by Greg Iles
Alex was nodding; she felt as though she was nearing something important. “Yes, I imagine they would be. I didn’t realize we had something like that in Jackson.”
“We didn’t for many years. But when Dr. Tarver lost his wife, he decided he wanted to make something positive out of her loss.”
“Lost his wife?” Alex echoed. “What did she die of?”
“Cervical cancer. A terrible case, I believe. Seven or eight years ago—before my time here. But Dr. Tarver inherited quite a bit of money from his wife, and he wanted to put it to good use, which he certainly did. You know, Eldon was one of the first people to suggest a viral origin for cervical cancer. I saw a paper he did on it, written years before the idea became generally accepted. I believe he’s even considered litigation over credit for that finding.”
Alex had run out of words, but her mind was racing.
“Is that all you wanted?” Dr. Pearson asked.
“Um…you say he spends a lot of time at the clinic?”
Beehive woman gave her boss a pointed look, and Dr. Pearson suddenly seemed to remember that Alex was an outsider.
“Dr. Shepard told me to thank you again,” Alex said with her best Southern-belle smile, then she backed out of the office.
Outside, she turned and ran to the elevator. When it was too slow in coming, she took the fire stairs. Her heart pounded as she ran, but not from the exercise. When she reached the first floor, she saw Chris standing inside the hospital entrance doors.
“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to go outside, but the smoke is so thick it could choke you. There are people out there smoking through tracheostomies.”
She took his arm. “Chris, you’re not going to believe this.”
“What?”
“That building I asked about—Dr. Tarver owns it now. Pearson told me it’s a free clinic for the poor.”
“What kind of clinic?”
“He tests people for viruses.”
Chris’s eyes flickered. “Did Pearson say which viruses?”
“AIDS, hepatitis, HPV, herpes. He also treats people there. Gets grants for the medicine. He started that clinic in memory of his wife, who died of cancer seven years ago. And guess what?”
“What?”
“He inherited a pile of money from her.”
Chris’s mouth fell open. “Did she die of a blood cancer?”
“No. Cervical.”
“Hm.”
“Doesn’t that seem suspicious to you?”
“I’d say yes, except that he turned around and used the money to open a free clinic in memory of his dead wife.”
“Right, but that put him down in the inner city, where he could do God knows what under the guise of treating the poor for free. How much oversight do you think there is on that kind of thing?”
Chris was nodding. “Some, but it’s tough to oversee what’s actually going on in that kind of patient population. OSHA would have to have their own Eldon Tarver on site to understand what was really happening.”
Alex nodded excitedly. “I want to go down there.”
“And do what?”
“I don’t know. Look around, for starters. I want to find out if there’s any connection between Tarver and Andrew Rusk. Don’t you?”
“I think it’s worth exploring.” Chris grimaced. “But right now I need to find a bathroom and a bed. I’m feeling pretty rough.”
Consciousness of Chris’s desperate plight rushed back into her mind like a dark tide. “I’m sorry,” she said, slipping under his arm so that he could lean on her. “Let’s go to the car. I’ll get Kaiser on Dr. Tarver when we get back.”
Chris nodded, then walked slowly through the doors.
“When I’m distracted,” he said, “like upstairs, I can almost put the reality out of my head. But when I’m alone, like a minute ago…”
Alex pressed her cheek to his chest as they walked. “You’re not alone. Remember that.”
“Alex—” He caught his breath as they stepped over a hole in the sidewalk. “Everybody faces death alone.”
She shook her head. “Not you. You have Ben, and…I’ll be right beside you, no matter what happens.”
He squeezed her shoulder.
“But nothing bad’s going to happen,” she said forcefully. “We’re going to find these assholes, and we’re going to get you cured. Right?”
His reply was a whisper. “I hope so.”
