The hour passed slowly, and Rudker grew more anxious by the minute. It occurred to him he hadn’t taken his Zyprexa in days. He loved the unbridled energy he was experiencing even though it was dangerous. He would have to settle himself back down eventually, but for now he wasn’t ready. He wanted to stay sharp. And aggressive.
He had important things to accomplish. This morning, after dozing for only an hour or so, he’d woken up to a terrifying realization. Even though he’d arranged to have the files removed from the Puerto Rico clinic, he’d forgotten to track down and destroy the Rios cousins’ paperwork that was still filed somewhere in the bowels of Prolabs. The thought that the paperwork was still there, just waiting to be discovered, freaked him out. That was the reason he was sitting here now. If Sula would steal from Warner’s office and fly to Puerto Rico for her crusade, then she might also try to enter Prolabs in search of the files. She could have a key and might have done it already, before he started watching her.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. You are your own worst enemy. Rudker agreed with his internal critic this time. Tara’s slutty treachery had temporarily weakened him, and it was difficult to do battle with a bruised heart and ego. Now he was determined to ignore his emotions and put an end to Sula’s campaign to ruin him. She was a self-involved reactionary, a do-gooder who had no idea of the scientific expertise and dedication that had gone into developing Nexapra. It was a miracle drug that would help thousands more people than it would harm.
Jimmy pulled up behind him at 12:07. Rudker took off without getting out of the car and speaking to the PI. People were paranoid about strangers these days. There was no point in attracting attention.
Chapter 29
Saturday, April 24, 8:17 a.m
“I’ve got your stash, if that’s what you’re looking for.” Jason yawned as he passed by on his way to the kitchen. His roommate had bed hair and was wearing yesterday’s clothes. Robbie abandoned his search under the table.
“I need to know how many I took.”
“There’s about five pills left in the bottle.”
“That means I only took about half.”
“Only?” Jason gave him angry glance.
“Hey, I’m sorry to put you through that. Thanks for taking care of me.”
Jason stopped rummaging through the cupboards and turned to face him. “I want you to get some help. Go see a counselor.”
“I will.”
“I mean it. Make an appointment today.”
“Shrinks aren’t open on weekends.”
“So call the UO hotline.”
“Okay.” Robbie moved into the kitchen and helped himself to a tall glass of water and two aspirin. Physically, he had never felt worse in his life, but emotionally he was recovering. “Hey, I’m all right. I have a plan.”
“What’s that?” Jason’s voice was thick with skepticism.
“Monday, I’m going back to Prolabs with the hope I still have a job. Then I’ll contact Food for Lane County and start volunteering.”
“Doing what?”
“I don’t know. Serving meals. Calling donors. Whatever they need me to do. I think it will be good for me to help others, to have a purpose.”
“Hmm. I guess it couldn’t hurt.” Jason poured himself a bowl of Captain Crunch. “But call the university’s crisis hotline today anyway.”
“Chill. I will.”
Jason offered him the box of cereal.
“No thanks. I’m not hungry.”
Robbie poured himself a cup of coffee, took one of his trial meds, then went out to the deck. He dug through the junk box until he found a partial pack of cigarettes he’d stashed a few weeks back. They were stale and slightly crushed, but he didn’t care. He needed the nicotine to stimulate his brain. His life was still shit but he wasn’t ready to give it up.
Sula woke up feeling better than she had in weeks. She would see Tate this morning—that always made her world seem right again. Then she would put the envelope in the mail and be done with the Nexapra business. She had no regrets about her involvement. She would sleep better at night knowing she had done everything she could to ensure the drug was brought to market in a responsible way. It was also a huge relief to have it behind her. Rudker gave her the creeps, and she was eager to move forward with her life and away from any involvement with him. She would take the first steps tomorrow: apply for jobs in the morning, followed by coffee with Aaron.
