Page 87 of I’ll Be Watching You

“And,” I added, “the reason Nadine reached out to my dad three weeks ago was because the Phase 4 trial is complete and Neurovantix is up for approval and a huge contract. Likely millions of dollars. Maybe tens of millions, what do I know?” I rolled my eyes. “Maybe they fixed the problem and this is going to be a game-changer for vets who are suffering.”

“But the foundation is rocky,” Cal said.

“Exactly. Someone killed Klein. Was it because he was turning whistleblower? Based on the timing of his murder, that’s my guess. But we need more information. Because why then? A whistleblower case can take months, years even, to develop. Wouldn’t it be easier, if the data was truly falsified, to come up with a logical reason for it rather than kill a man and frame another? We all know how slow the government works in cases like this.”

Jack stacked the empty plates and walked to the sink. “It makes me think that Klein knew something more than he let on, maybe something more damning.”

“More damning than lying about drug safety?” I countered.

“They could have swapped out the drug, maybe created completely different records, argued that Klein didn’t know how to read the data.” Jack shrugged.

“Money,” Cal grumbled. “Doesn’t matter if the drugs are legal or illegal, it all comes down to the money.”

A knock on the door had all three of us on the move. Tito jumped off Cal’s lap as he stood and looked up at him as if waiting for him to sit back down.

I looked at the men and said, “My house.” Still, I had my gun in hand when I checked the peephole. “It’s Nate.”

I disarmed the alarm and let him in. “How’s my Jeep?”

“Good,” he said, motioned to it parked on the street. “I found Novak.”

He looked at Cal. “That your Mustang in the driveway?”

“Yep,” Cal said.

“It runs?”

“Purrs like a kitten.”

“Sweet.”

“Novak!” I said, irritated that Nate had been distracted by a car.

He looked at the brownies. “I know you don’t bake,” he said to me before turning to Cal. “Can I have one?”

“If you tell me your name,” Cal said.

I said, “Cal, Nate Lorenzo, he works part-time for our firm. Nate, Cal Rafferty, DEA. You can have a brownie if you tell me about Novak.”

Nate helped himself and sat down at the table.

“Took a few hours, but he showed up at the campsite we identified. Then, it took me a couple hours to convince him to let me take him to Cave Creek.”

I was impressed. “You got him to go into rehab?”

Nate nodded. “He’s hurting. Up here.” He tapped his head. “So he drinks. But I caught him before he was too far gone for the night. I told him we need his help, that Liz needs his help. He knows something, but he can’t remember, not with all the alcohol in his system. And pills. When I brought him in, he turned over dozens of bottles of prescription pills he’d stolen from people’s cars. I don’t know if he’ll be able to help tomorrow, but we can go see him.”

“That’s great,” I said.

“He’s a mess, but he had moments of clarity. The guy’s a hero.”

“You’re amazing.”

“True,” Nate said and finished his brownie. “But you were right. He responded better to me because we have the same background.” He stared at his empty plate, his mind suddenly somewhere else.

“There, but for the grace of God, go I,” Cal said quietly.

Nate nodded, got up. “I’m heading back to Gabriel’s.”