Natural Causes (36 page)

She still missed her baby terribly and thought many times each day about how life would have been with him. But she also knew that somehow, all she had been through had become a passage for her. In facing her tragedy, in working to overcome the pain and grief, she was growing up in areas that had not changed since the day she ran away from home.

And then, of course, there was her father. The transformation in Willis Grayson over the months since her return to Stony Hill was, if anything, even more striking than her own. He was mellower than she could ever remember—far less controlling and more willing to listen. And he went out of his way to spend time with her. She had never really believed the man was capable of change, but change he had.

She passed over the one-lane bridge at the base of the long dirt and gravel drive leading up to the house. The video-monitored security gate was closed, but the narrow pass-through alongside it was not. Four-tenths of a mile to go. The muscles in her legs were beginning to tighten up, but she could make it. She knew she could.

“Miss Grayson,” a man’s voice called out from behind her.

Lisa stopped and turned, still running in place. A young man in a gray uniform and hat stepped from behind a tree. He carried a Federal Express envelope beneath his arm.

“Meet me at the house,” she said with a pant, keeping her distance and wondering where his truck was. “I want to finish this run.”

“I can’t,” he said urgently. “I’m being paid to give this to you personally. This is the third day I’ve tried to meet up with you. Your father’s security patrol will hurt me if they catch me again, and they’ll be back here again any minute. We’ve got to hurry.”

Bewildered, Lisa glanced at her watch, debated, and then stopped running.

“Okay, what is it?” she asked, still keeping a good twenty yards between her and the man.

“I don’t know. I’m being paid to find a way to deliver this to you. That’s all. Please, I hear a car now.”

“Set it down right there,” she ordered. “And then get away.”

The young man hesitated and then placed the envelope on the grass by the road.

“Don’t let them take this from you,” he said. Then he whirled and sprinted off.

Through the still morning air Lisa could, in fact, hear a car approaching from the direction of the house. She snatched up the envelope and dashed back down the road until she found a copse dense enough to conceal her. Hidden there, gasping for air, she watched two of her father’s security people cruise slowly past. By the time the motor noise had faded, she had recovered enough to tear open the Federal Express envelope. The enclosed, unembossed, white envelope had her name written on the outside in a meticulous, woman’s hand. The note within was typed.

•  •  •

“Mr. Daniels?”

“Yes.”

“Phelps here, Roger Phelps. I’m glad I caught you in.”

I’m not
, Matt thought. The claims adjuster for the
MMPO may have been responsible for assigning him to Sarah’s case, but there was something about the little man—something in his speech, perhaps, or in his eyes—that made Matt uncomfortable.

“Yes, Mr. Phelps. What can I do for you?”

Matt’s desk was piled high with research volumes, law tomes, and Xeroxed hospital records. In the next two weeks, he would be taking depositions from two of Mallon’s expert witnesses, as well as from Lisa Grayson herself. On the plaintiff’s side, Mallon would be getting a crack at Sarah and at Kwong Tian-Wen. There had been no feedback from the man following the intense ending to Peter Ettinger’s deposition. Not one word. Matt had half hoped that his opponent might at least suggest putting things on hold until the allegations about Ettinger’s weight loss product could be evaluated. But nothing. It appeared that regardless of what facts and revelations cropped up, Mallon was not intimidated.

“Mr. Daniels,” Phelps said, “first of all, I want to thank you for keeping me abreast of the developments in the Baldwin case. It’s made it a good deal easier for us to evaluate things and come up with a decision of how to proceed.”

“Decision?”

“Yes, Mr. Daniels. After carefully weighing all the aspects and prospects of this case, we’ve decided to settle.”

“What?”

“You’ve done an excellent job, and I can assure you that in the future you’ll be called upon many—”

“Mr. Phelps, excuse me, but I don’t understand.”

“Don’t understand what, Mr. Daniels? We looked at the costs of continuing, the potential magnitude of a jury award, and the possibility of losing. Then we made the decision to try to settle, came up with a figure, presented it to Mallon, and on behalf of his client, he accepted. Of course, the settlement will include no admission of any guilt on Dr. Baldwin’s part.”

Matt stared in disbelief at the phone.

“Mr. Phelps,” he said as evenly as he could manage, “Sarah Baldwin is not guilty of any malpractice. There have been developments—significant developments. We are going to win the case.”

“Ah, the Chinese tong story. I’m sorry, Mr. Daniels, but we considered that, too. As things stand, all a jury has to listen to is that poor old man and—”

“How much did you settle for?”

“Mr. Daniels, there’s no need to get testy about this.”

“How much?”

“Two hundred thousand.”

“And Willis Grayson accepted that?”

“Apparently.”

“Mr. Phelps, Willis Grayson keeps that kind of money in his cookie jar. He wanted Dr. Baldwin behind bars. Her hide, that’s what he’s after. Why in the hell would he agree to settle if he thought they had a case?”

“Mr. Daniels, please. I did not call to start an argument. The decision has been made.”

“And the other two women? What happens when their families get wind of this?”

“We’ll deal with that when it happens. Now, if you have no further questions—”

“Dr. Baldwin can refuse to drop the case.”

“She would then be personally responsible for all legal fees and any jury award. Why on earth would she want to do that?”

“Because she’s innocent, that’s why, dammit.”

“Mr. Daniels, I know about your relationship with Dr. Baldwin. If you talk her into continuing with this case and collect any legal fees at all, I would consider that a serious breach of ethics.”

“What do you know about legal ethics?”

“I’m an attorney and a member of the bar, sir. That’s what. Now, I hope I have made our position clear. As far as the Mutual Medical Protective Organization is concerned, this case is closed.”

