The Target Page 6

  “What are you thinking?” her boss demanded. “Are you bothered by it? We know we have a public relations challenge, but most people won’t even question the device if it works.”

  “I think it’s brilliant. And by calling it Slimbiotic, people will think it’s like the good stuff in yogurt.”

  “Exactly.”

  “How did you get interested in this line of research?”

  Decker paused, a flash of something in her eyes. Pain? “We’ve known for ages that antibiotics help fatten farm animals, so it seemed logical that certain gut bacteria kept us from getting fat and that killing them led to weight gain. Following that line of thinking, I hypothesized that overweight people don’t have enough of the right microbiota.”

  Could it be that simple?

  “Obesity is more complex than that,” Decker continued, “And for some people, food is an addiction, but many scientists and doctors have come to believe that gut bacteria is the primary determination of our overall health.”

  “Where is it in development?”

  “We’ve completed Phase Three trials and submitted to the FDA, but they want more data.” She pushed through the door into the hall and kept talking. “We did the clinicals in Costa Rica to help keep the device confidential. Our competitors would love to get their hands on this one. So you must never talk about it outside these walls.”

  Yet TecLife was the company suspected of sabotage. Was there more going on? Was the whole industry cutthroat? “Is the research being done here in one of the other buildings?”

  “Mostly.”

  “You must be excited.”

  “You have no idea how personal this is for me.” Her eyes misted. “Eight long years, but we’re almost there.”

  They reached their offices, stepped in, and closed the door. Dallas lobbed her first probe. “Isn’t ProtoCell about to launch something similar?”

  Decker’s eyes hardened again. “No. Their product releases peptides and requires a doctor to implant it. I’m sure it’ll work, but the SlimPro is more invasive, more expensive, and insurance companies might not even pay for it.”

  A full-throttled competition. Jana Palmer could be right about TecLife starting the fire in ProtoCell’s warehouse. Even though a different product had been destroyed, a financial setback could slow down research. She couldn’t wait to hear what River would discover about the competitors. She herself couldn’t risk visiting their businesses and blowing her cover. “It’s interesting that both companies are developing devices to treat obesity.”

  “There are good reasons for that.” Decker gestured at the computer. “Let’s get started.”

  Dallas spent the next few hours pasting codes into search fields and creating new files with the results. Boring. The monotony of it would have driven her insane without taking occasional peeks into other files on the server. But she had to be careful until she knew whether her computer activities were monitored. The patient files also made her think about her father in the hospital. How sick was he really? Her mother tended to exaggerate. But if he was really dying…

  Decker breezed into the outer office. “I’m running over to the R&D building to check on something. Take a lunch break while I’m gone.” Her boss kept moving.

  Yes, ma’am.

  Dallas closed the program, grabbed her purse, and headed out. In the hall, she ran into another young woman coming out of Grissom’s office. “Hey, I’m Jace Hunter, Ms. Decker’s new assistant.”

  “I’m Holly Jaseria.” She didn’t smile or offer her hand.

  “You’re Mr. Grissom’s assistant?”

  “I am now.” The heavyset woman sounded unhappy.

  “I heard you wanted the open position.”

  “Only to keep my job. Cheryl would have fired me soon.”

  More intrigue. “But why?”

  “I can’t tell you.” She glanced up and down Dallas’ body. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Just don’t gain any weight.” Holly stepped on the elevator, hit the down button, and the doors started to move.

  “What do you mean?”

  A wailing fire alarm drowned out Dallas’ voice, and the elevator closed. The noise made it hard to think, but instinctively she headed for the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator to return. Inside the stairwell, shielded from the ear-splitting racket, her brain kicked in and she turned around. With everyone out of the building, this was a perfect opportunity for spying. Dallas trotted back upstairs, trying to calculate the odds that there really was a fire. Not likely. Unless she took into account the fire in ProtoCell’s warehouse, the intense competition, and the possibility that the other company was getting even.

