug that had taken Jim’s life.
Zach swallowed down the ball of fury climbing up his throat and concentrated.
He studied the name listed as presenter for the HC0815 segment.
Jessica Parker.
He lifted his gaze back to the stage and scanned the faces of the scientists and number crunchers seated in the two rows of chairs.
He settled on a young blonde, her enthusiasm plastered across her face, and decided she was the best candidate to match the name.
Her sleek blond hair had been swept back off her face, no doubt into a tight bun or twist or whatever it was women called that style.
Her white lab coat was buttoned just about to her neck, exposing nothing other than a peek of flesh between the gentle curve of her chin and the collar.
Uptight, no doubt.
Yet when her eyes met his, the mix of emotions in her gaze was unmistakable.
Curiosity and a bit of nervousness.
His pulse kicked up a notch. If the woman was Jessica Parker, she’d be exactly the person he needed on the inside. She’d have the knowledge and the access to information his investigation required.
She also had the facial expression he’d been looking for. Open. Alert. Intelligent.
Her pink lips pressed into a tight line, and he immediately realized his attention had made her nervous.
Her pale blue eyes flashed back toward the podium and Dr. Van Cleef, as if she were waiting for her name to be called.
Perfect.
If she were Jessica Parker, he’d use his phony media credentials to cozy up to the woman, then drain her for every ounce of information she could provide.
Zach had been smart enough to keep a low profile after Jim’s death. If he’d gone nuts and acted the role of grief-stricken older brother, he’d no doubt have been recognized today, bogus credentials or not.
Thankfully, he’d kept his head during the weeks since Jim’s death. Hell, truth be told, there’d been a few days when he’d barely been able to lift his head from the pillow. He felt quite certain a large part of his heart and soul were permanently gone—destroyed in the seconds it took for his younger brother to plunge to his death.
The blonde stood and approached the microphone.
He smiled as he studied her, eagerly waiting to scrutinize every word she had to say.
Jessica Parker.
Zach had his mark.
Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment to make his move. When he did, he only had to remember one thing. His supposed identity.
Rick Levenson with the Times Herald.
Ms. Parker would never know what hit her.
JESS REACHED DR. VAN Cleef’s side moments after he’d made his concluding remarks and was just about to begin the tour.
“I think we might have an impostor, sir.”
Van Cleef smiled ever so slightly. “Leather jacket?”
Jess blinked yet realized she shouldn’t be surprised Van Cleef had jumped to the same conclusion.
She nodded.
“I always liked your perceptiveness, Jessica.” Van Cleef tipped his head toward the man, who appeared to be moving through the throng of reporters, headed directly toward where Jess and Van Cleef stood. “Why don’t you show our guest some individual attention? Find out just what he’s up to.”
Jess had to admit she was less than thrilled with the idea, but she’d do whatever she could to protect the integrity of New Horizon’s work.
She stole a quick glance at the approaching man, trepidation crawling across her skin.
“Will do, Dr. Van Cleef.” She pasted on a smile. “My pleasure.”
She stepped away from Van Cleef and pivoted, wanting to put herself in a position to appear casual when she approached the supposed reporter, but the man had already reached her side. She started momentarily but quickly gathered herself, smoothing down the front of her lab coat.
“Rick Levenson.” The man extended his hand and smiled, the move not quite reaching his dark eyes.
“Jessica Parker.” Jess gave his hand a quick pump then took a backward step, wanting to put a bit of breathing room between them.
“I enjoyed your presentation on HC0815.” He tipped his head toward the podium. “Fascinating possibilities.”
Pride flirted with the cautious edge she’d snapped into place. “Lifesaving possibilities.”
The man nodded. “No doubt. But at what risk?”
Jess shot him a frown. An odd question for a competitor to ask. Or was it?
“Pardon me?”
“The risk,” he repeated, his dark gaze going steely and cold. “Just how much risk is justifiable in the development and testing of such a drug?”
She stiffened defensively. “The beauty of HC0815 is that it’s virtually risk-free. The studies to date have shown none of the adverse mental reactions existing Hepatitis C drugs display.”
Levenson held up one hand as if he’d heard enough. “I heard the company line during your presentation.” He glanced toward the rest of the group, now headed toward the laboratory section of the facility, then he scanned the surrounding area. “Is there someplace a bit more private where I could ask you a few questions?”
Nervousness danced in Jess’s stomach. “I really can’t leave the group.” Not exactly true yet not exactly false. No matter—she had zero intention of putting herself into an isolated position with this man.
There was something in his expression that wasn’t quite right. Something that went far deeper than a competitor or reporter’s interest into how New Horizon was run and how HC0815 worked. For lack of a better term, she’d have to call the look in his gaze one of danger. A looming threat. It was as if he’d erected a wall of emotional control that could give way at any time.
“You can ask me any questions right here.” She straightened. “Though I was quite forthcoming in my comments.”
A muscle in his jaw pulsed.
Jess had a momentary vision of a coiled spring about to come apart.
“I’d like to hear the facts you kept out of your tidy remarks.” His dark brows lifted toward his hairline.
Did the man think her a fool? “Who do you really work for, Mr. Levenson?”
He tapped the ID badge dangling from his neck. “Times Herald.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “Well, then, if you’re not out to steal company secrets, you must be looking for a sensational story where there is none.”
He pursed his lips, an expression of pure confidence painting his features. “That so?”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “HC0815 is a groundbreaking drug, and the testing here at New Horizon leaves no room for sensationalism of any kind.”
His dark eyes widened. “You sure about that?”
Jess stole a glance at the departing group, now out of earshot and very soon to be completely out of sight. Anxiousness edged through her system.
She pointed to the folder of media materials with which Levenson and every other media showcase attendee had been provided.
“Every bit of information you need is in the packet.” She turned, fully intending to walk away. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we need to rejoin the group now.”
The man was obviously out to blast New Horizon in his paper. The less one-on-one time she provided him with, the better.
“So you know all there is to know about your clinical trial participants?”
Jess nodded, turning to face him. “What I don’t know, I have access to. Their participation is randomized and coded for anonymity. Similarly, they’re paid in cash. But I’m well versed with our results to date.”
“Which are?”
“Stellar.” She beamed. “This drug is going to save millions of lives.”
“Even if it kills a few trial participants along the way?”
Every ounce of enthusiasm drained from Jess’s body. Van Cleef had warned her about media reps being out for a sensational story. How sad that this man had chosen that tack and not a focus on how revolutionary the drug would be.
“I’m afraid I’m not interested in providing you with tomorrow’s headline, Mr. Levenson.” She turned back toward the group, now moving out of sight.
But Levenson’s fingers brushed against her elbow as she moved away. The momentary touch sent a jolt rocketing through her system.
“I’m not out for a headline.”
When Jess spun to face the man again, the intensity of his expression stopped her cold.
“Are you aware of how many trial participants have died?” he asked.
Jess squinted at him. Was he insane?
“None. The safety results are spectacular.” She jerked her head toward the group. “Shall we?”
“What about Jim Thomas, Ms. Parker? He jumped from a balcony after taking Whitman’s drug. Did you log that side effect?”
Suicide?
Ice raced through Jess’s veins, a sense of dread suddenly enveloping her and squeezing tight.
She’d heard of suicides during the trial periods for existing Hepatitis C medications, but HC0815? No. She’d certainly remember that detail.
“You must be mistaken. I don’t remember a participant by that name—and I’ve reviewed every application and case report form completed to date.”
Levenson stepped close. So close Jess was afraid he might hear how rapidly her heart beat in response to his allegation.
“I’d suggest you do a little digging.” He dropped his voice so low she had to strain to hear him. “You might want to go back to the first trial for HC0815.”
She frowned, shaking her head. “This is the first.”
Levenson pursed his lips and gave her a wry grin. “For Hepatitis C, but rumor has it the same drug failed to gain approval for another usage.”
Myriad thoughts whirled through Jess’s brain. Surely Van Cleef would have told her if there had been an earlier failed attempt for FDA approval. He certainly would have brought her up to speed on any suicide during the current trial.
She shook her head. “You’ve gotten bad information from somewhere, Mr. Levenson. You might want to check your source.”
He hesitated momentarily, and Jess thought she might finally have him backed into a corner. His next words shattered that illusion into countless pieces.
“I buried my brother last month, Ms. Parker. That particular suicide I can vouch for firsthand.”
She shook her head again. “I don’t remember a candidate with your surname.”
“Thomas.” The emotional strain in his voice had become evident. “Jim Thomas.”
“I thought your name was Levenson?” Jess frowned.
The man pulled a business card from his pocket, handed it to her, then turned toward the exit. “I lied. Use the cell number when you’re ready to talk.”
Chapter Two
Zach headed across the New Horizon parking lot toward his restored Karmann Ghia, mentally berating himself as he walked. So much for keeping his cover intact. He’d told the blonde his true identity five minutes into their conversation—and he used the term conversation loosely.
He’d expected her to be more open to what he had to say, but she’d done nothing except tout the company lines about HC0815.
Revolutionary.
Lifesaving.
Risk-free.
He knew she was wrong, knew it just as strongly as he knew he needed air to breathe. No clinical trial company should be allowed to get away with changing study results, and apparently that was exactly what New Horizon had become involved with. If the company was doing whatever it took to keep their multimillion-dollar-accounts and keep their pharmaceutical company clients happy, they had to be stopped.
And Zach was just the man to do so.
The Little Brother consumer watchdog group had contacted him at Jim’s funeral. Zach had thought their timing left a lot to be desired, but everything they’d said jibed with what his gut had been screaming.
HC0815 was the reason his brother was dead. The drug caused psychosis in a number of otherwise healthy clinical trial participants, and now one had died. Jim.
Zach’s heart squeezed as he dropped into the driver’s seat.
His brother deserved better than what he’d gotten. Far better.
Their parents had been killed in a multivehicle car accident when Jim was only thirteen and Zach twenty-six. Zach had spent the past seven years trying to be the mother and father Jim had lost. They’d mourned together, moved forward together and embraced life together.
They’d celebrated—and how—when Jim graduated from high school and got accepted by New Jersey College. They’d found student loans and Zach had scrimped and saved. He’d done whatever he could to ensure Jim got the education he deserved.
The New Horizon HC0815 trial had seemed too good to be true. High pay for taking a revolutionary and safe drug. Animal testing had shown no side effects. The same was expected in humans.
Zach had actually encouraged Jim’s participation, delighted the kid was so proud of what he was doing.
What a fool he’d been.
If he could spare one other family the loss he’d suffered—save one other kid from a drug-induced suicide—he would.
And Jessica Parker would help. Whether she wanted to or not.
He’d gotten over his surprise at her initial reaction. Of course she’d been defensive. She wouldn’t be a loyal employee if she hadn’t been. But once she dug into the New Horizon database and found out he was telling the truth, she’d come around. She had a light in her eyes that hinted at ethics, and ethics were exactly what he needed right now.
He’d tipped his hand by offering the information on the previous trial—a withdrawn application by Whitman Pharma for the treatment of pancreatic cancer. The law protected the company, allowing them to claim whatever information the trial had provided as a trade secret.
Yet, even if there had been a cover-up, the data must exist somewhere.
Finding that data was Zach’s next step.
If he could provide concrete evidence Jim’s suicide hadn’t been the only one linked to taking the drug, he’d be on his way to putting an end to the testing.
He pulled out of the New Horizon parking lot and into the midday Princeton traffic.
Jessica Parker.
Her image flashed across Zach’s mind. All buttoned up and drop-dead gorgeous.
Something stirred deep inside him, but he tamped down the sensation, shoving it far, far away.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned his head, but he wasn’t about to let Jessica Parker do so now.
He had to focus on Jim, on clearing Jim’s name and on shutting down HC0815. For that, he needed Jessica Parker the scientist.
Zach had to ignore any unwanted thoughts about Jessica Parker, the woman.
And he would.
JESS DROPPED HER FOCUS to the name on the card.
Detective Zachary Thomas.
She lifted her attention to the man’s retreating back, dread dancing up and down her spine.
Suicide?
During the current HC0815 trial?
And during a past trial she’d never heard about?
As Zach Thomas rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight, Jess turned, not toward the media showcase tour but toward a different section of the facility. The section no one but security-cleared staff could access.
She had questions that needed answers and ghosts that needed exorcising.
HC0815 was now her baby, her responsibility, and she intended to make sure nothing stopped the revolutionary drug from making it to the public.
Especially not random allegations tossed around by a grief-stricken detective.
How dare he crash the media showcase by impersonating a reporter? The nerve of the man. Yet sympathy tugged at her heart, twisting ever so slowly. The man had lost his brother. She needed to remember that, as much as she wanted to wring his neck for voicing such lies about their work.