Will Kilmer sat in his Explorer, watching Thora Shepard walk angrily up and down the block beneath the AmSouth tower. She clearly meant to ambush Rusk, even if she had to wait all day to do it. Will knew that the confrontation was imminent, since one of his operatives had called and told him that Rusk was sitting in traffic only a block away.
As though she were telepathic, Thora began to concentrate on the private parking garage from which Rusk would try to leave if he had been hiding upstairs. She obviously knew what kind of vehicle he drove, for when the gleaming black Cayenne wheeled around the nearest corner and rolled up to the bar that blocked the garage entrance, Thora sprinted over, interposed herself between Rusk’s window and the card reader, and started banging on his window.
Will climbed out of his Explorer and hurried across the street. Thora was hammering the Porsche’s window with her fists, while Rusk gaped in shock. His only option was to back up and flee, but a Cadillac had already pulled into the lane behind him. At last, Rusk lowered his window and hissed, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Give me your key card,” Thora demanded.
“What?”
The Cadillac honked behind them.
“Give me your card!”
“Get out of here!” Rusk snarled. “Don’t you know what’s at stake?”
“You have to call it off! This instant!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the lawyer said woodenly.
The Cadillac honked again.
Thora leaned down to the window, but by now Will was only a few feet away. “He knows,” she hissed. “Chris knows everything.”
“You’re crazy.”
“If you don’t call it off, I’m going to—”
Rusk thrust his key card past her and tried to slip it into the slot.
To Will’s amazement, Thora sank her teeth into the lawyer’s forearm with enough force to compel a scream. Rusk yanked back his arm, and Thora grabbed the card. When the driver of the Cadillac opened his door and got out, Rusk realized how dangerous the scene was.
“Get in, you crazy bitch!” he snapped. “Hurry!”
Thora ran around the Cayenne’s hood and climbed into the passenger seat. Rusk took the card from her and jammed it into the slot. When the barrier rose, he screeched into the parking garage.
Will took out his cell phone and called Alex, but again he got no answer.
CHAPTER 43
Chris was vomiting in the bathroom of their room at the Cabot Lodge when Alex’s cell phone began to ring. She had only plugged it in a moment ago, and now she was supporting Chris while he puked.
“You can get it,” Chris croaked, dry-heaving over the commode. “I’m okay.”
“You’re far from okay.”
“This is just side effects from the medicine. Go.”
Alex let go of his shoulders and ran into the bedroom. The caller ID listed Will’s phone. The detective sounded ten years younger when he answered her callback.
“Kid, I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. This thing’s breaking wide-open.”
“What’s happened?”
“Thora Shepard just confronted Rusk on the street below his office. She’s lost her mind. Stood right in front of his car, screaming at him to call off the hit on her husband.”
“Jesus! Where are they now?”
“Up in Rusk’s office, I think.”
Alex thought quickly. She had already called Kaiser about checking out Eldon Tarver, but she didn’t want to wait for answers. “Can you get someone to take your plac
e and stay on Thora? I want you to meet me somewhere else.”
“I guess so. Where are we going?”
“The old Pullo’s restaurant.”
“That place closed years ago.”
“I know. It’s a free clinic now.”
“And you need me there because?”
“There’s a small chance it could get dicey.”
“How small?”
“Ten percent. But you never know, right? Isn’t that what you tried to teach me?”
Will chuckled. “Okay. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”
“Let’s meet a few blocks away. The park behind the Governor’s Mansion?”
“I’ll be there.”
When Alex turned toward the bathroom, she found Chris sitting on the edge of the bed.
“What happened?” he asked hoarsely.
She didn’t want to lie, but she wasn’t about to tell Chris that his wife was running amok on the streets of Jackson. Not in his present state. “Will almost got into an accident,” she said.
Chris gave her a sidelong glance. “You said, ‘Where are they now?’”
“I meant the people who almost hit him.” Alex pulled back the bedclothes and motioned for Chris to get under them. “You need rest. Come on, get in.”
He looked back at her with hollow eyes, but rather than protest, he let himself fall onto the sheet and shoved his feet under the covers.