She scooted into the kitchen, made a small pot of coffee, then stepped out to get the paper. A bright blue sky boosted her spirits even more. She and Tate could play in the park again today. May was coming, followed soon by June and July. If she got custody, they could go camping this summer. And to the water park in Springfield. And to baseball games. Sula couldn’t wait.
As she turned to go back in, a tall male figure across the street caught her attention. The guy wore a black baseball cap, which didn’t seem to go with his khakis and leather jacket. But this was Eugene; there were no dress codes. The man disappeared from view behind a van, and Sula entered the house.
She cruised though the paper in twenty minutes. Normally she devoured every word of the political stories and commentaries, but not today. The oil was still pouring into the gulf, the wars were still raging in the Middle East, and she couldn’t change any of it. She wouldn’t let it get her down.
Sula checked her watch: 7:42. She still had two and a half hours before meeting Tate. She put on Quad City DJs, danced for forty minutes, then showered and made eggs and toast.
It was still only 8:45 and she didn’t need to be at Westmoreland Center until ten. Saturday morning before nine o’clock was not the best time to call one’s lawyer, but at the moment, she had the time and the nerve.
Barbara picked up on second ring and spoke in a bright voice. “Good morning, Sula.” Her lawyer was wide awake and checking caller ID.
“I’ve been meaning to call you.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I lost my job. I thought you should know before the hearing.”
“Oh no. What happened?” She could hear a chair scoot in the background. Barbara was sitting down for the bad news.
“It’s a strange story.” Sula decided to give her the short version. Barbara didn’t need to be distracted with all the Nexapra stuff. “A scientist at Prolabs didn’t come to work for a few days. I got worried about her, so I went to her office.” Sula began to pace. “The company’s CEO—who’s a little crazy, by the way—saw me outside Dr. Warner’s office with some papers in my hand. He yelled my name and started running at me. It freaked me out, so I ran from him. Then he accused me of stealing and fired me.”
“That’s bizarre.” Barbara hesitated. “Running from him was a little weird too. Why do you think that happened?” Her voice was gentle. She knew Sula’s history.
“I was having a stressful day. You know the scientist who was missing? She was murdered. I had to identify her body at the morgue that morning. I was feeling a little jumpy.”
“I can see why.”
“How bad do you think this will hurt my custody case?”
“I don’t know.” Barbara hesitated again. Sula stomach knotted up. Finally, her lawyer spoke. “Last week, I wouldn’t have been worried. But on Friday, I got a call from Adam Bianchi, the attorney who represents Emily and John Chapman. He offered a settlement deal.”
“What deal? What are you talking about?”
“The Chapmans plan to bring up your family history at the hearing. Bianchi already prepared the brief. They argue that a history of mental illness could and should be a deciding factor in who raises Tate.”
“Oh God.” Sula collapsed on the couch. “That’s so unfair.”
“They’ve offered a deal. If you’ll drop your custody petition and terminate your parental rights, they’ll agree to bi-weekly, unsupervised visitation.”
Sula sucked in a sharp breath. She’d been pushing for more frequent visitation for a year. Now they were offering i
t to her, but she had to give up—forever—her dream of having Tate live with her. “You think I should take the deal, don’t you?”
“Not necessarily. The courts traditionally like to return children to their biological parents whenever they can. And you are a fit parent by any court standard. Even if we lose the custody hearing, we can still petition for more visitation.”
Stress flooded her system. To get Tate back, she would have to listen to lawyers discuss that tragic day when her father, mother, and sister all died. She might even have to talk about it. “They’re trying to scare me off.”
“Exactly.”
“No deal.”
“Good for you. By the way, are you okay for money? Can you collect unemployment?”
“I filed for it. They have to review the circumstances of my termination and make a decision. I haven’t heard yet.”
“Do you need some money in the meantime?”
Barbara’s generosity made Sula’s eyes tear up. “I’m fine for now. But thanks for asking. You’ve been great to me.”
“So make my job easier. Get out there and find a new job.” Barbara laughed, but Sula knew she was serious.
