“Remember Lauren’s work with Hulda Clark and Dr. Orlando Garcia at the Century Nutrition Clinic in Tijuana? If you recall, Dr. Clark died in two-thousand-nine and Lauren stayed in close contact with Clark’s successor, Dr. Garcia. He is a brilliant medical doctor and research scientist whom my daughter implicitly trusted and respected. Well, quite a while ago, Sidney Goldman, the gentleman funding Horizon, Dr. Garcia, and Lauren met at the Tijuana clinic and worked out a strategic plan. Mr. Goldman is very influential with the pharmaceutical industry. He knows most of their CEOs on a first name basis. And he also carries a great deal of clout with the FDA. Not that Lauren would ever want him to ask the FDA to cut corners or compromise their thorough evaluation, but Mr. Goldman is a good guy to have in your corner. They agreed that if anything ever happened to Lauren to prevent her from completing the research, Mr. Goldman would stop funding Horizon and instead, fund Century Nutrition Clinic under the direction of Dr. Garcia. As a matter of fact, the ultimate plan was to expand the facility in Tijuana, hire more researchers, and update all of the laboratories with the latest state of the art equipment.
“Although Dr. Garcia is an American citizen, because of his prior relationship with Dr. Clark, he is prohibited from dealing directly with the FDA or marketing any prescription drugs in the United States. However, if he partners with a well-respected American pharmaceutical company, which Sidney Goldman would coordinate, they can submit the application to the FDA for approval. Once approved, Dr. Garcia would work directly with the pharmaceutical company to manufacture and distribute the cancer medications in the United States and worldwide, ensuring that they are affordable, comply with the strict FDA guidelines, and are available to anyone who needs them.
“But how is Dr. Garcia going to complete the research when he doesn’t have access to Horizon’s computers or main server?”
Mrs. Crawford excused herself, walked over to a small desk, and opened the center drawer. She removed a black rectangular object about the size of a brick and held it up for Dupree to see.
“I removed this from a safety deposit box yesterday. Know what it is?” Mrs. Crawford asked.
“Looks like an external hard drive.”
“Exactly. And guess what it contains.”
Dupree shrugged. “Not sure.”
“It contains all the data and every clinical trial that Lauren compiled since day one of her research. And she updated it daily. Every afternoon, she’d take what she called her ‘sanity break’. She’d go to the bank, which was only a few blocks away from Horizon, remove the hard drive, and bring it to Starbucks where she could plug it into a wall socket and use her iPad to download the latest data.
“The obvious question that Lauren faced was how she could be sure that Dr. Mason and his new partners wouldn’t complete the research and apply to the FDA before Dr. Garcia and his pharmaceutical partners. I could bore you with the details but at this point, it really doesn’t make any difference because of the latest developments and the arrests you made, so the entire scenario has changed. Dr. Garcia, with the help of Sidney Goldman, will undoubtedly prove Lauren’s theories, apply to the FDA, and change the world. I don’t think that Lauren ever truly believed that her life was in danger. She just wanted to be sure that all the bases were covered and that her research would continue.”
Stunned by the amazing story, Dupree was speechless.
“So there you have it,” Mrs. Crawford said.
Dupree’s head was spinning and she had a million questions. She decided to let it rest for the time being. “That’s incredibly ingenious.”
“I told you my daughter was a brainiac.”
Dupree looked at her watch. “I really have to get moving. Mind if I give you a hug?”
The corners of Crawford’s mouth turned up. “I’d really like that.”
They held each other tightly for a long time. Dupree’s eyes were misty. As she reached for the doorknob, Mrs. Crawford stopped her.
“Just a thought. Don’t you think we now know each other well enough to be on a first name basis?”
“You’re absolutely right… Leona.”
“I hope that I see you again, Amaris.”
“Likewise.” Dupree could tell that Leona was getting choked up. “I promise to keep in touch. As a matter of fact, once I get back in the swing of things, why don’t you join me for dinner some evening at my place? You can see the place I call home and meet Ben and Alex, my kitties. I must warn you though that I’m not the best cook, so don’t set your expectations too high.”
“I’d be happy with a grilled cheese sandwich. It’s not about the food, my dear, it’s about the company.”
Dupree felt a strong mother-daughter connection to Leona. She could not deny that Leona could easily become a mother figure in her life. Not a replacement for her mother—no one could assume that role. And who knows, maybe in some small way Dupree could fill the emptiness Leona felt for her daughter. Whatever the case, Dupree felt certain that Leona and she would cultivate a meaningful friendship.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
“Hey you,” T.J. said.
Dupree had just stepped in the door of her apartment, balancing her cell phone between her ear and shoulder.
“Did you do everything you had to do?” T.J. asked.
“I did.”
“Great. I know tomorrow is Saturday, but any chance I can see you in the afternoon?” T.J. asked.
His request caught her completely off guard. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about a casual stroll around Central Park? It’s supposed to be seventy-five and sunny tomorrow.”
“I’d like that,” Dupree said. “What time did you want to meet?”
“How about two o clock?”
“That works.”
“Let’s meet at the fountain in the Conservatory Garden.” T.J. suggested.
“Perfect.”
“Sleep well. Looking forward to seeing you, Amaris.”
Something in his voice sounded different than normal. Not bad-different. But different. “Have a good night, T.J.”
Moments after ending the call, Dupree’s mind kicked into warp speed. Why did T.J. want to meet her—on a Saturday afternoon no less? The only other time they had spent personal time together was when they went for drinks and she poured out her heart and told her story. Something was up. And she didn’t have a clue what it was.
In spite of the many issues whirling around in Dupree’s mind, she’d not only slept peacefully without awakening once—not even for a bathroom break—but didn’t roll out of bed until after ten a.m. Had it not been for Alex jumping on the bed and head-butting her in the back, wanting her undivided attention, she might have slept the whole day and missed her rendezvous with T.J.
She lounged around for a while, then took a quick shower, got dressed, pulled her hair back into a ponytail, gulped a cup of coffee, inhaled a pumpernickel bagel, and cruised out the door.
The subway that ran from the Village north to Central Park—the “C” train—was only a few blocks away. As always, the train was standing room only. Dupree was about to sit in the only available seat, but she surrendered it to a senior citizen. During her ride, she couldn’t help but wonder what was up with T.J. Her curiosity was almost unbearable. She hadn’t the slightest clue what he wanted. Suddenly, she recalled his hand on her cheek. Brenda’s observation. The chair massage. Could it be that he…? She didn’t even want to think about it.
Dupree got off the train at 105th Street and leisurely strolled into Central Park toward the fountain in the Conservatory Garden. She looked at her watch. One-forty. Plenty of time. On her way, she took in all the wonders of this beautiful, eight-hundred-forty-three acre marvel, letting all her senses enjoy the smell, the view, and the sounds of nature. As she made her way along the path deeper into the park, she inhaled deeply and could smell the sweet aroma of cherry blossoms, daffodils, and morning glory. People whizzed by her on rollerblades, skateboards, and bicycles. She saw families enjoying private picnics, people tossing Frisbees, couples walking hand in hand.