“Have you found anyone to escort you to Tijuana for your next treatment?”
“I talked my nephew into accompanying me. It took some convincing, but he’s really a good boy.”
“When are you leaving?”
“In two days.”
“I hope you have a safe trip and that your treatment goes well.”
Mrs. Crawford’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you for…everything.”
They were both silent for a long time.
“I would like to share something with you, Detective. Something highly confidential. Do you have a little free time?”
Dupree didn’t, but sensed urgency in her voice. “Of course.”
“I can’t remember exactly when it all began, but it was about two years ago. For whatever reason, my level-headed daughter became paranoid and feared that if something ever happened to her, no one would finish her research, or it would end up in the wrong hands. You see, Lauren, more than anyone, knew that not everyone in healthcare wanted to see a more effective, affordable treatment for cancer. Or even a cure. Greed is a powerful force.
“Lauren’s biggest fear—perhaps the most significant reason why she was so concerned about her welfare—was that upon her death, Dr. Mason would likely partner with a major pharmaceutical company, one that would stand to gain unimaginable profits. She refused to allow any pharmaceutical company the right to charge an obscene amount of money for the cancer-fighting drugs Horizon researchers developed. So, she devised a contingency plan—a plan to ensure that not a single cancer patient in the world would be denied treatment because they couldn’t afford it.”
“Was there conflict between Lauren and Dr. Mason?” Dupree asked.
“I don’t know if I’d call it conflict. But there were many issues upon which they disagreed. Particularly, Lauren had frequent discussions with Dr. Mason about his desire to partner with a major pharmaceutical company. Her concern escalated a few months ago when she noted Mason’s unusual behavior. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Lauren had asked Dr. Mason for a letter of resignation. To coin a phrase, they just weren’t reading off the same page of music.”
Mrs. Crawford paused for a minute and stared off into the distance. “I know that you’re a very competent detective. And I’m sure you’ve completed a thorough investigation. Still, I’m not convinced that Dr. Mason wasn’t part of the conspiracy.”
“Sorry you feel that way. But at this point, we really don’t have any evidence that implicates him.” Dupree could see Mrs. Crawford’s eyes tear up. “If you don’t want to continue—”
“I do, Detective. I do.”
Dupree watched a tear trail down the broken woman’s cheek. She wiped it away with the palm of her hand.
“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.
As much as Dupree loved the park, it served as a poignant reminder of her solitary life. Aside from her newfound relationship with Leona Crawford, she had no family, few friends, and the focal point of her existence was her career. She had no idea where she’d be in five years, nor did she anticipate that any factors might change her situation.
There was also another issue that troubled Dupree. Whenever she closed a case, she felt an immediate rush of adrenalin, an inexplicable feeling of accomplishment. But like a drug, the euphoria wore off quickly, and then she’d crash, needing another “fix.” In fact, after closing an investigation, she would often feel terrified that she’d never solve another murder case again. She’d never really spoken to anyone about this phenomenon, but maybe it was time for her to lie on a leather sofa and bare her soul.
Dupree could now see the fountain; its perimeter, a circular bench around the water, accommodating dozens of people resting their feet, sipping sodas, eating ice cream cones, and munching popcorn. Several wooden benches were positioned across from the fountain. On one particular bench, she spotted T.J.
He wasn’t alone.
A woman Dupree didn’t recognize was sitting next to T.J. As she moved closer, she could see them talking, laughing, and sitting unusually close to each other. The young woman had long, wavy auburn hair, and from that distance, she looked very attractive. Approaching them slowly—Dupree didn’t think that T.J. had noticed her yet—she could see that the woman was very young. Early twenties. Maybe even younger.
As Dupree moved closer, she could see T.J. pointing at her and he whispered something in the young woman’s ear. The woman fixed her eyes on Dupree and watched her walking toward the bench.
T.J. looked at his watch. “Right on time.” He moved closer to Dupree and gave her a quick hug. “I’d like you to meet someone.”
The young woman stood and smiled. Now close enough to get a good look at her, Dupree thought that she was as attractive as a Glamour Magazine cover girl. She felt a twinge of envy.
“Amaris Dupree,” T.J. said. “Meet Ashley Martin.”
She offered her hand to Ashley and the young woman firmly grasped it. Still holding Ashley’s hand, Dupree carefully studied her face and saw something familiar in her eyes. Images of Dupree’s mother flashed through her mind. Her cheeks blushed red. Could it be?
