There was a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before. “This is such an important issue, how could I refuse? You do realize that Carlson will be furious.”
I shrugged. “I’m meeting with him later this morning. I’ll make sure that his anger’s directed at me, not at you.”
“I see. Well, it’s your neck. Did you have anyone in mind for the other members?”
“You mentioned Hank Richards as another member of the IRB. Would he be good?” Richards was another one of the faculty members who I thought was at least moderately supportive of Carolyn.
Farnsworth smiled. “An excellent choice. And how about Carl Pollack for the third?”
Pollack had been on the fence about Carolyn when we spoke, but he was clearly willing to consider the case on its merits. Which was all I wanted.
“Fine with me. Do you want to ask them or should I?”
“I’m happy to—I’ll go see them now.” She got up. “And thank you. For giving us the chance to deal with this fairly.”
“No, thank you for taking it on. I’ll let you know once I’ve talked to Carlson, and you can move forward.” I started to leave, and then I remembered. “Oh, one other thing I wanted to mention. I was at the hospital and saw the patient in the ICU last night. Her hair was falling out.”
Farnsworth looked puzzled. “That’s odd. Hair loss doesn’t usually happen with these kinds of drugs. I’ll be sure to look into it.”
19
I got back to my office with just enough time to call Karen before Carlson was due to show up, so I shut myself in and dialed her number. It went to voice mail, meaning she was in a meeting or out on a case. I sent a text instead; she could read it at her leisure.
Things are crazy here. Carolyn’s patient died last night. She’s devastated. I wound up spending the night at her house because she didn’t want to be alone. Husband was in Portland and wouldn’t come home, seems like a real asshole. Have set up special committee to investigate patient’s death, but will need to stay up here to manage things. Talk later. Xoxo
The knock on my door came as soon as I pressed send. As if it were on cue. I checked my watch—Carlson was right on time.
I arranged my face into a smile as I got up to greet him. No matter how much I disliked the man, my goal was to make this meeting as smooth as possible.
I greeted him with what I hoped passed for genuine warmth. “Thanks for coming to see me. Let’s sit over here.” I motioned him to my conference table, setting a more informal tone than our previous meetings when I’d made him sit in a chair across from my desk.
Carlson ignored my attempt at friendliness. “Gelman’s case has become a very grave matter,” he pronounced. “A toxic death like this in a clinical trial could compromise the reputation of the entire institute unless it’s dealt with quickly and definitively.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Prompt and decisive action is clearly needed.”
He looked momentarily surprised. “I’m glad you agree. I’ll call a meeting of the IRB as soon as possible, hopefully within a couple of days. We’ll need to review the records, and then we’ll be able to order a halt to the trial. We need to get the community members involved, so the process may take a week or so. But I’ll move as fast as I can.”
“I think we need to move even more rapidly. I want to see this resolved as soon as possible.”
“Absolutely, I couldn’t agree more,” he said. “The only problem is our community members, who have to be invited to all IRB meetings. They’re very willing to help, but they’re both physicians, and scheduling can be a little tricky.”
I nodded sympathetically. “I understand. But evaluating this problem doesn’t need full IRB involvement. I’ve decided to appoint a small ad hoc faculty committee to review the case and report directly to me for action. That should let us move with appropriate haste.”
He smiled. “That’s an excellent idea. I’ll be happy to chair a streamlined committee to take care of this. Would you like me to find the additional members?”
“Thank you; I appreciate the offer. But I think having you as chair would make it look as if it were still the IRB, which would then be operating outside of regulations. I’ve asked Leslie Farnsworth to take the lead on this, and she reluctantly agreed. She’s getting the other members on board now.”
His eyes bulged as he sat up in his chair. “Farnsworth! You can’t have her do this.”
“Why not? She’s the senior woman in the institute, so we won’t face any accusations of gender bias. And she’s a member of the IRB, so she’s well versed in the necessary procedures.”
“But she’s a major supporter of Gelman! We can’t trust her to handle this objectively.”
I waved a hand. “Surely you don’t mean that. An issue of patient safety—I think we can have full confidence in her objectivity.”
He snorted. “I suppose the other members have been chosen as well?”
“Hank Richards and Carl Pollack.”
He turned red as he stood and leaned over the table, thrusting his face into mine. “You son of a bitch, you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do! With that committee, you’re turning this into a whitewash of Gelman.”
I started to respond, but he cut me off. “Don’t bother to deny it. The question is why? What’s your relationship with her? Whatever your reason, I’m not going to let you get away with this.”
He turned and walked out, without bothering to slam the door this time. Maybe he was set on more deliberate action.
I took a deep breath and went to my desk to send Leslie Farnsworth an email.
Just talked to Carlson. He’s pissed of course, but all clear for you to proceed.
Her response was immediate.
Good, thanks. I’ve already talked to Richards and Pollack. They’re on board. We need to get the trial records from Gelman. Should I go see her, or do you want to tell her what’s going on first?
I responded that I’d talk to her and headed to Carolyn’s office. The door was barely cracked open, so I knocked and waited.