“I will.”
“See you in court.”
Sula ignored the anxious, negative thoughts that kept popping into her head. She couldn’t let fear paralyze her. She grabbed the classified section of the paper, went through it systematically, and made a list of places to apply. Suddenly it was 9:42 and she was running late. She grabbed her purse and the envelope addressed to the FDA and headed out to her truck.
Rudker watched Sula leave the house. He liked the way her jeans showed off her ass when she climbed into the truck. She seemed to be in a hurry, throwing the truck into reverse and backing out of the driveway before it had warmed up. That wasn’t good for a vehicle.
Then it registered. She’d had a manila envelope in her hands. It looked thick, like it had something more than paper. Rudker’s heart quickened. Did it have anything to do with her trip to Puerto Rico? Had she got to the research center before his contact made the files disappear? Were the files about to be mailed to FDA?
He couldn’t let that happen. If she stopped in front of a big blue mailbox, he would ram into her car. That was along the lines of what he had planned anyway, but a little less subtle, and ultimately, less dangerous for her. He followed the purple truck down Friendly Street toward 18th Avenue, staying a full block behind her.
The morning was quiet, no cars shared the road, and no pedestrians were on the sidewalk. Rudker considered making his move now. Slam her car, grab the envelope, and speed away. No, not yet. The risk for him was too great, and the scare factor for her, not nearly high enough. He would stick to the plan.
Sula turned left on 18th. Rudker followed two cars back. He removed the stolen cell phone from his jacket pocket, but the traffic was too thick and unpredictable for him to take his eyes off the road long enough to call. A few minutes later, the girl turned left on Chambers. Very nice. Maybe she was heading out of town without any encouragement from him.
Left again at the first feeder street. Where in the hell was she going?
The truck pulled into the Westmoreland Community Center parking lot. Rudker cruised past the entrance and took the next driveway into the adjacent middle school. He circled back and parked by the street about 200 yards from Sula’s truck. She was already out of her vehicle and walking toward a blue minivan.
Rudker watched with curiosity as a little blond boy, who looked about four, got out of the van and ran up to Sula. The boy gave her a quick hug around the legs, then grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the playground. Perplexed, Rudker wondered whose kid he was. He’d checked Sula’s HR file to find her address and cell phone number—then had read her whole file just for sport—but he hadn’t seen anything about a kid. Who were the people in the minivan?
Rudker found the development amusing. Even if the boy wasn’t hers, she was clearly attached to him, and that meant he represented leverage. It was just a matter of figuring out how best to use the information.
He played out a scenario, vocalizing his end of the conversation, but the script needed work. He modified the dialogue and altered his tone. A cold calm delivery could be more affective than an aggressive threat. When he was confident he had it right, Rudker dialed Sula’s number. It rang three times and went to her voicemail. He quickly hung up. Damn. She must have left the phone in her truck.
He waited. This round of sitting didn’t bother him as much as the last two stretches. Knowing he was close to making his move and scaring her off her mission gave him some peace of mind.
Watching her on the swing set with the little boy made Rudker think of his son at that age. Robbie had not been very robust. His son had preferred to play indoors and was always moody. Sweet one minute and distant and sad the next. He’d loved the boy anyway and tried to engage him whenever he could. He still loved Robbie dearly and would make a point to call him when this was over.
After an hour, the woman in the minivan got out and called out. Sula and the boy both looked up. Sula walked the child back toward the van, stopping about ten feet away from the woman. From Rudker’s vantage point, it looked like they didn’t speak to each other. Once the boy was with the other woman, Sula turned away and returned to her truck. The people in the van quickly left the parking lot, but Sula sat for a minute. Rudker suspected she might be feeling emotional at the moment—making it exactly the right moment to strike.
Chapter 30
Sula breathed deeply and repeated her mantra. Every moment I have with him is precious, and I will see him again. As she pulled out into the street, her cell phone rang, startling her. She received so few calls. She fumbled it out of her purse and finally managed to get it next to her ear. “Hello.”