But were they lies?
She swiped her ID badge through the panel outside the lab, pushing the door open once the buzzer sounded.
If Thomas’s allegations weren’t lies, then she’d been kept completely in the dark about the existence of a previous trial, one that had been stopped for an unknown reason. She’d known Miles Van Cleef long enough to know he was a forthright and honest man. He’d never do such a thing. But what if he had been kept in the dark, as well?
Was it possible?
And what about the current trial?
Her predecessor, Scott McLaughlin, had beaten a hasty departure from his position as head of the HC0815 trial. At the time, Jess had written off his action as an aggressive career move, but now she wondered.
Had he stumbled upon something and been forced out?
Jess settled in front of her computer terminal and pulled up the list of archived databases, refocusing on the possibility of a previous study. There were none. But then, the trial may very well have been run under a different name.
She searched on Whitman Pharma and came up with three previous trials, all for drugs which had successfully made it to market and not one with an indication for pancreatic cancer.
She blew out a sigh and sank back against her chair, relief easing the tension that had gripped her every muscle since she’d met Detective Thomas.
Someone had given the man bad information about prior suicides. But what about that of his brother?
She pulled up the current study, knowing full well each participant’s identity would be coded and anonymous, but any adverse reactions should be logged, especially one involving psychosis. She carefully scanned the list of participant numbers and results, tracing her finger along the column for implications.
No suicides.
Not one.
No depressions.
No anxiety or panic disorders.
HC0815 truly was the wonder drug they’d all pinned their hopes on, completely free of psychological side effects.
She needed a list of participant names to put her mind at ease and she knew just where to start.
The file of hard-copy applications from potential candidates.
Jess moved toward the opposite side of the lab, using her key to open the locked file drawer. It was company policy to retain all applications, even for those individuals not selected.
The data was also computerized, but—call her old-fashioned—Jess wanted to review the actual forms on the off chance Jim Thomas’s information hadn’t been entered into the system.
Several minutes later she’d flipped through every single form, scanning each applicant’s name.
No Jim Thomas.
Detective Thomas had been certain his brother had taken part in the trial. Perhaps he’d misunderstood or perhaps his brother had lied.
She slipped his business card from her pocket and studied it. He deserved to know he was operating on false assumptions.
Jess reached for the lab phone but stopped. She needed to speak with Miles Van Cleef before she made any contact with Thomas.
Knowing the media showcase should be long over, she pushed out of her seat and headed for the man’s office, more than ready to put this entire episode behind her.
“I CAN ONLY GIVE YOU A minute, I’m afraid.” Van Cleef spoke without looking up from the jumbled mess of papers on top of his desk.
Jess never ceased to be amazed someone so brilliant could be so unorganized, even though the man was able to put his fingertips to whatever he needed without a second thought. Perhaps his clutter was actually a physical manifestation of his brilliance.
Jess shook off the random thought and refocused on the reason she’d asked Van Cleef for the meeting. She stood behind the chair opposite his desk rather than sitting.
“I thought you should know why the gentleman in the leather jacket was actually here.”
“Ah.” Van Cleef lifted his gaze. “How did your detective work go?”
Funny he should choose the word detective.
Jess hesitated for a split second, then plunged in. She summarized Thomas’s allegation regarding the earlier failed trial, watching as color fired in Van Cleef’s neck and face.
No wonder. He was more passionate about the integrity of New Horizon’s work than anyone. She’d known he wouldn’t take Thomas’s claims lightly, but he had to be made aware the rumors were floating in the public.
“The results of the prior trial are inconsequential to the current testing.”
Van Cleef’s words hit Jess like a ton of bricks.
Prior trial?
Had Thomas been right? And if so, where was the data?
“When I accepted this new position, I wasn’t informed HC0815 had been through prior trials.”
“Trial,” Van Cleef corrected. “As in one and one only. A complete disaster for a variety of reasons, most of them having to do with Whitman Pharma’s withdrawal of the product from the FDA approval process.”
Jess’s head spun with questions. “Why is there nothing in the database?”
Van Cleef shook his head, his wire-rimmed glasses sitting crooked as usual. “No reason to keep information on products that don’t gain approval.”
“But what if the trial exposed a risk to patients? What if the data presented safety implications for the Hepatitis C indication?”
Her question captured Van Cleef’s attention completely. The man visibly tensed. “The drug was pulled by Whitman. It’s not for you or me to question why.” He frowned, his expression intense, serious. “Ancient history. You’re paid to stay on top of the current Whitman clinical trial, not worry about the past. Have there been any alarming side effects to date?”
“None documented.” Jess shook her head, debating whether or not to tell Van Cleef the rest of the conversation.
She drew in a deep breath, hesitating.
“If that’s all, Jessica, I really do need to get back to work. The media showcase set me back hours, as usual.”
“The detective claims there’s been a suicide in the current trial.”
Van Cleef’s white brows snapped together. “That’s preposterous.”
“His younger brother,” Jessica continued. “A supposedly healthy candidate. He jumped from his dormitory balcony after allegedly taking HC0815.”
“I’m assuming you’ve already checked the records? The case report forms?”
Jess nodded. “No record of a Jim Thomas in the applications. No record of a suicide in the results.”
“There you have it.” Van Cleef nodded, then refocused on his work, dismissing her with this move. “Your detective is mistaken. End of story.”
But as Jessica headed back toward her work area, she couldn’t shake the memory of Detective Thomas’s determination. His was the face of a man who knew what he was talking about—or at least was fully convinced he was telling the truth.
In addition, she couldn’t remember ever being dismissed so abruptly by Van Cleef. Was he hiding something? Was he trying to brush off her questions?
She hated to think so, hated that the idea had crossed her mind, but now that it had, she had to see her questions through. It was how she was wired.
On the off chance there might be information that had been purged from the records and databases, she had to locate the one person who might have had access to, and knowledge of, additional information.
Scott McLaughlin. He might have left New Horizon, but the guy had a mind like a steel trap. If he’d ever seen data from the previous trial or reviewed Jim Thomas’s application for the current trial, he’d remember.
Now all Jess had to do was convince the man to talk.
ZACH LEANED OVER HIS kitchen table and scrubbed a hand across his face. Disgust and anger fought for position in his gut as he reread the local newspaper article covering Jim’s death.
His brother, never one to seek the spotlight, would have hated the attention. Even more importantly, he would have hated the implication he’d committed suicide because he’d grown weak mentally.
Weak.
Not the Jim Zach had known all his life.
Zach sank into a battered kitchen chair and spread the pieces of the puzzle across the table. The article. The notes from the investigation. The list of friends who had detailed Jim’s downward spiral.
He traced a finger across each of the investigational notes, all in his handwriting, all recreated from memory after one quick glimpse of the department files.
He stopped his hand when his fingertips brushed against a short stack of paper. Hard copies of the e-mails from Jim detailing the start of the semester and his work with New Horizon.
Zach’s heart grew heavy in his chest.
He had to admit his brother’s tone had changed in the days before his death. Zach should have realized something was wrong, should have done something. Anything.
The familiar guilt edged through his system. He did nothing to shove the sensation away. Hell, he deserved to feel guilty. He’d failed the younger brother who had looked up to him as he would a parent.
Zach had let Jim down.
It was that simple.
He drew in a deep breath then blew it out slowly, bolstering his determination. He might have let Jim down in life, but he wasn’t about to let him down in death.
He’d start at the beginning and work this case harder than he’d ever worked another case. This time it was his brother’s memory he’d fight to vindicate.
Zach pulled a writing tablet from the far side of the table and listed the evidence he’d gathered so far.
Testimony from friends.
E-mails from Jim.
Prior Whitman Pharma clinical trial information from consumer watchdog group.
He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. There wasn’t much to go on, and the first item on the list pointed to Jim’s declining mental state.
As Zach saw it, he needed concrete proof of two things—Jim’s involvement in the HC0815 trial and data from the previous Whitman Pharma drug study.
Jim had reported to the hospital affiliated with the college for his daily dose of HC0815, so there had been nothing in his personal effects to link him to the drug trial. And the only thing the Little Brother watchdog group had been able to provide regarding the earlier Whitman drug study was hearsay.
Zach needed far more in order to prove New Horizon and Whitman Pharma’s guilt and take them down.
He swept all of the papers to one side, frustration growing inside him as he ran the conversation with Jessica Parker through his head for what had to be the hundredth time since that afternoon.
Jessica Parker.
The key to unlocking the evidence Zach needed. The key to getting inside New Horizon.
While he’d like to think it possible to investigate without the woman, the truth was he needed her cooperation.
As Zach shoved the newspaper article and the investigative notes back into the manila envelope where he kept them, he flashed once more on Parker and her defense of New Horizon.
Earning the woman’s trust wasn’t going to be easy, but it was a necessity.
Now, all he had to do was figure out a way how.
JESS FINGERED THE business card in her jacket pocket as she walked from her car to her condo, revisiting the day’s events in her head.
She’d stayed at New Horizon even later than she normally did, and the heaviness of the impending night pressed against the fading sun. The late hour had also forced her to park farther away than she liked.
She’d left a message for Scott McLaughlin at his home number but hadn’t heard back from him. She’d decided against calling Detective Thomas. At least for now.
Once Scott confirmed what Van Cleef had said, Jess would break it to Thomas that he was operating under false pretense and his brother’s mental illness had been just that—and not the by-product of the clinical trial.
She turned the corner toward her street, passing the alley that ran behind the neighborhood grocery market. The small hairs at the base of her neck pricked to attention, and she mentally chastised herself.
The alley had given her the creeps since the day she’d moved in. It didn’t help that her favorite pastime was devouring one romantic suspense novel after the other late at night.
Her imagination was no doubt working overtime.
When movement sounded from behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see an attacker closing fast.
Instead she saw nothing. No one.
“Get a grip, Parker.”
She quickened her pace nonetheless, practically breaking into a jog as she approached the last intersection before her building. She came to a quick stop, looked both ways and moaned inwardly as a battered old Cadillac approached at a snail’s pace.
The widow Murphy. The bane of the neighborhood pedestrian. The woman should have lost her license years ago, yet still she drove. The problem was you never knew if she was going to be driving fast or slow…or both.
As if on cue, the car sped up, zipping past Jess in a blur.
Thank goodness she hadn’t made a move to cross the street.
She’d been so focused on Murphy’s car, Jess hadn’t sensed the presence behind her, but she sensed it now.
A footfall sounded. Several paces back, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Jess’s pulse began to race, and she squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, trying to calm herself, trying to think rationally.
She was merely on edge from sneaking around the lab and the files. Not her usual MO.
Logically speaking, it would make sense for another pedestrian to be on the street. After all, the October weather hadn’t yet turned terribly cold and the evening promised to be clear and beautiful.
Another footstep sounded, and Jess turned to offer a greeting, deciding to face her ridiculous fear head-on.
Her breath caught at the sight behind her. The sidewalk stood empty. Yet she’d heard the footfalls. That she hadn’t imagined. No way.
Something moved beyond the stand of small maples the town had planted during its beautification project. A shadow. A shape.
A man?
Jess wasn’t about to wait to find out. She pivoted to face the street, breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted no oncoming traffic in either direction.
She sprinted across, heading straight for her condominium complex, not daring to steal another glance over her shoulder. Not wanting to risk the slightest slowing of her pace.
As she reached the steps to her building, the sound of someone running behind her was unmistakable. She’d be a fool to punch in her security code and risk whoever followed gaining entrance to her otherwise secure condo. She’d rather face her pursuer head-on, screaming for help in the open.
Hers was a close neighborhood, and she had no doubt help would be with her in no time flat, if needed.
The footfalls slowed as they neared, and Jess turned, doing her best to mentally prepare for whatever—and whoever—she might find behind her.
A middle-aged man stood close yet kept a respectable distance. His complexion was scarred, as if he’d battled severe acne in his youth. His dark hair had begun to recede, and he’d slicked it back, creating a stereotypical New Jersey tough-guy appearance. His manner of dress, however, belied his intimidating looks.
He wore an impeccable suit, crisp white shirt and tightly knotted tie. His clothes showed not a hint of wear or wrinkling, as if he’d just dressed or emerged from a corporate limo.
He reeked of money and confidence, and Jess didn’t recognize him from the neighborhood.
“Can I help you?” she asked, hoping the fear that had her trembling inside wouldn’t infiltrate her voice.
The man tipped his head to one side, a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Jess narrowed her gaze, suspicion filtering through her. “I’m fine. You’re not from around here, are you? Do you need directions?”
He pursed his lips. “You were running. What made you do that?”
You, she thought.
