by Dana Killion
“Looking forward to it.” I smiled back at her.
Michael stepped into the reception area. He’d ditched the jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. I had the urge to tell him how cute he looked, and might have, if I hadn’t been mad at him.
Cai and I stood.
“Time for me to get back to work,” Cai said. “I’ll speak to you later.”
“Detective.” She nodded and took a few steps, but when she was certain Michael’s back was to her, she lifted her wrists together in a “cuff-me” gesture and winked.
I cleared my throat with a fake cough and tried to keep my mind on anything but Michael’s bedroom maneuvers, whether that was with me or anyone else. Nothing good would come of those thoughts.
“You okay?”
I nodded. Not trusting myself to say anything.
“I’m done with Olivia for now. But I want to keep her in the conference room a little bit longer. We’re wrapping up with Nadell and I want to make sure he’s safely out of the building before we have another incident on our hands.”
He looked at me as if wanting to say something more.
Best if we didn’t go there. Too much craziness had happened today, too much emotion. “Thanks for letting me know. Can I speak with her now?”
“It’s fine with me, as long as her attorney agrees. But wait here until you see Nadell leave.”
As if on cue, Nadell and Turow, stormed through the lobby. I could see that Nadell was still seething by his get-out-of-my-way stride. He didn’t give anyone a glance. Michael and I headed down the hall toward Olivia.
As we entered the room, attorney and client sat next to each other speaking in low tones but looked up when we entered.
“Olivia, you’re free to go now,” Michael said. “Thank you so much for your help.” He nodded to me and left.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“No, I want to get the hell out of here. Can I go now?” she said to Price.
“You heard the officer.” He pulled a business card out of his breast pocket and laid it in front of her. “I’d like you to come into my office tomorrow and we can spend some time digesting what’s happened today.” She mumbled she would, grabbed his card off the table, and her bag, then headed out the door.
“Well?” I said. “What do we know?”
“We know that your young friend has some serious daddy issues.”
37
Olivia, wait up.” She was out of the police station and halfway to the bus stop before I caught up with her. Her trademark chunky scarf coiled her neck against the cold and heavy wool socks were pulled over her jeans, peeking out of the top of her Doc Martens.
She swung on her heels at the sound of my voice. “Are you here to find out what’s really happening at VTF or to set me up as a scapegoat for your friend? Right now, it feels like I’m the one who’s got a target on my head. Why the hell are you here?”
Her anger hadn’t lessened. But this time I was the one in the line of fire. I pulled the collar of my coat tighter to my neck, shivers starting to kick in.
“I’m trying to find out who or what is poisoning people. Just as I’ve told you all along. I want the truth. I need the truth. My sister was a victim too.”
Olivia’s expression softened lightly. “Sorry, I’m just messed up right now. Is she okay?”
“She’s going to recover because we were able to figure out what was making her ill. There’s a medication that counteracts the effects of the poison, but how many others have been affected? We don’t know how many bottles are still in circulation or how many are sitting in backstock on retail shelves? Others could die. I’m doing everything I can to prevent that, but we still don’t know the full picture.”
I shuffled my feet and pulled my coat closer to my neck, trying to control the shivering.
She seemed to calm down. “Look, I just want to go home. I’m all talked out. I can’t even think any more.” She looked at her phone. “My bus should be here in a few minutes.”
“Can I give you a ride?” A cold blast of wind hit us in the face. The weather wasn’t improving. This unusually early cold snap showed no sign of ending anytime soon. Snow flurries had been picking up steam all day and threatened to become an all-out storm with over a week to go before Thanksgiving. But this was Chicago; it could be 65 again next week.
“Okay, I’m out by Midway. Is that too far?”
“Not at all.”
She followed me to the parking lot. I turned on the engine, cranked up the heat, and let her get in, and then pulled out the scraper to clean the snow frozen to my windshield.
We both were quiet on the drive. I sensed Olivia’s need to process her thoughts, so we drove in silence. According to the WXRT traffic report, there were two accidents on the Stevenson, so Olivia directed me west on Archer, south on Cicero, and ultimately to a small one-story brick bungalow just south of the airport. The yard was tidy with simple shrubs lining the stoop as was every other house on the block. They only varied in the amount of holiday decorations that were already enhancing the decor.
I pulled to the curb and turned off the car. Olivia made no move to exit.
“Do you feel like talking about any of this? Nadell? VTF?” I asked.
“I guess. Come on inside.”
I followed her up the three steps to the front door where she pulled out keys and undid the lock. The door opened to a small living room. A deep comfortable sofa and loveseat loaded with pillows and afghans rested in the corner. A shelving unit filled with books and photos anchored the room. And a newer TV rested on a small oak stand. It was warm and comfortable and homey. It also surprised me. I didn’t seem like student digs.
She unwrapped her neck and hung the scarf and coat on a hook near the door, then held out her hand for mine. “Do you want water or something?” she asked.
