It also seemed clear that Sula had overheard Warner’s concerns and was trying to investigate. But why? Rudker rarely understood other people’s motives. He worried that she would go to the press and the negative publicity would scare JB’s board. If the FDA demanded to look at the early data, the agency might request additional clinical trials. The drug could be delayed by a year or more. Investors would dump Prolabs’ stock at the first hint of bad news, the share price would plummet, and he would be bankrupt. Rudker did not intend to allow any of that to happen.
The best defense was a good offense, he remembered as he crossed the courtyard into the corporate office. A few sales and marketing people who occupied the offices on the first floor were gathered in the hallway. He hoped to get by them without wasting too much time responding to their compulsive butt kissing. That particular behavior made them good at their jobs, but it annoyed him, even on his good days. Today did not fall into that category.
“Mr. Rudker.” One of the men spoke first.
“How was your flight?” a woman asked.
“It was fine. The merger is moving along efficiently.”
They fell silent for a moment. Talk of the merger reminded them that their jobs were on the line.
Alicia, a tall redhead with plenty of cleavage, said, “It’s too bad about Diane Warner.”
The comment took him by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“You haven’t heard?” Alicia looked uncomfortable.
“Heard what?”
The marketer who had spoke first, Kyle he remembered, said softly, “She’s dead, sir. They found her body near the river. They think a homeless man killed her while she was jogging.”
Rudker scanned his brain for the right response, choosing, “That’s terrible. When did this happen?”
“We don’t know for sure.” Alicia spoke up again. “Sula identified her body this morning, but apparently she’s been dead for a few days.”
“This is tragic news.” Rudker blinked a few times to convey he was having an emotional reaction. “You’ll have to excuse me.” He walked away and boarded the elevator. As the doors closed, he saw them lean together to continue the gossip. He thought he’d pulled off the right reaction, but maybe not. Often when he believed his behavior to be perfectly appropriate, it turned out to be characterized as offensive or odd. For a long stretch, that offended person had been his first wife.
On the third floor, he hurried to his big corner office. Eventually, he would have to talk to the HR director about whether to replace Warner. With the merger, it might not be necessary. Marcy would handle the details, the flowers and financials and such. Rudker unlocked his office door, tossed his travel bag on the floor, and plopped in his custom-made Italian leather chair.
He closed his eyes and tried not to think about anything for a minute. He knew it was important to quiet his mind on occasion. Especially when he had critical decisions to make.
Sula, that PR girl, was a wild card. How had she accessed Warner’s office and what had she found? Someone in the hallway group, Alicia maybe, had said Sula had identified the body. Was that why she’d gone into the R amp;D director’s office? Was the girl looking for Warner’s genetic data or was she just a busybody?
If she had the nerve to show her face around here again, he would fire her on the spot. She must not be allowed to access any of the buildings or offices. That wasn’t enough though. Rudker wanted the paperwork back, whatever it was. It belonged to Prolabs and Sula no longer worked for Prolabs. He would have to talk to Marcy about that too, but first things first.
He buzzed the receptionist in the front office. No one answered. Damn, he needed her to find a phone number for him. Since when did everyone go home so early? He dialed 911. A dispatcher asked calmly, “What is your emergency?”
“I don’t have an emergency, but I would like to speak to the police chief.”
“Please hang up and dial 682-5111.”
Rudker dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered. “Eugene Police Department. How can I help you?”
“I’d like to report a theft.”
Chapter 14
After forty minutes in the dark supply room, Sula finally heard Peterson leave. She waited another ten minutes, then crept out into the nearly dark building. Exhausted and shaky, she passed an office with light showing and knew she wasn’t alone in the building. She moved quickly and left by the side exit.
She wanted to go straight home, but her purse and truck keys were in her office. The thought of running into Rudker terrified her, so she considered walking, but she needed her house key too. Sula crossed the courtyard and used the master key to enter the main building. Hallway lights were on, but no one appeared to be in the facility. Despite her fatigue, she skipped the elevator and took the stairs to avoid encountering anyone. Sula had never been in the building this late before, but she knew that some salespeople worked odd hours.
She ran from the stairwell to her office, picked up her things, and ran back. Once on the cement stairs, she moved more slowly, not wanting to slip and fall in her muddy heels. In the parking lot, she discovered Rudker’s Jeep was still there. Dear God, he was still in the building. Sula’s legs shook so hard she could barely stand.
At home, she was too distressed to think about dinner, so she cleaned her shoes, showered, and put on fresh clothes. Washing away the fear, sweat, and mud of the day failed to give her a sense that everything would turn out all right.
The thought that she might have blown her job, and chance for custody, make her sick with despair. How could she have been so reckless? It was one thing to be concerned about a group of patients, but it was whole new step to risk everything that was important to her. What if her concern for those patients was pointless? Peterson thought it was. Yet Sula had heard Dr. Warner plead her case, and she had read too many news stories about antidepressants and suicides to dismiss the idea that an ethnic population could be at risk. She still held hope the documents she’d pilfered from Warner’s office would reveal something.
Sitting down at her computer desk, Sula turned on a reading light and begin to scan through the papers. They were intake files with patient names, medical histories, prescription histories, and the clinicians’ assessment. She soon realized none of the patients had any antidepressants in their drug histories and none of the notes said any thing about depression.
These subjects were from the Phase I trials, when they tested the drug in healthy people just to make sure it was safe. Disappointed, Sula kept reading. No Phase II data appeared. No Puerto Rican research center was named in the pages. It was interesting to note that several of the Phase I patients complained of headaches and irritability after taking the drug for a few weeks, but it apparently hadn’t been cause for concern.
She gave up on the photocopied files and pulled the disk out of its unmarked case. It was plain silver and could have been anything. The fact that Warner had hidden the disk, then died shortly after, gave Sula goose bumps.
She popped it into her computer and crossed her fingers that her CD drive would work well this evening. Everything in her setup was out of date, but saving up for the duplex had kept her from buying the laptop she wanted. She clicked the icon and waited while it loaded.
The list of contents was short: Miguel Rios, Luis Rios, mr DNA, lr DNA. Sula’s stomach fluttered. These must be the cousins in the Puerto Rican trial who had committed suicide. Warner must have made the disk after her fight with Rudker. She’d copied everything she thought was important and hidden it, clearly worried that Rudker would destroy the files in the database. Sula thought it likely that he already had.
She clicked on the folder labeled Miguel Rios. The opening pages resembled the documents she’d photocopied. Personal history, followed by medical history, followed by physical exam. Miguel Rios had not been a happy man. He had been diagnosed with depression at age twenty-three and had taken seven different medications during the next nineteen years. At one point, he’d been on Depakote and Prozac at the same time. Depakote was a powerful anti-psychotic that was also used to control epilepsy. Her father had taken it for a while, but he’d hated it. He said it took away his spirit.
