Simple Misconception (Jordan James, PI Series)

by Rachel Sharpe

  “Well, I was curious about experimental drugs.” I watched as her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “The pharmaceutical kind.”

  Leesh glanced at Zane. “Jordan, I know about what I can prescribe my patients. Do I know if there are other drugs that are not on the market? Yes. There’s always something new some pushy sales rep is trying to peddle, some aggressive pharmaceutical company trying to get approved. Do I know about medications the FDA has not accepted? Some. Not much. Why are you asking this?”

  “Have you ever heard of Chemophyl?”

  “Chemophyl?” The suspicion still clouded her tired eyes. “You mean chemotherapy? As in, the cancer treatment? Chemotherapy is a type of—”

  “I know what chemotherapy is.” I rolled my eyes with exasperation. “Sorry. I just wanted to know if you’ve ever heard of a drug called Chemophyl.”

  “No.”

  Another doctor walked in wearing red scrubs. He waved at Alicia as he made himself a cup of coffee from the Keurig on the counter opposite the tiny table where she sat. He looked like he was in his early fifties with salt-and-pepper hair, bushy eyebrows, and a neat ponytail tucked beneath a cotton cap. They made small-talk about Leesh’s due date and some inside joke about new hospital protocol on holiday gift giving. Slowly, the room began to fill with the rich aroma of cinnamon. Once he had his coffee, he told her goodbye and left.

  I stared at Alicia for a moment. I felt weird. I had never visited her at work. I felt out of place. Like I was part of her life she kept at home. Maybe because it was personal. Maybe she was embarrassed. I wondered why she didn’t introduce me. I couldn’t focus on that. I still needed answers.

  “Okay,” I said, exhaling the word. “Well, if you wanted to find out about an experimental drug, where would you go?”

  “What exactly are you asking me?” She took a sip from her glass of water. “Jordan, you don’t have cancer.”

  I groaned. How could I ask for her help without telling her everything or resorting to lying? “It’s not about that.”

  She frowned. She looked even more tired than she had when I came in. I’m sure whatever she had to deal with, performing brain surgery on a newborn baby was beyond stressful. The fact that she herself was pregnant probably didn’t help.

  “Look, Jordan, this is my break. I’m happy to see you and—” She glanced at Zane. “Who are you?”

  “Zane.”

  She continued to stare.

  “We share a mutual friend.” He smiled.

  Alicia rolled her eyes. “Natalie Weisman, I’m sure.”

  Zane glanced at me. Alicia might have been exhausted, but not oblivious. She groaned.

  “Seriously, Jordan? You were out again with Natalie? All night?” I could tell she wanted to yell at me. She caught herself. “Whatever. You’re an adult. It’s nice to see you, but I’ve got to get back to work. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here? Stop trying to talk your way around the truth.”

  Damn, she’s good.

  “Well.” I couldn’t think of a good stall. I decided to try the truth. “Okay. So, I kind of know someone who might have been smuggling an experimental, illegal drug into the country. Another someone else got their hands on it and overdosed. Now, it looks like a third someone was kidnapped because of it. I’m trying to see if you know anything about that drug or if you know someone who might.”

  I took a deep breath, surprised I was able to say that so easily, especially to my sister. I was also surprised that she was not freaking out. I had just revealed the trifecta—death, drugs, and kidnapping. The longer she stared at me, the more surprised I became. Finally, she spoke.

  “Jordan, I asked for the truth.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Not another one of your crazy stories. Be honest with me. Are you on drugs?”

  Zane snorted.

  I shot him a dirty look.

  “No.” I gritted my teeth.

  She let out a sigh. “Natalie, right? Is she in the car outside? Did she take something but is afraid to seek treatment? Jordan, if you’re a real friend, you’ll bring her to the E.R. St. Juliana has an amazing E.R. staff. They’re kind, compassionate, and discreet. They can get her the help she needs.”

  “Did you hear a word I just said?” My voice rose with frustration. What made things worse was that she was not surprised by my outburst. It was as if she expected it from me. “This is not about Natalie sitting downstairs in an idling car overdosing. I just need to get some information about that drug.”

  Alicia stared up at me. The longer we remained in silence, the more I could see the exhaustion that had settled into her eyes. She was always a go-getter. She was always a non-stop, perpetual-motion machine.

  If something needed to be taken care of, Leesh was on it before anyone asked. Her teachers often praised her for completing assignments before they were even assigned. Alicia was a parents' dream, a teacher’s dream. Me? Not so much.

  When Leesh went to college, she said she was going to be a doctor. I knew she would. She declared she wanted to specialize as a pediatric neurosurgeon, one of the toughest and most stressful fields. I knew she would. She decided to get married and spend the rest of her life with Charlie. I knew she would. And I knew when she said she was pregnant and intended to give her unborn baby the best life under the sun, she would.

  Still, all those commitments take their toll. And none of them allow for much sleep. If she was this burned now, I couldn’t imagine what would happen once the baby was born. I was here asking my sister for help, which I never did. Staring at her, I realized I’d never offered her any.

