Goosebumps surfaced on her arms. A suicide who looked Hispanic. A third genetic victim? Sula had to stay with the charade for another moment. “What do you think? Should I get my patient into this trial?”
“If he’s been through several therapy changes and you’re trying to get him stable, I would wait until Nexapra is on the market. As you know, there will be a delay between the end of the trial and FDA’s approval. During that time, the drug will not be available, so you’ll have to find something else for him in the mean time.” The doctor chuckled softly. “But as a clinical investigator I have to say, we need all the participants we can recruit to get this drug on the market quickly. It’s your call.”
“I’ll give it some serious thought. Thanks for the information, Dr. Gwartney.”
“You’re welcome.” He abruptly clicked off.
Sula hung up too and her mind reeled. The information carried a mixed emotional punch. She felt distressed for the young woman who had died unnecessarily, yet she felt fortified in her conviction that she was doing the right thing in trying to stop these trials.
She returned the phone and promised to meet Hannah at the Steelhead for lunch the next Wednesday, even though she knew there was a good chance she wouldn’t be able to keep the date. She was more determined than ever to track down Warner’s DNA findings. If Paul’s hacking efforts didn’t produce anything soon, she might just have to go to Puerto Rico.
Chapter 21
Rudker had arranged to meet Jorgovitch at the Wetlands bar on Chambers. The private investigator had picked the time and the location. Rudker had never left work this early before or set foot in such a place. He’d agreed to the time and place because he was anxious to get the report and preferred to go somewhere no one would notice him.
Now he was running late and hoped the fat little man had the good sense to wait. Considering the money Rudker had paid him, he’d better. A two thousand dollar retainer had bought him the promise that this job would never be documented or discussed. On some level, Rudker knew it was paranoid to watch the girl to see what she would do, but as long as he kept it in check, suspicion often worked in his favor.
If Sula had gone so far as to steal a disk from Warner’s office, it was obvious she was out to get him and would not give up easily. Rudker intended to subvert anything she tried.
He pushed the Jeep past the speed limit, ignoring the pounding rain on his windshield and limited visibility. As long as he kept making the lights, he had no reason to slow down. West 11th traffic had started to thin from the rush hour and he made good time. He pulled into the pub’s parking lot and drove to a back space. He liked to keep his rig away from the reckless masses.
The bright neon sign announcing the name Wetlands irritated him. What the hell was wrong with the people in this town? Wetlands was synonymous with weed patch. Who the hell would name a restaurant and bar after such a landscape? It was bad enough that the city council was making Prolabs create new wetlands just so they could build on their own damn land. All because a group of kooky environmentalists thought the wetlands should be preserved. He could not wait to get out of this town.
The stink of burnt grease hit him as he stepped inside. Rudker tried to ignore it. The one good thing he could say about Eugene was that it has passed a no smoking law. At least he wouldn’t have to suffer that offense on top of the grease and moldy carpet aromafest. He glanced around at the noisy blue-jeans-and-flannel crowd. People seemed charged up. Rudker figured it was either payday or Powerball time. He wondered if it was too late to buy tickets.
Jimmy waved at him from a booth against the window. Rudker pushed through the crowd and slid into the seat without ever looking directly at the guy. He didn’t want anyone to ever connect the two of them. Jimmy greeted him with “Hey.”
The PI was half-way through a tall glass of beer. Rudker signaled the waitress and ordered a bottle of Henrys, which he would not finish. He did not want to be noticed, and everyone else had a beer in front of them.
Jimmy started to give his report, but Rudker cut him off. “Wait for the waitress to come back. I don’t want to be interrupted.”
They sat in silence until his beer appeared. Rudker paid the young woman with cash and tipped her a dollar. Just enough to be fair, but not enough that she would remember him. When she left, he signaled Jimmy to begin.
“I checked her mailbox early this morning while she was in the shower, and it had nothing in it. Then she came out of the house at eight clock and drove straight to the post office on Tyinn Street.”
Rudker’s blood pressure bulged. “What did she do there?”
“She carried in two or three manila envelopes.” Jimmy squirmed. “A few minutes later she came out, empty handed.”
“Shit.” Ruder said it softly. “Any idea what was in the envelopes? Were they bulky, like they had an object in them? Or flat, like paper only?”
“Flat, like paper only.” The PI sounded confident.
“Any idea who they were addressed to?”
“No.”
“What else did she do today?”
Jimmy looked down at a notepad on the table. “She went to the state employment office on Coburg Road and spent two hours and forty-five minutes there.”
Relief washed over him. Sula was looking for work. The envelopes probably contained resumes and job applications. “By the way, when you’re done reading your notes to me, destroy them. Tomorrow, commit her movements to memory, please.”
Jimmy squinted at him. “I’ll try.”
“What next?”
“She stopped at a place called Oregon Research Center. It’s on Willamette Street.”
“I know where it is. How long was she there?”
“About thirty minutes.”
“Anything noteworthy?”
“No, but her next stop was kind of odd.”
Rudker raised an eyebrow.
“The building on the corner of 4th and High. Haven’t figured what it is yet.” Jimmy tossed back the rest of his beer. “The weird thing is, she went inside for a minute, then came out and sat in her truck to make a cell phone call. Then she went back inside for a minute, then came back out and left.”
Rudker puzzled over the sequence of events. “Maybe she borrowed the cell phone from someone inside?”
Jimmy gave him a surprised/impressed look. “Could be. After that she went home. Spent the afternoon in her garage.”
Rudker wondered why Sula would borrow a cell phone. She must have one of her own. The only thing that made sense was she didn’t want someone to see her name come up. Who would she make an anonymous call to? His greatest fear was that she had made a copy of the disk before he’d taken it back and maybe already sent it to the FDA. Without data, calling the agency would be a waste of her time. They heard from crackpots every day, people who thought pharmaceuticals were evil and blamed the agency for everything from constipation to global warming.
Had Sula contacted the media? He realized Jimmy was asking him something. “What did you say?”
“Should I stay on her for a few more days?”
“Yes. Let me have those notes.”
Jimmy ripped the top page off his notebook and pushed it across the table. Rudker scooped up the page and shoved it in his jacket pocket. He would run it through his shredder at home. Rudker took a long swallow of his beer, then stood to leave. “Tomorrow, same time.”
“See you then.” Jimmy made no move to leave.
“You’re going back out to her house, right?”
“I thought I’d eat first if that’s all right.”
Rudker was annoyed by the man’s sarcasm but didn’t let it show. “See you tomorrow.”
The rain was still pounding down when he stepped outside, so he decided not to go back to the office. Tara would be pleased to see him home before seven for a change. He backtracked the way he’d come, then headed up Timberline. The mortgage on his home was nearly $3,000 a month, but the location was empowering. Rudker liked being at the top.