“A glass of water would be great.” As she walked to the back toward the kitchen, I scanned the bookshelf. Mary Higgins Clark, Danielle Steel, Agatha Christie. Interesting. Not what I would have expected from a 22-year-old. I looked around the room again. Was this her mother’s home? The photos were mostly images of a happy, smiling young girl who I assumed were Olivia in her childhood. A larger photo framed in silver sat in a prominent spot in the center. It was of the young girl and a woman in her early thirties. Heads together, they smiled brightly at the camera.
“Here.” Olivia held out a glass.
“Is this you and your mother?” I held up the photo. I could see the resemblance in their eyes, the shape of the nose. I could feel their happiness.
“Yeah, I was six. That was taken on my birthday. We went to the Field Museum. I wanted to see Sue.” She smiled at the memory. “I was really into dinosaurs back then and the idea of seeing a real-live T. Rex was the coolest thing that had ever happened to me. I didn’t want to leave. I guess I told her was going to stay there and live with Sue. She had to take me to the gift shop and buy me a plastic one so I would go home.”
“She sounds like a good mom. When did she die?”
Olivia moved over and took a seat on the sofa so I put the photo back in its place and followed.
“She died two years ago. Cancer. This was her house, well, our house. It’s the only place I’ve ever lived. I inherited it when she died. I haven’t really changed anything. I guess I still want it to feel like she’s around.”
“I’m sorry. I lost my mother when I was a teenager. I know how it turns your life inside out.” I was getting a glimpse of where Olivia’s tough-girl attitude was coming from. She was angry, angry at the world for taking her mother, angry at Nadell for a whole host of things better left for a therapist to untangle.
I sat on the loveseat, my body turned to face her. The afternoon sun streamed in, glinting off the picture frames. Olivia looked drained, depleted of energy. It was as if the events of the day had drained her of emotion.
She grabbed a throw pillow and pulled it to her chest, then tucked her feet
underneath her. “Growing up it was always just my mom and me. She didn’t have any other family, so neither did I. Not in the U.S. anyway. I think there are some cousins back in Ukraine, I’m not sure. Anyway, it didn’t bother me or anything, it was just normal. She was amazing. We were happy.”
“What did she tell you about your father?” I asked.
“When I was a kid, nothing. I didn’t start bugging her about it until I was in high school. She was working two jobs and money was always tight. I didn’t mind that we didn’t have money, none of my friends did either, but she was exhausted all the time. It was making her sick. She was doing everything for me to have a good life and not taking care of herself. It seemed like he, whoever he was, should help. I only cared about the money because she needed it.”
“And did she tell you?” I kept my voice soft, conscious of not adding to her burden.
“At first, she just said that he was someone who didn’t want a family. And if he didn’t want us, then she didn’t want him. I let it go. But at the end, when she knew she was dying, she told me the whole story.”
Olivia turned away, her focus on some spot on the carpet. Clearly the memory was still painful.
“She’d had an affair with a man named Aaron Nadell. At the time, he was her boss. Her married boss. When he found out she was pregnant, he told her he’d pay for an abortion. She said no way, she was keeping me. So he bought her this house. Paid cash. Made sure it was about as far away from his as he could get, then fired her, and told her never to get in touch with him again. That’s the kind of royal prick he is.”
My gut clenched and a new level of loathing for the man seeped in. The image of his face earlier this morning when he realized Olivia was his daughter flashed in my mind. And still he denied it. I felt my own body tense, imagining the rage Olivia had carried with her the past two years, seeing her in a new light. Underneath was a strength few her age possessed.
I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts. “Do you know if your mother honored that request?”
“As far as I know, she did.”
“So this morning was the first time Nadell knew who you were?” Why had Olivia waited to confront him?
“Yep. Not exactly a warm welcome, was it?” her voice was getting steely again as she relived the incident. “It’s not like I expected him to be anything other than the shit he was to my mother.”
A new thought came to mind.
“I don’t know how to ask this question other than to be direct,” I said, watching her face. “Did you seek out a position at VTF because you knew that Nadell was involved?”
“You’re damn right I did. That S.O.B. doesn’t get to ignore me anymore. He needs to be held accountable for being an asshole. Even if it’s just by his wife.”
“But you didn’t confront him. Not before today,” I said, puzzled by the lag. “Your reaction today seemed to just burst out of you. It wasn’t planned.” I looked at her and leaned forward, putting my elbows on my knees.
She hugged the pillow and pushed back a loose strand of hair. “I’ve been waiting, trying to figure out how and when. Planning what I would say to him. I even went to his office once, but they wouldn’t let me see him. I wanted to nail him, expose him for what he is as publicly as possible. But today, when I saw him finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
A tear ran slowly down her cheek while I wiped away my own.
38
The drive back from Olivia’s had been brutal, not just because of the awful traffic on the Stephenson, but also because of my inability to sort through this VTF situation. It was getting messier by the moment.
I’d used the time taking advantage of my Bluetooth connection to check in with a number of people. I phoned my father who told me Lane was reacting well to the new medication and would probably be released tomorrow. Phoned the hospital, which wouldn’t give out information on Seth’s condition, so I then tried Michael, but just got his voicemail. After that, I put in a call to Martin who only had time to tell me that CPD was back, this time with a search warrant to take samples of raw material.