The man’s tone had turned icy, and Jess swallowed reflexively, doing her best to ignore the fingers of dread that wrapped themselves around her neck and squeezed.
The man took a step toward where she stood, but Jess held her ground, steeling herself.
“I was wondering if you had reason to be afraid of something.” His voice dropped low now, menacing, the implied threat unmistakable.
She shook her head. “Why would I be afraid?”
He leaned near and Jess seriously considered screaming. She tensed, ready to strike out should he make a move.
“Sometimes people stumble into situations where they don’t belong,” the man continued. “You’d be surprised what can happen to a person who loses her way, to those she loves, especially when they can’t defend themselves.”
Jess fought the urge to take a swing at him but stood frozen to the spot. She hated how much fear his words had shot into her system. Just who was he threatening? Her? Her family? Her disabled father?
The man tipped his chin, then pivoted away from her. “Take care now. And don’t forget to lock your doors. You wouldn’t want to leave yourself vulnerable.”
Jess did nothing. Said nothing. She merely stood and watched him walk away as if her feet had been anchored in concrete.
Either the man was merely a Good Samaritan with a penchant for gloom and doom or he’d followed her with the express intent to intimidate.
She’d put her money on the latter.
Someone had sent the man with the message for her. She’d stumbled onto something someone else didn’t want her to stumble upon. But what?
Detective Thomas’s allegations were the only development out of the ordinary in her otherwise predictable life. Surely Dr. Van Cleef hadn’t sent the well-dressed man out to scare her. And other than those two, the only person she’d contacted was Scott, yet she’d mentioned no specifics in her voice mail, purposely being discreet.
Could the conversation she’d just had have been a random warning from a well-meaning stranger?
When she punched in her security code and entered the building, she had her answer. The door to her condo sat wide-open, as if she’d gone off to work and never pulled it shut behind her.
She stood to the side of the threshold and listened but heard nothing. Glancing inside, it was evident nothing obvious had been touched or moved. The condo was designed as an open loft, and she was able to scan the full interior from the door.
Her living area, kitchen and sleeping area were all as she’d left them with no intruder in sight.
No matter. Jess knew she’d locked the door just as she knew someone was sending her a message. No doubt the man she’d just encountered on the street.
She pulled her cell phone from her briefcase and speed-dialed her parents’ number. After they’d assured her they were fine, she disconnected, prepared to call the police. Then she had an even better thought.
She pictured Zach Thomas’s dark and intense features, a shiver tracing its way across her shoulders at the image. What if the detective was behind both the intrusion into her apartment and the warning from the stranger? What if he’d orchestrated the moves to intimidate her into cooperating?
Her gut told Jess he hadn’t, but there was only one way to find out.
She pulled Detective Thomas’s card from her pocket, read the digits of his phone number, then punched them into her cell.
Thomas’s gruff response suggested he did not appreciate the interruption.
Too bad.
“Detective Thomas?”
“Who is this?”
“Jessica Parker. We need to talk.”
Chapter Three
Zach sat uncomfortably on the edge of Jessica Parker’s sofa, still angered by the woman’s accusations but thankful for the excuse to speak to her again so soon.
She drew in a slow breath, and for a split second worry clearly shone through her controlled features. She squinted, as if his presence made her terribly uncomfortable.
Zach pinned her with a glare. “It’s not every day I get accused of sending some thug to threaten a woman and break into her apartment.”
“I thought you might have done it to get me to cooperate with you. To get me to pull the data.”
Heat fired in Zach’s face, and he knew he was treading a thin line when it came to control. He might be desperate to get to the truth, but even he wouldn’t go so far as intimidation. Would he?
“Lady, I’m a police officer. The last thing I need to do is scare you into believing me. I’ve got the facts on my side.”
She shook her head. “I’m not so sure you do.” Her eyes locked with his, their intensity shaking him to the core. “Your brother’s name is nowhere to be found in any of the records.” She spoke flatly, her gaze never leaving Zach’s. “Could he have lied about his involvement?”
Zach battled to keep his sudden anger and frustration under control. He shook his head. “My brother was not a liar.”
She gave a quick lift and drop of her shoulders.
“What about the earlier study?” he asked.
Hope simmered inside him as she nodded her head.
“Dr. Van Cleef said an earlier trial did take place, but Whitman pulled the drug out of the approval process.”
He arched one brow. So she’d asked. “My information was right, then.”
Jessica shook her head. “There’s no data. No proof of any adverse reactions.”
Zach shoved a hand through his hair. “Why else would they pull the drug?”
“Competition, insufficient market potential—”
“Someone has to know something, remember something,” Zach interrupted, lifting his gaze to hers, momentarily transfixed by her pale blue eyes. He gave himself a mental shake and refocused. “Have any ideas?”
Jessica sucked in a deep breath, then sighed, turning toward her phone. “I do, actually. Scott McLaughlin. I replaced him as lead researcher on HC0815. He left rather abruptly.”
“Any reason why?”
She shook her head as she flipped through a small spiral book. “We were only told he was gone. He had a terrific reputation, though. Let me try him again.”
“You’ve already tried?”
Zach had to silently admit his surprise. So he’d piqued the woman’s curiosity enough that she’d put out feelers to the former lead researcher.
Jessica nodded. “Before I left work.”
“Anyone else you talked to other than McLaughlin and Van Cleef?”
“No one. And I left a vague message for Scott. No specifics.”
Zach listened as she left another message for McLaughlin. The woman appeared calm and collected, but the slight tremor in her hands gave her away.
The man who’d approached her outside had scared her more deeply than she was willing to admit.
Zach had reached her upscale condominium less than thirty minutes after her call. The odd sense of protectiveness that had surged through his every muscle lingered still, unnerving him, something very few things in life did.
He’d examined the lock on her front door and noted no sign of forced entry, yet he believed her story, believed she’d locked up before she’d gone to work that morning.
If nothing else, hers was not the sort of personality that forgot to lock doors. Far from it.
He studied the condo as she continued to speak into the phone, noting the precise order and lean decorations.
No. Jessica Parker was not a woman who would ever leave a door unlocked. If anything, Zach had been surprised she didn’t have better security.
Whoever had gained entrance was a pro. Of that Zach had no doubt.
“That was his cell phone,” Jessica said as she replaced the receiver, then tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Maybe he’ll pick up that message.”
“And your earlier call?”
“To his home.” Jessica hesitated momentarily. “At least I think so.
He nodded, standing to face her head-on. “Could anyone have overheard you?”
Could they? Jess wondered. It was a definite possibility.
“I suppose.” She gave a quick shrug. “But I didn’t uncover a thing.”
Zach Thomas’s dark gaze grew steely and intense. “Don’t you think that’s enough? The fact you looked—the fact you asked questions—might be enough to put someone on the defensive.”
“Perhaps.” Jessica took her time, choosing her next words carefully.
She’d pulled the online news archives after she’d called the detective. She’d read the stories about Jim Thomas’s mysterious suicide. According to witnesses, he had been depressed, but based on the data back at the lab, HC0815 would have had nothing to do with it.
“You need to prepare yourself for the very real possibility your brother was not a participant,” she continued.
Thomas’s dark brows snapped together just as the phone rang.
Jess snatched it from the receiver, breathing a sigh of relief when Scott McLaughlin’s voice sounded over the line.
“I have a fairly good idea why you called,” he said.
“Really?” Jess answered, a bit taken aback by the matter-of-fact tone of McLaughlin’s statement.
“Did you find the bogus HC0815 data I coded?”
His words stole her breath away. “Bogus?”
The man’s chuckle filtered through the phone. “Maybe altered is a better term.”
Silence beat between them.
“Look, I thought I’d be able to sleep at night after I quit. I was wrong. I need to come clean, Jess. Any interest in hearing what I have to say?”
Her heart slapped against her ribs, and she nodded, as if Scott could see the move.
“You alone in this?” Scott asked, not waiting for her answer to his previous question.
Jess stared at Detective Thomas, wondering what Scott’s reaction would be to his involvement. “There’s a detective. He’s got a few theories he wants to chase down.”
“Game on.” McLaughlin’s voice dropped low. “Just name the time and the place.”
ZACH WAITED, SITTING in a strategically selected booth at the Bordentown Diner.
Back to wall. Face to diner entrance.
He glanced at his watch.
McLaughlin was already nine minutes late. Not a good sign.
If the guy had chickened out, their chances of uncovering the trade-secret trial results and any altered HC0815 data would fall onto Jessica’s shoulders. Somehow Zach couldn’t picture her hacking into the New Horizon system.
She might be scared right now. She might be intrigued. But was she dedicated enough to the cause to risk her job? Risk the integrity of the company she worked for?
Beyond that, her family had been threatened. There was no telling at what point the woman might bail on the entire investigation.
Zach slid a sideways glance toward the counter across the room from where he sat. Jessica sat with her profile to him, long blond hair swept into a ponytail and tucked into a ball cap.
Even in blue jeans and a faded sweatshirt, she was a beauty. No doubt about it. Yet the severe set of her slender jaw and the intensity of her gaze told anyone who cared to notice that she kept herself protected and closed off.
Zach supposed most scientific types might be the same way, focused solely on their work, but he suspected Jessica Parker’s demons went a bit deeper than a desire to crunch data.
No matter. He wasn’t here to contemplate the woman’s emotional state. He was only here to use her for whatever information she might be able to access regarding HC0815 and the role it had played in Jim’s death.
If Zach could expose New Horizon and Whitman Pharma, he would. He’d make sure no other healthy candidate developed a sudden urge to take a swan dive off a balcony or rooftop.
Jessica looked at him over her shoulder, and he frowned, gesturing with his eyes for her to turn around and concentrate on the coffee cup in front of her, not on him.
The worried glint in her eye was a sharp reminder of reality. She might have her emotional walls soundly in place, yet someone had followed her, threatened her, threatened her family.
Why? Simply because she’d asked questions of Van Cleef? But who? Van Cleef himself? Hardly. The man didn’t look capable of harming a fly. Someone else on the inside? Perhaps whoever had instructed McLaughlin to tamper with trial data and outcomes?
Or had Whitman Pharma stepped in to make sure no one and nothing jeopardized the billions of dollars they stood to earn once HC0815 gained FDA approval and hit the market?
A disheveled man with jet-black hair stepped through the diner entrance, cutting off Zach’s thoughts. Tall and lean, he looked to be no more than thirty years old. And he looked nervous as hell.
McLaughlin, Zach thought. Had to be McLaughlin.
The young man moved slowly through the diner, bypassing the hostess as he did so. He held nothing in his hands. No papers. No folders. No disks.
Damn.
Zach had hoped today’s meeting would provide concrete evidence—physical proof. Unless he had a secret compartment in the battered T-shirt and jeans he wore, McLaughlin had decided otherwise.
He moved toward where Zach sat, and Zach nodded.
McLaughlin stopped next to the table.
“Great day for the race,” Zach said, repeating the line they’d agreed upon.
McLaughlin dropped into the opposite side of the booth and wiped at his upper lip.
If the guy was this nervous due to a simple meeting, he’d never hold up under intense pressure or under questioning.
Zach shook off the thought, signaling to the waitress. Based on the sharp angles of McLaughlin’s face, there might be one way to get him to relax and to earn his trust.
Food.
ZACH WAITED UNTIL McLaughlin had inhaled the plate of eggs and bacon before he launched into his questions on HC0815.
At first mention of the clinical trial, McLaughlin stiffened, yet his bloodshot eyes brightened.
“You know, I loved that job,” he said, features tensing.
“Then why’d you leave?” Zach prodded.
McLaughlin smiled ruefully. “I think you already know that answer or you wouldn’t have had Jess make contact with me.”
“Jess contacted you on her own,” Zach replied.
“Then why isn’t she sitting with us?” McLaughlin asked.
Zach answered only with a frown.
McLaughlin jerked a thumb toward the counter. “She’s pretty hard to miss. I spotted her before I spotted you.”
Damn.
If McLaughlin had spotted her that easily, chances were anyone who might be watching had done the same. They’d have to be far more careful from here on out.
Though, if McLaughlin could provide cold, hard evidence, Zach’s probe might be over much sooner than anticipated.
“She’s already had threats. It’s better this way.”
The genuine surprise that registered on McLaughlin’s face let Zach mentally check the man off the list of possible suspects in Jessica’s break-in and threat.
McLaughlin glanced at the clock on the wall. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”
Zach gave a tight nod.
“There was an earlier trial for a pancreatic cancer indication for HC0815. Whitman pulled the drug from the approval process, but not until after two trial participants died.”
Adrenaline zinged to life in Zach’s veins. So the Little Brother watchdog group’s information had been correct. “Suicide?”
McLaughlin nodded. “With no prior history of mental illness.”
