Come Home

by Lisa Scottoline

  Victoria’s face fell, and Jill got a lump in her aching throat, not knowing if it were true but sad just the same. For a minute, nobody said anything, giving William a moment of silence, all of them lost in his or her own thoughts. Megan looked down, playing with her fingers, and Victoria sat motionless, her eyes filming.

  Sam was the one who broke the silence. “We’ll help each other through this, as a family. That’s my promise,” he said, simply.

  Chapter Seventy-two

  Jill was in her nightshirt, listening at their bedroom door, which she’d cracked open so she could hear what was going on in Megan’s room. Victoria and Abby were in there with Megan, and the girls hadn’t emerged except to let Beef join them. Jill couldn’t help but wonder what was going on.

  “Honey, they’re fine.” Sam was in bed, reading, his glasses perched at the end of his nose.

  “But what are they doing in there?”

  “I think they’re dealing with it, and they’ll be fine.”

  “This is the week from hell, for Megan.” Jill stayed at the door. “And I haven’t been the most attentive mother.”

  “Megan knows you love her.”

  “Now she’s the one who needs triage.” Jill felt achy, bruised, and tired. “I can’t believe I was wrong about her panic attack. I blew that, big-time.”

  “No, it was all of a piece. She had everything going on, all at once. The text photo was only a part of it.”

  “Not to a thirteen-year-old.”

  “Come here, love. Come to bed.” Sam took off his glasses and set them and his book on the nighttable, and Jill shut the door, went to bed, and slipped under the covers, lying on her good side. Sam reached for her, stroking her arm. “How do you feel? Does your eye still hurt?”

  “A little.” Jill edged over, giving him a kiss, then another, sweeter one. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, and I have something to say.” Sam met her eye, growing serious, and Jill sensed it was time for their reckoning.

  “I guess we have to figure this out, huh?”

  “Yes, and one of us already has.”

  “Okay, go ahead,” Jill said, trying not to be nervous.

  “I’m sorry I acted like a fool. It’s not that I don’t want the kids, it’s that I wanted more of you. You see the difference?”

  “Yes.” Jill felt touched. “I’m sorry, too. I should have talked to you more. I don’t want it to be about the kids twenty-four/seven, either. I really don’t.” She gestured down the hall. “I’m not listening at Megan’s door, for example. That would be crazy.”

  Sam laughed. “Good point. That’s progress.”

  “See?” Jill smiled, then it faded, and it was her turn to get serious. “But what are we going to do about Abby and Victoria? You see them, they’re down the hall, one door from Steven, and I like it. I love it. All of us, under the same roof. This is going to happen, from time to time, if I have things my way. What do you say?”

  “You know what, I’m fine with it.”

  Jill scoffed. “Come on. Really?”

  “Really.” Sam nodded, apparently happily. “I’m fine with it now. I’m educable, for an academic.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  “A few things. First, losing you. It scared me, to think about losing you. It put everything in perspective. All the fighting, and all the disagreements, they’re stupid. Life is short. Too short.” Sam touched her cheek. “And second, and more importantly, I finally understood what you had been saying about Abby.”

  “How so?”

  “Remember when you said that if something happened to me, and Steven needed you, what would I want you to do?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that wasn’t the hypothetical that convinced me. The hypothetical that convinced me just happened.” Sam paused, his jaw working, and even the trace of a smile vanished. “Because if something happened to you, if I lost you, I realized that I would never stop being there for Megan. I realized that I’d always love her and I’d always feel like her father. No matter what, no matter who. Forever. I’m hers.”

  Jill could have cried with happiness. “Sam, that’s lovely.”

  “You taught me. Of course, you almost had to get killed to teach me, but I came around.” Sam smiled, touching her face. “So. Again. Will you marry me?”

  “Yes. Please.” Jill kissed him softly.

  “Good. Thank God that’s settled. I can’t function. You should’ve seen me, in Cleveland. Worst paper I ever gave.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “No, truly. Lee put me on the plane. He practically said, good riddance.”

