The Target Read online

  She shrugged. “We don’t document that.”

  “Did you see him leave? Did he talk to anyone in the parking lot?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  “This is important,” Cortez implored. “He was killed later that evening, and I need to know what happened after he left here.”

  “I’m sorry. But I don’t remember seeing him leave.” She seemed a little defensive now. “I could have been in the bathroom or talking to a client on the phone and didn’t look up. We’re a busy lab.”

  “I understand.” He took down her name, then asked to talk to the person who’d drawn Avery’s blood.

  She glanced through her digital records. “That was April Carson. She’s setting up for our first client.” The receptionist glanced at the door. “Can I bring him into the lobby to wait now?”

  “After you take me to see April.”

  The phlebotomist was a woman of few words, who kept filling her supply drawers as he asked questions. In the end, she added nothing to his understanding of Avery’s last actions. From there, he asked to see the manager. She led him to a corner office and introduced him to Jim Gao, who looked thirty, except for his clipped gray hair.

  “How can I help you?” The manager, who wasn’t any taller than him, shook his hand.

  “James Avery was murdered about five hours after he left his appointment here last Tuesday. And no one saw him during that time. The two events may not be connected, but I need to investigate every possibility.” Or he might lose this case to another team and fail his cultural icon. “Did you meet Mr. Avery?”

  The manager looked puzzled. “No, I don’t see clients. But I did read about his death, and I can assure you, all we did was take his blood and send it back to the lab.”

  “I’d like to see the results.”

  “The report won’t be completed until later this week.”

  “Where were you Tuesday night between eight and ten?” He had to ask.

  Gao pulled back, as if offended. “At home with my wife and children.”

  Strike two. He would check out the alibi, but his frustration mounted, mostly with himself. He had to look at his list of questions. “Who owns this business, and are they connected to James Avery?”

  “We belong to an investment group called BioMed Holdings. I don’t know the names of the investors or who they’re connected to.”

  “What other businesses are owned by the group?”

  “ProMed Manufacturing and ProtoCell Devices. They’re both located on this campus, but they face other streets.”

  The names meant nothing to him, and he was probably wasting his time. But Cortez decided he would check into Avery’s finances and see if the actor had any association with the companies. Or maybe Detective Harris already had that information. “Do you have security cameras in the building?”

  “No, but we have one just outside the front door.”

  “Please send me the video from that afternoon, between say, four and six.”

  “We close at five and everyone leaves by five-thirty.”

  “Then that will cover it.” He handed the manager a business card. “Here’s my email. If the file is too large to send, put it on a drive and I’ll come pick it up.”

  Back in his car, Cortez tried to figure out what other leads he could explore. He had already talked to Avery’s family, and his wife’s alibi had held up. His son, who was the same age as his widow, lived north in Oceanside. Cortez had called, but maybe he should drive up there and question him in person. Julian Avery stood to collect half of his father’s inheritance, always a motive for murder.

  His phone rang, startling him. A number he didn’t recognize. “Detective Cortez.”

  “This is Maria Gomez with the San Diego County Medical examiner’s office. I have a preliminary toxicology report for James Avery. Should I email it to you?”

  “Please.” He gave her his contact information. “But I’m not in my office. Can you summarize it for me?”

  “Sure. It was a little unusual.”

  “How so?”

  “His blood had a significant level of phenobarbital and trace amounts of sodium thiopental.”

  “Is that first one a sedative?”

  “Yes, the drugs are what caused his death. The ME has ruled it a homicide.”

  Surprised, Cortez processed the information. Avery had been bound and beaten, then injected with enough sedative to kill him. “What is the other drug you mentioned?”

  “That was what was unusual. Sodium thiopental used to be the first drug administered in lethal injections for death-row inmates, so it’s hard to access. But it’s also sometimes used by psychiatrists to treat patients with phobias.”

  He didn’t understand. “Why would a kidnapper or killer use it?”

