The Runaway Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #3) (5 page)

People like Pascale were able to detach themselves from the job.  The victims were not people who had their lives taken from them, but a case number on a file.   They prided themselves on how many cases they had solved in a year, and, toward the end, in their entire career.  It was sort of like a notch in their belt.

Maybe they had it right, Lopez thought during times of great stress.

They knew the job was never ending—there would always be new cases to solve, and they had found a way to do it without becoming emotionally attached.

But Lopez couldn’t and wouldn’t allow herself to become apathetic.  The day she stopped caring for the victims and their families, was the day she would hand in her badge and do something else with her life.

Nataly wiped her eyes with a tissue and said, “I’m okay now.”

“We will try to be as delicate as possible, but we have to ask you some questions about Rudy.” Lopez said.

Nataly looked over at her roommate, who gave her a smile. She nodded.

“How long were you and Rudy together?” Lopez asked.

“About two years.  Our anniversary was in a couple of weeks.”

“Where did you meet?”

“It was right after we had completed our first year exams, and we were both looking for summer work.   We had signed up for a seminar and he sat next to me.  The person giving the talk was so dull and boring that Rudy spent the next hour making up his own talk.  He was so funny and charming.” Nataly paused. It looked as if she was going to break down again, but she composed herself.  “Anyway, we didn’t get much out of the seminar, not even an interview for a job, but Rudy and I hit it off.  His college was farther away from mine, but we somehow managed to make it work.” She looked down at the tissue in her hand.

Lopez took this as her cue to ask another question.  “This morning, you were talking to Rudy, weren’t you?”

She nodded.  “Yes, we always tried to talk before classes and at the end of the day.”

“We saw the log on Rudy’s computer.”

“Apart from calling or texting, we try to get as much face-time as possible, too.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Random stuff.  School.  Professors.  Exams.  Nothing too exciting.”

“What about his neighbors, did Rudy have any issues with them?”

Nataly’s brow furrowed.  “Why are you asking me this?”

Lopez had to be careful.  If Nataly realized they were investigating Rudy, she might clam up. Right now, they didn’t know what had happened and they were hoping Nataly could shed some light on it.

Lopez said, “We are trying to find out everything about everyone. Rudy, Irma, and Bernard.”  It was better to refer to the victims by their first names. It would make it feel less formal.

Nataly nodded.  “No, never.  They were all friends.  They got along really well.  Maybe it had something to do with them being in the same college, but they were always having barbeque parties at their place—Brendan was great behind the grill. I’ve been to many of them.  I’ve even watched movies until late at night with them.  Irma and I loved romantic comedies so we’d watch in one apartment and Brendan and Rudy would watch some guy movie in another.” Suddenly, Nataly broke down again.  Her roommate put her arm around her.

Lopez decided it was time to leave when Pascale said, “Did you notice anything different about Rudy this morning?”

Lopez glared him, but he wasn’t one bit fazed.

Nataly composed herself and said, “There
was
something odd.”

“Like what?” Lopez quickly asked.

“When we were talking, the phone rang.  Rudy got up and answered it.  Then he just left.”

“Left?” Pascale leaned forward.

“On the camera I saw him leave the apartment.  I thought maybe someone was at the door, but Rudy never came back.”

“Did you hear anything?” Lopez asked.

She shook her head.  “I heard the front door close, and then I heard nothing.”

Rudy Jr.’s laptop was at the IT unit. 
Maybe it’s time to go see what’s on it
, Lopez thought.

They got up to leave. Nataly asked, “Do you know who did it?”

Lopez paused.  “We’re working on it.” She replied.

“I hope you find him and make him pay.”

Lopez didn’t know what to say.

THIRTEEN

Carl Danka was completely dressed in black.  He wore a black T-shirt with a black tie.  His pants, boots, hair, and even nail polish were black.

Lopez had heard someone once ask him if he was a Goth, but Danka claimed he just liked the color.

The IT Investigation Unit was located in a dark room.  There were no windows, and for some reason the lights were always turned down low.  Lopez thought it maybe was due to the nature of the job. The members of the unit spent more hours staring into computer screens than spending it outside, so maybe they preferred it that way.

The unit examined data in every shape and size.  Whether it was web content or digital images, or even someone anonymously posting videos, the various technicians would analyze it in great detail.

It was why Lopez and Pascale were there now.  They were watching Danka go through Rudy Jr.’s laptop.

Pascale looked uneasy.  Lopez knew he didn’t like being confined in a place like this.  He would have preferred she come alone, but this was too big a case for him to not be a part of her visit to the IT.  So he stayed in the back with his arms crossed over his chest.

“It’s not every day a pretty lady drops by,” Danka said, winking at Lopez.

Danka was known to hit on anyone and everyone that dropped by the unit.  Lopez had been on the other end of it many times, so she took it in stride.

“What have you found?” she asked.

“What do you want to see? That’s the question,” he said.

“How about the transcript from Rudy Jr.’s conversion with his girlfriend.”

“Sure, coming right up.” Danka typed furiously on the keyboard as if he was a drummer for a rock band. He hit the last button like it was a final note.  “Ta-da,” he said.

Lopez squinted.

[Rudy]
Gud morning

[Nataly]
Morning (smiley face)

[Rudy]
How r u?

[Nataly]
Happy (smiley face)

[Rudy]
How wuz da test last night?