Alex set the hotel phone beside him, within easy reach. “If it gets worse, call 911 and demand to be taken to UMC.”
He nodded weakly.
She leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I’ll be back soon to check on you.” As she straightened up, he caught hold of her wrist with surprising force.
“Be careful, Alex,” he said, his dark eyes intense. “These people don’t care about anybody. Don’t throw your life away.”
“I know.”
He jerked her wrist, hard. “Do you?”
At last his concern penetrated the buzz of excitement in her brain. “I think so.”
“Good.”
When Chris let go of her arm, she removed the borrowed Sig-Sauer from the shoe box in the closet, slipped it into her waistband at the small of her back, and hurried into the hall.
Andrew Rusk stopped the elevator one floor short of his office. He wasn’t about to drag a hysterical Thora Shepard past Janice. Besides, he no longer felt safe discussing anything sensitive in his office.
When the doors opened, he smelled sawdust. Several walls had been knocked out on this floor, where a remodel was in progress. Hoping to find some privacy, he marched Thora down the hall, but a guy with a ponytail was patching drywall in the area he’d hoped to use. Looking around, Rusk saw that Ponytail was the only workman in the area. He dug out his wallet, handed a C-note to the workman, and said he needed twenty minutes with the lady. Ponytail grinned and headed for the elevator.
Rusk walked over exposed concrete to a tall window, then turned and spoke to Thora with all the pent-up frustration of the past hours.
“What the hell has gotten into you, lady? Have you lost what little mind you have?”
“Fuck you!” Thora shouted, shaking her forefinger in his face. “You told me this was safe! You told me nothing could go wrong. You remember that, you cocky bastard? But something has gone wrong. Chris knows everything!”
“That’s impossible.”
Her eyes blazed. “You think so? He called me, you stupid prick. He said, ‘I might be dead in a year, but you’re dead, too.’ He also said I’d never see Ben again, because I’d be in prison. How does that make you feel, Andy? Does that wipe the smirk off your face?”
Rusk tried not to show how deeply her words had disturbed him.
“You have to call it off,” Thora insisted. “That’s the only option.”
He started to explain why he couldn’t do that, then stopped himself. He couldn’t tell this woman that he had zero control over Eldon Tarver. “You’re right,” he said. “Of course we’ll stop it.”
She burst into tears. “I can’t believe this. Any of it. What am I going to do? What can I possibly tell Chris?”
“Nothing.” Rusk stepped closer to her. “He can’t prove anything. He’s getting all this from an FBI agent who’s already been fired. It’s going to be okay, Thora.”
“You think I believe that? What the hell do you know about marriage, anyway?”
A lot more than most people, Rusk thought wearily.
“I have to tell him something!”
Rusk shook his head with deliberation. “You’re not going to tell him anything. You’re not going to tell anyone anything.”
Thora’s despair reverted to fury in a heartbeat. “Don’t tell me what I’m going to do! I’ll do whatever the hell I decide to do. I was crazy ever to listen to you.”
“That’s not what you said after Red Simmons died and made you a multimillionaire.”
She looked like she wanted to cut his throat. “That’s ancient history. We’re talking about Chris now. Listen to me. I’m telling you to call whatever scumbag does this stuff for you and cancel my contract. Right now! You’re not going to get another cent from me anyway.”
Rusk grabbed her arms and let her glimpse the fear behind his eyes. “Before you start making threats, you should know a couple of things. First, you can’t hurt me without hurting yourself. But that’s really not the point. The person who handles these jobs is an extremely dangerous man. He has no conscience as you know it, no compassion. You should think of him as a very efficient machine. And if you upset that machine by doing something as insane as refusing to pay his fee, you will incur his wrath. Now…” Rusk tried to get hold of himself. “If your husband really suspects the truth, I’ll do what I can to stop what’s been set in motion. But you will do nothing. If my partner had witnessed your behavior today, you would already be dead. No one would ever find your body, Thora. The only mother Ben would ever know would be the next woman Chris marries.”