Anger tapped at the base of Zach’s skull. “How can Whitman get away with keeping two deaths quiet?”
“Trade-secret rule.” McLaughlin’s lips thinned. “The big pharmaceutical boys know how to protect themselves.”
“What about the current trial?” Zach asked.
McLaughlin took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “There’s already been trouble.” He tensed. “The powers that be instructed me to eliminate the evidence or else.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Of who was behind the order?” McLaughlin shook his head. “Whoever it was paid me handsomely and anonymously—in cash. I’m not proud of what I did.”
“What about the case report forms?”
McLaughlin nodded. “They’re still in the system, I just protected the access.” He narrowed his gaze. “You act like you already knew about the latest adverse reactions.”
Zach nodded his head, saying nothing.
McLaughlin’s narrow gaze widened. “Thomas. Holy…I should have made the connection. How?”
“Brother,” Zach replied in response to McLaughlin’s verbal shorthand.
McLaughlin blinked. “I’m sorry, man. So sorry.”
Zach leaned forward across the narrow table. “So you understand why proof is so important to me.”
The other man nodded. “For a while there I thought you might be a reporter yanking Jess’s chain, but now I get it. You’re out for revenge.” He smiled as if pleased.
If thinking Zach wanted revenge made the man talk, so be it. Zach could play whatever part the investigation required him to play.
McLaughlin shot a nervous glance around the diner. “You know about the other suicides?”
“You just told me. From the earlier trial.”
McLaughlin leaned forward, disbelief crinkling the skin around his tired-looking eyes. “No. The other suicides from this trial.”
“The current HC0815?” Zach’s pulse kicked up a notch.
“Two other students,” McLaughlin answered. “One, a month before your brother. One, the week I left New Horizon.”
Zach couldn’t believe McLaughlin’s words. So Jim’s hadn’t been the only death? Two others had died, one as recently as three weeks ago, and the media hadn’t gotten wind of it? But how?
“Whitman Pharma.” McLaughlin answered Zach’s unspoken question. “Lots of money and lots of spin control. Don’t think clinical trial data isn’t manipulated every day.” He arched his brows and smiled bitterly. “It is. The almighty dollar is just that—almighty.”
McLaughlin pushed away from the booth. “I’d better get going. I’ll get the codes and access instructions to Jess.”
“Why’d you do it?” Zach asked as the other man stood.
“We all have our vices,” McLaughlin answered, his features going flat. “And our demons.”
Zach shook his hand, then watched him leave, mulling over his parting words.
At first, when Zach spotted the dark van racing down the street, his mind refused to wrap itself around the likelihood of what was about to happen.
But when McLaughlin dodged to get out of the way and the van swerved toward him, reality sank into Zach’s brain.
A split second later McLaughlin was hit.
JESS WATCHED IN HORROR as a dark van came seemingly out of nowhere. The vehicle struck Scott at a high speed, tossing his body onto the hood and against the windshield like a rag doll.
Glass shattered, and Scott’s body fell to the asphalt like a discarded piece of trash as the van sped away.
Horrified passersby rushed to Scott’s side and Jess leaped to her feet, pushing away from the counter. Several other diners rushed toward the door. She could only pray there was a doctor or emergency worker in the group.
Poor Scott was going to need all the medical assistance he could get.
Zach was at her side in an instant, his grip tight on her elbow. She spun on him, struggling to pull her arm free, to get to Scott. “What are you doing?” Fear and anger heavily tinged her tone.
“Stopping you before you do something stupid like run out into the open.”
His dark features seemed even more intense and closed off than usual. Jess hadn’t thought it possible.
“I have to help him.” Her voice wavered with emotion as she choked out the next words. “He’s here because of me. That van came out of nowhere.”
She looked to the scene outside, where one man stooped down, fingers to Scott’s neck. He looked up at the others gathered and shook his head.
Zach kept his grip on her arm yet squeezed gently. The uncharacteristic move sent surprise skittering through her.
“There’s nothing we can do to help him.” Zach’s eyes narrowed, softening at the corners. “I need to get you out of here.”
“But what if—”
Zach pressed his lips into a tight line and shook his head. “He’s gone, Jess. And I intend to make sure whoever did this to Scott doesn’t do the same thing to you.”
Fear edged up against her shock. “Me?”
A look of disbelief washed across Zach’s dark eyes. “You don’t honestly think this was a random accident, do you?”
Did she?
She’d like to think it was, but her logical mind wouldn’t allow her the luxury. Someone had wanted Scott silenced—and they’d succeeded.
If whoever had been behind the wheel of that van had spotted her in the diner, her life might be in danger. If they knew Scott had been meeting with Zach, his life might be in danger. Not to mention the warning she’d been given about her parents.
Jess shifted her focus back to Zach. His stare hadn’t wavered from her face. She did her best to shove the fear she felt from her mind. Similarly, she compartmentalized her shock and sadness at Scott’s brutal death until she could process the emotions later on.
Zach was right. They had to get out of there, had to leave Scott behind. “Let’s go.”
Jess had promised herself she wouldn’t trust Zach Thomas, but at this particular moment, trusting the man appeared to be her only option.
Heaven help her.
Chapter Four
An awkward silence hung heavily in the living room of Zach’s house.
He sat on a battered leather recliner, elbows on knees, face in palms. On occasion, he stole a glance at Jessica, furrowed his brows then returned his stare to the hardwood floor.
A knot of fury hung at the back of his throat, having lodged there the moment he watched McLaughlin get mowed down and eliminated as if he’d never existed.
Guilt assaulted Zach’s every sense. McLaughlin had been at the diner because of his investigation, because of Jessica’s phone call. Had whoever hit McLaughlin followed the man to the restaurant? Or had his killer known he’d be there based on watching—or listening to—Jessica?
Zach refused to let his brain so much as consider the possibility the hit-and-run had been an accident. He’d been around too long to be that naive. He knew a hit when he saw one.
Scott McLaughlin’s death had been murder—a purposeful, well-executed murder.
Someone had wanted the man silenced before he could provide additional information on HC0815. There was no doubt in Zach’s mind.
Zach lifted his gaze once more to watch Jessica. The flush that had colored her cheeks as they’d fled the diner had faded. Her pale complexion and huge blue eyes served as stark reminders of the horror she’d just witnessed.
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Kathleen Long
He couldn’t get Jessica Parker out of his head.
Once again, her image flashed across Zach’s mind. All buttoned up and drop-dead gorgeous.
Something stirred deep inside him, but he tamped down the sensation, shoving it far, far away.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned his head, but he wasn’t about to let Jessica Parker do so now.
He had to focus on his brother, on clearing Jim’s name and shutting down the clinical trial. For that he needed Jessica Parker the scientist.
Zach had to ignore any unwanted thoughts about Jessica Parker the woman.
And he would.
A Necessary Risk
Kathleen Long
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
For Annie, the most unexpected—and wonderful—
blessing of my life. Thank you for reminding me that
dreams really do come true. I love you.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After a career spent spinning words for clients ranging from corporate CEOs to talking fruits and vegetables, Kathleen now finds great joy spinning a world of fictional characters, places and plots. Having decided to pursue her writing goals when her first daughter taught her that life is short and dreams are for chasing, Kathleen is now an award-winning author of breathtaking romantic suspense for the Harlequin Intrigue line.
A RIO Award of Excellence winner and a National Readers Choice, Booksellers Best and Holt Medallion nominee, her greatest reward can be found in the letters and e-mails she receives from her readers. Nothing makes her happier than knowing one of her stories has provided a few hours of escape and enjoyment, offering a chance to forget about life for a little while.
Along with her husband, infant daughter and one very neurotic sheltie, Kathleen divides her time between suburban Philadelphia and the New Jersey seashore, where she can often be found hands on keyboard—bare toes in sand—spinning tales. After all, life doesn’t get much better than that.
Please visit her at www.kathleenlong.com or drop her a line at P.O. Box 3864, Cherry Hill, NJ 08034.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Jessica Parker—She’s a lead researcher at New Horizon, a large clinical research facility. When the lifesaving drug trial under her supervision presents with dangerous side effects, will she accept the necessary risk, or will she fight to keep the drug from going on the market?
Zachary Thomas—His younger brother Jim committed suicide while a participant in the most recent Whitman Pharma drug trial. He’s vowed to do whatever it takes to expose the truth—including tapping Jessica Parker.
Scott McLaughlin—He once led the Whitman Pharma trial before abruptly leaving the company. Was he falsifying study results, or is he a whistleblower with just the information Jessica and Zach need to expose the truth?
David Hansen—He’s the holder of the magic key—the encoding information for the Whitman clinical trial. Will he help Jessica match the names of victims to participants, or will he alert the guilty parties that she needs to be silenced?
Miles Van Cleef—The head of New Horizon, he’s dedicated his life to pursuing the safe and ethical development of new pharmaceuticals. But now he’s faced with a tough choice—helping Jessica uncover the truth or doing whatever it takes to protect his company. Which will he choose?
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Jim Thomas pivoted slowly on one heel, frantically scanning the wall of his dorm room, searching for something—anything—familiar.
Framed photos assaulted his senses, distorted faces taunting, haunting. Their voices jockeyed for position inside his brain, screaming, threatening. He pressed his palms to either side of his head and squeezed.
Who were they?
Why wouldn’t they stop?
His gaze landed on a calendar and he recognized his own handwriting. His room. He must be in his dorm room. Familiar surroundings. Safe.
Maybe the voices were a dream.
A very bad dream.
Maybe he’d wake up any moment now and the voices would be gone. The pain would be gone.
For a split second, a teasing sense of calm whispered through him before the unrelenting paranoia and dread took over once more.
Jim’s chest ached and he struggled to draw in a breath, struggled to slow the racing beat of his heart. He opened his mouth to scream, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t call out for help, his throat tight with fear and panic.
The pressure inside his head continued to build, becoming so intense he wished his brain would blow apart to end the agony.
Jim squeezed his hands harder against his skull and turned aimlessly. He bounced off the wall, then reached for the bed but staggered, losing his balance and slamming into the opposite wall.
He slid down the length of the cold plaster, fingers tracing the worn paint until they bumped up against the edge of the sliding glass door.
He sank to the floor momentarily but pulled himself up, using every ounce of strength in his body to will his legs to support his weight.
His heavy, bone-weary weight.
Heavy head.
Heavy heart.
Heavy life.
Jim sagged again but hooked one hand through the door handle, holding tight. The latch gave way and the door slid wide, opening to the pathetic patch of concrete the school called a private balcony.
He laughed through the pain, amazed he could remember the housing lottery, amazed how important winning this balcony had once seemed.
Now all he cared about was the pain.
The head-banging, excruciating pain that pulsated through his head. Minute after minute. Day after day.
The voices sounded again, urging him forward, promising him the pain would stop if only he listened.
He stumbled onto the balcony, welcoming the caress of the crisp autumn air against his face.
He gripped the railing and leaned over, studying the sidewalk below. The concrete drew a lazy pattern of curves through the carefully trimmed grass and the perfectly sculptured gardens. A group of students walking below laughed, no doubt consumed by the idiocy of college life.
They looked perfect. They sounded perfect.
Damned perfect.
Jim stepped up onto the bottom rail. First one foot. Then the other.
His headed pounded now as if his brain no longer fit inside his skull and pressed to break through. He looked to the sky and balanced, hoping the pain would ease. Hoping the pounding would stop.
But it never did.
The voices.
He had no choice now but to listen to the voices.
Jim stepped up onto the second rail and leaned forward, welcoming the rush of air against his face as he fell, arms spread wide.
He soared.
He flew.
He eagerly anticipated the imminent release from the pain, and as the ground rushed at him, Jim smiled.
At last.
Chapter One
Six weeks later
Nervous anticipation wound its way through Jessica Parker as she waited for Miles Van Cleef to introduce her to those gathered. She’d waited for this moment for a very long time. Years, to be precise.
Her newest promotion had been timed perfectly for today’s media showcase. New Horizon held the event twice each year to tout their latest clinical trials and keep community support strong for their work.
She’d been named lead researcher on Whitman Pharma’s testing of HC0815 two weeks earlier, and Van Cleef had asked her to handle one section of today’s presentation.
She couldn’t be more thrilled.
Or more nervous.
While she considered herself a whiz with facts and figures, people were another matter altogether. Let alone speaking in front of a crowd this large.
As Van Cleef covered the basics of New Horizon’s relationship with area pharmaceutical companies and New Jersey College, Jess scanned the crowd, taking note of the expressions of those present.
Some intent. Some quite obviously watching the clock.
When her gaze landed on one individual in particular, she found herself riveted, unable to look away. Her typically strong intuition told her instantly something was amiss.
