Authors: Larry D. Thompson
Luke put Rock Creek Park into his GPS and discovered it was about thirty minutes away.
I’m not a detective,
he thought,
but I’m too close not to check out the scene.
Luke parked at the east lot, where Sinclair’s car was found. Several other cars were in the lot. Probably joggers. There was only one path leading from it, following the creek that meandered through the park. Estimating he had about fifteen minutes of daylight, he started down the path at a brisk walk, passing occasional joggers heading in the other direction. Quite a bit of activity for this time of the evening. Suicide or even murder, it must have occurred later, when the trail was probably deserted. Luke rounded a curve and found crime scene tape blocking the trail. Chalk outlined the position of the body. As he studied the scene, more joggers passed. One stopped.
“Hey, man, you a detective?”
“No.” Luke shook his head. “I’m just a friend of the victim. Wanted to have a look at the scene.”
“Tough, man. I heard he was a doctor. Don’t know why he was out here in the dark, dressed in a suit and tie. See you.”
Luke nodded as the jogger ran away. He realized he was out of his element but agreed with the jogger that something wasn’t right. Luke turned and walked slowly back to his car, started the engine, and returned to the freeway, where he started looking for a Target or a Walmart, somewhere to buy a clean dress shirt and toiletries, maybe even a sport coat for his meeting with Sara Sinclair the next day. When he spotted a Target, there was a La Quinta next door.
Perfect,
he thought.
Fifteen minutes later Luke left the Target with a blue dress shirt and a blue checked sport coat that was a little too big but okay, along with a razor, shaving cream, a toothbrush, and toothpaste.
He checked in, requesting a room in the back away from the freeway noise, and pulled around the motel. He entered his room, dropped his purchases on the bed, and flipped on CNN as he called home. To his surprise, Samantha answered.
“Dad, what are you doing in Baltimore? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, sweetie. Let me tell you about my day.”
Luke described the events that led him to a motel in Baltimore.
When he finished, Samantha exclaimed, “My God, what’s going on, Dad? Why would this Dr. Sinclair commit suicide, and where is the stuff that he was going to bring us?”
“I wish I could answer your questions, Sam, only I can’t. I’m going to Sinclair’s house tomorrow. Hopefully I’ll find the discs Sinclair was talking about. You doing okay?”
“I’m doing as good as I can, Dad,” Samantha said softly. “I was really excited about what Dr. Sinclair was bringing. Now I think I’ll just curl up under the covers and pretend this day didn’t happen.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Luke replied. “Don’t give up hope yet.”
Luke showered, shaved, and dressed, then checked himself in the mirror. He hadn’t bothered to buy a tie but concluded that he looked reasonably professional. After a quick breakfast at the motel buffet, he was in the car and headed to Maxwell Sinclair’s house.
Once he was in the neighborhood, the voice from the GPS directed him through several turns until he found the house. One car, an Infiniti, was in the driveway. Luke left his car and walked up the sidewalk.
Jeez, I hate to do this,
he thought. Then he thought about Samantha and rang the doorbell. An older man, dressed in gray slacks, a white shirt, and loafers, opened the door.
“Dr. Sinclair?” Luke asked.
“Yes.”
Luke fumbled for words. “Look, I’m sorry to bother you, but could I talk to Sara for a few minutes?”
“Absolutely not,” the man replied sternly. “I don’t recognize you and Sara’s too upset to see anyone.”
The man started to shut the door, and Luke put his hand up to stop it. “Dr. Sinclair, my name’s Lucas Vaughan. I was supposed to meet Ryan in Austin yesterday.”
“Let him in, Max,” a woman’s voice from inside the house said.
Ryan’s father reluctantly opened the door. “You’ll need to make it very brief, Mr. Vaughan.”
Luke entered to find Sara Sinclair, obviously pregnant, sitting on the sofa with a television playing in the background. She appeared to be paying no attention to the program.
“Ms. Sinclair, I’m terribly sorry about your loss.”