•  •  •

Over her twenty-three years as a government epidemiologist, Rosa had met cabinet secretaries, governors, and two vice presidents. She had faced up to a boss who wanted to crucify her and stared down the barrel of the congressional subcommittee investigating her BART allegations. But never had she felt quite as intimidated, measured her words quite as carefully, as tonight with Willis Grayson.

The WNG Corporation helicopter had picked her up on the roof of the surgical building of the Medical Center of Boston and had then made one gratuitous sweep over the glittering downtown area before heading southwest toward Long Island. The aircraft was more opulent and far quieter than Rosa had imagined it would be. The pilot and a second man were separated from the rear cabin by a glass slider that was essentially soundproof. The only other passenger in the plush compartment beside Rosa was Grayson. His chilly manner and persistent glower made it quite clear that flying her from Boston to New York and back merely to draw his daughter’s blood was not his idea. He had nodded a greeting to her as his man assisted her into the cabin, and then had motioned for her to fasten her seat belt. But they were over Providence before he actually spoke to her.

“I don’t understand why you insisted on drawing Lisa’s blood yourself when we have any number of people who could have done it,” he said after some small talk.

“In situations that are critical to my work, I have learned that nothing can be completely trusted unless I have done it myself.”

Grayson’s smile was ironic. “That understanding puts you well ahead of ninety percent of my executives. You don’t seem very comfortable. Are you afraid of flying?”

“No.”

“Of me?”

She shrugged. “You’re very wealthy, and very powerful, and not at all a reassuring person.”

“I’m not accustomed to being told what to do, Mrs. Suarez. Now, because of your letter and that stunt with that bogus Federal Express man, my daughter is issuing me orders like a five-star general. I have no choice but to do what she asks, or I risk losing her again.”

“Mr. Grayson,
your
actions left
me
no choice. You signed for mail addressed to Lisa. You had your phone number changed to keep me from reaching her.”

“Well, now I have given you the new number, as well as my promise to cooperate with you in any way you ask.”

“I’m sure Lisa appreciates the significance of those actions.”

“I hope so. Do you have children, Mrs. Suarez?”

“Three daughters.”

“If someone hurt one of those girls, you would punish them if you could, yes?”

“I would do what I could through legal channels to see they were appropriately punished, if that’s what you mean.”

“Sometimes my methods are more direct,” Grayson said. “Today my attorney called and recommended that I accept an offer from the insurance company to settle our case against Dr. Baldwin without a finding. In view of the revelations regarding Lisa and this diet product, my lawyer feels we might not be able to convince a jury of Dr. Baldwin’s guilt. I, however, remain convinced she is responsible for the maiming of my daughter and the death of my grandson.”

“You are certainly entitled to that opinion, sir.”

“My daughter is not as certain as I am.”

“Based on what we know to this point, I don’t believe she should be—or you either, for that matter.”

“Mrs. Suarez, exactly what
do
you know?”

It was Rosa’s turn to smile. She gazed down at the lights gliding past two thousand feet below.

“Mr. Grayson,” she said, “I have learned from bitter experience that it is unwise to discuss the findings of an ongoing investigation with anyone unless it is absolutely unavoidable.”

“Ah yes, your debacle in San Francisco.”

Rosa spun to face him. “You, sir, are exactly the sort of person from whom I have learned to protect myself. I don’t like being checked up on, Mr. Grayson. The mere fact of your doing so could already have jeopardized my work.”

“I assure you, my people excel at keeping their inquiries discreet. They’ve had a good deal of practice.”

“I’m sure they have. Well, if they are that good, you must understand me well enough to know that there is no point in pursuing this discussion.”

“What I know is that your department chief would be upset to learn you had recovered from your ruptured disk so miraculously but had neglected to inform him.”

Rosa glared at him, her cheeks burning.

“Mr. Grayson,” she said, “I can see that your reputation has been earned. Well, sir, if you want to bring the force of your massive corporate empire crashing down on the head of a sixty-year-old lady, go right ahead. I assure you, there is precious little trouble you could cause me that others have not already. But just remember, there are some problems I can cause you as well.”

Willis Grayson studied her for a time. Then suddenly he laughed roundly, reached across, and patted her on the arm.

“Perhaps, Mrs. Suarez,” he said, “after you complete this investigation and retire from government service, you’ll consider coming to work for me.”

I
T WAS EIGHT-FIFTEEN IN THE MORNING WHEN
S
ARAH MANEUVERED
the borrowed maroon Accord into one of the outbound lanes and inched down into the William Callahan Tunnel.

“Ovejas,”
Rosa said, gesturing at the grim-faced drivers jockeying for their spots in the procession. “Sheep.”

“It’s especially impressive considering the rush-hour traffic is coming the other way,” Sarah said.

She and Rosa were heading to Logan Airport to pick up Ken Mulholland. The CDC virologist, who had been working on Lisa Grayson’s serum, had come up with something. But the pressure had intensified on him to turn over any information on the Boston cases to Rosa Suarez’s department head and
not
to assist her in any further way.

“There are just too many egos involved,” Rosa had explained. “My chief will go to his grave believing that I ruined his career. I honestly feel he would rather see this mystery go unsolved than to have me come up with the answer. Ken is pretty immune to being squeezed by his superiors, but I really don’t want him to get in any
trouble. He has a wife and two little ones depending on him. That’s why I begged him to let us do as much of the work as possible up here. He was involved in a portion of the BART investigation with me. Some of the culture reports that were altered came from his department. Since then he’s had as little trust for the politics of the place as I do. So he’s taking a personal day off to fly up to Boston. He’s arranged things with a friend at a terminal someplace in Atlanta. They’ll plug in by modem to the data banks and electronics in his lab. Ken will be working on his department’s computers, but he’ll be doing it
in absentia
twice removed.”