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“Divide and conquer.” He pointed at her screen. “There are some interesting inconsistencies in a couple of their investment portfolios, though nothing that would have drawn the attention of the IRS.” He clicked her mouse, and an online newspaper article popped up. “Six months ago, their head of research died suddenly.”
“Car accident?”
He twisted his shoulders around to stare at her. “Car accident…”
“Was it?”
“No, but I’ll circle back to that in a second. There’s something else I found.”
Roxie said, “Okay, tell me about the head of research.”
“Tuesday morning, earlier this year. Suddenly, he just drops dead in his lab. Heart attack.” He scrolled using her mouse. “They tried to save his life, but he didn’t respond.”
Roxie blew out a breath. “I have some field medical training and a Basic Life Support cert, but situations like that are scary for everyone.”
“Since his death, all forward progress in research has ground to a halt. Treatment has continued as far as they’ve reported it to the governing body, but I called a couple of registered patients. I explained exactly who I am and that we’re looking at the company, and they volunteered of their own volition the fact they haven’t received treatment since the doctor’s death.”
“Really.”
Peter nodded. “Those on experimental protocols have stopped being given appointments. Prescriptions are being refilled, but nothing new is being done.”
“So they’re in a holding pattern.”
“Seems like it.”
Roxie sipped her coffee. “They don’t have anyone to come up with new stuff.”
“Which means they should never have risked the facility like that, putting all their eggs in the basket of what one doctor can come up with.”
She set her coffee down and stretched her arms above her head, dragging the hem of her sweater with her. If she pulled her sleeves up, Peter would see the wrap she’d asked Liam for that she’d put on her wrist. An old injury she’d had to explain how she got when Mark twisted her arm viciously one time. Liam had helped her secure the wrap since it was difficult to do on her own.
Then he’d kissed her forehead and told her she was beautiful.
The man was a conundrum she didn’t know how to solve.
She lowered her arms back down and sighed. It would be tough to sit at a desk all day when she was already this antsy. She would need to get out and walk at lunch or go up to the gym and run. The latter option was safer, and she wouldn’t waste the time of whatever protection detail Clare would put on her if she went outside.
Liam had driven her here personally this morning. If she had to have armed guards for weeks to come, it was going to get old. Unless it was Liam. But she could hardly take up that much of his time for an indeterminate period. That wasn’t fair.
The man had a life and a career. She didn’t necessarily fit into it.
“If the board is still operating like everything is fine,” Peter said, “then sooner or later the problems will become more apparent than just what we’ve discovered.”
“But how many patients have to suffer who should be receiving treatment before someone like the media, or the public, or the police notice?”
Peter nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Does it tie back to our homeless man’s death and Liam’s father’s death?”
“I think we’re going to need a homicide cop and a prosecutor to tell us the answer to that question.” He sat back, impressing her. Not many young people took a humble approach—or anyone, really, these days.
“And if we do find a responsible party, it could be the dead doctor. Who else could be liable except the Hurstwhile Center as a whole?”
Peter nodded.
If only she could give Liam closure over his father’s death, but she might not be able to do so. At least, not in a way that would satisfy a question he had never found an answer to enough to resolve for himself what had happened.
Peter’s phone rang. He snapped it up. “Olson.” A second passed, and then he said, “Yeah, boss.” When he hung up, he turned to her. “Let’s go. Bob’s office.”
