‘You’re not talking about a hired gun,’ George protested. ‘You’re talking about a tenured university scientist.’
‘No offense, but plenty of scientists are willing to be hacks for any lawyer who pays them. That’s the reason the courts started coming up with ways to screen out junk science.’
‘I don’t believe a scientist like Lucia would sell her soul,’ George replied. ‘I hear what you’re saying about scientists whose conclusions are for sale to the highest bidder, but that’s not her. Her track record isn’t pro-defense or pro-plaintiff. She’s independent. If she had a reputation for being one-sided, the judge wouldn’t have picked her.’
‘Do you know Lucia well enough to call her?’ Chris asked.
‘To say what? “Dr. Causey, this is George Valma at Mondamin. I was just wondering, did you take a bribe from our CEO and falsify the data in your report?” Do you think she’s simply going to admit it?’
‘No.’
‘Then what do you expect me to do? I couldn’t help Ashlynn, and I can’t help you.’
Chris stared at the scientist. ‘Wait a minute.
George shrugged his beefy shoulders. ‘Yes, she wanted to talk to Lucia. She contacted the epidemiology department at the medical school, and they wouldn’t tell her a thing. Ashlynn asked if I would make the contact for her.’
Chris remembered the records he’d reviewed from the girl’s cell phone and realized he’d overlooked something important.
‘Did you make the call?’ he asked.
‘No. I told her what I told you.’
‘George, this is important. Do you have any contacts at Stanford?’
‘I have a college friend who’s a visiting professor there.’
Chris reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a phone. He handed it across the car. ‘Call him.’
‘Even if he transfers me to Lucia Causey, what am I supposed to say to her?’
‘Ask if Ashlynn contacted her. Ask her what she said.’
George waved off Chris’s phone and slipped his own phone from the pocket of his pants. He checked his contact list and dialed. Chris heard a voice pick up the call on the third ring.
‘Chester? It’s George Valma calling. Yes, long time, I know. Right, I’m in small-town Minnesota now. Not exactly Palo Alto.’
The two scientists made small talk. Chris grew impatient, but he waited without pushing George. Eventually, when his Stanford colleague asked what George wanted, the Mondamin scientist got to the point.
‘Listen, Chester, I’m trying to contact a researcher at the med school there. I was wondering if you could look up her direct line. Her name is Lucia Causey. I appreciate it.’ George waited, and while he did, he covered the phone. ‘If Lucia calls Florian about this, you know what’s going to happen to me.’
‘Blame me,’ Chris said.
‘It’s not that simple.’
George’s colleague came back on the line.
‘Are you sure about that?’ George asked. His face grew puzzled. ‘Let me give you the spelling again.’ He spelled out the name of the epidemiologist, but moments later, he shook his head. ‘Okay, thanks, Chester. No, that’s okay. I’ll see you at the conference in May, okay?’
George hung up.
‘Lucia Causey isn’t in the Stanford directory,’ he told Chris. ‘She doesn’t work there anymore.’
‘Where did she go?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘Was she ever there to begin with?’
‘You mean, was she fictitious? A fraud? No. She was there, and she left. She probably got a better offer. It happens.’
‘So how do we find her?’
‘You mean, how do you find her? I’m sorry, Chris, but I’ve already stuck my neck out too far for you. I’m done.’
Chris nodded. ‘Understood. I appreciate your help, George. Really.’
The scientist opened the door. Rain poured through the gap onto the leather seats. George Valma slammed the door shut, causing the Lexus to shake. He got back into his own white sedan and drove out of the parking lot, leaving Chris alone.
Chris sat in silence as the taillights disappeared.
He didn’t like coincidences. He didn’t like the fact that a top-notch researcher had left one of the nation’s premier research universities shortly after completing the investigation at Mondamin. Lucia Causey wasn’t Vernon Clay. She couldn’t drop off the face of the earth. Someone at Stanford knew where she’d gone.
Chris opened his own phone and called directory assistance. He got the number for the Stanford Medical School, and when the receptionist answered, he asked for a transfer to the school’s epidemiology division. He found himself directed to the department of Health Research and Policy, where a secretary named Leanne answered the phone.
‘Leanne, I’m trying to track down an epidemiologist named Lucia Causey,’ Chris told her. ‘She used to work in that department, and I was wondering if anyone there had forwarding information for her.’
‘I’m sorry, what was that name?’ the secretary asked, with a slight Georgia twang in her voice. ‘I only just started here, and I’m not real up on all the people yet.’
Chris spelled the name.
‘Okay, sure, hang on.’
She put him on hold. He was patient for the first minute of silence, but the length drifted to two minutes, and then three. He knew he was still connected because of the music playing in his ear. It was a Mahler symphony. After five minutes, he began to get concerned, and his concern grew when a different voice picked up the phone. The man on the line was all business.
‘This is Dr. Naresh Vinshabi, how may I help you?’
Chris repeated his request and gave his name.
‘May I ask why you’re trying to contact Lucia Causey, Mr. Hawk?’ the doctor asked.
‘I have some follow-up questions about a report that she prepared as a special master for litigation in Minnesota.’
‘I see. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that.’
‘Yes, I know that Dr. Causey isn’t at the university anymore. I was hoping you knew where she went.’
The Stanford doctor didn’t reply for a long time, but Chris heard him breathing. ‘She didn’t go anywhere,’ the man finally replied.
‘What does that mean?’
‘She’s dead,’ he told Chris.
40
Kirk drove a shovel into the sodden earth.
The blade cut the soil easily, and he hoisted a heavy pile of mud into the air and overturned the shovel beside the hole. The pattering noise of rain beating on the trees covered the sound of his digging. Sweat and rain seeped under the neck of his tank top onto his chest. His arms and hands grew black with dirt. He worked at a feverish pace, driven by drunken anger.
He was two hundred yards from his house. It was as isolated a burying place as he could find. To be safe, he should have disposed of the body permanently, but he liked to have an insurance policy for certain jobs. If you burn a murdered body, you lose your leverage. He liked to have leverage when he was dealing with Florian Steele. You want to fuck with me? Watch me fuck with you.