  Jill laughed.

  “Now, let’s get some rest. You must be exhausted. I’ll get the lamp.” Sam reached over and switched it off, so the bedroom was dark and still. The only light came from the moon outside the open windows, and a cool breeze ruffled the sheers. The rain had stopped, having washed the world, and the air smelled fresh, clean, and most of all, like home.

  “This is nice.” Jill shifted over and fitted her body to his side, finally exhaling.

  “It sure is. We made it. We survived.”

  “Yes, and all that is over now.”

  “Yes it is, all over now,” Sam repeated, and Jill lay still while he fell asleep, not five minutes later.

  But she didn’t fall asleep. She couldn’t. Her head pounded, her throat ached. Her shoulder bandage made it hard to get comfortable. She tossed and turned, but couldn’t shut out her thoughts. So much had happened in such a short time, and her mind crackled as if it were electrified. She’d been in two different ERs in one day, as a patient, not a doctor. And she’d quit her job at Pembey Family.

  I’m not an employee, I’m a doctor.

  Jill didn’t regret her words, rash as they were. Even if Pembey wanted her back, she wasn’t going. She was already thinking she might try to get a job in an ER at a children’s hospital. She could put her triage mentality to good use there, and maybe she’d work full-time, now that Megan was older. Maybe the next chapter of her life wouldn’t be so bad. The future could be better than the past. Maybe, after all, there was a forever.

  She turned over but still couldn’t sleep, so she got up and went downstairs. The house was dark and quiet, except for the sound of crickets and bats coming through the screens. Jill turned on the kitchen lights, went to her laptop, sat down, and moved the mouse to wake it up. Its bright screen light made her squint, but her eyes adjusted, and it was still open to the last document she’d worked on, the file she’d made of her notes from William’s laptop. She’d copied all of his files, too.

  Nice work, for a doctor.

  Jill couldn’t feel pleased with herself, not after such a bittersweet day. After all the people who died, and at the end of the day, the ones she felt sorriest for were the girls. Victoria would need time to understand her father, and Abby had her work cut out for her, starting over in school. Jill thought of Megan, with a pang. They would have a lot more conversations before she understood what had happened, and Jill felt terrible for being wrong about her panic attack. It’s true that more than one thing could have caused it, but she’d lost touch with Megan this week. She’d been guilty of diagnosis momentum, with her own daughter.

  Jill mulled over the events of the day. The only bright spot was Rahul. That hadn’t been an easy diagnosis, and she thanked God that she hadn’t stopped asking what was behind Rahul’s ear infections. That’s where the truth lay. Behind. Under. Hidden.

  Jill’s gaze fell on her laptop screen, aglow with the all the files William had made, about tons of drugs. He had made tons of money, too, but he wanted more, and that had gotten him killed. She eyed the screen. Something felt wrong, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. And she found herself wondering.

  What’s behind this?

  Chapter Seventy-three

  “Sam, wake up,” Jill whispered, giving him a quick kiss on his grizzled cheek. She’d showered and dressed as if on fire, then ma
de him a mug of black coffee, and its aroma scented the air. “Wake up, I have something to tell you.”

  “What?” Sam shifted over, groggy. “What’s got into you?” He glanced at the clock, its digital numbers glowing in the dim bedroom. “Babe, it’s five o’clock in the morning.”

  “I know.” Jill rubbed his back in the thin T-shirt. It was still dark outside, but dawn was on the way and there was no time to lose. “We have to hurry. We have to leave.”

  “Okay, okay.” Sam edged up in bed, blinking, his hair ruffled. “What’s happening?”

  “I figured out something. The diagnosis is wrong.” Jill switched on the lamp, and Sam squinted against the light, putting up a hand to shield his eyes.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We stopped asking, what’s behind this? We mistook the first answer for the right answer.”

  “What diagnosis? Wrong about what?”