The voice from inside was less than welcoming. “Who is it?”
I pushed the door open and went in. “Just me. How’re you doing?”
Her expression morphed into a smile. “Oh, hi. I’m hanging in, trying to act as normal as possible. Thanks for stopping by.”
I nodded my approval. “Actually, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
Her smile faded. “I know, you’re going to have to do an IRB investigation of Emily’s death. I understand; you don’t have any choice.”
“We do need an investigation, but I’ve decided not to use the IRB. I’ve appointed a special ad hoc committee instead.”
“Of course, whatever you think. Carlson will be chair, I assume. Who else will be on it?”
“Actually, Leslie Farnsworth will be chair. The other members are Hank Richards and Carl Pollack.”
Her eyes widened. Then she grinned. “My God, thank you! Do you know what you’ve done?”
“No more than my job. This will ensure that the case gets prompt action.” I gave her a wink. “And that you’ll get a fair hearing.”
I suspected that she was still smiling when I got back to my office. I certainly was. So far, it had been a good day’s work.
But I knew there would be more to come.
20
With the crisis of Carolyn’s patient at least temporarily on hold, I set up a Zoom meeting with the members of my lab back in Boston. It wasn’t like being there, but it was a semi-decent substitute. Not only did it give us a chance to see and talk to each other, but it also let them show their data on the screen so we could look at it together as we discussed future experiments.
I’d gotten about halfway through my roster of lab members when my phone buzzed to announce an incoming text. I took a quick glance at what it was, and had to stifle a gasp of panicked surprise. Then I interrupted my Zoom meeting, saying an emergency had come up and I’d get
back to them later.
My hands were shaking as I held the phone in front of me. The message was a photo of Carolyn and me on her front porch. She was wearing her robe and pajamas and had her arms wrapped around me in the hug she’d given me as I was leaving. The accompanying text was brief and to the point.
Hope you enjoyed yourself last night. But time to stop protecting her. Back off her case.
A mix of reactions ripped through me. First my stomach turned over. How could someone do this to me?
Then rage boiled up. Carlson! I’ll kill the son of a bitch.
I tore out of my office and headed down the hall to Carlson’s. He’d gone too far this time. I fantasized about beating him to a pulp, but rationality slowly began to take over. Even better, I’d use this to force him to resign. Attempting to blackmail me was unacceptable by any standards—I’d have his job for it.
It wasn’t until I was halfway to his office that doubts began to surface. If I confronted Carlson with the text, he’d just deny that it was from him. Probably laugh at me for thinking he’d do something like that. I needed proof that he was the sender before I could act.
I stopped in the hallway and took a deep breath. Then I took my phone out to check the sender’s number. No luck there. It was from the 213 area code, not Maine’s 207.
Googling area code 213 told me it was from Los Angeles. Not obviously Carlson, but it could have been sent from a burner phone or a fake number. He was smart enough not to use his own phone for this.
I didn’t know how to trace the number to get further information. But I knew who did.
I started back to my office to call Karen.
By the time I got there, two sets of questions were bouncing around in my head. First, was it really Carlson? Whoever took the picture had to have known I was at Carolyn’s house last night and had been waiting there when I left this morning. I had trouble imagining Carlson pulling that off. Could he have a private investigator following Carolyn? Or me? Possible, but either of those alternatives seemed like a stretch. Why would he bother? He couldn’t have anticipated this.
Getting Karen’s help, with the resources of the FBI at her disposal, was undoubtedly the best way to sort this out. But did I really want to send her this picture? It wasn’t exactly innocent-looking. Which of course was why the blackmailer had threatened me with it. True, I’d already told Karen that I’d spent the night at Carolyn’s, but she hadn’t responded to my message. I didn’t know what she was thinking at this point, and if she was upset, this photo wouldn’t help.
On the other hand, it would be better for her to get it from me than from whoever was trying to blackmail me. And after all we’d been through together, Karen and I knew each other about as well as any two people could. We trusted each other, and I could trust her with the truth of this. My fears to the contrary were paranoid. Right?
I forwarded her the text, with a brief explanation. And a queasy feeling that wouldn’t quite leave the pit of my stomach.
This photo is crazy. Call me to talk about it. Someone took this when I was leaving Carolyn’s this morning and is trying to blackmail me. Can you figure out who it’s from?
The minutes passed slowly. I thought about reconnecting with the lab in Boston, but couldn’t concentrate on anything else while I waited for Karen to call. Twenty minutes went by, and I was sweating. I looked at the photo again. Carolyn was wearing pajamas and a lightweight robe, clinging tightly to me. It didn’t look like just a friendly hug. Had Karen misinterpreted it? Or rather, drawn the obvious conclusion?
Finally, she called.
“Want to tell me what the hell’s going on?” Her voice was cold.
“Like I texted, Carolyn was upset about her patient going into the ICU last night. Her husband was in Portland, and she asked me to stay over so she wouldn’t be alone. I spent the night in her guest room and left the next morning, when someone took that picture.”