  I walked over to the tiny, stainless-steel fridge. I opened it. I grabbed a bottle of water, placing it in front of her. She stared down at the bottle, then up at me.

  “What’s this?”

  “Water. You hungry? I saw a vending machine near the elevators. You want a candy bar or something?”

  “You know I can’t eat those.” She grabbed her stomach. “I would never do that to my baby.”

  I bit my tongue. “You want a granola bar or something?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

  “What?”

  “This.” She nodded at the water bottle. “What is this?”

  “Nothing,” I insisted. “You’re on break, right? Just trying to help. You look terrible—”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Tired, sorry. Tired.” I paused. “I mean, no. You look terrible. Are you, like, sleeping at all?”

  “Since when do you care?”

  I felt like she had punched me in the gut.

  “I’ve never stopped caring,” I snapped. “Sorry I bothered you. Later.”

  I turned, heading toward the door.

  “Jordan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks.”

  I nodded.

  “Jordan?”

  I turned to her again.

  “First floor, across the hall from the double doors that lead to the E.R. In-hospital pharmacy. Ask for Teak. Tell him you’re my sister. He’ll help you.”

  I smiled. “Thanks, Leesh.”

  She stared at me for a second. She then glanced at Zane. Her gaze returned to me. I knew she was questioning my unexpected visit. I also knew she would call my mother. I couldn’t focus on that right now. I had a lead. Kind of. Maybe Teak could offer me something that would help find Natalie.

  “Hmm,” Zane mumbled as soon as the elevator doors closed.

  “What now?”

  “You’re something.” He stared up at the glowing numbers above the doors.

  “Could you give me the damn keys and go?”

  “Why?”

  Before I could reply, a bell chimed. The doors opened to the ground floor. An elderly couple carr
ying pink balloons and flowers, accompanied by a young boy wearing a blue T-shirt that boasted “big brother,” anxiously hurried on as we got off. I followed Alicia’s directions and found myself in front of a glass-enclosed room with a glass door. The word PHARMACY was announced in white etching. I opened the door. Another bell chimed.

  The pharmacy was a small, waiting room type area with four plastic chairs against the glass wall. A young girl with bright-orange hair, trendy black glasses, and white earbuds in her ears popped up. She stared at us. I didn’t say anything. She groaned.

  “Dropping off or picking up?”

  “Uh, neither.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Is Teak here?”

  She narrowed her green eyes. I thought she was going to argue, but she disappeared. I thought she might have blown me off. Just then, a guy in his late-twenties with cropped black hair and dark eyes wearing a white doctor’s coat appeared. He offered a guarded smile.

  “How can I help you today?”

  “Um, my name is Jordan.” I stepped closer to the counter. “Dr. Coyle is my sister.”

  His expression lightened into a genuine smile. “You’re Alicia’s sister? The one in Boston, right? I attended Northeastern University for pharmacy school. I love that area. A little cold, though.”

  I laughed. “It takes some getting used to.”

  “So how can I help you?”

  “Well, I have a . . .” I glanced at Zane. He had taken a seat. He was staring up at me. “I have a question about drugs.”

  Teak smiled. “Sure.”

  “Illegal drugs.”

  His smile lessened. “Okay.”

  “Well,” I said, hesitating. “Not really illegal. More like experimental. As in not FDA approved.”

  “How about you ask the question before the new year?” Zane suggested.

  My face flushed. I hoped it wasn’t very obvious in the bright, well-lit white room. Teak glanced at Zane before returning his focus to me. I could tell he was wary of us. The jerk sitting behind me did nothing to help my case.

  “Have you ever heard of Chemophyl?”

  His brow furrowed. “Chemophyl? Not that I can recall.”

  “Okay. Well, thanks anyway.”

  “That’s it? That was your question?”

  “Well, you don’t know what it is, right?”

  “No, I don’t but I would have assumed there would be a follow-up.”

  “Huh?”

  “You mentioned FDA drugs.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know about that particular drug. If you have questions about the process of a drug getting approved, I can help.”

  “Um, sure. Yeah, please.”

  He opened a door beside the counter, stepping through. “So, I’ll try to give you the short version. It takes a lot for a drug to get approved by the FDA. Seems like things are approved all the time, but that’s not true.”

  “So, what’s the process? How long does it take?”

  “Takes about twelve years and three hundred and fifty million bucks.”

  I stared at him.

  He laughed. “Yeah, that’s most people’s reaction when I say that. You’ve got to remember, we’re talking about drugs. They’re supposed to help people. Cure people. If there’s any chance anything could go wrong, well, the FDA doesn’t throw that approval stamp around lightly.”

  “Okay, so what does it take?”

  “There are three phases of clinical trials before the FDA green lights an experimental drug. One out of a thousand compounds that undergo laboratory testing makes it to the human testing stage.”

  “What about other countries? What are their procedures? Does the FDA accept those drugs?”