“T.J. has told me a lot about you,” Ashley said, her voice a little shaky.
Like three mannequins, they stood motionless, staring at each other as if lost for words.
Ashley moved closer to Dupree. “Um, I don’t know quite how to say this, so I’ll just be blunt. I’m…”
“My daughter?”
Dupree could feel her hands trembling and her heart flutter in her chest; it felt as if a giant butterfly was trapped in her lung. Her knees nearly gave out. She studied Ashley’s eyes again and could now see the resemblance. She had her grandmother’s high cheekbones and wide set eyes. Dupree looked at T.J. and then at Ashley, her eyes cloudy with tears.
“I need to sit down,” Dupree said, her voice unsteady and barely audible. Tears were now running down her cheeks. She tried to suppress the sobbing but had no control over her feelings. “This can’t…be happening,” she whispered.
Ashley nestled beside her and draped her arm around her mother’s shoulders.
“How did you find me?” Dupree asked Ashley.
“T.J. found me.”
Dupree looked at T.J. and swallowed hard. “How did you do this?”
T.J. cocked his head to one side. “Let’s just say that I know people who know people. And when you have the right contacts, you can find almost anyone—even Osama bin Laden.”
Wobbly-legged, Dupree carefully stood up and wrapped her arms around T.J. and gave him a bear hug for what seemed like an eternity. She kissed him on the cheek. “I just don’t know what to say, T.J. I…I—”
“You two have a lot of catching up to do. Call me later and we’ll talk.”
“It was wonderful to meet you, Ashley,” T.J. said. “I hope to see you again.”
The two women watched T.J. walk away.
“He’s quite a guy,” Ashley said.
“That he is.”
As cliché as it seemed, Dupree literally had to pinch herself to be sure this wasn’t a dream. All these years. All the pain and emptiness and tears. And here she was. Her daughter. Standing only inches away from her.
Dupree grasped Ashley’s hand and squeezed it. “I want to know everything about you.”
They engaged in small talk for a few minutes but neither asked the obvious, most compelling questions. Dupree was still reeling.
After a long searching look, Ashley asked, “Why did you give me up for adoption?”
The question pierced Dupree’s conscience like a dagger. “Because I was a self-destructive, stupid kid. I had no business being a mother and I wanted you to have a good life.”
“How come you never tried to find me all these years? Didn’t you want to have some kind of relationship with your flesh and blood daughter? I mean, weren’t you curious about me, who I was?”
“You have no idea how many times I desperately tried to find you.” Dupr
ee explained the confidentiality clause in the adoption agreement. “I even hired three private detectives, but all of my attempts to locate you failed.” Dupree had her own questions but wanted to tread lightly. “When did you find out that you were adopted?”
“My parents…well, I mean step-parents actually, told me on my fifth birthday. They believed it would have less of an impact if I found out at a young age.”
“Did you ever ask your parents to search for me?”
“No.” Ashley’s face tightened. “I assumed you wanted nothing to do with me, so I never made an attempt to contact you.”
Both Dupree and Ashley studied each other’s eyes.
“Tell me about your parents.”
“They’re really wonderful people. They’ve always been supportive of me and have always treated me like their own daughter.”
Dupree was delighted to hear that. But she couldn’t help but wonder if she would have been as good a parent. The mere thought of it, choked her up again. “So, Ashley, where do you live?
“In Thousand Oaks, a suburb of Los Angeles.”
“About how far is it from San Diego?”
“If the freeway traffic is moving, which isn’t very often, it’s about a ninety-minute ride.”
“What are you doing right now? In college? Working?”
“Freshman year at UCLA.”
“That’s fantastic! What course of study?”
“Earth and Environmental Science.”
“So, what kind of career are you looking for?”
“Not sure yet.” Ashley pointed to the lush greenery around them. “I’ll probably become a tree-hugger.”
After another twenty minutes of small talk, Dupree looked at her watch. “Where are you staying?”
“At the Yotel in Times Square. I know. The name is strange but it’s a really nice place.”
“I never heard of it, but New York has thousands of hotels. How long are you going to be in New York?”
“I leave midday on Monday. I wanted to stay longer, but orientation begins next Wednesday.”
Dupree had experienced her share of emotional pain throughout her life. But the mere thought of her daughter leaving on Monday was more than she could bear.
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