She stared wildly at him, seemingly torn between the tangible fear of having her sins discovered and the theoretical fear of being murdered herself.
“When you look at me,” Rusk said softly, “don’t see me—see him. Do that, and you just might live through this.”
Thora’s eyes jinked back and forth like a strung-out addict’s. But after a time, she started blinking like a woman coming out of a seizure. “What am I supposed to do?” she whimpered. “Where can I go?”
“You can stay in my office for now. But you can’t say one word about any of this within those walls. My office may be bugged. Break that rule, and I’ll hand you over to my partner. Are we clear?”
Thora wiped her mascara-stained cheeks. “I don’t want to stay here. I want to see my son.”
“You can’t. Not yet.”
“Bullshit! I haven’t broken any law.”
Rusk gasped in amazement. “You hired someone to kill your husband! Twice!”
She laughed like a child discovering a lie that would get her out of trouble with her parents. “I consulted a divorce lawyer. No one can prove I did anything else.”
“You’ve already paid me a million dollars!”
Cool arrogance descended like a curtain over her eyes. “I followed the investment advice you gave me. That put a million dollars under your control. If anyone looks at that deal, it’ll look like you stole the money. Stole it and bought rough diamonds.”
Rusk was speechless.
“You’re like every other goddamn contractor I deal with, Andrew. It’s easy to guarantee your work. What’s tough is honoring your guarantee.”
He looked past her to make sure that Ponytail hadn’t returned. If anyone heard this conversation…
“Now,” Thora said, her voice utterly composed, “I’m going to ride downstairs and go back to my old life. You are going to make sure that nothing happens to my husband. But if something should—or if even one policeman rings my doorbell—I will hang your ass out to dry, Andre
w. Are we clear?”
Rusk’s mind was spinning. This woman had no clue to the reality of the situation. There was no going back to her previous life—not for her or anyone else. Thora Shepard was one of those beauties who had slid through life without any mud sticking to her, no matter what sins she committed. She thought she could do the same thing now. But sooner or later—probably sooner, given the escalation of surveillance by the FBI—someone would lock her in a small room and turn up the heat. And she would crack like a china doll.
“You need to see something,” he said. You delusional bitch, he added silently. He stepped around a pile of Sheetrock lying across three sawhorses. “Let me show you why you can’t just go back to your old life.” He nodded toward the window, then offered to escort her with his arm. She looked contemptuously at the arm, but she did walk to the window.
“Do you see those men down there?” he asked, stepping over Ponytail’s toolbox.
“Where?”
“There, on the corner. And on the steps across the street. See him?”
Thora splayed her hands on the window. “The guy reading the newspaper?”
“Yep. FBI. The woman, too. The jogger.”
Thora’s mouth opened. “How do you know?”
Rusk looked over his shoulder, back through the metal studs of the new office. “I have contacts at the Bureau.”
“But why are they here? How much do they know?”
“I don’t know yet. Do you see any other likely agents?”
As Thora stood on tiptoe, he bent and lifted a claw hammer out of Ponytail’s toolbox. Something shifted in the box as he rose, and Thora turned at the sound, but by then Rusk was already swinging. The head of the hammer smashed through her skull above the ear, deeply enough that he had to yank hard to free it. She tottered on her feet, then fell, blindly trying to shield her face. With all the repressed terror of being caught coursing through his arm, Rusk swung the hammer as though chopping firewood. This spoiled bitch had threatened everything he’d worked five years to build…but had he backed off and called for help? No. He’d stepped up to the fucking plate. Never again would Eldon Tarver see him as a gutless middleman afraid to get his hands dirty. Rusk stopped swinging and stood over the bloody corpse, breathing the way he had on that first day at base camp on Everest. Never had he felt such elemental power. He only wished his father were here to see it.