“Was that your son?”
Rudker’s voice was in her ear, asking about Tate. Sula’s heart stopped for a moment, then raced like a frightened rabbit. She was too stunned to respond.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” His voice was calm, quiet, and terrifying. “You want him to be safe, correct?”
She pulled off the street and parked, unable to think straight. How did he know about Tate? Was the bastard watching her? She looked around, but didn’t see his Jeep. “What do you want?”
“The envelope sitting on the seat next to you. And any other files or evidence relating to Nexapra’s clinical trials.”
Sula pulled the phone away from her face. How did he know about the envelope? Had he been watching her house? She cursed herself for not stopping at the post office on her way to the center. She had been running late and didn’t want to give the Chapmans an excuse to leave.
She stared at the small silver phone and noticed the name on the caller ID said Dan Parker. Who was he? A tiny version of Rudker’s voice was coming from the phone in her lap. Sula put it back to her ear. “What did you say?”
“The boy has nothing to worry about if you give me the files you took from the Puerto Rico clinic. Is that what’s in the envelope?”
Dear God. Would he actually harm Tate? How could she have endangered him like this? The game was over. The stakes were too high. “You can have it.”
“Great. Meet me at the fire station at the top of McBeth, where it intersects with Fox Hollow.”
“Why so far?”
“It’s a nice drive. Don’t bother calling the police. You’ve already been arrested for stealing from Prolabs, and my high-ranking friend in the department has a reason to believe you’re a little crazy. In addition, your boy might just vanish some day in the future. I’m following the minivan now, just to see where it goes.”
Sula wanted to scream obscenities, but instead she tried reason. “Sooner or later, the truth about Nexapra will come out. You can’t run from it forever.”
“You must let it go. It’s healthier for the mind. Now get moving.”
Sula hung up. Tears of rage swelled in her eyes. The bastard. It was one thing to ex
ploit a group of depressed patients for profit, but to threaten her child…Rudker was evil.
She would rather set fire to her evidence than give it to him, but the outcome would be the same. Was there any way out of this? Could she get the DNA evidence out, leaving only the cassette, and reseal the envelope without him knowing? If she was at home, maybe. But not here, not without scissors or tape. Shit. Another thought hit her. What if the FDA investigated the Puerto Rico trial some day on its own? Would Rudker blame her? And take revenge by hurting Tate?
Sula pulled a U-turn on Chambers and headed up the steep grade. She cursed out loud at the slow-moving van in front of her. She was not in a hurry to confront Rudker—he scared the hell out of her—but she was anxious to get the evidence that could hurt Tate out of her hands.
The road curved at the top then dropped sharply down to Lorane Highway. Sula turned right. On this side of the hill, city gave way to country. Houses were father apart, vastly different in size, style, and age, and set back from the road. Under different circumstances, she would have taken her time to enjoy the scenery. Instead, she pushed the truck and took the curves faster than the posted sign allowed. The road sloped gently downward, then the grange appeared on the left. Sula pressed her brakes and took the turn in a wild swing. For a second, she felt as if the truck were out of her control. It straightened out and she vowed to keep her speed down.
McBeth Road wandered past a shooting range, then headed sharply up into the south hills. Sula spotted a group of cyclists in bright yellow-and-black jerseys pumping their skinny asses up the steep curves. She slowed and gave them a wide berth.
At the top of the hill, she turned on Fox Hollow, then made a quick left into the parking lot of the volunteer-manned fire station. No firefighters lived or worked there, only engines occupied the building. She left the truck running. It seemed important to be able to leave in a hurry.
As Sula sat and waited, a cloud drifted in front of the sun. Her skin cooled and she shuddered. She couldn’t believe it had come to this. Rudker had actually threatened her son. He was clearly more desperate and unstable than she’d imagined. For the first time, she realized Rudker might be planning to harm her. Dear God. Would he?
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