“There’s much of my days I can’t share with you. Not because I don’t want to or I’m hiding.” She stepped toward the edge of the table as he stood still as a statue, arms hanging stiffly at his sides. “But without work, what do I have to share? That takes up so much of my time. I’m not trying to go silent. I’m trying to protect you.”
His chin pulled to his chest like a turtle slipping into its shell. “I don’t need protecting.”
“Legally, you do. I can’t tell you about what Praecursoria is doing or what I’m managing. Too much information could lead to you breaking the law.”
“I don’t do that.”
“Not knowingly. But what if I said something that caused you to sell your stock? Or buy more? Now we’d be testing the insider trading laws. Then what happens to Almost Home? What happens to us?” She gestured between them as she came around the table, closing the gap. “I’m doing this for you.”
“Keep telling yourself that. You have to trust me.”
“No, this time you have to trust me.”
“We can’t be together if I can’t have all of you. I don’t want slices of your life that you get to pick and choose.”
“So ‘need to know’ isn’t a thing with you?”
He shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest. “No. You’re not a CIA officer.” He quirked an eyebrow. “That I know of. Is there something you need to tell me?” He studied her. “What do you want me to do? Sell?” She stared at him, but stayed silent. That was not something she could ask of him.
She appreciated his attempt at humor but felt a tension headache rumbling for release. “You know what? I think I’ll head to the cabin after all.”
“You walking away?”
“I think you already did.” She turned and left, narrowly avoiding stepping on Frodo on her way to the lodge’s door. “Sorry, bud.”
“Maybe we need to take a break.”
Brandon’s words stopped her at the door. She slowly turned back to him. “What do you mean?”
“What I said.”
The world shifted beneath her feet, and she clung to the doorknob. “Are you breaking up with me, Brandon Lancaster? You’d better be extremely clear and sure.”
“I am.” He scooped up his cat and headed for the stairs to his apartment, while she tried to breathe.
She hurried to the cabin for her things and five minutes later called Jaime. Before her friend could say hi, Caroline was sobbing. “Brandon just ended things.”
Chapter 31
Friday, June 4
The call in the middle of the night rocked Brandon from a restless sleep. Could it be Caroline?
He’d watched from the windows of his apartment as Jaime picked her up and drove away. He’d called, but she hadn’t responded. He’d wanted to break through her walls but had blasted through with all the grace of a defensive lineman. All brute strength thrust forward into the opposition, demolishing the one he loved in the process.
Caroline wasn’t the opposing team, but he’d treated her that way.
The phone rang again, and he reached for it.
Nothing good came with midnight calls, but he fought through the fog to answer.
“Hello?” He cleared his throat.
“Is this Brandon?” The voice sounded familiar, but in his barely awake state, he couldn’t place it.
“Yes, who is this?”
There was a sound like a sniffle. “This is your aunt Jody.”
Brandon pushed up against the headboard. “Everything okay?”
The woman exhaled. “Anna died about an hour ago. Her body gave out.” She sniffled and then hiccuped. “It looked like she would make it, and now she’s gone.”
He rubbed his face, trying to wake up his brain to process what he’d heard. It couldn’t be right. “Anna?”
“She’d started to wake up. She threw a clot or something, and the doctors performed an emergency C-section. Now she’s gone and never got to see Jilly.” A sob echoed across the phone. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this.”
There was a long pause, and Brandon unplugged the phone and stood. “What do you need?”
“My baby.” Her shuddering sigh vibrated in his ear. “At least the doctors saved her little girl.”
Anna gone? The reality was a shock. He couldn’t help her, but could he help her mom and daughter? “How is the baby?”
“She’s tiny but a fighter. I can’t lose them both, so I’m grateful she’s proving to be a strong newborn.” The woman wept. “What are we going to do?”
It was an unanswerable question. “Can I help?”
“Come to the hospital? The staff are asking questions I can’t answer.”
Brandon looked at his alarm clock. Two thirty. “I can leave in ten minutes. Which hospital?” He jotted down the answer. “Give me time to dress and brush my teeth.”
“Be safe.” The words had extra meaning after what had happened. “And thank you.” His aunt’s whisper cracked his stoicism as the call ended.
Anna was gone.
It wasn’t right or fair.
Her little girl would be an orphan, both parents already gone like his, though his parents had left in different ways of their choosing. He’d be sensitive to what his aunt needed since, after he was separated from Trevor, Anna was the closest thing he’d had to a sibling.
He threw on a pair of navy sweatpants, a gray T-shirt, and an oversized Colts sweatshirt, then headed to his truck. He’d alert his house parents closer to a reasonable hour but didn’t want to risk waking them as he backed his pickup from its slot and drove to the highway.
Jilly was alone.