“Thank you, Mr. Vaughan,” Sara replied as she wiped her eyes. “Please have a seat. What do you need?”
Luke chose a side chair close to the sofa. “Mrs. Sinclair…”
“Call me Sara.”
“Sara, I was supposed to meet Ryan in Austin yesterday. When he didn’t arrive, I started checking and found out what had happened. Again, I’m sorry about his suicide.”
Sara leaned forward. “Luke, Ryan didn’t kill himself. I’m his wife. He and I were ecstatic about a son coming into our lives. It was murder.”
“But he was found with a gun in his hand.”
“We don’t even own a gun.”
Luke hesitated and then asked, “This is not why I’m here, but would you tell me what happened?”
Sara rearranged herself and tucked her feet beside her on the couch. “Ryan came home, well, to this house, which is our temporary home, and told me he had confronted Boatwright, demanding some other version of the Exxacia clinical trial. Then he went into our bedroom, where he has a desk—”
Luke motioned for her to stop. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Sara, but are you saying he got that version from Boatwright?”
“Exactly. He went into our room, and I heard him talking on the phone. He said your name. When he came out, he told me he had purchased a ticket to Austin, leaving yesterday morning, and would be back in a few days. Then his cell phone rang. Ryan looked at the caller ID and returned to our room and shut the door.” Sara paused. “That was strange. He never before had shut that door. We didn’t have any secrets.
“When he came out, he had his coat on and was carrying his briefcase. He told me he had to leave for a few minutes. That’s the last time I saw him alive,” Sara said as great rivers of tears rolled down her cheeks.
Ryan’s dad had chosen to leave Luke and Sara alone. Now he stepped into the living room and interrupted. “Mr. Vaughan, it’s time for you to leave.”
Sara stopped him. “No, Max, it’s all right. His daughter’s dying. I want to help if I can.”
Max shook his head and returned to his office.
“Who called, Sara?”
“Ryan didn’t say. He took his briefcase with him, so I figured it was Boatwright or someone else from the office.”
Luke sat silently as he allowed all of the information to sink in, then asked, “What was in the briefcase?”
Sara shook her head. “It was never found. The police searched his car and the park. There was no sign of it. That’s another reason I know it wasn’t suicide. Someone had to have stolen it.”
Luke rose. “Sara, you know I hate to be bothering you now, but I need those discs. Do you think he had them with him? Do you think they’re around the house anywhere?”
Sara stretched her hands out in front of her. “I’m sorry, Luke. Strange as this may sound, I knew those discs were important to Ryan and to you. I woke up last night and couldn’t force myself to fall asleep. So I searched this house high and low. I even searched Ryan’s new laptop, the one he got after our house was bombed. I’m pretty good on computers. If there was something there, I could have found it. That data is not in this house or on his computer.”
Luke blew his breath out of pursed lips. “Then the discs had to have been in that briefcase. I agree with you, Sara. Ryan didn’t commit suicide. I’ll be leaving now. If you find anything useful, here’s my card. Call me anytime, day or night. Again, I’m sorry about your loss.”
“I will, Luke. I hope your daughter gets through this.”
As Luke pulled into the driveway at dusk, he saw Samantha, Whizmo, and Brad all gathered to greet him. Sue Ellen was conspicuously absent. He forced himself out of the mood that had settled on him and hugged Samantha and tried to give a cheery greeting to Whizmo and Brad. Then he sat in one of the rockers and told them about his day.
“Bottom line is that I came up short. The version that Ryan Sinclair told us about is nowhere to be found.”
“That sucks, Dad,” Samantha said. “What do we do now?”
“Here’s what we do, Sam,” Luke responded. “We finish this trial. The jury can still go our way.”
Whizmo had remained silent, quietly sipping on his beer. “Well, Brad and I have some good news. Brad, tell Luke what you found.”
