“Exactly.”
“No deal.”
“Good for you. By the way, are you okay for money? Can you collect unemployment?”
“I filed for it. They have to review the circumstances of my termination and make a decision. I haven’t heard yet.”
“Do you need some money in the meantime?”
Barbara’s generosity made Sula’s eyes tear up. “I’m fine for now. But thanks for asking. You’ve been great to me.”
“So make my job easier. Get out there and find a new job.” Barbara laughed, but Sula knew she was serious.
“I will.”
“See you in court.”
Sula ignored the anxious, negative thoughts that kept popping into her head. She couldn’t let fear paralyze her. She grabbed the classified section of the paper, went through it systematically, and made a list of places to apply. Suddenly it was 9:42 and she was running late. She grabbed her purse and the envelope addressed to the FDA and headed out to her truck.
Rudker watched Sula leave the house. He liked the way her jeans showed off her ass when she climbed into the truck. She seemed to be in a hurry, throwing the truck into reverse and backing out of the driveway before it had warmed up. That wasn’t good for a vehicle.
Then it registered. She’d had a manila envelope in her hands. It looked thick, like it had something more than paper. Rudker’s heart quickened. Did it have anything to do with her trip to Puerto Rico? Had she got to the research center before his contact made the files disappear? Were the files about to be mailed to FDA?
He couldn’t let that happen. If she stopped in front of a big blue mailbox, he would ram into her car. That was along the lines of what he had planned anyway, but a little less subtle, and ultimately, less dangerous for her. He followed the purple truck down Friendly Street toward 18th Avenue, staying a full block behind her.
The morning was quiet, no cars shared the road, and no pedestrians were on the sidewalk. Rudker considered making his move now. Slam her car, grab the envelope, and speed away. No, not yet. The risk for him was too great, and the scare factor for her, not nearly high enough. He would stick to the plan.
Sula turned left on 18th. Rudker followed two cars back. He removed the stolen cell phone from his jacket pocket, but the traffic was too thick and unpredictable for him to take his eyes off the road long enough to call. A few minutes later, the girl turned left on Chambers. Very nice. Maybe she was heading out of town without any encouragement from him.
Left again at the first feeder street. Where in the hell was she going?
The truck pulled into the Westmoreland Community Center parking lot. Rudker cruised past the entrance and took the next driveway into the adjacent middle school. He circled back and parked by the street about 200 yards from Sula’s truck. She was already out of her vehicle and walking toward a blue minivan.
Rudker watched with curiosity as a little blond boy, who looked about four, got out of the van and ran up to Sula. The boy gave her a quick hug around the legs, then grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the playground. Perplexed, Rudker wondered whose kid he was. He’d checked Sula’s HR file to find her address and cell phone number-then had read her whole file just for sport-but he hadn’t seen anything about a kid. Who were the people in the minivan?
Rudker found the development amusing. Even if the boy wasn’t hers, she was clearly attached to him, and that meant he represented leverage. It was just a matter of figuring out how best to use the information.
He played out a scenario, vocalizing his end of the conversation, but the script needed work. He modified the dialogue and altered his tone. A cold calm delivery could be more affective than an aggressive threat. When he was confident he had it right, Rudker dialed Sula’s number. It rang three times and went to her voicemail. He quickly hung up. Damn. She must have left the phone in her truck.
He waited. This round of sitting didn’t bother him as much as the last two stretches. Knowing he was close to making his move and scaring her off her mission gave him some peace of mind.
Watching her on the swing set with the little boy made Rudker think of his son at that age. Robbie had not been very robust. His son had preferred to play indoors and was always moody. Sweet one minute and distant and sad the next. He’d loved the boy anyway and tried to engage him whenever he could. He still loved Robbie dearly and would make a point to call him when this was over.
After an hour, the woman in the minivan got out and called out. Sula and the boy both looked up. Sula walked the child back toward the van, stopping about ten feet away from the woman. From Rudker’s vantage point, it looked like they didn’t speak to each other. Once the boy was with the other woman, Sula turned away and returned to her truck. The people in the van quickly left the parking lot, but Sula sat for a minute. Rudker suspected she might be feeling emotional at the moment-making it exactly the right moment to strike.
Chapter 30
Sula breathed deeply and repeated her mantra. Every moment I have with him is precious, and I will see him again. As she pulled out into the street, her cell phone rang, startling her. She received so few calls. She fumbled it out of her purse and finally managed to get it next to her ear. “Hello.”
“Was that your son?”
Rudker’s voice was in her ear, asking about Tate. Sula’s heart stopped for a moment, then raced like a frightened rabbit. She was too stunned to respond.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” His voice was calm, quiet, and terrifying. “You want him to be safe, correct?”
She pulled off the street and parked, unable to think straight. How did he know about Tate? Was the bastard watching her? She looked around, but didn’t see his Jeep. “What do you want?”
“The envelope sitting on the seat next to you. And any other files or evidence relating to Nexapra’s clinical trials.”
Sula pulled the phone away from her face. How did he know about the envelope? Had he been watching her house? She cursed herself for not stopping at the post office on her way to the center. She had been running late and didn’t want to give the Chapmans an excuse to leave.
She stared at the small silver phone and noticed the name on the caller ID said Dan Parker. Who was he? A tiny version of Rudker’s voice was coming from the phone in her lap. Sula put it back to her ear. “What did you say?”
“The boy has nothing to worry about if you give me the files you took from the Puerto Rico clinic. Is that what’s in the envelope?”
Dear God. Would he actually harm Tate? How could she have endangered him like this? The game was over. The stakes were too high. “You can have it.”
“Great. Meet me at the fire station at the top of McBeth, where it intersects with Fox Hollow.”
“Why so far?”
“It’s a nice drive. Don’t bother calling the police. You’ve already been arrested for stealing from Prolabs, and my high-ranking friend in the department has a reason to believe you’re a little crazy. In addition, your boy might just vanish some day in the future. I’m following the minivan now, just to see where it goes.”
Sula wanted to scream obscenities, but instead she tried reason. “Sooner or later, the truth about Nexapra will come out. You can’t run from it forever.”
“You must let it go. It’s healthier for the mind. Now get moving.”
Sula hung up. Tears of rage swelled in her eyes. The bastard. It was one thing to exploit a group of depressed patients for profit, but to threaten her child…Rudker was evil.
She would rather set fire to her evidence than give it to him, but the outcome would be the same. Was there any way out of this? Could she get the DNA evidence out, leaving only the cassette, and reseal the envelope without him knowing? If she was at home, maybe. But not here, not without scissors or tape. Shit. Another thought hit her. What if the FDA investigated the Puerto Rico trial some day on its own? Would Rudker blame her? And take revenge by hurting Tate?