He didn’t belong here.
His strong features showed no sign of emotion. Close-cropped dark hair neatly covered his head, and what had to be at least a three-day stubble graced the sharp line of his jaw.
While others in the room had shed their jackets due to the temperature inside the room, he wore a leather jacket yet showed no sign of perspiration.
No sign of weakness, actually.
She didn’t need her advanced science degree to know he stuck out like a sore thumb. There was no doubt in her mind he didn’t belong.
But who was he? And who was he with?
While the others present displayed an apparent interest—faked or not—in Dr. Van Cleef’s presentation, taking notes and asking questions, the man in question did neither. He stared so intently at the presentation screen it was a wonder his gaze didn’t sear a hole clean through the wall.
The appropriate media pass hung around his neck, but Jess couldn’t make out the name of the organization he represented, even though she squinted intently at the small square object.
Did he work for a competing institution? Had he gotten his hands on media credentials and crashed the showcase?
Investigational drug testing was a brutally competitive industry, and while they did their best to keep their work and specific details of their clients’ drug development a secret, a breach in security was always a threat at New Horizon.
When the man’s focus shifted unexpectedly to her, Jess looked away, her breath catching for a split second. She was being ridiculous, of course. He couldn’t possibly know she’d been studying his every move—or lack thereof. And what if he did? She had a right to stare just as much as he did.
She turned her attention back to the presentation, waiting for her cue to approach the podium, but felt the man’s eyes on her. She ignored the heat of his stare, focusing instead on the work here at New Horizon—specifically her work—and the comments she was about to make.
Taking over the Whitman Pharma testing had been a dream come true. While she’d been with New Horizon for the past two years, she’d spent the five years prior working in the New Jersey College medical research department. She’d learned firsthand just how miraculous today’s medicines could be when it came to curing illness.
Excitement skittered through her as Van Cleef’s presentation shifted to the topic of Whitman Pharma’s development of a revolutionary treatment for Hepatitis C. At long last, a cure sat on the horizon—a total and complete cure. With none of the psychological side effects of existing drug therapies.
Jess wrapped her arms around herself and smiled. Wasn’t this what every kid dreamed about? Being part of developing a lifesaving cure?
Today Hepatitis C. Perhaps tomorrow MS.
Her mind shifted quickly to her father’s struggle, but she refocused immediately, not wanting to miss her signal to begin her talk.
Van Cleef called her name and Jess stood, winding her way between the row of chairs on stage as a smattering of polite applause filled the room.
She stole one last glance at the man in the leather jacket, her thoughts on finding cures evaporating into thin air when her eyes met his, still locked on her face.
Jess’s stomach tilted inexplicably. Her warm smile slipped, yet the man’s expression changed. One corner of his stern mouth lifted into a crooked smile, crinkling the skin around his dark eyes and softening the furrow that apparently had permanent residence between his brows.
She looked away, focusing on the podium and Dr. Van Cleef. The only thing she needed to worry about now was her presentation. She stole one last glance at the man as she arranged her notes before her, adjusting the microphone. Surprise slid through her when she found him making a notation on his pad, the first she’d seen him make all morning.
Yet her surprise was quickly replaced by unease when his dark stare lifted once more to her face.
Jess knew with certainty that any notation he’d made had nothing to do with New Horizon and everything to do with Jess herself.
But why?
If he was from the competition and he’d pegged her as an easy mark, he had another thing coming.
DETECTIVE ZACH THOMAS stared at the show before him, doing his best to contain the pent-up fury seething through every inch of his tense body.
New Horizon. The latest and greatest in conducting clinical trials for area pharmaceutical companies. And the last place his brother Jim had held down a job—albeit a very part-time position.
Clinical trial participant. Healthy clinical trial participant.
Zach shook his head, mentally berating himself for what had to be the millionth time since his younger brother’s death. Why on earth had he encouraged Jim to take the job? For a bit of financial independence? For the contribution to science?
Damn.
Jim had been so excited. So thrilled to be helping test potentially lifesaving medicine and to be getting paid well for the work. He’d been alive.
So very alive.
And now he was gone.
Zach straightened in his seat, adjusting the blank tablet on his lap. All around him reporters made notations or whispered into handheld recording devices. If Zach cared about blending in, he’d do the same, but he had no desire to waste time writing down what were obviously practiced talking points.
If questioned, he’d explain he had a photographic memory. Hell, it was true, after all.
No matter what the coroner’s report had concluded, there was a link between Jim’s work for New Horizon and his death. Zach planned to do whatever it took to get to that truth.
He’d borrowed a buddy’s press credentials to gain access to the new pharmaceutical testing company’s open house, hoping to gain some insight into how the company worked, into who he might tap on the inside for information.
So far he hadn’t spotted anyone who might be a potential target. The parade of staff had comprised hardened individuals. No one bearing the expression years of police work had taught Zach to zero in on. The open, curious, caring face.
Jim had been gone and buried for six weeks now. Six.
The kid hadn’t lived to see his twenty-first birthday, yet here the New Horizon people sat bragging about their efforts to make the development and release of new drugs safe for the public at large.
Safe, his ass.
His younger brother had taken a header off the balcony after a supposed bout with depression and psychosis. The coroner had refused to call the death anything but suicide, but Zach knew better.
Jim hadn’t been depressed or confused a day in his life, no matter what sort of statements his college buddies had given the officers on the case.
When Zach had pressed the investigating officers for their case notes, they’d told him to take care of himself, to leave the investigation to them.
When he’d tried to swipe those same notes from the files, the department had told him to take a hike.
After all, Zach wasn’t stupid. He’d been around long enough to know how the game was played. Push hard enough, and sooner or later Internal Affairs would push back—straight to the department shrink and then straight to a paid leave.
Zach wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but he also wasn’t about to apologize for manipulating the system to his advantage—all the way to a three-month sabbatical.
More than enough time to investigate Jim’s death and expose New Horizon.
The white-haired gentleman in a badly fitting suit—Van Cleef—continued to drone on, using a laser pointer to highlight features on a graph.
Zach sat back against his chair, patiently waiting for the next topic on the printed agenda.
The Whitman Pharma trial.
HC0815.
The drug that had taken Jim’s life.
Zach swallowed down the ball of fury climbing up his throat and concentrated.
He studied the name listed as presenter for the HC0815 segment.
Jessica Parker.
He lifted his gaze back to the stage and scanned the faces of the scientists and number crunchers seated in the two rows of chairs.
He settled on a young blonde, her enthusiasm plastered across her face, and decided she was the best candidate to match the name.
Her sleek blond hair had been swept back off her face, no doubt into a tight bun or twist or whatever it was women called that style.
Her white lab coat was buttoned just about to her neck, exposing nothing other than a peek of flesh between the gentle curve of her chin and the collar.
Uptight, no doubt.
Yet when her eyes met his, the mix of emotions in her gaze was unmistakable.
Curiosity and a bit of nervousness.
His pulse kicked up a notch. If the woman was Jessica Parker, she’d be exactly the person he needed on the inside. She’d have the knowledge and the access to information his investigation required.
She also had the facial expression he’d been looking for. Open. Alert. Intelligent.
Her pink lips pressed into a tight line, and he immediately realized his attention had made her nervous.
Her pale blue eyes flashed back toward the podium and Dr. Van Cleef, as if she were waiting for her name to be called.
Perfect.
If she were Jessica Parker, he’d use his phony media credentials to cozy up to the woman, then drain her for every ounce of information she could provide.
Zach had been smart enough to keep a low profile after Jim’s death. If he’d gone nuts and acted the role of grief-stricken older brother, he’d no doubt have been recognized today, bogus credentials or not.
Thankfully, he’d kept his head during the weeks since Jim’s death. Hell, truth be told, there’d been a few days when he’d barely been able to lift his head from the pillow. He felt quite certain a large part of his heart and soul were permanently gone—destroyed in the seconds it took for his younger brother to plunge to his death.
The blonde stood and approached the microphone.
He smiled as he studied her, eagerly waiting to scrutinize every word she had to say.
Jessica Parker.
Zach had his mark.
Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment to make his move. When he did, he only had to remember one thing. His supposed identity.
Rick Levenson with the Times Herald.
Ms. Parker would never know what hit her.
JESS REACHED DR. VAN Cleef’s side moments after he’d made his concluding remarks and was just about to begin the tour.
“I think we might have an impostor, sir.”
Van Cleef smiled ever so slightly. “Leather jacket?”
Jess blinked yet realized she shouldn’t be surprised Van Cleef had jumped to the same conclusion.
She nodded.
“I always liked your perceptiveness, Jessica.” Van Cleef tipped his head toward the man, who appeared to be moving through the throng of reporters, headed directly toward where Jess and Van Cleef stood. “Why don’t you show our guest some individual attention? Find out just what he’s up to.”
Jess had to admit she was less than thrilled with the idea, but she’d do whatever she could to protect the integrity of New Horizon’s work.
She stole a quick glance at the approaching man, trepidation crawling across her skin.
“Will do, Dr. Van Cleef.” She pasted on a smile. “My pleasure.”
She stepped away from Van Cleef and pivoted, wanting to put herself in a position to appear casual when she approached the supposed reporter, but the man had already reached her side. She started momentarily but quickly gathered herself, smoothing down the front of her lab coat.
“Rick Levenson.” The man extended his hand and smiled, the move not quite reaching his dark eyes.
“Jessica Parker.” Jess gave his hand a quick pump then took a backward step, wanting to put a bit of breathing room between them.
“I enjoyed your presentation on HC0815.” He tipped his head toward the podium. “Fascinating possibilities.”
Pride flirted with the cautious edge she’d snapped into place. “Lifesaving possibilities.”
The man nodded. “No doubt. But at what risk?”
Jess shot him a frown. An odd question for a competitor to ask. Or was it?
“Pardon me?”
“The risk,” he repeated, his dark gaze going steely and cold. “Just how much risk is justifiable in the development and testing of such a drug?”
She stiffened defensively. “The beauty of HC0815 is that it’s virtually risk-free. The studies to date have shown none of the adverse mental reactions existing Hepatitis C drugs display.”
Levenson held up one hand as if he’d heard enough. “I heard the company line during your presentation.” He glanced toward the rest of the group, now headed toward the laboratory section of the facility, then he scanned the surrounding area. “Is there someplace a bit more private where I could ask you a few questions?”
Nervousness danced in Jess’s stomach. “I really can’t leave the group.” Not exactly true yet not exactly false. No matter—she had zero intention of putting herself into an isolated position with this man.
There was something in his expression that wasn’t quite right. Something that went far deeper than a competitor or reporter’s interest into how New Horizon was run and how HC0815 worked. For lack of a better term, she’d have to call the look in his gaze one of danger. A looming threat. It was as if he’d erected a wall of emotional control that could give way at any time.
“You can ask me any questions right here.” She straightened. “Though I was quite forthcoming in my comments.”
A muscle in his jaw pulsed.
Jess had a momentary vision of a coiled spring about to come apart.
“I’d like to hear the facts you kept out of your tidy remarks.” His dark brows lifted toward his hairline.
Did the man think her a fool? “Who do you really work for, Mr. Levenson?”
He tapped the ID badge dangling from his neck. “Times Herald.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “Well, then, if you’re not out to steal company secrets, you must be looking for a sensational story where there is none.”
He pursed his lips, an expression of pure confidence painting his features. “That so?”
She narrowed her gaze on him. “HC0815 is a groundbreaking drug, and the testing here at New Horizon leaves no room for sensationalism of any kind.”
His dark eyes widened. “You sure about that?”
Jess stole a glance at the departing group, now out of earshot and very soon to be completely out of sight. Anxiousness edged through her system.
She pointed to the folder of media materials with which Levenson and every other media showcase attendee had been provided.
“Every bit of information you need is in the packet.” She turned, fully intending to walk away. “I don’t mean to be rude, but we need to rejoin the group now.”
The man was obviously out to blast New Horizon in his paper. The less one-on-one time she provided him with, the better.
“So you know all there is to know about your clinical trial participants?”
Jess nodded, turning to face him. “What I don’t know, I have access to. Their participation is randomized and coded for anonymity. Similarly, they’re paid in cash. But I’m well versed with our results to date.”
“Which are?”
“Stellar.” She beamed. “This drug is going to save millions of lives.”
“Even if it kills a few trial participants along the way?”
Every ounce of enthusiasm drained from Jess’s body. Van Cleef had warned her about media reps being out for a sensational story. How sad that this man had chosen that tack and not a focus on how revolutionary the drug would be.
“I’m afraid I’m not interested in providing you with tomorrow’s headline, Mr. Levenson.” She turned back toward the group, now moving out of sight.