  “Okay, well, here goes.” Jill handed him his coffee and launched into telling him what she’d figured out last night, and he drained his cup while she finished. “And now that I know the truth, I’m going to do something about it. This morning. Are you with me?”

  Sam blinked. “You really want to do this?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Then I’m with you, all the way.” Sam smiled, shaking his head. “I figured us out, you know. I’m a thinker, and you’re a doer.”

  “So what are you waiting for?” Jill smiled back. “Do!”

  Sam threw off the covers, and Jill ran for his clothes.

  Chapter Seventy-four

  Jill approached the Pharmcen building, walked through the glass entrance, and strode past the security desk to the granite reception banquette, with its phones and monitor screens. The pretty young receptionist was the same one as yesterday, and she hung up the phone, recognizing Jill.

  “May I help you?” she asked, already wary.

  “Yes, hello, I don’t need an appointment, but I have some documents for Elliott Horton.” Jill handed over a manila envelope, which contained copies of a few of William’s emails to himself, without the identifying information. “Can you get these to him, as soon as possible?”

  “Yes,” the receptionist answered, but her attention shifted to the right, and Jill guessed that the security guard was coming up from behind, so she turned around and saw that he was the same one, too, with the funny soul patch.

  “Hello, Barry,” Jill said, with a smile.

  “How may I help you today, Miss?” he asked, coldly.

  “I’d appreciate it if somebody could take these documents to Elliott Horton.”

  “Documents?” The guard eyed the envelope with suspicion. “What kind of documents?”

  “It’s only paper, and he’ll want to see it.” Jill lifted the flap, showing him. “Okay?”

  “Fine.” The guard nodded at the receptionist, who extended a hand, and Jill gave her the envelope.

  “Thanks so much. Please give those to Elliott as soon as possible. I’ll be leaving now.” Jill turned and walked to the entrance, with the security guard on her heels. He stood watch outside the building while she went to Sam’s Lexus, got inside, and drove away.

  She had reached the first traffic light on Weehawk Boulevard before her cell phone rang. She checked the screen. She didn’t recognize the number, but she knew exactly who was calling her.

  “Hello, Elliott,” Jill answered, bracing herself.

  Chapter Seventy-five

  Jill waited on a wooden bench in the corporate park behind Pharmcen, with her purse and BlackBerry beside her. The park was beautiful and quiet, a several-acre tract of open space for company picnics and softball games, bordered by willow trees, boxwood, and hedges. There was a man-made pond on the left, and a mallard duck landed on the pumped-in water, its wings extended, showing bright blue stripes. The only other people in the park were a young man and a woman a few benches away, their heads bent together.

  Jill straightened up when she spotted Elliott Horton entering the park. He came stalking toward her across the grass, his head down and his thin, white-blond hair catching the sunlight. He looked to be in his forties, tall and skinny, in a white oxford shirt and dark blue pants, and he was frowning deeply. He hadn’t even reached Jill before he started firing questions at her.

  “Is this some kind of joke?” Elliot’s voice was on the high side, and his diction precise. “Who are you and where did you get that information?”

  “Sit down and I’ll explain.”

  Elliott remained standing. “That information is confidential, the property of Pharmcen. It’s a massive breach of company security.”

  “Yes it is.” Jill thought a minute. “Yet you came to meet me alone, and it couldn’t have been easy to get away this morning, with Pharmcen in the news. The government indicted the biggest hedge fund on Wall Street last night, for insider trading in Pharmcen stock, specifically with respect to recalls. I would think somebody would want to interview you.” Jill cocked her head. “Come to think of it, how did you get away?”

  “Our PR department handles all that, and I didn’t think this would take long. Now who are you, and where did you get that information?”

  “Oh, I guess I was wrong. I was thinking that your bosses and maybe some security types told you to come out and meet me, to see what I wanted.”