  She thought for a moment. “Some people call it a truth serum because the drug interferes with complex brain activity and makes it difficult for the person to lie.”

  A shock wave rippled through his body. Had Avery been drugged and beaten to gain information? What could he possibly have known that a criminal would want?

  Chapter 21

  Monday, July 14, 7:50 a.m.

  Feeling apprehensive, Dallas walked into TecLife. She hadn’t slept well after her session with River, and she felt pressured to nail down viable intel ASAP. But first she had to check with Jana Palmer to see if employees had after-hours access to the building and what the security was like if they did. So far she’d avoided any personal contact with her, not wanting to risk Agent Palmer’s widow if things went south.

  Dallas took the elevator up to her office, sneezed six times while she adjusted to the air conditioning, then settled in to explore files on the server. A moment later, Cheryl Decker stepped through their adjoining door. “Good morning. Ready for the spirit meeting?” Her face seemed pinched, and a new worry line creased her brow.

  Dallas started to joke that her boss looked like she needed more than spirit, then remembered that Decker could be a murderer and her stress well earned. So she kept it simple. “Sure.” She tucked her purse into her desk drawer, locked it, then pocketed the key. Her own lying and spying had made her distrustful of nearly everyone. She walked with Decker to the stairs. “How was your weekend?”

  “Busy. Once we get Slimbiotic launched, I’m taking a long vacation.”

  “When is the launch scheduled?”

  “That depends on the FDA. We’re still waiting for marketing approval.”

  Once they entered the atrium downstairs, Decker moved to the front of the employee group already gathered. Max Grissom came in late and didn’t seem like his chipper self either. He rushed through the stretches, jumps, and cheerleading—‌thank god—‌then made a somber announcement. “Due to a security breach on Friday, we’re making changes to our system. No after-hours access will be allowed unless you get pre-approved from me or Cheryl.”

  Well, hell. Dallas kicked herself for taking the weekend off. Around her, a few employees groaned.

  “I’m sorry,” Grissom said. “I appreciate your dedication to working extra hours. We just want to know in advance who’ll be in the building.” He paused. “We’re also installing a fingerprint activated security door, so everyone will have to get processed. We’ll start tomorrow. Let’s go kick ass.”

  Half the employees responded with the expected Hell, yeah! but the rest muttered to themselves as they fled the room.

  Dallas hurried out and caught up to Eric, head of sales. “Hey, sorry about Friday. The alarm went off, and I got a little rattled and forgot we were supposed to have lunch.”

  “No worries. Should we try again today?”

  “I’d like that.” She walked with him toward the lobby.

  “The new security protocols seem like overkill to me,” he said. “I think something serious happened on Friday to spook the partners.”

  “Like what?” They stopped in front of the elevator behind a group of employees.

  “We’ll talk about i
t at lunch.”

  Dallas touched his arm. “I’m taking the stairs. See you at noon.” She could tell by his body posture that he was attracted to her, and she was glad she’d put the bottle of pheromones in her bag again. They would come in handy. If he was a lunch-hour drinker, she might pry some useful intel out of the encounter.

  Upstairs, Decker waited by her desk. “I heard from the FDA this morning.” Her jaw was locked so tight it affected her speech. “They still want more information. We have it, but we have to pull the data out of the patient files and present it in the way they want.”

  “This is slowing down your launch plans, isn’t it?” Dallas scrunched up her face to show sympathy.

  “Yes.” Decker crossed her arms. “I need you to get started right away.”

  “I’m sorry about the setback.” She took a seat. “Does it hurt the company’s finances?”

  “This isn’t about money,” Decker snapped. “It’s about human lives. People who are miserable and dying and desperate for help.”

  Her passion was unexpected. “Show me what I need to do.”

  Decker explained the process, then watched while Dallas extracted the first batch of clinical information.