By the time I was back to the office, it was 3:30. I was hungry, tired, and desperate for a couple of Advil. I picked up a sad-looking pre-made salad from the corner deli and headed upstairs.
I waved to Brynn, tossed my coat on the top of the file cabinet in my office and flopped into the desk chair.
A nagging thought had kept me company on the drive. Had Olivia intended to do something other than expose Nadell as her father? Her anger and hatred seemed deep-seated. I could only imagine the blame she placed on him for her difficult life, and more importantly that of her mother’s. Like it or not, I couldn’t help wonder about her desire for revenge.
I took a drink of my Pellegrino, a few stabs at the iceberg lettuce, and opened my laptop. I’d been so preoccupied lately with my sister’s health and the situation at the VTF that I had all but neglected any other work. Borkowski was breathing down my neck for another installment on the mayoral run.
Brynn rushed into my office. “Turn on your TV.”
As I hit the clicker, Michael Hewitt’s face filled the screen.
“At this point, we’ve linked two deaths to the consumption of VTF energy drinks. We believe the product has been contaminated with a plant-based toxin. At this time, we have not isolated the contamination to a specific lot number or date. We’re working with VTF Industries to determine that information and will provide it to the public as soon as it’s available. Therefore, we are strongly encouraging consumers to discontinue consumption.”
Martin stood to Michael’s left, visibly shaken. He stepped up to the mic, a sheet of paper in hand. Where was Nadell? With Seth hospitalized why wasn’t he playing spokesman?
“As Officer Hewitt said, the drinks may have been contaminated. So, to be safe, please do not consume the product,” Martin said, his voice cracking. He looked down at the paper in his hands and read. “We’re asking all retailers who may have back inventory to set it aside and not sell it to the public. We’ve set up a hotline for anyone concerned about their own exposure and we will work with our retail partners to deal with their existing inventory. VTF is dedicated to resolving the situation immediately and will do everything it can to regain the trust of the public.”
Short, sweet, and written by an attorney.
Brynn turned to me. “Now I know where you’ve been all day.”
“You don’t know the half of it yet.” I looked at her and flopped back in my chair. We turned back to the screen.
A reporter called out, “Is this sabotage? A disgruntled employee? Or a dishonest vendor?” Another said, “Do you have a suspect? What’s the toxin?”
Michael took the mic. “The toxin is a botanical material called belladonna. We are interviewing employees, past and present. Vendors. Anyone who might be able to shed some light on the subject, but at this point we don’t know why it was found in the drink. VTF and its CEO, Seth Bowman are cooperating fully.”
“Make you thirsty?” Brynn teased.
I rolled my eyes. And I wondered if Michael had intentionally tied Seth directly to the investigation. It was completely obvious to me he failed to mention that Seth himself seemed to be a victim.
“Wait, a second?” I squinted at the screen “They’re in the Loop, standing on the sidewalk outside of Nadell’s office. Damn.” I jumped to my feet. “I gotta go. I think they’re about to arrest him.”
“How does Nadell fit into this?” Brynn asked, tilting her head to the side as she watched me flit.
“He’s VTF’s money guy,” I said, grabbing my coat and bag. “We have a lot to get caught up on. I’ll call you after I know what the charges are. Nobody knows about him, so we’ll have the story first. Fill Borkowski in, clear your schedule, and stay near the phone.”
“Will do,” she said as I dashed out the door.
I jumped in a cab, making the trip in just under fifteen minutes. Two cop cars were parked in front of the bu
ilding, empty. So I headed inside.
Stepping off the elevator, I walked down the hall and opened the frosted glass door of the Nadell Capital office. Inside I found a flustered receptionist but not a cop in sight. She barely glanced at me as she flipped through some documents on her desk while juggling the phone in the other hand. Her hand was shaking and the only thing she was saying to the caller was “I don’t know.”
As I stood waiting for her, the interior door opened. Michael stepped out followed by two officers and Aaron Nadell in handcuffs. The receptionist was now in tears seemingly unable to comprehend what was happening. I hit the recording app on my cell.
“Mrs. Nadell will be here any minute,” she said to no one in particular.
“Call my attorney,” Nadell said, to the stunned woman. “Have him meet me at police headquarters.”
She nodded vigorously and grabbed for the phone again.
Michael paused when he saw me but said nothing, tightened his jaw, and moved his charge toward the door. As he did so, Candiss Nadell walked in.
“What is going on?” she demanded, running her eyes around the group assembled here. She stopped when she saw me, furrowed her brow, then directed her gaze at Michael. “What are you charging my husband with and where are you taking him?” Aside from the urgent tone in her voice, she gave no hint of being flustered. Not even her husbands arrest impacted her impeccable appearance.
“For starters, your husband is being brought in on reckless endangerment in regard to his involvement with VTF Industries,” Michael said, then explained that Nadell’s attorney could fill her in on the details. He then escorted his suspect out of their office.
“Meet me in Aaron’s office in ten minutes,” she said to the receptionist. “Call any clients he has scheduled for today and tomorrow and reschedule for next week. I want an update on the status of any open issues or projects. And a cup of coffee. Did you get to the attorney?”