But Levenson’s fingers brushed against her elbow as she moved away. The momentary touch sent a jolt rocketing through her system.
“I’m not out for a headline.”
When Jess spun to face the man again, the intensity of his expression stopped her cold.
“Are you aware of how many trial participants have died?” he asked.
Jess squinted at him. Was he insane?
“None. The safety results are spectacular.” She jerked her head toward the group. “Shall we?”
“What about Jim Thomas, Ms. Parker? He jumped from a balcony after taking Whitman’s drug. Did you log that side effect?”
Suicide?
Ice raced through Jess’s veins, a sense of dread suddenly enveloping her and squeezing tight.
She’d heard of suicides during the trial periods for existing Hepatitis C medications, but HC0815? No. She’d certainly remember that detail.
“You must be mistaken. I don’t remember a participant by that name—and I’ve reviewed every application and case report form completed to date.”
Levenson stepped close. So close Jess was afraid he might hear how rapidly her heart beat in response to his allegation.
“I’d suggest you do a little digging.” He dropped his voice so low she had to strain to hear him. “You might want to go back to the first trial for HC0815.”
She frowned, shaking her head. “This is the first.”
Levenson pursed his lips and gave her a wry grin. “For Hepatitis C, but rumor has it the same drug failed to gain approval for another usage.”
Myriad thoughts whirled through Jess’s brain. Surely Van Cleef would have told her if there had been an earlier failed attempt for FDA approval. He certainly would have brought her up to speed on any suicide during the current trial.
She shook her head. “You’ve gotten bad information from somewhere, Mr. Levenson. You might want to check your source.”
He hesitated momentarily, and Jess thought she might finally have him backed into a corner. His next words shattered that illusion into countless pieces.
“I buried my brother last month, Ms. Parker. That particular suicide I can vouch for firsthand.”
She shook her head again. “I don’t remember a candidate with your surname.”
“Thomas.” The emotional strain in his voice had become evident. “Jim Thomas.”
“I thought your name was Levenson?” Jess frowned.
The man pulled a business card from his pocket, handed it to her, then turned toward the exit. “I lied. Use the cell number when you’re ready to talk.”
Chapter Two
Zach headed across the New Horizon parking lot toward his restored Karmann Ghia, mentally berating himself as he walked. So much for keeping his cover intact. He’d told the blonde his true identity five minutes into their conversation—and he used the term conversation loosely.
He’d expected her to be more open to what he had to say, but she’d done nothing except tout the company lines about HC0815.
Revolutionary.
Lifesaving.
Risk-free.
He knew she was wrong, knew it just as strongly as he knew he needed air to breathe. No clinical trial company should be allowed to get away with changing study results, and apparently that was exactly what New Horizon had become involved with. If the company was doing whatever it took to keep their multimillion-dollar-accounts and keep their pharmaceutical company clients happy, they had to be stopped.
And Zach was just the man to do so.
The Little Brother consumer watchdog group had contacted him at Jim’s funeral. Zach had thought their timing left a lot to be desired, but everything they’d said jibed with what his gut had been screaming.
HC0815 was the reason his brother was dead. The drug caused psychosis in a number of otherwise healthy clinical trial participants, and now one had died. Jim.
Zach’s heart squeezed as he dropped into the driver’s seat.
His brother deserved better than what he’d gotten. Far better.
Their parents had been killed in a multivehicle car accident when Jim was only thirteen and Zach twenty-six. Zach had spent the past seven years trying to be the mother and father Jim had lost. They’d mourned together, moved forward together and embraced life together.
They’d celebrated—and how—when Jim graduated from high school and got accepted by New Jersey College. They’d found student loans and Zach had scrimped and saved. He’d done whatever he could to ensure Jim got the education he deserved.
The New Horizon HC0815 trial had seemed too good to be true. High pay for taking a revolutionary and safe drug. Animal testing had shown no side effects. The same was expected in humans.
Zach had actually encouraged Jim’s participation, delighted the kid was so proud of what he was doing.
What a fool he’d been.
If he could spare one other family the loss he’d suffered—save one other kid from a drug-induced suicide—he would.
And Jessica Parker would help. Whether she wanted to or not.
He’d gotten over his surprise at her initial reaction. Of course she’d been defensive. She wouldn’t be a loyal employee if she hadn’t been. But once she dug into the New Horizon database and found out he was telling the truth, she’d come around. She had a light in her eyes that hinted at ethics, and ethics were exactly what he needed right now.
He’d tipped his hand by offering the information on the previous trial—a withdrawn application by Whitman Pharma for the treatment of pancreatic cancer. The law protected the company, allowing them to claim whatever information the trial had provided as a trade secret.
Yet, even if there had been a cover-up, the data must exist somewhere.
Finding that data was Zach’s next step.
If he could provide concrete evidence Jim’s suicide hadn’t been the only one linked to taking the drug, he’d be on his way to putting an end to the testing.
He pulled out of the New Horizon parking lot and into the midday Princeton traffic.
Jessica Parker.
Her image flashed across Zach’s mind. All buttoned up and drop-dead gorgeous.
Something stirred deep inside him, but he tamped down the sensation, shoving it far, far away.
He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had turned his head, but he wasn’t about to let Jessica Parker do so now.
He had to focus on Jim, on clearing Jim’s name and on shutting down HC0815. For that, he needed Jessica Parker the scientist.
Zach had to ignore any unwanted thoughts about Jessica Parker, the woman.
And he would.
JESS DROPPED HER FOCUS to the name on the card.
Detective Zachary Thomas.
She lifted her attention to the man’s retreating back, dread dancing up and down her spine.
Suicide?
During the current HC0815 trial?
And during a past trial she’d never heard about?
As Zach Thomas rounded the corner and disappeared from her sight, Jess turned, not toward the media showcase tour but toward a different section of the facility. The section no one but security-cleared staff could access.
She had questions that needed answers and ghosts that needed exorcising.
HC0815 was now her baby, her responsibility, and she intended to make sure nothing stopped the revolutionary drug from making it to the public.
Especially not random allegations tossed around by a grief-stricken detective.
How dare he crash the media showcase by impersonating a reporter? The nerve of the man. Yet sympathy tugged at her heart, twisting ever so slowly. The man had lost his brother. She needed to remember that, as much as she wanted to wring his neck for voicing such lies about their work.
But were they lies?
She swiped her ID badge through the panel outside the lab, pushing the door open once the buzzer sounded.
If Thomas’s allegations weren’t lies, then she’d been kept completely in the dark about the existence of a previous trial, one that had been stopped for an unknown reason. She’d known Miles Van Cleef long enough to know he was a forthright and honest man. He’d never do such a thing. But what if he had been kept in the dark, as well?
Was it possible?
And what about the current trial?
Her predecessor, Scott McLaughlin, had beaten a hasty departure from his position as head of the HC0815 trial. At the time, Jess had written off his action as an aggressive career move, but now she wondered.
Had he stumbled upon something and been forced out?
Jess settled in front of her computer terminal and pulled up the list of archived databases, refocusing on the possibility of a previous study. There were none. But then, the trial may very well have been run under a different name.
She searched on Whitman Pharma and came up with three previous trials, all for drugs which had successfully made it to market and not one with an indication for pancreatic cancer.
She blew out a sigh and sank back against her chair, relief easing the tension that had gripped her every muscle since she’d met Detective Thomas.
Someone had given the man bad information about prior suicides. But what about that of his brother?
She pulled up the current study, knowing full well each participant’s identity would be coded and anonymous, but any adverse reactions should be logged, especially one involving psychosis. She carefully scanned the list of participant numbers and results, tracing her finger along the column for implications.
No suicides.
Not one.
No depressions.
No anxiety or panic disorders.
HC0815 truly was the wonder drug they’d all pinned their hopes on, completely free of psychological side effects.
She needed a list of participant names to put her mind at ease and she knew just where to start.
The file of hard-copy applications from potential candidates.
Jess moved toward the opposite side of the lab, using her key to open the locked file drawer. It was company policy to retain all applications, even for those individuals not selected.
The data was also computerized, but—call her old-fashioned—Jess wanted to review the actual forms on the off chance Jim Thomas’s information hadn’t been entered into the system.
Several minutes later she’d flipped through every single form, scanning each applicant’s name.
No Jim Thomas.
Detective Thomas had been certain his brother had taken part in the trial. Perhaps he’d misunderstood or perhaps his brother had lied.
She slipped his business card from her pocket and studied it. He deserved to know he was operating on false assumptions.
Jess reached for the lab phone but stopped. She needed to speak with Miles Van Cleef before she made any contact with Thomas.
Knowing the media showcase should be long over, she pushed out of her seat and headed for the man’s office, more than ready to put this entire episode behind her.
“I CAN ONLY GIVE YOU A minute, I’m afraid.” Van Cleef spoke without looking up from the jumbled mess of papers on top of his desk.
Jess never ceased to be amazed someone so brilliant could be so unorganized, even though the man was able to put his fingertips to whatever he needed without a second thought. Perhaps his clutter was actually a physical manifestation of his brilliance.
Jess shook off the random thought and refocused on the reason she’d asked Van Cleef for the meeting. She stood behind the chair opposite his desk rather than sitting.
“I thought you should know why the gentleman in the leather jacket was actually here.”
“Ah.” Van Cleef lifted his gaze. “How did your detective work go?”
Funny he should choose the word detective.
Jess hesitated for a split second, then plunged in. She summarized Thomas’s allegation regarding the earlier failed trial, watching as color fired in Van Cleef’s neck and face.
No wonder. He was more passionate about the integrity of New Horizon’s work than anyone. She’d known he wouldn’t take Thomas’s claims lightly, but he had to be made aware the rumors were floating in the public.
“The results of the prior trial are inconsequential to the current testing.”
Van Cleef’s words hit Jess like a ton of bricks.
Prior trial?
Had Thomas been right? And if so, where was the data?
“When I accepted this new position, I wasn’t informed HC0815 had been through prior trials.”
“Trial,” Van Cleef corrected. “As in one and one only. A complete disaster for a variety of reasons, most of them having to do with Whitman Pharma’s withdrawal of the product from the FDA approval process.”
Jess’s head spun with questions. “Why is there nothing in the database?”
Van Cleef shook his head, his wire-rimmed glasses sitting crooked as usual. “No reason to keep information on products that don’t gain approval.”
“But what if the trial exposed a risk to patients? What if the data presented safety implications for the Hepatitis C indication?”
Her question captured Van Cleef’s attention completely. The man visibly tensed. “The drug was pulled by Whitman. It’s not for you or me to question why.” He frowned, his expression intense, serious. “Ancient history. You’re paid to stay on top of the current Whitman clinical trial, not worry about the past. Have there been any alarming side effects to date?”
“None documented.” Jess shook her head, debating whether or not to tell Van Cleef the rest of the conversation.
She drew in a deep breath, hesitating.
“If that’s all, Jessica, I really do need to get back to work. The media showcase set me back hours, as usual.”
“The detective claims there’s been a suicide in the current trial.”
Van Cleef’s white brows snapped together. “That’s preposterous.”
“His younger brother,” Jessica continued. “A supposedly healthy candidate. He jumped from his dormitory balcony after allegedly taking HC0815.”
“I’m assuming you’ve already checked the records? The case report forms?”
Jess nodded. “No record of a Jim Thomas in the applications. No record of a suicide in the results.”
“There you have it.” Van Cleef nodded, then refocused on his work, dismissing her with this move. “Your detective is mistaken. End of story.”
But as Jessica headed back toward her work area, she couldn’t shake the memory of Detective Thomas’s determination. His was the face of a man who knew what he was talking about—or at least was fully convinced he was telling the truth.
In addition, she couldn’t remember ever being dismissed so abruptly by Van Cleef. Was he hiding something? Was he trying to brush off her questions?
She hated to think so, hated that the idea had crossed her mind, but now that it had, she had to see her questions through. It was how she was wired.
On the off chance there might be information that had been purged from the records and databases, she had to locate the one person who might have had access to, and knowledge of, additional information.
Scott McLaughlin. He might have left New Horizon, but the guy had a mind like a steel trap. If he’d ever seen data from the previous trial or reviewed Jim Thomas’s application for the current trial, he’d remember.
Now all Jess had to do was convince the man to talk.
ZACH LEANED OVER HIS kitchen table and scrubbed a hand across his face. Disgust and anger fought for position in his gut as he reread the local newspaper article covering Jim’s death.
His brother, never one to seek the spotlight, would have hated the attention. Even more importantly, he would have hated the implication he’d committed suicide because he’d grown weak mentally.
Weak.
Not the Jim Zach had known all his life.
