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Chapter 17
5:43 p.m.
After ending his conversation with the Hunts, Nate went into the bathroom in his office. He took the box with him. He was not letting it out of his sight again.
He washed his hands and brushed his teeth. He checked his head and reasoned he had time to shave it. He took off his tie and shirt and went about the ritual proficiently.
He was buffing his sleek head with a towel when he realized that Brynn was taking an awfully long time in the garage. He called her to alert her that they would be leaving promptly for the Hunts’ estate.
She didn’t answer. She was probably in the elevator.
He selected a fresh shirt and tie that were understated but should show up well on camera. With the stipulation that it would be for private viewing only, the Hunts had granted him permission to make a video, with his narration, as Richard was getting the infusion.
Although after Richard became a first in medical history, they might change their minds about keeping it from the public. Nate surmised that they would want to milk it for all it was worth. In which case, he would have documentation.
After checking his reflection in the mirror one last time, he went back into his office. He set the black box on his desk and was pulling on his suit jacket when he heard carpet-muffled footsteps approaching the door.
Brynn. He pulled open the door and was about to say, It’s about time, but the words died on his lips. He blinked several times in bafflement.
One of the two uniformed men said, “Dr. Nathan Lambert?”
“Yes. Who are you? What do you want?”
“I’m Deputy Wilson. Rawlins,” he said of his companion. “We spoke to you on the phone in the wee hours this morning.” He then aimed his finger beyond Nate’s shoulder toward the desk. “What we want is to take a second look inside that box.”
Nate’s knees turned to jelly. “I was just on my way out. Can this keep?”
“I’m afraid not,” Wilson said. “We’ve come all the way from Howardville to see you.”
Nate crossed his arms. “Which brings me to my second question. Aren’t you out of your jurisdiction?”
“We called ahead to the DeKalb County Sheriff’s Office. They’re aware of why we’re here.”
“Well then, the sheriff’s office is one up on me,” Nate said. “I thought we had cleared up this issue over the phone.”
“We did, too.” Those were the first words out of Rawlins’s mouth, but Nate had been uncomfortably aware of the deputy’s suspicious scrutiny. “The situation has grown more serious.”
“How so?”
“To start with, Brady White has—”
“Who is Brady White?”
“The man who was assaulted at the airfield.”
“Ah, I don’t recall ever having been given his name. Proceed.”
Rawlins waited a beat or two. “Mr. White’s condition hasn’t improved all that much.”
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that,” Nate said. “But it still doesn’t explain why you’ve come to me.”
“Reason we’ve come to you is because if Mr. White doesn’t make it, then Rye Mallett and your colleague Dr. O’Neal are upped to material witnesses in a homicide investigation. And, by extension, you.”
“Me?”
Wilson used the hat he held in his hand to point toward Nate’s desk. “That’s your box, and we think it contributed to the motive of whoever assaulted Mr. White.”
Nate’s palms began to sweat, but he maintained his imperious expression. “I can accept that this Mallett character might very well be involved in criminal activity. But Brynn O’Neal? Never.”