“So nothing happened? You were alone in the guest room all night?”
I wanted to say “Yes” and move on. But I couldn’t.
“No, it got more complicated.” I heard a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, but I continued. “The patient died in the early morning hours, and the doctor called Carolyn. She was hysterical and she came in, asking me to hold her. She spent the rest of the night in bed with me, but nothing else happened. I swear, we’re not involved that way.”
Silence on the other end of the phone. It felt like hours passed before Karen spoke.
“Shit, Brad. Do you really expect me to believe that?”
I broke into a sweat as I started to protest. “It’s true—”
She cut me off. “Look, I can’t deal with this now. Let’s put it on hold and talk more about it when I see you. That is, if you still want me to come up on Friday?”
“Of course! Karen, I love you. There’s nothing between Carolyn and me.”
Her voice stayed cold. “All right, I’ll see you Friday then. I need some time to try to process this.”
My stomach turned over. “Karen, please. Nothing happened. Can’t you trust me?”
“I’d like to,” she said after a long pause. “I’ll try. We’ll talk Friday.”
21
I stared at the wall after Karen ended the call, a hollow ball of fear in my stomach. How could I have been so goddamned stupid as to send her that photo? Of course she was upset; what had I expected? My eyes settled on the picture of piping plovers. An endangered species. Like my relationship with Karen had suddenly become.
My dark thoughts were interrupted by the ping of an incoming text. It was Karen! Had she realized things were okay between us? I opened the message in eager anticipation, only to be let down again.
I don’t know what to feel or think about the photo. It will take time. But I wanted to let you know it came from a burner phone. My guys can’t identify the sender, but they did track down where it was sent from by checking the phone’s location. It was from Boston, the Kendall Square area in Cambridge.
At least she cared enough to try to help. Maybe things would be all right. I’d just have to respect her wishes and give her a few days. I didn’t know how I’d manage that, but the best I could do was try to focus on something else.
Her text seemed to rule out Carlson as the culprit. He’d been in my office this morning—no way he could have sent the photo from Boston. Conceivably, he’d sent it to an accomplice there, who then sent it to me. But that seemed like far too intricate a plot for him to have set up. First having me tailed to Carolyn’s, then an all-night stakeout to get the picture, now someone in Boston to act as a relay. As much as I wanted to think it was Carlson, I couldn’t believe he’d put all that together.
Then who? Someone sneaking a picture like that smelled like a private investigator. Maybe someone was tailing Carolyn. Her marriage certainly didn’t seem like it was in very good shape. Maybe her asshole husband was having her followed, hoping for divorce ammunition.
But why would her husband want to use the photo to make me back down from supporting her? It would be in his interest for her to get tenure and keep her job if he was planning on a divorce. Unless he just wanted to hurt her so badly that he didn’t care about a potential divorce settlement.
I realized that I was getting nowhere when Anna knocked and came through the door. She had an odd look on her face—somewhere between surprise and awe. “It’s President Houghton’s office. They want me to get you on a Zoom conference with her.”
I would’ve laughed at her expression if I wasn’t too upset from my call with Karen.
“It’s all right, Anna. She’s president of the university, not the country. Just send me the link and let me know when.”
“I just emailed you the link. They said it’s an emergency and she’s waiting to talk to you now.”
I signed on and was greeted by the unsmiling face of Claire Houghton’s receptionist. “Please hold, President Houghton will be with you shortly.”
&nbs
p; Moments later, Claire Houghton appeared on the screen. “You make enemies pretty quickly,” she said. “Good ones, too.”
Carlson? His complaining about me wasn’t unexpected, although I was surprised by the apparent urgency of Claire’s reaction.
“Can’t say I’m surprised. Making enemies has always been one of my talents. Carlson?”
“Of course, Carlson. I’ve heard from him a couple of times, but he’s easy enough to put off.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I got a call today from Arthur Friedland. He’s not so easy to ignore.”
The name rang a bell, but it was vague. “Who’s he?”
She sighed audibly. “For one, he’s a member of my board of trustees, and one of our biggest donors. Meaning when he talks, I listen. He’s also a friend of Carlson’s, and to make matters worse, he’s one of the higher-ups at Pharmathor.”
“The company that’s sponsoring Mark Heller’s aloxinor research?”
“Correct. As well as giving Carlson a hefty sum. And according to Friedland, you’re endangering his company’s investment at MTRI by allowing Carolyn Gelman’s clinical trial to become a scandal.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake! That’s ridiculous.”
“We don’t tell Arthur Friedland that he’s being ridiculous. He says that one of Gelman’s patients has died of drug toxicity and the trial should be halted. But you’ve refused to do so. Friedland says that allowing this to continue will taint the institute’s entire reputation.”
“It’s true that a patient has died, but there’s no evidence that her death was due to drug toxicity. In fact, given the history of both the patient and the trial, I think that’s highly unlikely. I’ve appointed a faculty committee to look into it, and I’ll act according to their recommendation.”
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