The voices in the room faded away and all he heard was the one in his head. Second man and no board seat. Nice lateral move. Rage and shame burned in his veins.
“Anything to update on Nexapra?” Now Kohl was asking questions.
Rudker pulled in a fresh supply of oxygen through his nose and spoke slowly. “We’ve started recruiting for Phase III clinical trials. The FDA has given us an okay for the protocol. We’re projecting a late-2011 approval date.” He sounded so calm.
“Excellent.” Kohl turned his next question to Akron, and Rudker’s mind flipped back to his humiliation. How could he have been so wrong about the board member decision? Did they know about Prolabs’ financial mess? Were they toying with him?
He could feel his power position slipping away. Now it all rested on Nexapra. He had to push it through approval and to the top of the charts. He couldn’t let anything get in his way.
Chapter 7
Sula tried calling Dr. Warner in the research building while her computer booted up. After three rings, a recording of Warner’s voice asked her to leave a message. The head of R amp;D did not mention that she would be out of the office. Sula called Steve Peterson and he reported that Dr. Warner had not come in yet.
“She usually comes in by now though, right?”
“By 7:30, usually.”
Sula checked her watch, even though she knew it was 7:55. “She didn’t call?”
“Not yet.”
“Have you called her cell phone?”
“I tried it once and left her a message.”
“I’m going to call her home number.”
“Let me know what you find out.”
Warner’s home voice-mail picked up after four rings. Her message was pleasant but brief: You’ve reached Diane Warner. Leave a message if you like. Distressed, Sula hung up. Where the hell was she? The doctor’s absence was starting to scare her. Sula hit redial, waited for the answering machine, then left her name and number and asked Warner to please call.
She dialed Steve Peterson’s extension and he picked up right away, as if he’d been waiting. “This is Sula. Dr. Warner doesn’t answer her phone at home.”
“This is very unusual. Have you talked with anyone in human resources yet?
“No, but I will.”
“Keep me posted.”
Peterson’s concern fueled her own sense of alarm. Worst-case scenarios played in her mind. Warner was lying dead on her kitchen floor, a gaping knife wound in her chest from a home invasion robbery. Or maybe she was at the morgue, victim of a hit and run accident. Or in the hospital in a coma, but with no identification, so the nurses didn’t know who to call. Did Warner have a family?
By the time Sula reached the HR department on the third floor, her pulse raced and anxiety clutched at her heart like a boney hand. She forced herself to slow down, to breathe from her stomach before she entered the suite. Marcy’s assistant, Serena, was in the outer office behind a curved half wall. The young woman greeted her with cheerful chatter.
Sula could not be distracted. “Sorry to be abrupt, Serena, but I must see Marcy right away.”
“She’s in a meeting with a lawyer.” Serena lowered her voice. “There’s something big going on, and I think it involves Sergio.”
“I have a greater concern. Diane Warner hasn’t shown up for work in two days, and she hasn’t notified Steve Peterson either time. Has she called either you or Marcy?
“No.” Serena’s eyes went wide. “Do you think she quit?”
“Maybe. I need you to look up her home address for me.”
“Are you going there?”
“I feel compelled to do something.”
Serena rolled her chair in front of her computer and made a few mouse clicks. “It’s 2862 Spring Boulevard. Are you going now? Should I tell Marcy when she gets out of her meeting?” The girl, fresh out of high school, sparked with the energy of a new drama.
“Yes and yes. Please call North McKenzie hospital while I’m gone.”
“What do I say?”
“Just ask if they have a patient named Diane Warner. If they do, find out whatever you can.”
“I’ll do it now.”
Sula thanked her and hurried from the building.
Driving up Spring Boulevard, Sula barely noticed the half-million dollar homes. A dark thought kept circling in her brain. What if Rudker had made Warner disappear? It was such a huge leap that she kept pushing the idea away. Her family’s trauma had left her with a tendency to catastrophize and blaming Rudker seemed like a classic example of that response.
First, there was no reason yet to assume Warner had disappeared. She might be home sick in bed and not answering the phone. Second, even if Warner was gone-for whatever reason-it didn’t mean Rudker had anything directly to do with it. He may have driven the woman from her job with intimidation or threats, but that was life in the corporate world. Dr. Warner seemed able to take care of herself.
Sula slowed as she approached the 2800 block. Considering the value of the homes here, Sula figured Warner was doing quite well financially and could afford to miss a few days of work or quit without notice. Now she felt apprehensive about her visit. She was over-reacting and butting into someone’s personal life. She could get fired.
She parked in front of Warner’s home and felt a flash of envy. Set back from the road on a slight rise, the house was four times the size of her little place and beautifully designed with fieldstone inlay. The lush yard was thick with grass, ferns, and hostas. Sula wondered if Dr. Warner hired someone to take care of it. She couldn’t imagine the tiny scientist out here mowing the slope on weekends.
The truck still running, Sula sat for a few minutes, paralyzed with indecision. What would she say? Just checking to see if you’re all right. Would that seem reasonable to Warner?
Sula shut off the engine. Now that she was here, she had to check. No one would criticize her for being too concerned. She started up the driveway, her pumps clicking against the smooth asphalt while rain dampened her clothes. Someone was watching her, she could feel it. Sula paused under the covered front deck to check her watch, 9:07, and take a beep breath before ringing the doorbell.
After a two-minute wait, she rang again. Nobody came to the door or stirred inside the house. What now? Should she leave a note? She’d already left a message on the answering machine. She noticed the green newspaper box was stuffed with several editions. Sula trotted down the steps and along the front sidewalk. She stared at the huge garage door and wondered if Warner’s car was inside. A locked gate prevented her from walking around to the side of the garage and peeking through the windows. That was probably a good thing. In this neighborhood, that sort of activity would likely get her arrested.
Sula jogged back to the truck and cranked up the heater. She was wet and cold and worried. She reminded herself it was too soon to jump to conclusions. She would wait and see if Serena’s call to the hospital had netted any information.
As Sula entered Prolabs’ driveway, she saw a young man on a bicycle. It was Robbie Alvarez and he seemed to be late for work. She slowed and rolled down her window.
“Hi Robbie.”
“Hey, Sula. How’s it going?”
“Good. Except that every time I see you on your bike, I feel guilty that I don’t get enough exercise.”
He laughed. “I don’t do it for the exercise. I’m just too broke to drive and the people on the bus scare me.”