  “Well done,” she said. “But don’t hesitate to ask questions.” Decker started toward her office, then turned back. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. This research is personal for me in several ways. I can’t afford to fail.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to help you.” Dallas wished she could mean it. Decker obviously believed she was doing life-saving work, and if she were, Dallas wanted her to succeed. But how far was the scientist willing to cross the line to reach her goals?

  Dallas worked for an hour on the project, so she could report actual progress and not get fired before she accomplished her mission. As best she could tell, the data for Slimbiotic was surprisingly good. The clinical trial patients had lost an average of eight percent of their body weight. No wonder ProtoCell had sent someone to steal data. But what had they actually downloaded? To replicate the drug-device combo, they would need R&D files, not clinical trial information. But maybe that’s what they’d taken. The other company would still have to alter the molecule and the device enough to not violate patent protection. And if TecLife’s product was that good, why was it sabotaging other companies? Unless it was out of cash to continue development and needed a drastic boost in sales.

  Dallas took screen captures of the trial outcome statements and downloaded them to a thumb drive. But the information wouldn’t help them get a warrant. She spent twenty minutes scanning through file names in both Grissom and Decker’s folders, but didn’t see anything that looked personal. They probably kept their personal files on their hard drives instead of the server. After a few failed attempts to access Decker’s email, she went back to sorting data. She needed more personal information about Decker, such as a pet name or favorite hobby. But the FBI background search had produced very little.

  At noon, Eric met her in the lobby, and they walked across the street to Saber’s. By the time they arrived, Dallas was sweating and grateful for the air conditioning. They sat at a table near the window and ordered Cobb salads.

  “If it was Friday, I’d have a beer.” Eric looked longingly at the table of drinkers next to them.

  “So let’s call it Friday.” Dallas turned to the food server, who’d started to walk away. “And two bottles of Pliny the Elder.”

  When she was gone, Dallas got right to business. “So what happened Friday to get Grissom’s panties in a bunch?” As if she didn’t know.

  “The rumor is that someone broke in and stole some of Decker’s research data.”

  So it was Decker’s. “You mean like a competitor?”

  “Probably. But ProtoCell is our main pipeline competition, and their weight-loss device is well ahead of ours.” He rubbed his head. “So why would they steal the data?”

  Good question. “Maybe ProtoCell’s product has problems.”

  “It’s about to launch, so it was probably another company. Or maybe a disgruntled ex-employee.”

  The server brought their beers, and Dallas raised her bottle to Eric. “To Fridays.”

  He laughed, clicked drinks with her, and took a long pull.

  There was so much she wanted to know, but she couldn’t turn this into an interrogation. “How did you end up in sales at TecLife?”

  “That’s a loaded question, but here’s the sad, short version. I washed out of med school and took the best paying job I could find with the education I’d acquired.”

  “Do you like it? Or just tolerate it? Those pep rallies are hard to take.”

  He laughed. “You’ll get numb to them. At least they don’t frisk us every day when we leave.”

  What? “Why would they do that?”

  “Some tech companies do it so their lab employees don’t take home samples.”

  She realized she should have known that—‌for someone who’d supposedly worked in the industry. “Does everyone in the company know about Slimbiotic? Decker acts like it’s top secret.”

  “Some people do. But no one outside TecLife is supposed to know. They even conducted the clinical trials in Costa Rica to keep it away from the doctors who also do clinical trials for other companies.”

  The server brought their salads, and they ate quietly for a few minutes. But Dallas was on task and needed more. “Do you know why Decker’s research is so personal to her? She kind of went off on me about it this morning.”

  Eric leaned in. “She has a daughter with Prader-Willi Syndrome. I overheard her talking to a specialist once. But no one else knows. Except maybe Max.”

  That was the personal connection. “What is Prader-Willi?”

  “Insatiable appetite. People who can’t stop eating. There is no cure, so they end up morbidly obese with all kinds of problems.”

  “That’s sad.” It also explained a lot about Decker. “How old is her daughter?”

