He looked down. “A lot of people have sunk their fortunes into Cancura and staked their futures on what I promised. I couldn’t afford to let them know something was wrong.”
“Which is why you got so angry at me when I brought it up.”
“I was panicked,” he admitted.
“You lied to me,” she said, finally voicing her growing fear.
“I had to. I couldn’t tell anyone.”
She felt like she’d been stabbed. “Even me?”
“Especially you,” he said, still unable to meet her eyes. “My earnest, honest, principled love.”
“What am I supposed to tell AHS? That—”
“You can tell them they’ve made the best possible decision for themselves and their patients.”
Jessica’s head was spinning. “In one breath you say the Revelate doesn’t work properly, and in the next that AHS has invested their fifty million dollars wisely? Forgive me if I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t, either, until I realized our original model was entirely irrelevant,” Jon said, finally looking up, that unmistakable luminescence returning to his face. “There’s no need to confirm disease in patients where it’s already known to exist. That’s never been what we’ve been about anyway, and there are already tests for that. The whole idea is, and has always been, detecting and curing cancer before it ever presents itself, much less has a chance to metastasize.”
“Once again, I have to ask why we pursued a partnership with AHS, knowing our technology had such a significant limitation.”
“It’s not a limitation. It would be nice if the Revelate worked the way they want it to, but Arjun and Kate are right that it’s not necessary. We just need to keep identifying nascent cancer markers, and we all win. Humanity wins.”
“The deception really bothers me,” Jessica said. “Not to mention the fact that you kept me in the dark when it’s my job to know exactly what’s going on.”
“What I don’t like is that we’ll be able to identify all these cancers but only cure one of them for now,” said Jon.
“What do you mean, cure one?”
Jon raised an eyebrow teasingly. “You heard what I said.”
She fought the impulse to be taken in immediately like she always was, like everyone was, by his sheer enthusiasm. “Are you telling me—?”
“Why did you come to Cancura instead of heading to Duke for that fellowship, Dr. Meyers?” Jon asked. “That is, besides the opportunity to make your boss the happiest man ever?”
“Leukemia,” Jessica said, her heart racing. “Are you telling me you’ve figured out how to do targeted therapy using nanotechnology?”
“Will that piece of information help you in your role as director of medical monitoring and consulting?”
“Oh my god, you’ve figured it out?”
Jon drew her over to the couch. “I’ll take that kiss you’ve been withholding now.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, treating him, and herself, to a lingering smooch.
“That’s more like it,” he said. “And now I have an important question for you: What are your thoughts on Cancún?”
“Cancún?” she repeated, wondering if she’d somehow misheard the word Cancura.
“I have to speak at a bullshit conference there next weekend. All I need to do is wow them with my keynote, shake hands at a reception, and show up for a breakout session or two. We can get a romantic weekend out of it—that is, if you’ll come with me.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
HOLLY
Avoid loose ends. A single stray thread may well be your undoing.
—“How I Lied about My Name and Discovered My Truth,” a TED Talk by Jon M. Wright
Playing detective was a hell of a lot harder than it looked. Especially after having spent the last two decades studiously avoiding clues.
Which wasn’t to say Jack was sloppy. His phone would have been the obvious place to look for evidence, but he was scrupulously careful with that. His notifications were sometimes set to chime, sometimes to vibrate, but no messages appeared on his lock screen, and he never let go of his phone without locking it and placing it facedown. The most recent night he’d slept at the house, Holly had lain awake until he came to bed, then waited until his breathing was deep and even before trying to break his phone’s password. But apparently he wasn’t sentimental enough to use their anniversary or the birthday of anyone in the family. After a few more far-fetched efforts, she’d simply run out of ideas.
Now, with the kids gone and Galenia working away downstairs, Holly decided to try again. Opening the top drawer of his bureau, she carefully lifted socks out, planning to put them back the same way. Then she plucked the two-key ring out of the small wooden bowl at the bottom.
Jack’s office was furnished with built-in bookcases, a plush Persian rug, leather club chairs, an immaculately restored antique wooden desk, and a fully stocked bar cart that was really just for show. A narrow table against one wall was crowded with etched crystal paperweights connoting various honors and recognitions—the kinds of things clubs and organizations had made up so they’d have something to hand to their illustrious speakers. On the walls were photos of Jack with various senators, representatives, and captains of industry, many of them signed with personalized messages.
Go get ’em!
Jonathan—you are the man.
Proud to shake the hand of the man who’s going to cure cancer.
Though Holly rarely came in here, Jack’s visits weren’t much more frequent. Some weeks, he spent a half day here plus a few odd hours. Other weeks he didn’t use it at all.
But he did have a two-screen computer setup, along with an expensive webcam he used for videoconferences, webinars, and the occasional cable TV appearance. Approaching the desk from behind, she draped a handkerchief over the webcam, which was aimed at the office chair. She was probably just being paranoid, but spyware was a distinct possibility.
Holly sat down in Jack’s chair and unlocked the drawers. A cursory search revealed mostly outdated paperwork. The lower-right-hand drawer was stuffed with old Cancura swag: pens, notepads, sticky notes, and stress balls. Hardly the place to squirrel away evidence of an affair.
Tapping