  “No, not at all.” Elliott’s eyes widened slightly, a wan blue. His skin was as pale as a lab rat’s. “Now answer my question. Who are you, and how did you get our data?”

  “My name is Jill Farrow, and my ex-husband was William Skyler, who was Nina D’Orive’s lover. That’s how I got the data, from my ex’s laptop. You might not know who I am, but your bosses do. I’ve been to Pharmcen twice this week, I talked to the security guard both times. Barry Whatever, with the soul patch.” Jill met Elliott’s eye. “Your bosses aren’t leveling with you. They’re playing you. They know who I am. You’re the only one who doesn’t, and oddly, I’m the only one on your side.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Elliott lowered himself onto the bench, his bony fingers linked in his lap.

  “You know, somebody’s going to have to take the fall for what just happened. Poor Nina passed on some very valuable information, and you were her boss. You even promoted her to VP.” Jill rested her bandaged hand on the back of the bench. “I know it’s not fair to blame you. You oversee fifty employees in Pharmacovigilance, and you can’t be accountable for everyone.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “They will ruin you, Elliott. Not in the foreseeable future, while they still need you. But in the end, you’ll get fired, and you’ll have a helluva time getting a job anywhere else, given the scandal. I know that part, I lived that part.”

  “What do you want?”

  Jill could see he was choosing his words carefully. “First, let me tell you how I figured out what was really going on. My ex’s scheme started about three years ago, with Deferral. How’d that sell, by the way, before it was recalled?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you. It sold well. I saw online, it was used by two million allergy sufferers in the U.S. alone. My ex also sold information about Riparin, a diuretic that interacts with enzymes in the digestive track. How’d that sell, about the same?” Jill didn’t wait for confirmation that she wouldn’t get. “Both Deferral and Riparin had about the same number of complaints, and they were recalled.”

  “How do you know that?” Elliott raked his thinning hair. “The number of complaints per drug isn’t public information.”

  “I know. My ex got the raw data from Nina. I gave you only some of it, like an appetizer.”

  “That can’t be true.” Elliott shook his head, and filaments of his fair hair caught the sun.

  “It is. You may have noticed that none of the raw data I gave you is in the federal indictment. The government doesn’t know it yet. That’s why I said I’m on your side.” Jill
shifted toward him. “Now, as I was saying, the next drug up is Memoril, but now, there’s a twist.”

  “What’s the twist?”

  “Correct my facts, because all I had to go on was the Internet. Memoril is a new Alzheimer’s drug, and about five million people in the U.S. have Alzheimer’s. Other major diseases like stroke, breast cancer, prostate cancer, even AIDS, they’re all on the decrease. But not Alzheimer’s. It’s up 66 percent.”

  “Yes, I know all that. Alzheimer’s is huge.”

  Jill winced at his callousness, but wasn’t surprised. “Memoril was approved a year ago, and it has great potential, given that there are so few drugs like it on the market. I even knew a woman at my old group, Mary Fitzmartin. She was on Memoril, with good results.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I studied the data that Nina was supplying my ex, and I found the same proportion of complaints for Memoril as for Deferral and Riparin. In fact, the men who were indicted were waiting for Memoril to get recalled or withdrawn, but it wasn’t, and I know why.” Jill met his eye, calmly. “Pharmcen isn’t reporting those complaints to the FDA. They’re deep-sixing them. They’re covering them up to keep a very lucrative Alzheimer’s drug on the market.”

  Elliott’s eyelids fluttered. “That’s not true.”

  “Oh, please. I’m on your side, Elliott. The government believes that those Wall Street types killed my ex because he was trying to expand to other hedge funds and middlemen, but I thought there was something else behind it, and there was.” Jill tried to collect her thoughts. “The complaints on Memoril were coming in, but they were being covered up. By you, at your bosses’ behest. Nobody at your level does that alone. They told you to do it, and they used you. They played you. I think my ex-husband figured it out, because he had the raw data from Nina, and I think he tried to blackmail you. And you killed him.”