  Even if this was a case of revenge arson, she still had a few minutes. Dallas hurried back to her office and tried the interior door leading into Decker’s space. Locked. She had picks her in purse and was pretty good with them, but maybe this was a better opportunity to snoop around Grissom’s office. His intensity at the meeting flagged him as aggressive and a more-likely saboteur. And this might be her only chance to sneak into his office during the day, certain that he wasn’t there. With Decker, she would have a chance every time her boss left her office.

  Dallas rolled up some tissue and stuffed it into her ears, then hurried next door. The alarm was still deafening in the empty hallway, but she tried to tune it out. The door to Grissom’s exterior office stood wide open. She stepped in, closed it, and glanced around. The same size and shape as her little space and no cameras that she could spot. Most employers, except banks, didn’t spy on their crew. She tried the interior doorknob and it turned easily. Yes!

  Inside, the drapes were open and the lights on. Grissom had left in a hurry. His computer monitor was dark but blinked an invitation. She glanced around, noting that, unlike Decker’s, his office was clean and organized. It was also bigger, with a private bathroom and closet. She sat at the desk and tapped the keyboard. The monitor lit up, and she looked for icons, indicating open programs or files. She clicked one, and a Word document opened. A correspondence, addressed to someone at the FDA, on company letterhead. Dallas scanned the text. It mentioned clinical trials and a product called HealthPatch. She noted the details to add to her file later, then opened his email program. If Grissom was smart, he wasn’t using his company email to correspond with a criminal-for-hire, but she checked anyway, skimming through batches and folders, looking for anything personal.

  After a minute, she looked up at the doorway out of habit. Through the outer office, she saw the exterior door opening. Shit! Dallas bolted out of the chair. Should she hide or try to bullshit her way out of this? She ran for the bathroom, hoping it would give her time to come up with a plausible story. She swung the door behind her but didn’t let it completely close. She might get lucky. Maybe Grissom had just come back to grab something and would leave right away.

  Adrenaline pumped in her veins, and the roar of the fire alarm made it worse. She took deep breaths but couldn’t get her pulse to slow. She stayed next to the cracked-open door and watched.

  A man with a beard and a baseball cap strode into the room. Maybe thirty, dressed in jeans and a dark T-shirt, and wearing a backpack. He headed straight for Grissom’s computer, plugged in a thumb drive and started downloading files. Holy shit! A data thief. Had the intruder triggered the fire alarm? ProtoCell, with its competing product, came immediately to mind. What had she gotten herself into the middle of? Dallas reached for her cell phone, clicked the zoom on the camera, and took pictures through the crack. They wouldn’t be great, but she had to document the activity if she could.

  She checked the time on her cell, wondering how long he would stay. The noise was maddening and she covered her ears. While the thumb drive was in the machine, the intruder searched drawers but didn’t seem to find anything he was interested in. The alarm shut off, but the wait still seemed to take forever. The intruder finally yanked out the drive and left. Dallas glanced at her cell again. The whole thing had taken nine minutes.
<
br />   Follow him or try to get some intel while she could? She was running out of time. The fire department had probably arrived and would clear out the building. Dallas bolted out of the office. Down the hall, the elevator door was closing. She sprinted to the stairwell. He had to exit the building on the ground floor, didn’t he?

  She pounded down the stairs, regretting the damn heels. She’d be lucky not to twist an ankle. On the first floor landing, she pushed out the door and ran into a fireman.

  “Excuse me.” She stepped around him and bolted toward the lobby. The intruder wasn’t in the hall ahead of her, and she didn’t see him in the foyer a moment later either. Had he exited already? Through the glass front doors, she noticed employees milling around the grassy area while firefighters dragged a hose off their truck. No one who resembled the intruder was in sight.

  Dallas sprinted down the opposite hall toward the break room and atrium. Behind her, the fireman called, “Hey, you need to get out!”

  She turned into the atrium and caught sight of the thief scaling over the cement-patio wall outside. Hell! She could climb over the damn wall even in a skirt, but could she catch him? And how would that activity look to her boss and co-workers? She couldn’t risk blowing her cover.

