Then the girls got with it, raining blows on each other with an unexpected ferocity. Brenda went down, and Felicia jumped on her, pummeling her in the face and chest. Rudker realized he’d been holding his breath and gulped for air.
He wanted to be in there, swinging away, fists crashing into tender flesh. Girls, guys, it didn’t matter. It was all about release. But his executive position in a conservative industry didn’t allow him to live that close to the edge. Showing up for work with a black eye and a fat lip could derail his career. He had not fought with anyone in years. The other night in the parking lot didn’t count. That skirmish had been unexpected and accidental.
The fight only had three rounds, each five minutes long. At the end, the audience voted for a winner with applause, and Felicia was the clear favorite. Brenda gave them all the finger and stormed out. Felicia circled the ring twice, arms raised in victory, blood running from her face, then left the room. Rudker wished it had lasted longer, but still, it was the best seventeen minutes he’d spent in a long time.
Chapter 10
Thursday, April 15th, 7:59 am
Sula went through the same routine morning she’d carried out the day before, only today, she felt more panicked. First she called Warner’s extension and got no answer, then she called Steve Peterson, who still had not seen or heard from the doctor. She called Warner’s cell and home numbers. No answer and no room left to leave a message. Something was definitely wrong, and it was time to call the police. Still, she hesitated. Once the cops got involved, it might be impossible to search Warner’s office for the suicide data.
Sula was angry with herself for not doing it yesterday afternoon. She had thought about it obsessively, even formulating several plans. One had involved stealing the master keys to the R&D building from Bob Wurtzer, the building maintenance guy. She had immediately rejected the idea as insane. It had occurred to her Marcy had keys to all the offices because she was the one who gave people keys when they were hired. Sula had tried to come up with a workable plan for borrowing Marcy’s keys, but both ideas were so out of character for her mode of thinking and acting that she had become paralyzed with fear.
Now it was too late. Her priority had to be about Warner herself. The doctor was clearly missing. Sula took the elevator up one level to the human resource office on the third floor. She checked her watch: 8:27.
Serena’s first words were, “Have you heard anything about Diane Warner?”
“She’s not in again today. Is Marcy in her office?”
“Yep. Go on in. I think she’s expecting you.”
Marcy was on the phone, so Sula waited in the doorway. Marcy signaled her to sit. The HR director was listening intently to someone on the phone. Her legs were crossed and the one on top swung impatiently. Finally she said, “You will try to reach him, though?”
A pause.
“Thanks. Give him my number please.” Marcy hung up and turned to Sula.
“Diane’s son Jeff works for Doctors without Borders. Right now, he’s in a remote village in Somalia. That was his answering service. They said they would try to track him down and give him my number. I didn’t tell them his mother was missing, because we don’t know that for sure yet.”
“She isn’t here again this morning. I think we should call the police.” Sula sounded more confident than she felt.
“Did you try her house?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” Marcy heaved a big sigh. “I’m supposed to fly to Seattle today for meetings with JB’s human resource department.”
“I’ll help in any way I can.” For a second, Sula was tempted to suggest that Marcy let her check out Dr. Warner’s office, but she chickened out.
Marcy grabbed a phone book and looked up the non-emergency number for the Eugene police department. Sula stood to leave.
“Please stay,” Marcy pleaded.
Sula sat back down. While Marcy explained the situation to someone at the police department, Sula casually looked around the office for where the director might keep her set of master keys. A desk drawer was the most likely spot, but maybe a filing cabinet. Sula noticed a set of dark brown luggage leaned against one wall. Marcy was traveling; she would be gone later today. Sula suddenly realized that the woman was talking to her.
“When you went to her house, did you notice if her car was there?” Marcy held her hand over the phone as she talked.
“I didn’t see it, but it could have been in the garage.”
Marcy relayed the information, then listened for a minute. “I’ll send her in right away.”
A wave of panic passed through Sula’s chest. Marcy hung up and announced, “They want you to come in and fill out a report.”
“Why me?”
“Because you noticed she was missing. You went to her house.”
Sula’s hands instinctively went to her stomach, so she could feel her breathing at work. She could do this. “Should I go now?”
“Yes. Officer Rice is expecting you. Thanks, Sula. I appreciate all your help in this matter.” Marcy looked relieved.
“How long will you be gone?”
“Only two days. I’ll give you my cell phone number, and I want you to call me with any updates.” The HR director jotted down her number on a yellow sticky and passed it to Sula.
She sucked in her breath for nerve, then blurted out, “What if the police want to search Dr. Warner’s office?”
Marcy tapped her desk. “Bob can let them in. He has masters to everything.”
“Okay. I’ll go down to the police station now. Have a good flight.” Sula turned to leave.
“Wait. Bob is so hard to track down sometimes. I’d better give you the key.” Marcy opened her desk drawer and took out a small key, then used it to open the main filing cabinet behind her desk. Sula held her breath. She kept expecting the woman to change her mind again, but Marcy extracted a gold-colored key from a large ring and handed it to her
“Keep me posted. Oh, and please let Mr. Rudker know what’s going on. He’s been in Seattle, but he should be back this evening.” Marcy gave a small laugh. “We’ll probably pass each other in the air.”