Zach sank into a battered kitchen chair and spread the pieces of the puzzle across the table. The article. The notes from the investigation. The list of friends who had detailed Jim’s downward spiral.
He traced a finger across each of the investigational notes, all in his handwriting, all recreated from memory after one quick glimpse of the department files.
He stopped his hand when his fingertips brushed against a short stack of paper. Hard copies of the e-mails from Jim detailing the start of the semester and his work with New Horizon.
Zach’s heart grew heavy in his chest.
He had to admit his brother’s tone had changed in the days before his death. Zach should have realized something was wrong, should have done something. Anything.
The familiar guilt edged through his system. He did nothing to shove the sensation away. Hell, he deserved to feel guilty. He’d failed the younger brother who had looked up to him as he would a parent.
Zach had let Jim down.
It was that simple.
He drew in a deep breath then blew it out slowly, bolstering his determination. He might have let Jim down in life, but he wasn’t about to let him down in death.
He’d start at the beginning and work this case harder than he’d ever worked another case. This time it was his brother’s memory he’d fight to vindicate.
Zach pulled a writing tablet from the far side of the table and listed the evidence he’d gathered so far.
Testimony from friends.
E-mails from Jim.
Prior Whitman Pharma clinical trial information from consumer watchdog group.
He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut momentarily. There wasn’t much to go on, and the first item on the list pointed to Jim’s declining mental state.
As Zach saw it, he needed concrete proof of two things—Jim’s involvement in the HC0815 trial and data from the previous Whitman Pharma drug study.
Jim had reported to the hospital affiliated with the college for his daily dose of HC0815, so there had been nothing in his personal effects to link him to the drug trial. And the only thing the Little Brother watchdog group had been able to provide regarding the earlier Whitman drug study was hearsay.
Zach needed far more in order to prove New Horizon and Whitman Pharma’s guilt and take them down.
He swept all of the papers to one side, frustration growing inside him as he ran the conversation with Jessica Parker through his head for what had to be the hundredth time since that afternoon.
Jessica Parker.
The key to unlocking the evidence Zach needed. The key to getting inside New Horizon.
While he’d like to think it possible to investigate without the woman, the truth was he needed her cooperation.
As Zach shoved the newspaper article and the investigative notes back into the manila envelope where he kept them, he flashed once more on Parker and her defense of New Horizon.
Earning the woman’s trust wasn’t going to be easy, but it was a necessity.
Now, all he had to do was figure out a way how.
JESS FINGERED THE business card in her jacket pocket as she walked from her car to her condo, revisiting the day’s events in her head.
She’d stayed at New Horizon even later than she normally did, and the heaviness of the impending night pressed against the fading sun. The late hour had also forced her to park farther away than she liked.
She’d left a message for Scott McLaughlin at his home number but hadn’t heard back from him. She’d decided against calling Detective Thomas. At least for now.
Once Scott confirmed what Van Cleef had said, Jess would break it to Thomas that he was operating under false pretense and his brother’s mental illness had been just that—and not the by-product of the clinical trial.
She turned the corner toward her street, passing the alley that ran behind the neighborhood grocery market. The small hairs at the base of her neck pricked to attention, and she mentally chastised herself.
The alley had given her the creeps since the day she’d moved in. It didn’t help that her favorite pastime was devouring one romantic suspense novel after the other late at night.
Her imagination was no doubt working overtime.
When movement sounded from behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see an attacker closing fast.
Instead she saw nothing. No one.
“Get a grip, Parker.”
She quickened her pace nonetheless, practically breaking into a jog as she approached the last intersection before her building. She came to a quick stop, looked both ways and moaned inwardly as a battered old Cadillac approached at a snail’s pace.
The widow Murphy. The bane of the neighborhood pedestrian. The woman should have lost her license years ago, yet still she drove. The problem was you never knew if she was going to be driving fast or slow…or both.
As if on cue, the car sped up, zipping past Jess in a blur.
Thank goodness she hadn’t made a move to cross the street.
She’d been so focused on Murphy’s car, Jess hadn’t sensed the presence behind her, but she sensed it now.
A footfall sounded. Several paces back, if she wasn’t mistaken.
Jess’s pulse began to race, and she squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, trying to calm herself, trying to think rationally.
She was merely on edge from sneaking around the lab and the files. Not her usual MO.
Logically speaking, it would make sense for another pedestrian to be on the street. After all, the October weather hadn’t yet turned terribly cold and the evening promised to be clear and beautiful.
Another footstep sounded, and Jess turned to offer a greeting, deciding to face her ridiculous fear head-on.
Her breath caught at the sight behind her. The sidewalk stood empty. Yet she’d heard the footfalls. That she hadn’t imagined. No way.
Something moved beyond the stand of small maples the town had planted during its beautification project. A shadow. A shape.
A man?
Jess wasn’t about to wait to find out. She pivoted to face the street, breathing a sigh of relief when she spotted no oncoming traffic in either direction.
She sprinted across, heading straight for her condominium complex, not daring to steal another glance over her shoulder. Not wanting to risk the slightest slowing of her pace.
As she reached the steps to her building, the sound of someone running behind her was unmistakable. She’d be a fool to punch in her security code and risk whoever followed gaining entrance to her otherwise secure condo. She’d rather face her pursuer head-on, screaming for help in the open.
Hers was a close neighborhood, and she had no doubt help would be with her in no time flat, if needed.
The footfalls slowed as they neared, and Jess turned, doing her best to mentally prepare for whatever—and whoever—she might find behind her.
A middle-aged man stood close yet kept a respectable distance. His complexion was scarred, as if he’d battled severe acne in his youth. His dark hair had begun to recede, and he’d slicked it back, creating a stereotypical New Jersey tough-guy appearance. His manner of dress, however, belied his intimidating looks.
He wore an impeccable suit, crisp white shirt and tightly knotted tie. His clothes showed not a hint of wear or wrinkling, as if he’d just dressed or emerged from a corporate limo.
He reeked of money and confidence, and Jess didn’t recognize him from the neighborhood.
“Can I help you?” she asked, hoping the fear that had her trembling inside wouldn’t infiltrate her voice.
The man tipped his head to one side, a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Jess narrowed her gaze, suspicion filtering through her. “I’m fine. You’re not from around here, are you? Do you need directions?”
He pursed his lips. “You were running. What made you do that?”
You, she thought.
The man’s tone had turned icy, and Jess swallowed reflexively, doing her best to ignore the fingers of dread that wrapped themselves around her neck and squeezed.
The man took a step toward where she stood, but Jess held her ground, steeling herself.
“I was wondering if you had reason to be afraid of something.” His voice dropped low now, menacing, the implied threat unmistakable.
She shook her head. “Why would I be afraid?”
He leaned near and Jess seriously considered screaming. She tensed, ready to strike out should he make a move.
“Sometimes people stumble into situations where they don’t belong,” the man continued. “You’d be surprised what can happen to a person who loses her way, to those she loves, especially when they can’t defend themselves.”
Jess fought the urge to take a swing at him but stood frozen to the spot. She hated how much fear his words had shot into her system. Just who was he threatening? Her? Her family? Her disabled father?
The man tipped his chin, then pivoted away from her. “Take care now. And don’t forget to lock your doors. You wouldn’t want to leave yourself vulnerable.”
Jess did nothing. Said nothing. She merely stood and watched him walk away as if her feet had been anchored in concrete.
Either the man was merely a Good Samaritan with a penchant for gloom and doom or he’d followed her with the express intent to intimidate.
She’d put her money on the latter.
Someone had sent the man with the message for her. She’d stumbled onto something someone else didn’t want her to stumble upon. But what?
Detective Thomas’s allegations were the only development out of the ordinary in her otherwise predictable life. Surely Dr. Van Cleef hadn’t sent the well-dressed man out to scare her. And other than those two, the only person she’d contacted was Scott, yet she’d mentioned no specifics in her voice mail, purposely being discreet.
Could the conversation she’d just had have been a random warning from a well-meaning stranger?
When she punched in her security code and entered the building, she had her answer. The door to her condo sat wide-open, as if she’d gone off to work and never pulled it shut behind her.
She stood to the side of the threshold and listened but heard nothing. Glancing inside, it was evident nothing obvious had been touched or moved. The condo was designed as an open loft, and she was able to scan the full interior from the door.
Her living area, kitchen and sleeping area were all as she’d left them with no intruder in sight.
No matter. Jess knew she’d locked the door just as she knew someone was sending her a message. No doubt the man she’d just encountered on the street.
She pulled her cell phone from her briefcase and speed-dialed her parents’ number. After they’d assured her they were fine, she disconnected, prepared to call the police. Then she had an even better thought.
She pictured Zach Thomas’s dark and intense features, a shiver tracing its way across her shoulders at the image. What if the detective was behind both the intrusion into her apartment and the warning from the stranger? What if he’d orchestrated the moves to intimidate her into cooperating?
Her gut told Jess he hadn’t, but there was only one way to find out.
She pulled Detective Thomas’s card from her pocket, read the digits of his phone number, then punched them into her cell.
Thomas’s gruff response suggested he did not appreciate the interruption.
Too bad.
“Detective Thomas?”
“Who is this?”
“Jessica Parker. We need to talk.”
Chapter Three
Zach sat uncomfortably on the edge of Jessica Parker’s sofa, still angered by the woman’s accusations but thankful for the excuse to speak to her again so soon.
She drew in a slow breath, and for a split second worry clearly shone through her controlled features. She squinted, as if his presence made her terribly uncomfortable.
Zach pinned her with a glare. “It’s not every day I get accused of sending some thug to threaten a woman and break into her apartment.”
“I thought you might have done it to get me to cooperate with you. To get me to pull the data.”
Heat fired in Zach’s face, and he knew he was treading a thin line when it came to control. He might be desperate to get to the truth, but even he wouldn’t go so far as intimidation. Would he?
“Lady, I’m a police officer. The last thing I need to do is scare you into believing me. I’ve got the facts on my side.”
She shook her head. “I’m not so sure you do.” Her eyes locked with his, their intensity shaking him to the core. “Your brother’s name is nowhere to be found in any of the records.” She spoke flatly, her gaze never leaving Zach’s. “Could he have lied about his involvement?”
Zach battled to keep his sudden anger and frustration under control. He shook his head. “My brother was not a liar.”
She gave a quick lift and drop of her shoulders.
“What about the earlier study?” he asked.
Hope simmered inside him as she nodded her head.
“Dr. Van Cleef said an earlier trial did take place, but Whitman pulled the drug out of the approval process.”
He arched one brow. So she’d asked. “My information was right, then.”
Jessica shook her head. “There’s no data. No proof of any adverse reactions.”
Zach shoved a hand through his hair. “Why else would they pull the drug?”
“Competition, insufficient market potential—”
“Someone has to know something, remember something,” Zach interrupted, lifting his gaze to hers, momentarily transfixed by her pale blue eyes. He gave himself a mental shake and refocused. “Have any ideas?”
Jessica sucked in a deep breath, then sighed, turning toward her phone. “I do, actually. Scott McLaughlin. I replaced him as lead researcher on HC0815. He left rather abruptly.”
“Any reason why?”
She shook her head as she flipped through a small spiral book. “We were only told he was gone. He had a terrific reputation, though. Let me try him again.”
“You’ve already tried?”
Zach had to silently admit his surprise. So he’d piqued the woman’s curiosity enough that she’d put out feelers to the former lead researcher.
Jessica nodded. “Before I left work.”
“Anyone else you talked to other than McLaughlin and Van Cleef?”
“No one. And I left a vague message for Scott. No specifics.”
Zach listened as she left another message for McLaughlin. The woman appeared calm and collected, but the slight tremor in her hands gave her away.
The man who’d approached her outside had scared her more deeply than she was willing to admit.
Zach had reached her upscale condominium less than thirty minutes after her call. The odd sense of protectiveness that had surged through his every muscle lingered still, unnerving him, something very few things in life did.
He’d examined the lock on her front door and noted no sign of forced entry, yet he believed her story, believed she’d locked up before she’d gone to work that morning.
If nothing else, hers was not the sort of personality that forgot to lock doors. Far from it.
He studied the condo as she continued to speak into the phone, noting the precise order and lean decorations.
No. Jessica Parker was not a woman who would ever leave a door unlocked. If anything, Zach had been surprised she didn’t have better security.
Whoever had gained entrance was a pro. Of that Zach had no doubt.
“That was his cell phone,” Jessica said as she replaced the receiver, then tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “Maybe he’ll pick up that message.”
“And your earlier call?”
“To his home.” Jessica hesitated momentarily. “At least I think so.
He nodded, standing to face her head-on. “Could anyone have overheard you?”
Could they? Jess wondered. It was a definite possibility.