[Nataly]
(sad face)

[Rudy]
Don’t worry…

[Rudy]
I’m sure you did gr8t (big grin)

[Nataly]
(happy face)

[Nataly]
How was ur lecture last night?

[Rudy]
Boring… fell asleep

[Nataly]
LOL

“How much of it is there?” Pascale asked.

“An hour’s worth,” Danka said.  “And it doesn’t get any more interesting than this.  Trust me, I’ve read it all.”

Lopez got the feeling he enjoyed reading someone else’s private conversations.

“Was there a video as well?” Lopez said.  “We know they had a face to face conversation in the morning.”

“I think they switched to it later.  It takes more bandwidth so maybe that’s why they didn’t use it right away. But the program doesn’t store anything on the computer.  You’ll have to get it from the company.”

“Where are they located?” Pascale said.

“Alabama,” Danka replied.

Lopez turned to Pascale. “We’ll have to send an official request or even subpoena it.”

Pascale nodded, eager to get out of the IT unit.

“Thanks for your help,” Lopez said.

Danka replied, “You know, I hear there’s a great place down the block from here to grab drinks.  Maybe you and I can go there now.”

“I’m on duty,” Lopez said without skipping a beat.  “Plus, I’ve been there and it’s overrated.”

They left.

FOURTEEN

Nolan sat in a room, staring at a large painting that made absolutely no sense to him.  Was it abstract? Was it modern? What was it? He kept thinking.  It didn’t help that Nolan knew absolutely nothing about art.

The room was bare, except for two leather sofas placed opposite each other with a coffee table in between.  There were no windows, and the walls were painted white.

The only thing left to look at was the painting.

Nolan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a drink and it was making him hallucinate.  For a second he felt like
he
was inside the painting.  The colors, the shapes, the textures, they were all encompassing.

He shook his head and slapped his cheek.

There was a reason he was here, he reminded himself.

He was at Devon Pharma, waiting for Dr. Myra St. Claire, Senior Director of Medical Development, to arrive.

When Nolan had contacted them, they had refused to meet him, or even discuss any drug trials they were currently working on.  But after Nolan explained the three packages from Devon Pharma he had found on the victims, and that he believed there may be a link, they quickly relented and agreed to meet him.

Nolan looked at his watch. The doctor was late.  He hoped she would show up soon.  His mind was playing games with him.  The painting was the catalyst.

The door opened and a woman entered.  She was wearing heels, a black skirt, and a white lab coat. Her hair was pulled back and she had on round glasses.

“Call me Myra,” she said as she held out her hand.

Nolan shook it. “Call me Nolan.”

“Please have a seat,” she said.  She sat across from him and placed a red folder on the coffee table. She adjusted her glasses and said, “Let me start by saying we at Devon Pharma are saddened to hear about what happened to those young people. It’s a tragedy and we will be conveying our condolences to the families of the victims.  Having said that, if there is any insinuation that our drug had anything to do with what happened, then we will defend ourselves vigorously and at all costs.”

“I’m not insinuating anything.  I’m just trying to find answers.” Nolan said.

She gave him a hard look.  “What would you like to know?”

“What is this drug study about?”

“This will be kept strictly confidential, yes?”

“Absolutely.”

“I hope you understand we have to take precautions when it comes to our competitors.  A lot of money is involved.”

“Understood.”

“If you are concerned about the side effects, then I will say with full confidence the drug doesn’t cause any adverse reactions. It’s not possible, because we have eight hundred and eighty–two participants throughout the country.  If there were any issues, we would have detected them by now.”

“How do people sign-up for the study?” Nolan asked.

“They fill out a detailed application, and, along with a medical report from their doctors, they submit it to Devon for review. They have to be healthy, between the ages of eighteen and forty-four, do not smoke, and be in good mental health. A psychological review is necessary as well.  The study is for the duration of twelve months.  So far eight months have gone by and we’ve received no response that is alarming or of grave concern.”

“How much does the study pay?”

“Between three-thousand and five-thousand dollars.”

Nolan nodded, thought:
So that’s why the students had signed up
.

“During the trial, we advise the participants to get regular checkups with their GP and monthly checkups with a psychologist.” Dr. St. Claire continued.

“What does the drug do?” Nolan finally asked.

“It controls mood swings. It never lets the user get too high or too low.”

Nolan made a face.  “If people don’t feel anything, aren’t you creating like… zombies?”

She shook her head.  “If we suppressed
all
emotion, then it would place someone in the state you just mentioned. The drug allows a person to experience emotion, but it doesn’t let the emotion consume their daily life. For example, a person may feel euphoric or even depressed for a certain period, but this feeling is quickly adjusted by the drug so that the feeling doesn’t persist for days or even weeks.”

Nolan nodded as if he understood, but then a thought popped in his head.  “How is the drug taken? I found no medication bottle from Devon in the victim’s homes.”

She smiled.  “That’s where our research comes in.  Again, this is strictly confidential, yes?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Nolan replied.

From her coat pocket, Dr. St. Claire pulled out a clear plastic bag.  It contained what looked like a Band-Aid.  “It’s not what’s in the drug that makes it unique. Its how the drug is administered that makes it so.”

“Do you mind?” Nolan held out his hand.

She gave it to him.

Upon closer inspection, it looked more like a nicotine patch.