“I’ll go see him in the morning.” Sula squeezed the key in her hand. Not a chance in hell she would walk into Rudker’s office voluntarily. She gave Marcy a small wave and left.
She could not believe her luck. She wanted to run directly to the R&D building and begin her search, but she had to talk to the police first. After that, Marcy would be gone, and she would have a perfect opportunity. She stopped in her office for her sweater and her purse, then headed out to the parking lot. As she drove downtown, she felt guilty about how little work she’d accomplished in the past few days. Warner’s disappearance had thrown everything out of whack.
The Eugene police department shared a building with the city court and city council. The white-brick structure formed an L-shape around a large round fountain and took up an entire block. Sula got lucky again and found a parking spot right across the street. She locked the Dakota and headed up the wide stairs. The department’s entrance was a small dark lobby with two chairs. A deck officer sat behind a plexi-glass window with a speaker mounted in the middle. Sula stated her name and business and said Officer Rice was expecting her. The desk officer made a call. Sula couldn’t hear the conversation, but in a few minutes, a solid metal door to the right opened and a woman with cropped blond hair stepped out into the lobby. She held the door open with her body.
“I’m Officer Rice.” She was so buff, she seemed to be bursting out of her uniform.
Sula felt puny next to her. She held out her hand anyway. “I’m Sula Moreno.” The cop’s grip was as firm as expected. Sula vowed to start exercising more.
She followed the buff cop down a short hallway, where she made a left into a small office. It had no windows, and Sula hoped she wouldn’t be there long. Step by step, she retraced her thoughts and actions during the past two days concerning Dr. Warner. She didn’t mention h
er wild thoughts about Rudker or the argument she’d overheard. It probably had nothing to do with Warner’s absence, and Sula didn’t want to seem like a crazy person.
Rice’s pale blue eyes registered a connection and she stopped in the middle of another question to ask, “How old is Diane Warner?”
“Somewhere in her fifties.”
“What does she look like?”
“She’s small. With shoulder-length grayish blond hair. I think she has blue eyes, but they could be gray or green. I’m sorry to say that I don’t know for sure.”
“That’s okay. Does she have family that you know of?”
“A son named Jeff, but he’s in Somalia.”
“I think I know where she is. Do you have a few minutes?”
Puzzled, Sula said, “Sure,” without thinking.
“Come with me.” Detective Rice stood and held the door for her. Sula started to head back the way they came, but Rice said, “No, this way.”
They exited the building through the basement and headed for a black-and-white squad car. Rice unlocked the passenger side and waited for Sula to get in. She stared at the vehicle, legs trembling with fear.
“You okay?” Rice watched her closely.
“Uh. Yes.” Sula willed herself to step forward and get into the car. The smell of sweat and fear and vomit wafted out of the seat and triggered a powerful memory of the last time she’d been in a cop car. Her mother was dead. Her beautiful sister Calix was dead. Sula, covered in blood, wailed and rocked back and forth as they drove to the hospital. She wanted to die. As they crossed the bridge over the Willamette River, she tried to open the door and throw herself out, but it was locked.
Sula fought to bring herself out of it. She used her stomach muscles to pull in air and recited her mantra: I’m okay now. Life is good. I’m okay now. Life is good.
“Buckle up please.” Rice’s voice broke though. They hadn’t even left the parking structure. Sula did as she was told and Rice backed the car out. As they pulled into the street, Sula looked around for something to focus on. The sky was gray and all she could see were government buildings. She searched for something that would make her feel peaceful. Nothing came to mind. Out of desperation, she focused on Aaron, the cute guy she’d run into the other day.
Rice cut into her thoughts. “You know we’re going to the morgue, right?”
“Oh shit.” Sula began to shake. She reached for purse and dug out a small pill bottle. In it she kept Excedrin for headaches and a few Xanax for emergencies like this. She popped the tiny white pill into her mouth, worked up some spit and swallowed. She could feel it stick in her throat. She worked up another round of spit and kept swallowing.
“What was that?”
“A mild tranquilizer. I have a prescription.”
“I’m sorry to spring that on you. I thought you understood when I said I knew where she was.”
“I’m all right.” It was a lie, but Sula willed herself to be okay. “What do I have to do?”
“Look at a body.” Rice glanced over as she drove. “Some kids found her by the river near the Rose Garden a couple days ago. She was dressed in jogging clothes and didn’t have any ID.”
“How did she die?”
“Blunt trauma to the head.”
Sula felt sick. She rolled down her window for air.
“Were you close to Warner?”
“I didn’t really know her. But she was a scientist. She was trying to make the world a better place.”
“Let’s wait and see if it’s her.”
Rice pulled into a no parking area in front of Northwest McKenzie, which was only ten blocks from city hall. They entered through the emergency area and took the elevator to the basement.
