Chapter Eighteen
“Thanks for calling me back,” Maura said. “Can you all hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Lieu,” Bernadette said. “You’re on speaker.”
“We discovered why Nick LaSalle stopped paying his college loans.”
“Excellent,” Kep said. “What are your findings?”
“Back in January, he was awarded a scholarship—the Midwestern Regional Scholarship for Computer Science.”
“Nice generic name,” Bernadette said, then cocked her head. “He got the scholarship after he graduated?”
“Unusual, to say the least,” Maura said. “Some of these large tech corporations that are sitting on trillions of dollars are paying off the college loans for some of their employees in exchange for staying at the company for a certain number of years. Decreases turnover and the loss of—uh, what do they call it—institutional knowledge."
“But Nick LaSalle works for the university who educated him,” Bernadette said. “Is there anything at all that would be considered ‘institutional knowledge’ for an IT manager at Kilbourn Tech?”
“That’s another unusual thing—it wasn’t a scholarship given by the university. It was a third party.”
“Who?”
“I’m working on that right now.”
“Look at the tax ID,” Bernadette said. “Even if the scholarship was given anonymously, the payor has to be registered for a tax write-off.”
“Okay—let me check.” The sound of typing on Maura’s end. “Hmm. ‘Anonymous Donation.’ No tax ID.”
“Check the location. That can be obfuscated, too, but maybe whoever set up that scholarship overlooked it.”
“Cleveland, Ohio.” Maura paused. “Sure would be a lot faster with Curtis here. He’d know how to speed this up.”
Bernadette looked at Kep, but he was staring at his phone, lost in concentration. She cleared her throat. “You still haven’t heard from him?”
“The uniforms visited the dorms,” Maura said, “but there was no sign of him.”
“How about the SUV?”
“We have a BOLO issued. And nothing in the local hospitals.”
“Maybe no news is good news.”
“Maybe,” Maura said distantly. “Aha—there’s an EIN. It looks like it’s associated with an umbrella corporation. Mid-America Medical Holdings, Inc.”
An itch in Bernadette’s brain.
Kep typed on his phone. “I’m performing a web search. It takes a Herculean effort to obfuscate the name of a company like this. Perhaps they left a footprint behind.”
“I bet they own Parr Medical,” Bernadette said.
“Parr Medical?” Kep continued to click on his screen.
“That’s right. The company that offered Eddie Taysatch a job. They’re based in Cleveland, right?”
Kep looked quizzically at Bernadette.
“Oh, of course. You were off following your own leads this morning.” She exhaled loudly. “Parr Medical offered Eddie Taysatch a job to jump ship before the school year. Eddie didn’t do it because he wanted to see this research through.”
Kep rubbed his chin. “Is it possible Eddie Taysatch discovered something about the scholarship?”
“Like what?”
“Perhaps he found out that it wasn’t awarded in good faith,” Kep said. “It could be why he was targeted.”
Bernadette’s brow creased. “You’re saying it was a bribe.”
“I’m raising the possibility,” Kep said, clicking on his phone screen. “Perhaps this is all tied into corporate espionage.”
“Hang on,” Maura said, keys clicking in the background. “Parr Medical. I’ve come across their name before.”
Kep’s eyes widened. “You’re right—the holding company is owned by a different subsidiary of Parr Medical.”
“That’s where I saw it,” Maura said. “Parr Medical is a competitor to Eponymous Pharmaceutical.”
“Who?”
“Eponymous Pharmaceutical. They’re the company whose grant is funding the cancer project at Kilbourn Tech.”
“You knew who was funding the Freshie project?” Bernadette said. “We’ve been trying to get it out of Lightman since we got here.”
“Curtis ran an inquiry with the FDA. The results just came back an hour ago.” She typed on her keyboard and hit the enter key, then Bernadette’s PC dinged. “There you go.”
“No matter who they are, they’re working on a cure for cancer,” Kep said. “Is stopping the Eponymous research so important that Parr Medical would kill one of their competitors’ employees?”
“It might be,” Maura said. “If they were developing a competing medication and if their release schedule was significantly behind Eponymous.” She exhaled. “Eddie Taysatch got out of surgery half an hour ago. He lost a lot of blood. It’s touch and go.”
“What do we do next?” Bernadette asked.
“I’ll keep digging,” Maura said. “If I can get Lesley to research this too, we may get some good leads.”
“Have you heard anything about when the warrant hearing might be?” Kep asked. “We need CSI in that room.”
“I’ve talked to the U.S. Attorney,” Maura said, “but it might not be enough to approve the warrant. Dr. Woodhead might have to get on the stand and talk about his unique talent.”
“My supershnozz,” he said brightly.
“Your what?”
“Never mind,” Bernadette said quickly.
“I don’t expect to get an update until tomorrow morning,” Maura said. “Although if I keep pressing, the judge may conduct a hearing this evening. But I wouldn’t hold my breath—Judge Baldwin isn’t a fan of federal government overreach.”
“That’s probably why he’s dragging his feet.”
“It’s certainly possible,” Maura admitted. “Are the two of you conducting more interviews tonight?”
Kep and Bernadette looked at each other.