“I suppose.” She gave a quick shrug. “But I didn’t uncover a thing.”
Zach Thomas’s dark gaze grew steely and intense. “Don’t you think that’s enough? The fact you looked—the fact you asked questions—might be enough to put someone on the defensive.”
“Perhaps.” Jessica took her time, choosing her next words carefully.
She’d pulled the online news archives after she’d called the detective. She’d read the stories about Jim Thomas’s mysterious suicide. According to witnesses, he had been depressed, but based on the data back at the lab, HC0815 would have had nothing to do with it.
“You need to prepare yourself for the very real possibility your brother was not a participant,” she continued.
Thomas’s dark brows snapped together just as the phone rang.
Jess snatched it from the receiver, breathing a sigh of relief when Scott McLaughlin’s voice sounded over the line.
“I have a fairly good idea why you called,” he said.
“Really?” Jess answered, a bit taken aback by the matter-of-fact tone of McLaughlin’s statement.
“Did you find the bogus HC0815 data I coded?”
His words stole her breath away. “Bogus?”
The man’s chuckle filtered through the phone. “Maybe altered is a better term.”
Silence beat between them.
“Look, I thought I’d be able to sleep at night after I quit. I was wrong. I need to come clean, Jess. Any interest in hearing what I have to say?”
Her heart slapped against her ribs, and she nodded, as if Scott could see the move.
“You alone in this?” Scott asked, not waiting for her answer to his previous question.
Jess stared at Detective Thomas, wondering what Scott’s reaction would be to his involvement. “There’s a detective. He’s got a few theories he wants to chase down.”
“Game on.” McLaughlin’s voice dropped low. “Just name the time and the place.”
ZACH WAITED, SITTING in a strategically selected booth at the Bordentown Diner.
Back to wall. Face to diner entrance.
He glanced at his watch.
McLaughlin was already nine minutes late. Not a good sign.
If the guy had chickened out, their chances of uncovering the trade-secret trial results and any altered HC0815 data would fall onto Jessica’s shoulders. Somehow Zach couldn’t picture her hacking into the New Horizon system.
She might be scared right now. She might be intrigued. But was she dedicated enough to the cause to risk her job? Risk the integrity of the company she worked for?
Beyond that, her family had been threatened. There was no telling at what point the woman might bail on the entire investigation.
Zach slid a sideways glance toward the counter across the room from where he sat. Jessica sat with her profile to him, long blond hair swept into a ponytail and tucked into a ball cap.
Even in blue jeans and a faded sweatshirt, she was a beauty. No doubt about it. Yet the severe set of her slender jaw and the intensity of her gaze told anyone who cared to notice that she kept herself protected and closed off.
Zach supposed most scientific types might be the same way, focused solely on their work, but he suspected Jessica Parker’s demons went a bit deeper than a desire to crunch data.
No matter. He wasn’t here to contemplate the woman’s emotional state. He was only here to use her for whatever information she might be able to access regarding HC0815 and the role it had played in Jim’s death.
If Zach could expose New Horizon and Whitman Pharma, he would. He’d make sure no other healthy candidate developed a sudden urge to take a swan dive off a balcony or rooftop.
Jessica looked at him over her shoulder, and he frowned, gesturing with his eyes for her to turn around and concentrate on the coffee cup in front of her, not on him.
The worried glint in her eye was a sharp reminder of reality. She might have her emotional walls soundly in place, yet someone had followed her, threatened her, threatened her family.
Why? Simply because she’d asked questions of Van Cleef? But who? Van Cleef himself? Hardly. The man didn’t look capable of harming a fly. Someone else on the inside? Perhaps whoever had instructed McLaughlin to tamper with trial data and outcomes?
Or had Whitman Pharma stepped in to make sure no one and nothing jeopardized the billions of dollars they stood to earn once HC0815 gained FDA approval and hit the market?
A disheveled man with jet-black hair stepped through the diner entrance, cutting off Zach’s thoughts. Tall and lean, he looked to be no more than thirty years old. And he looked nervous as hell.
McLaughlin, Zach thought. Had to be McLaughlin.
The young man moved slowly through the diner, bypassing the hostess as he did so. He held nothing in his hands. No papers. No folders. No disks.
Damn.
Zach had hoped today’s meeting would provide concrete evidence—physical proof. Unless he had a secret compartment in the battered T-shirt and jeans he wore, McLaughlin had decided otherwise.
He moved toward where Zach sat, and Zach nodded.
McLaughlin stopped next to the table.
“Great day for the race,” Zach said, repeating the line they’d agreed upon.
McLaughlin dropped into the opposite side of the booth and wiped at his upper lip.
If the guy was this nervous due to a simple meeting, he’d never hold up under intense pressure or under questioning.
Zach shook off the thought, signaling to the waitress. Based on the sharp angles of McLaughlin’s face, there might be one way to get him to relax and to earn his trust.
Food.
ZACH WAITED UNTIL McLaughlin had inhaled the plate of eggs and bacon before he launched into his questions on HC0815.
At first mention of the clinical trial, McLaughlin stiffened, yet his bloodshot eyes brightened.
“You know, I loved that job,” he said, features tensing.
“Then why’d you leave?” Zach prodded.
McLaughlin smiled ruefully. “I think you already know that answer or you wouldn’t have had Jess make contact with me.”
“Jess contacted you on her own,” Zach replied.
“Then why isn’t she sitting with us?” McLaughlin asked.
Zach answered only with a frown.
McLaughlin jerked a thumb toward the counter. “She’s pretty hard to miss. I spotted her before I spotted you.”
Damn.
If McLaughlin had spotted her that easily, chances were anyone who might be watching had done the same. They’d have to be far more careful from here on out.
Though, if McLaughlin could provide cold, hard evidence, Zach’s probe might be over much sooner than anticipated.
“She’s already had threats. It’s better this way.”
The genuine surprise that registered on McLaughlin’s face let Zach mentally check the man off the list of possible suspects in Jessica’s break-in and threat.
McLaughlin glanced at the clock on the wall. “Let’s get to it, shall we?”
Zach gave a tight nod.
“There was an earlier trial for a pancreatic cancer indication for HC0815. Whitman pulled the drug from the approval process, but not until after two trial participants died.”
Adrenaline zinged to life in Zach’s veins. So the Little Brother watchdog group’s information had been correct. “Suicide?”
McLaughlin nodded. “With no prior history of mental illness.”
Anger tapped at the base of Zach’s skull. “How can Whitman get away with keeping two deaths quiet?”
“Trade-secret rule.” McLaughlin’s lips thinned. “The big pharmaceutical boys know how to protect themselves.”
“What about the current trial?” Zach asked.
McLaughlin took a sip of his coffee and nodded. “There’s already been trouble.” He tensed. “The powers that be instructed me to eliminate the evidence or else.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Of who was behind the order?” McLaughlin shook his head. “Whoever it was paid me handsomely and anonymously—in cash. I’m not proud of what I did.”
“What about the case report forms?”
McLaughlin nodded. “They’re still in the system, I just protected the access.” He narrowed his gaze. “You act like you already knew about the latest adverse reactions.”
Zach nodded his head, saying nothing.
McLaughlin’s narrow gaze widened. “Thomas. Holy…I should have made the connection. How?”
“Brother,” Zach replied in response to McLaughlin’s verbal shorthand.
McLaughlin blinked. “I’m sorry, man. So sorry.”
Zach leaned forward across the narrow table. “So you understand why proof is so important to me.”
The other man nodded. “For a while there I thought you might be a reporter yanking Jess’s chain, but now I get it. You’re out for revenge.” He smiled as if pleased.
If thinking Zach wanted revenge made the man talk, so be it. Zach could play whatever part the investigation required him to play.
McLaughlin shot a nervous glance around the diner. “You know about the other suicides?”
“You just told me. From the earlier trial.”
McLaughlin leaned forward, disbelief crinkling the skin around his tired-looking eyes. “No. The other suicides from this trial.”
“The current HC0815?” Zach’s pulse kicked up a notch.
“Two other students,” McLaughlin answered. “One, a month before your brother. One, the week I left New Horizon.”
Zach couldn’t believe McLaughlin’s words. So Jim’s hadn’t been the only death? Two others had died, one as recently as three weeks ago, and the media hadn’t gotten wind of it? But how?
“Whitman Pharma.” McLaughlin answered Zach’s unspoken question. “Lots of money and lots of spin control. Don’t think clinical trial data isn’t manipulated every day.” He arched his brows and smiled bitterly. “It is. The almighty dollar is just that—almighty.”
McLaughlin pushed away from the booth. “I’d better get going. I’ll get the codes and access instructions to Jess.”
“Why’d you do it?” Zach asked as the other man stood.
“We all have our vices,” McLaughlin answered, his features going flat. “And our demons.”
Zach shook his hand, then watched him leave, mulling over his parting words.
At first, when Zach spotted the dark van racing down the street, his mind refused to wrap itself around the likelihood of what was about to happen.
But when McLaughlin dodged to get out of the way and the van swerved toward him, reality sank into Zach’s brain.
A split second later McLaughlin was hit.
JESS WATCHED IN HORROR as a dark van came seemingly out of nowhere. The vehicle struck Scott at a high speed, tossing his body onto the hood and against the windshield like a rag doll.
Glass shattered, and Scott’s body fell to the asphalt like a discarded piece of trash as the van sped away.
Horrified passersby rushed to Scott’s side and Jess leaped to her feet, pushing away from the counter. Several other diners rushed toward the door. She could only pray there was a doctor or emergency worker in the group.
Poor Scott was going to need all the medical assistance he could get.
Zach was at her side in an instant, his grip tight on her elbow. She spun on him, struggling to pull her arm free, to get to Scott. “What are you doing?” Fear and anger heavily tinged her tone.
“Stopping you before you do something stupid like run out into the open.”
His dark features seemed even more intense and closed off than usual. Jess hadn’t thought it possible.
“I have to help him.” Her voice wavered with emotion as she choked out the next words. “He’s here because of me. That van came out of nowhere.”
She looked to the scene outside, where one man stooped down, fingers to Scott’s neck. He looked up at the others gathered and shook his head.
Zach kept his grip on her arm yet squeezed gently. The uncharacteristic move sent surprise skittering through her.
“There’s nothing we can do to help him.” Zach’s eyes narrowed, softening at the corners. “I need to get you out of here.”
“But what if—”
Zach pressed his lips into a tight line and shook his head. “He’s gone, Jess. And I intend to make sure whoever did this to Scott doesn’t do the same thing to you.”
Fear edged up against her shock. “Me?”
A look of disbelief washed across Zach’s dark eyes. “You don’t honestly think this was a random accident, do you?”
Did she?
She’d like to think it was, but her logical mind wouldn’t allow her the luxury. Someone had wanted Scott silenced—and they’d succeeded.
If whoever had been behind the wheel of that van had spotted her in the diner, her life might be in danger. If they knew Scott had been meeting with Zach, his life might be in danger. Not to mention the warning she’d been given about her parents.
Jess shifted her focus back to Zach. His stare hadn’t wavered from her face. She did her best to shove the fear she felt from her mind. Similarly, she compartmentalized her shock and sadness at Scott’s brutal death until she could process the emotions later on.
Zach was right. They had to get out of there, had to leave Scott behind. “Let’s go.”
Jess had promised herself she wouldn’t trust Zach Thomas, but at this particular moment, trusting the man appeared to be her only option.
Heaven help her.
Chapter Four
An awkward silence hung heavily in the living room of Zach’s house.
He sat on a battered leather recliner, elbows on knees, face in palms. On occasion, he stole a glance at Jessica, furrowed his brows then returned his stare to the hardwood floor.
A knot of fury hung at the back of his throat, having lodged there the moment he watched McLaughlin get mowed down and eliminated as if he’d never existed.
Guilt assaulted Zach’s every sense. McLaughlin had been at the diner because of his investigation, because of Jessica’s phone call. Had whoever hit McLaughlin followed the man to the restaurant? Or had his killer known he’d be there based on watching—or listening to—Jessica?
Zach refused to let his brain so much as consider the possibility the hit-and-run had been an accident. He’d been around too long to be that naive. He knew a hit when he saw one.
Scott McLaughlin’s death had been murder—a purposeful, well-executed murder.
Someone had wanted the man silenced before he could provide additional information on HC0815. There was no doubt in Zach’s mind.
Zach lifted his gaze once more to watch Jessica. The flush that had colored her cheeks as they’d fled the diner had faded. Her pale complexion and huge blue eyes served as stark reminders of the horror she’d just witnessed.
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Kathleen Long
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: A Necessary Risk, электронная книга автора Kathleen Long на английском языке, в жанре современная зарубежная литература