Brad had been sitting on the steps. He got up to face Luke. “I searched PubMed and all of the medical databases I could find. There are some European journal articles that have been coming out recently that are pretty critical of Exxacia. There’s one very positive American article that praises Exxacia, only I did some digging about the authors. Every one of them has taken money, so-called honorariums, from Ceventa. In fact, one of the authors is a full-time employee of Ceventa. I’ll bet he wrote the whole damn thing. Paper copies of the articles are on your desk.”
Luke nodded his appreciation. “Thanks, Brad. Now I’ve just got to figure out how and when to use them. We’ll see who Metcalf calls on Monday and make the decision on the fly. Now, Whiz, what have you been up to?”
“First of all, Luke, you know I teach computer science. What you may not know is that I’m one of the world’s great hackers. Given enough time, there’s no server in the world that I can’t get into.” Whiz smiled.
“Go on, Whiz, get to the point,” Luke insisted.
“I got into Ceventa’s server, and here’s what I found.”
Whizmo bent over and picked a manila folder up from the floor. He extracted computer printouts of Ceventa documents and handed them to Luke, who flipped through them before he let out a low whistle. “Wow! Now we’ve gotta hope that Metcalf calls someone I can use these with.”
“Well,” Whiz said, “I think it was some philosopher who said that it was always darkest before the dawn. I do believe that the sun is about to rise.”
Luke got the call at seven o’clock on Sunday morning.
“Luke, you’ve got to come over here,” Sue Ellen said.
“What’s up? Did they find Josh?”
“No, just get over here now. We need to talk face-to-face.”
Luke hung up the phone, not liking Sue Ellen’s tone. He slipped on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and thongs and left the house. Brian again approached him, and again he told Brian that he was only going three blocks to Sue Ellen’s. Brian returned to his patrol car and called his counterpart at Sue Ellen’s to alert him that Luke was on his way.
Luke opened Sue Ellen’s door to find her on the couch, a Kleenex box in her lap. Without a word she handed him a packing envelope. When he extracted the contents he found a San Marcos High School T-shirt with blood splattered on the front, as if someone had landed a fist on Josh’s face.
“That’s Josh’s shirt,” Sue Ellen sobbed. “Luke, we can’t go on with the lawsuit. Look at this note that was with the T-shirt.”
Luke took the note from her. It read,
If this lawsuit continues, the next delivery will be a finger from Josh’s throwing hand. So much for quarterbacking for the Longhorns.
Luke chose to tread lightly as he sat beside Sue Ellen. “What do you want me to do?”
“Dismiss the lawsuit tomorrow morning, Luke! I can’t take it anymore. I love Samantha, but I love Josh more.”
Luke ran his fingers through his hair and rose to stand at the window. Then he turned. “Sue Ellen, we’ll be through with this case in two days. It’ll all come out all right,” he pleaded.
Resolve appeared in Sue Ellen’s face. “No, Luke. I’ve gone as far as I can go. If you won’t dismiss the case, I won’t be beside you tomorrow. Maybe whoever is doing this will notice that I’m off the case. I love you, Luke, but you’re on your own. I’m sorry.”
Sue Ellen bolted up the stairs to her bedroom. Luke contemplated following her but instead turned and left the house.
Desperate, Sue Ellen regained her composure and called Whizmo.
“Hey, Sue Ellen, any word on Josh yet?” Whizmo asked.
Sue Ellen explained what had happened that morning. “Whizmo, you’ve got to convince Luke to drop the case. He won’t listen to me. Maybe he’ll listen to you.”
Whizmo thought about the request and responded, “Sue Ellen, I’m not willing to do that yet. I know what you’re going through—”
“Dammit, don’t say that! No one knows what I’m going through,” Sue Ellen interrupted.
“You’re right,” Whizmo said softly. “I can’t imagine what it must be like, but I’m not willing to interfere with Luke’s decision. Still, I’ve got an idea. I know a few folks in the Hill Country, some of them that wouldn’t cooperate with the law if a trooper handed them a thousand dollars in advance. I may have better luck. Let me wind up a little project for Luke and I’ll hit the road this afternoon. Don’t give up hope.”