“We call this Surgery 10,” Rice said as she pushed open the door. Sula didn’t let herself look at the room, registering only stainless steel and the smell of chemicals. It was better not to see the details, less likely to haunt her dreams. The Xanax hadn’t had a chance to work, so she tried to think about a long hike in the woods on a warm summer day.
Rice handed her a thick white mask for her nose and mouth, and Sula put it on. She waited with her eyes closed. After a minute, she sensed movement and opened her eyes. A man in a blue scrub suit had pushed a gurney up next to her. The outline of a body was clearly visible under a white sheet-like cloth. The guy in the scrub suit pulled the sheet away from the face.
It was Dr. Warner. Yet it wasn’t. Her color was wrong and part of her head was flattened and crusted with dried blood. Sula nodded and fled the room. Out in the hallway, she pulled off her mask and leaned over with her hands on her knees. She took long slow breaths until she could stand back up. Rice came out and touched her arm. “Thanks for helping us.”
“Can we go now?”
“Sure.”
On the drive back to city hall, Rice told her they had arrested a homeless man in connection with the murder and were questioning him. She said she would be in touch if she needed more information. She handed Sula a business card and told her to take the afternoon off.
Images of Warner jogging along the river and being attacked by a crazed man swarmed in her head as she drove back to Prolabs. The tranquilizer kicked in about the time she reached the parking lot and she was able to focus her thoughts. Although she felt entitled to take the afternoon off, this was her best opportunity to search Warner’s office and she was more determined than ever to do it. Warner’s work was too important to let it die with her. Too many lives were at stake.
Chapter 11
Rudker’s first meeting Thursday morning didn’t wrap up until nearly ten a.m., and his jaws tensed with irritability. JB’s marketing people had been unprepared to discuss Nexapra’s market position, so they had talked about other products with little growth potential. What a colossal waste of time.
With a growing sense of urgency to get back to Prolabs, he called JB’s head of R&D and left him a brief message, canceling their 10:30 meeting. Without notifying anyone that he was leaving, he took a cab to his hotel and asked the driver to wait. Fifteen minutes later, he was back in the taxi, overnight bag in hand. He hoped to make an afternoon flight and be at Prolabs before Peterson and the others went home for the day.
Unlike the quiet of his arrival, SeaTac airport was a swarm of people mid-day. Rudker aggressively cut through the crowds with barely an “excuse me.” He needed to be first on the standby list.
This time he was pulled out for a personal search. “Remove your socks, please.” The giant lesbian looked like a prison warden.
“Why the socks?” Rudker made no attempt to be pleasant.
“It’s part of the process, sir. Please just do it.”
God damn, he hated showing his feet in public. His toenails were hideous. “This is ridiculous.”
Rudker pulled off his socks, then stood still while the bitch ran her wand up between his legs and over his shoulders. He barely contained his urge to kidney punch her.
The fat bitch behind the table took her time too, probing into every pocket and pouch of his bag. He had nothing to hide, but the invasion of privacy galled him anyway.
“Do you have a prescription for this medicine?” The toad spoke loudly and held out his Zyprexa.
“Of course.”
“May I see it?”
“You’re looking at it. Read the label. That’s my name.”
“May I see your ID?”
“I just showed it to you.”
“Show it to me again.”
They were fucking with him. It was clear to anyone. Rudker could hear the air whistling in and out of his nose. He pulled out his driver’s license again and held it up to her.
“Let go of it, please.”
The taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit down on the inside of his cheek. He reminded himself of what was important. Nexapra’s development. The merger. His career. He let her have the license.
She looked at it closely, comparing the spelling of his name with tha
t on the prescription. He wanted to smash her face. After a long minute she handed it back. “Have a nice flight.”
“Unlikely.” Rudker grabbed his bag and bolted before they could humiliate him further.
After a twenty-minute delay on the tarmac, his flight was short and uneventful. Halfway through it, he realized he’d forgotten to take his medication that morning. He pulled his bag down from the overhead compartment, dug out his meds, and popped one. He landed in Eugene just after four, grabbed a cab and headed for Prolabs.
Sula entered the R&D building and walked briskly toward Warner’s office. Her plan was to be bold, so that no one would question her. If they did, she’d say the police had asked her to look in the office for family contact information. She had planned to do the search right after lunch, but the HR director had called Sula up to her office and spent an hour going over a list of things she wanted done immediately. Sula had completed most of them, while getting up every five minutes to look out the window to see if Marcy’s Scion had left the parking lot.
Once she was in the R&D building, her heart hammered with anxiety. Sula unlocked Warner’s door, stepped into the office, and closed it behind her. Her watch said 4:11.
The tall windows and incredible view caught her attention, but she did not allow herself to gaze out on the lush green hillside. She sat at Warner’s desk and pulled open the top drawers. The neatness was stunning. Right away she spotted a small collection of keys in a special little holder.
The second one she tried opened the drawers of the large, main filing cabinet. Sula riffled quickly through the folders, all labeled with phrases like cellular response to tumor necrosis factor. She wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but simple concepts like Nexapra or Nexapra’s Clinical Trials would have been helpful. She opened and searched the second drawer. It was also full of specific-science labels.
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