“I think we should keep going,” Kep said.
“Who do you want to talk with?”
“Have you procured an address for Cecilia Carter yet?”
“I’ve narrowed down the address to an apartment building. We need the unit number. We might have it soon.”
“Then while we’re waiting, let’s talk to Professor Lightman.”
“Again?”
“Yes,” Kep said. “He needs to tell us exactly what the endgame of this project is. Now that we know Eponymous Pharmaceutical is bankrolling the research, he won’t have to break his confidentiality agreement—and he might be more forthcoming.”
“True. Especially if he’s afraid his life is in danger.”
“At least he should be aware that someone paid Nick LaSalle to install spyware on an employee’s machine.”
“Should we talk to LaSalle too?”
“Let’s see what Lightman has to say first.”
“Dunn put a protective detail on him,” Maura said. “He’s still at the Freshie.”
“Is Curtis back?”
“No, and he hasn’t checked in yet,” she said, a note of worry creeping into her voice. “The officer I sent down there reported that nothing was amiss at the dorm, and Annika Nakrivo didn’t answer her door.”
“He’ll turn up soon enough,” Bernadette said, hoping it was true. “We’ll be on our way to the lab.”
Bernadette ended the call, turned the heat up, and sighed.
Kep glanced over at her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m concerned about Curtis. He’s been out of touch for hours.”
“You heard Maura—there’s a BOLO on the SUV. Curtis will turn up with a perfectly reasonable explanation behind his absence.”
Bernadette paused for a moment, then shook her head. “Actually—no. As much as I’d like to say that I’m most concerned about my missing co-worker, Curtis’s disappearance isn’t what’s bothering me. I’m annoyed because you ditched me this morning. I looked like an idiot in front of Maura.”
&n
bsp; “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I’m your case analyst, Kep,” she said. “Worrying about you is pretty much the entirety of my job description.”
Kep crossed his arms. “I don’t like being kept on a leash. Maura knows it. You won’t get in trouble.”
Bernadette snorted in exasperation. “If you haven’t noticed, Kep, I’m your sixth case analyst in the last two years. You ditching me isn’t good for our working relationship, and it’s not good for my continued employment at CSAB. You want to tell me why you gave me the slip?”
Kep dropped his arms to his sides and gave Bernadette an exasperated look. “May I remind you we have a suspect to interview?”
“May I remind you that we could have used your superschnozz this morning? May I remind you that a bullet passed within inches of my head?”
Kep was quiet for a moment, then he ran his hand over his face. “A little over three years ago—after New Year’s—my son was murdered.”
Bernadette inhaled sharply.
“I gave a lecture at a forensics conference in town,” he said, “but I was still a suspect. My son and I were not on good terms. He’d been employed at a website that defined ‘news’ loosely. His job title was ‘Journalist,’ but the site is the equivalent of a gossip magazine. The company was unstable; my wife and I had to send him money more than once when his paycheck was ‘delayed.’” He sighed. “He and I had argued, quite vehemently, earlier that day. He had the byline on an article on my TV show.”
“Cases That Won’t Die?” Bernadette asked.
“That’s the one. He had printed some of the complaints about the show I’d said at home. I had some unkind words about the directors, about one of the other experts on the show, and about the viewers. The producers had little choice but to let me go.” He looked down at his hands. “I suppose I only have myself to blame that the police went through my financials with such a fine-toothed comb. I was forced to take a leave of absence in my research position too, and six months later, when the investigators finally declared I was no longer a suspect, they also declared it to be a cold case. My son had been murdered, and there was no justice for him.”
“Oh—Kep, I’m so sorry.”
“My marriage didn’t survive, either. My wife blamed me. She didn’t trust me anymore. I threw myself into my work. I expanded my consulting business and started with CSAB. I started making enough money to hire a private investigator.”
Questions zoomed in Bernadette’s head. How did Kep’s son die? Where was he killed? Did he get to smell the murder scene? But she kept her mouth shut.
“If you are wondering where I was this morning, I received a call from my private investigator.”
Bernadette was silent.
“It seems we have a lead for the first time in a few months.” Kep rubbed his eyes with both hands. “I didn’t tell you about this because I didn’t want to cause a lot of drama. And I hate getting questions about it. I took the call, and then I walked around outside to calm myself down, and then I didn’t want to be around anyone. I did a little investigating on my own. By the time I caught up with you and Detective Dunn, I was myself again.”
Bernadette nodded.
“I won’t lie to you—this might happen every so often. I might get a call from the private investigator. There’s a new detective assigned to the cold case who wants to make a name for herself, so I’m trying to convince her to look at some new evidence that my investigator is digging up. I wish I could say that the case I’m working will always take top priority, but it won’t.”
“Did your other case analysts know about this?”
“Many of them were aware to varying degrees. Two of the handlers knew nothing and were probably the most frustrated by my confounding disappearances. I told Marty everything, and he was quite angry with me, because he didn’t feel like he could tell Lieutenant Stevenson.”
“Maura doesn’t know?”