  “Doesn’t matter where a compound’s developed. Or if it’s approved in another country. The FDA still does its thing to make sure it’s safe.”

  “Can someone import a drug that’s approved in another country?”

  “Short answer is no.” He scratched his neck. “Technically, there are certain circumstances when it might be allowed. But there’s a whole lot of red tape to get through first. And if you’re doing it to sell the drugs, not a chance. Customs is pretty strict on that.”

  My mind returned to Dr. Weisman’s frantic tirade less than twenty-four hours earlier. It was hard to believe that had happened last night. This had definitely been one of the longest nights of my life. And still, I had no word from Natalie. My stomach tightened.

  “I was almost stopped by Customs this time, Robert!” Dr. Weisman had bellowed. “Do you remember what happened back in May? I had to give that bag back to Alrick before I even boarded! That was close. And this last time . . . if they had bothered to do their damn jobs and actually search my carry-on when I landed . . . let’s just say somebody up there likes me.”

  “What would happen if someone were caught smuggling drugs to sell them?”

  He gave me an unusual look. I would have too. I knew my question was suspicious. I also knew I needed to understand what was going on.

  “I don’t honestly know because that’s never come up before. My guess would be jail time.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “We are speaking hypothetically, right?”

  “Right.” The sudden ringing of my cell phone caused me to jump. Teak frowned. “Well, uh, thanks for your help.”

  “No problem.” He opened the door behind him to the pharmacy. “Tell Alicia I said hello. Hope all is well with her and the baby.”

  “Absolutely.” I smiled as my phone continued to ring. I rushed back into the lobby, heading toward the front doors. “Hello?”

  “What took you so long?” Jon snapped. “I was about to hang up.”

  I hurried outside. A mild breeze enveloped me. It was warming up. “Sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “I’m so sorry you had to wait ten seconds before I answered the call. Do you have something for me?”

  “Not with that kind of attitude.”

  I bit down on my chapped lip. “Jon?”

  “Sophie called me back.”

  “And?”

  “She’s still looking but she did have a little info on the drug.”

  My heart leapt. Finally. I might have a lead. “And?”

  23

  When Jon first bragged his cousin Sophie had connections, I had doubts. He made it sound like she was part of some sort of secret, spy agency. In reality, she was a transplanted Providence journalist living in London. When she helped us find Rick’s missing cousin, Arthur, I changed my tune. I’ve come to rely on her almost as much as Jon. And I had never even met her.

  Once again, Sophie did not disappoint. She was able to turn up more on Chemophyl than I had even hoped. Apparently, Chemophyl was an experimental drug. It had been created as an alternative to conventional chemotherapy. In theory, it was supposed to be able to more precisely target the cancerous cells—the way radiation did—while limiting the worst side effects caused by those toxic chemical compounds. Some scientists in Russia had created it. They began testing it in Europe almost three years ago. Unfortunately, the results weren’t great.

  “What do you mean?” I asked when Jon glossed over that fact.

  He groaned. “Has anyone ever told you that you are incredibly rude? I mean, I can’t think of anyone who interrupts more than you do.”

  How about you? “Could you elaborate? Please?”

  “Well, there were deaths, for one. And other side effects.”

  “Such as?”

  “She told me, but I’m not a doctor. I did play one in that episode of EMS: Boston. Remember? Nailed it. Possibly my best work. No lie. But, I mean, actually understanding that lingo? No way.”

  “Anything else?”


  “If you stop interrupting.”

  I remained silent.

  “If I understood her, one of the worst side effects was, like, it multiplied the cancer cells instead of killing them.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Right? That’s, like, some mad scientist stuff or whatever.”

  “So if it makes things worse, why were they still using it?”

  “Sophie said what she gathered was there's lots of money invested in it. Like, mucho dinero. From many different sources. All of them literally banking on this drug curing cancer.”

  “But, people have died. Why not try another drug?”

  “Why not stop interrupting me?”

  This time I couldn’t hold my tongue. “Did they at least, you know, tweak the compound or something? Try to improve it?”

  “I was getting to that.” I could almost hear him rolling his eyes. “Yeah, they were tweaking it. I mean, they had tweaked it, but the trial periods were so bad, no one wanted to try the altered drug.”

  “So they had to find a way to make people try it,” I realized.

  “Huh?”

  “Think about it, Jon. Natalie’s dad is the head of a hospital in New Orleans. It’s not MD Anderson, but they have an oncology department. And it’s a poor hospital treating patients who can’t afford their own insurance.”

  “So?”

  “So what better place to test an experimental drug you would like to work the kinks out of and get approved?”

  “Hold on there, Nancy Drew,” Jon scoffed. “I get what you’re saying. In theory. But, come on, that’s a stretch. Seriously. Why would these foreign big wigs put their product in the hands of some no-named doctor at some random hospital in New Orleans, Louisiana? Why not try it in some well-known medical city like Boston?”

  “Because where is it more likely a drug like that could be used under the radar? Some random hospital in New Orleans or a well-known medical city like Boston?” I challenged.