  A firm hand grabbed her shoulder. “Miss, you have to leave the building now.”

  “I know. I thought I saw someone running this way and it worried me.” Dallas smiled and let him rush her out the front door. Her co-workers stared and whispered comments to each other. Hopefully, they thought she was just a newbie who hadn’t been able to find her way out. If anyone asked, she would tell them she’d been stuck in the bathroom with a personal emergency. She’d originally planned to simply stay inside. This little public display was embarrassing and possibly detrimental to her operation. Still, the event had been educational, and she had to report to River.

  The big question was: Should she tell Grissom what she’d witnessed? The risk in reporting the incident was to make herself look suspicious for not leaving the building during a fire alarm. But telling Grissom could earn the CEO’s trust and affection, which could be leveraged into information.

  After they were allowed back into the building, she headed straight for Grissom’s office. His assistant looked surprised to see her. “Do you need help?”

  “I need to see Mr. Grissom.”

  “He’s with Cheryl Decker right now, and they’re not very happy. I would come back some other time.”

  The voices on the other side of the wall grew loud for a moment, then softened. Dallas hesitated. Giving bad news at a bad time could backfire. But it was good that Decker was in there too, so she didn’t find out later and feel betrayed. The longer Dallas waited, the worse it looked for her. “This is important. I have to see him now.” She stepped to the inner door and knocked loudly.

  After a pause, Grissom jerked open the door. “I said no interruptions.” His face softened when he realized she wasn’t his assistant. “Jace, can this wait?”

  “I don’t think so. I saw something during the fire alarm that you need to know about.”

  His body stiffened. “Come in.” His eyes probed her with a worried look. “Should Cheryl stay?”

  Did he mistrust his partner? Or want to hide information from her? “Yes, I think so.” Dallas smiled at her boss, who looked distressed.

  “Have a seat.”

  They all perched on the edge of their chairs, the tension palpable. Dallas launched in. “When the alarm went off, I headed down the stairs, then decided to go back for my purse.” She gave a sheepish look. “I know I shouldn’t have, but my keys and my credit card…” She trailed off purposefully, because it was natural, and glanced back and forth between the two. She was an expert storyteller. “Then when I was in my office, I started having horrible painful cramps.” She cast her eyes down. “I couldn’t function for a minute. When I went out in the hall again, I saw someone go into Mr. Grissom’s office. It clearly wasn’t you, and it concerned me.”

  “Who was it?” Grissom’s voice was tight.

  “I haven’t met everyone yet, but I don’t think it was an employee. He wore jeans, a baseball cap, and had a beard.” She focused on Grissom again. “It seemed wrong for him to be there, so I stepped into your outer office to see what he was doing. I think he copied files from your computer.” She wouldn’t mention chasing after him unless someone brought it up.

  Decker cut in. “Give us more description.”

  “About five-eight, I think, and lean. I couldn’t see his hair or eyes, so I didn’t get a good look at him. Plus, the alarm was ringing, so I was a little rattled.” She made her face look apologetic.

  “Please don’t tell anyone else about this. I don’t want the employees to worry.” Grissom stood, his mouth a tight line. “Let me walk you out.”

  In the hall, he stood close and squeezed both her shoulders. “Thank you for telling us. I’m so grateful, I’d like to buy you a drink after work. Dinner if you have time. Strictly professional.”

  Yeah, right. That wasn’t what she’d heard, but it was an opportunity to gather intel. “The drink sounds nice.”

  “Perfect. Let’s meet across the street at Saber’s at five-thirty. Now, you’ll have to excuse me. I have things to take care of.”

  “Of course.” Dallas walked away, pleased with the opportunity to get Grissom drunk and probe him. Maybe steal his cell phone. She was grateful they hadn’t questioned her role in the incident. Nor had they seemed surprised by the espionage. This was an intense industry, and the idea that Palmer had been killed to silence him seemed more likely than ever. She would have to be careful.

  Chapter 10

  Friday, July 11, 5:26 a.m.