“She is aware my son was murdered. She knows I occasionally disappear for a few hours. I suspect she thinks I’m partaking in mind-altering drugs, or perhaps drowning my sorrows in a bottle of top-shelf liquor. Or it’s possible she has a better opinion of me: that I’m simply a man who desires solitude and does not particularly care for the company of others.” Kep gave Bernadette a wistful smile. “I suppose that’s not far off from the truth.”
Bernadette started the engine.
They pulled into the parking lot of the Freshie at eight thirty. Kep closed the passenger door, and they walked across the lot. As they approached the double glass doors, the elevator opened inside and Zadie Michaels walked out. Kep rushed forward as Zadie pushed the door open.
Zadie gave a start, then relaxed when she saw Bernadette’s face. “Oh—good evening, officers—uh, agents. Whatever. You’re back?”
“We have a few more questions for Professor Lightman,” Kep said.
“All right. You need me to take you up?”
“We know the way.”
“What are you doing here so late, Zadie?” Bernadette asked.
“An intern’s work is never done.” Zadie sighed. “I’m trying to find the latest research data that Tommy compiled. He should have backed it up from his machine to the network on Monday afternoon. And now with Eddie out too…” She trailed off.
“Right.” Bernadette looked at the ground as Kep held the door open.
“So you weren’t able to find the data?” Kep said.
“No. Not on the hard drive, not on the network.”
“Do you think someone erased it?”
Zadie snickered. “As Professor Lightman says, I don’t get paid to offer suggestions; I get paid to find the information.”
Bernadette smiled. “I’m starting to see what you mean about Professor Lightman.”
“Seriously,” Zadie said.
“Thanks for letting us in,” Bernadette said. “Have a good night.”
Zadie walked out to the parking lot, and Bernadette and Kep entered the small lobby, pushing the elevator button. It opened immediately and the two of them got in and pushed “2.” Bernadette took her federal identification out of her purse.
“I bet Professor Lightman is sick of talking to us,” Bernadette said as the doors closed. “I didn’t exactly leave things on good terms this afternoon.”
“When we share that his competitors may have the laboratory’s proprietary information, his attitude toward us may not improve.” Kep scratched his nose and pushed his glasses up. “However, if he knows the keylogger was installed, and if he hasn’t taken steps to correct it, you and I may be adding another suspect to the list.”
“Then we should slow-play it,” Bernadette said. “See how he reacts to our questions about the data going to a competitor.”
“Agreed.”
A uniformed officer stood in front of Lightman’s office and nodded as Bernadette showed him her identification. Lightman saw them through the office window and leaped up from his desk.
“You two need to get out of here or I’m suing your whole agency for harassment.”
Bernadette folded her arms. “Is that the thanks I get for protecting your life?”
“What—you mean the officer following me around like I’m a criminal?”
Kep cut in. “A Kilbourn Tech employee was paid by another medical company—one of Eponymous Pharmaceutical’s competitors—to put that spyware on Kymer Thompson’s machine.”
Jude Lightman’s face paled. “What?”
“You heard me. We’ve tracked the payment.”
Bernadette shot Kep a look. While she suspected the payment to Nick LaSalle might be a bribe, she didn’t have the evidence to back up that claim. Still, it was a useful thing to say to get Lightman to calm down. And Kep didn’t have the same job requirements to follow as Bernadette.
“You’ve tracked—what?”
“The payment, Professor. Tens of thousands of dollars to an employee to install the keylogger.”
“One of the inter
ns?”
“We’re not at liberty to say,” Bernadette interrupted. “But you should know the project has been compromised.”
Lightman’s neck muscles tightened.
“Leaked information from Kymer Thompson’s PC is being sent to one of Eponymous Pharmaceutical’s competitors.”
“The keylogger?” Lightman’s nostrils flared. “And—how did you know our project was being funded by Eponymous? We’ve got agreements in place. The employees don’t even know.”
“CSAB is a federal agency, Professor. We’ve got ways to get sensitive information. Especially when it’s relevant to a murder investigation.”
Lightman sat on the corner of his desk then covered his face with his hands. “I can still save this,” he said. “The results of the early tests were promising. We were toying with the dosage. We’ve applied for clinical trials.”
“I know you’re disappointed—”
“Disappointed!” Lightman roared. “The five-year survival rate of lung cancer is less than twenty percent. This could have made that eighty percent—maybe even ninety with the right dosage. Hundreds of thousands of lives saved over the next decade.” He slapped the desk with an open hand. “But those lives represent over a billion dollars in profit. Parr Medical is behind this, aren’t they? They’re working on their own treatments, but they aren’t nearly as close as we are. There’s no way they’re going into clinical trials for another three years—maybe longer.” He rubbed his forehead. “They’re willing to let hundreds of thousands of people die so they can make profit instead of Eponymous.” He looked from Kep’s face to Bernadette’s. “What happened? Why was Tommy killed? Why was Eddie shot?”
“We’re following the evidence where it leads,” Kep said. “We’d like the CSI team to analyze the aquarium room. including Research Room 12.”
“Look—I don’t want to be an ass,” Lightman said.
Bernadette grunted.
“But if you get a bunch of CSI techs in that room, we won’t be able to control the environment for the ammocoetes. I don’t know what chemicals they’ll spray, or what they’ll do to the water.”
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