  “I think Amber is nine.”

  Yes! That would be her next password guess.

  Eric reached out and squeezed her hand. “What about you? Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Not really. I like being single.”

  “You date, don’t you?”

  “Hell yeah,” she said, mocking the morning cheer. “I like men. I just don’t want a partner yet.”

  “We should go out sometime.”

  “Maybe this weekend.” Dallas pushed her salad aside and finished her beer. “I should get back. Decker is under pressure from the FDA, and I’m trying to find the data she needs.”

  Eric dismissed the idea with a flick of his hand. “Decker is always under her own pressure. Don’t let her push you.”

  “This is my first week, so I’ll try to be Miss Industrious. After that”—‌Dallas gave an impish shrug—‌“We’ll see.”

  They paid the check, each asking for their own receipt, and headed out into the intense July sun. Dallas was mentally moving on to her next plan. She needed to get her hands on Decker’s phone and ensure that her boss would be occupied long enough for her to search it. Maybe even access Decker’s email if she could get the scientist out of her office. Dallas had an idea but it required a little finesse. But now that she had the daughter’s name, she could probably figure out Decker’s password and peruse the files from her own desk.

  “What about Friday night? Dinner and dancing?” Eric broke into her thoughts.

  “Would love to. Unless Decker wants me to work late. Even then, we could always make it a late evening.” He wasn’t her type—‌cute but soft and too metrosexual—‌but it didn’t matter. If Eric thought he might get laid, he could be manipulated. And she needed an ally in this crazy company.

  They parted ways in the lobby, and Dallas headed for the stairs again. At her desk, she opened the data files she was supposed to be working on, then logged out of her own email. She found the internal email center, keyed in Decker’s address, and tried Amber as a password. No
luck. She tried Amber9, then AmberDecker, followed by AmberDecker9. A strikeout. She wished she knew the kid’s birthday. Or her father’s last name, if it was different. Dallas keyed in AmDeck9 on a whim, and an email dialogue box opened. She was in!

  The main inbox had only a dozen emails, all from the previous two days, but the saved folders contained thousands of messages. The labels had names such as FDA and San Carlos Clinic, and none looked personal. Dallas scanned the dozen in the inbox and spotted one from AmberGrace. She opened it and learned that Decker had missed a parent-teacher conference the week before and her daughter wasn’t happy about it. Three of the other emails were a conversation with the FDA, and two were from Curtis Santera. Before she could access one, the door between their offices flew open, and Decker stepped in.

  “I can’t seem to access my email. Will you contact Pete, the tech guy?” Decker gestured impatiently. “I need the problem corrected immediately.”

  “Sure.” Dallas logged out of Decker’s account. Would the IT person know she’d accessed it? “I was having a problem with mine earlier, so I restarted my computer and that fixed it.”

  “I’ll try it, but send Pete an email anyway. He needs to know we’re having issues.” Decker stepped toward her with a sealed manila envelope. “When you’re done, take this over to Curtis Santera in the R&D building. His office is near the front, but he’s probably in the lab. I’m about an hour behind schedule and don’t have time.”

  “Happy to. I haven’t seen the lab yet.”

  “Don’t bother taking a tour while you’re there. We need to finish this project and send the files to the FDA by tomorrow.”

  “All right.” Dallas reached for the envelope, noticing a small lump in the middle. A product sample? A thumb drive? “I’ll send a quick email, then scoot over and back.”

  “Thanks.” Decker pivoted, rushed into her office, and closed the door.

  Dallas didn’t bother to send the email, not wanting to alert the tech guy, and instead fingered the envelope. Could she open it, check the contents, and reseal it? Not without the proper tools, which she didn’t have at the moment. She checked the pocket in her purse and still had the handcuffs and evidence bags. The item in the envelope probably wasn’t important, she told herself—‌unless it was a proprietary product stolen from ProtoCell.