  River woke and turned to look out her window, expecting to see her lush backyard and overgrown vegetable garden. Instead, an adobe wall filled her view. Oh right. She was sleeping in a rented apartment in San Diego, working a corporate-sabotage investigation, with an undercover agent depending on her for backup. How had she let herself get sucked into this? She was supposed to be in Eugene, Oregon, handling low-profile cases and adjusting to her new life.

  Ache seeped into her chest, and she forced herself to get up. But it wasn’t the ranch-style house or the Eugene bureau she missed. Jared, the man who’d come to remodel her house and ended up as her roommate, was all she could think about in her free time. River felt at peace knowing he was there, watering the corn and resurfacing the kitchen cabinets, but she missed the smell of his morning coffee and bacon. She missed laughing with him over the often-silly local news. So far, they were only friends and roommates, but she wanted more. He’d stirred up a long-repressed sexuality that both excited and terrified her. Jared had no idea she’d been a man for most of her life, and River had no idea how to tell him.

  She padded into the kitchen and heated water to make tea. If she were at home, she would practice yoga, then go out for a brisk walk, but she had too much to do for the BioTech case, as they’d named it.

  River opened her laptop and wrote an email to Jared, but didn’t send it. She made a cup of tea and took it out on the balcony to watch the sunrise. She loved being outside this early without a jacket. A childhood memory of sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night made her smile. She’d been so innocent then. Before she realized she had the wrong body. Before the FBI invaded their home and dug up the dead women in the basement. River let it go. Thinking about her father, the serial killer, was self-destructive. She laughed at herself. Better to pine for a man she would probably never be intimate with.

  A faint sound caught her attention. Her phone? River hurried inside to check. Law enforcement never had the luxury of ignoring a call. Her work cell showed a missed call from a local number. She listened to the message: “Special Agent Richard King. The BioTech task force is meeting this morning at nine, and you need to be there. The CDC has some concerns about Palmer’s blood and tissue samples.”

  The Centers for Disease Control? What the
hell had Joe Palmer died of? Wide awake now, River kicked up her speed. She modified her email to Jared to make it less sentimental, hit Send, and headed for the shower. Afterward, she dressed in dark slacks and a jacket, the same basic clothes she’d worn all her years as Carl River. Only now, she was thirty pounds lighter and would sometimes wear burgundy or brown instead of black. She ate a bagel, tucked her Glock into her shoulder harness, and headed east.

  The conference room in the San Diego bureau was three times the size of the one in Eugene and had a nice view from the fourth floor. Neither made her glad to be there. Gratitude for Joe and Jana Palmer, who’d saved her life and given her purpose, was all that made her take a seat, surrounded by stiff-shouldered men who didn’t look happy to see her. Agent King, at the end of the table, nodded as she entered. No one else greeted her. Was it because she was an out-of-town agent with more experience, or did they know about her gender transformation and disapprove? The change was part of her file, if anyone with clearance wanted to look at her background.

  I am secure in who I am and do not need their approval.

  Next to King sat the only other woman at the table. Middle-aged with a skunk-like streak in her hair, she wore a dark-green dress with no jacket. A scientist from the CDC, River speculated. An introduction a moment later proved her correct.

  “This is Ms. McDowell from the Centers for Disease Control,” King said. “She’ll present first, so she can leave before we get into confidential details.”

  The woman stood. “This case came to our attention when the San Diego County Medical Examiner’s office sent us blood and tissue samples from Joe Palmer’s autopsy.” She paused, as if for respect. “The ME noticed a wound on the corpse’s hand that resembled a MRSA infection, so he decided to be precautious and send us samples. The tissue revealed the presence of a previously unidentified bacterium.”

  McDowell drew in a nervous breath and continued. “The microbe is closely related to Methicillin-resistant Staphylococcus aureus, but appears to have mutated. The good news is that it’s not particularly contagious—‌yet. The bad news is that, like MRSA, it can be deadly to anyone with a compromised immune system or any other body-weakening conditions. We believe the bacterium, which we’ve labeled SA-13, may have killed Mr. Palmer, who was already suffering from an upper respiratory infection.”