He knew what that was like.
He’d slipped one direction while his eight-year-old brother disappeared another.
His thoughts were in full riot mode by the time he reached Inova Fairfax Hospital. If he turned right, he’d be at Inova Children’s Hospital. Instead, he parked and headed straight ahead as he texted Aunt Jody to let her know he’d arrived.
Come to the critical care floor. I’m in a small conference room off the waiting room.
Brandon straightened his shoulders and accepted his role as the support his aunt needed. He would be her rock, standing in for Uncle Clint, who would be here if not deployed halfway around the world. The man would let Aunt Jody lean into his side and take the weight of responsibility. Somehow Brandon would make the decisions she needed him to make while protecting her from the painful parts.
Somehow.
He only wished Caroline was at his side with her sweet blend of empathy and strength.
The memory of their argument speared him. He couldn’t fix that right now, but he could be there for Aunt Jody.
* * *
After a late night with Jaime collecting her car and then Ben & Jerry’s pints, Caroline woke early, trying to process everything that had gone so wrong with Brandon. Her thoughts were muddled as she replayed his affirmation he was breaking up with her. She couldn’t begin to reimagine her future without him in it.
Productive. She needed to be productive and deal with Brandon in the light of day. She’d start by dealing with the threatened lawsuit.
She pulled out her laptop to draft the basics of a response to the women’s attorney but paused when she saw an email from Lillian. Attached was a copy of the buy-sell agreement. She frowned when she read that Praecursoria had sold Genetics for You for fifty thousand dollars. That seemed low, especially because—and there it was, in black and white—the consortium that purchased it had not assumed liability for any business conducted before the sale. Why would Quentin think otherwise? She’d bring it up at today’s leadership meeting.
She glanced at her watch and rushed through taking a shower and getting ready for work. When she grabbed her phone, she froze as she read the notifications about missed calls from Brandon. There were no voicemails, so she returned his call but was sent to voicemail. She hung up and climbed into her car. After grabbing a cup of overpriced coff
ee to combat her fatigue, she joined the stream of cars flowing in fits along people’s commutes. Today’s listen was Essentialism and how to focus on what she did best. Her challenge was determining exactly what that was. Her phone buzzed, interrupting the book. She hit the button on her steering wheel to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Caroline, it’s Brandon.” He sounded terrible.
“Hey.” Last night had ended . . . badly, but she wasn’t sure where they stood today. Wasn’t even sure where she wanted them to stand. Everything felt wrong and she didn’t know how to fix it. “I’m sorry I missed your call last night. Everything okay?” During a pause, her gut clenched.
“No.” He cleared his throat as if to push words out. “Anna died early this morning.”
“Oh, Brandon.” Her heart sank and she fought the tears that wanted to come.
“They saved the baby. I’m here at the hospital with Aunt Jody. She’s overwhelmed between baby Jilly and Anna’s death.”
“I’m so sorry.” She thought a moment. She knew Brandon well enough to know he had responded to his aunt’s need without a thought, but who was thinking about his? “What do you need?”
“Nothing.” The word was gravel crunched against her ear. “Can you inform whoever at Praecursoria should know?”
“Absolutely.” She blinked rapidly as a car honked and pulled around her. She couldn’t afford to fall apart here on the road. “I’ll call later, but let me know if you need anything, okay?”
“Sure.” He sighed. “Bye.”
“Bye.” The word whispered from her throat before the call ended. She immediately began praying.
Her heart was heavy as she pulled into a parking space and walked to the building. After clearing security, she detoured to Samson Kleme’s office. As the chief science officer, he’d know who should be informed. He looked up from his computer with a frown when she knocked.
“What do you need, Caroline?”
“Anna Johnson died overnight. I’m not sure who needs to know, but the family asked me to pass the news along.”
He leaned back in his chair and his body seemed to collapse. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d hoped she’d make a full recovery.” His shoulders slumped. “She’ll be hard to replace.”
“If you or anyone else needs information, you can contact Brandon Lancaster. He’s her cousin and is helping Anna’s mother.”
“The football player?”
Caroline nodded then rattled off his number.
Samson jotted it down. “All right. Thanks for letting me know.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Me either.” Caroline hurried from his office and collided with someone. The ricochet had the woman dropping a stack of files that exploded in a paper wave across the hall. Caroline bent to help collect them, then noticed it was Lori Clark from Justin’s lab.
“You need to watch where you’re going.”
“Sorry. How are you doing?” Caroline scooped up a stack of paper that had escaped a folder.
“Great. I’ve lost two people in my lab in less than two months.” Lori scrambled to pick up other folders.
“It has to be hard.”
“I’m just the technician. They’re the ones who directed the research.” She grabbed another set of folders and tapped them on the ground to get the papers back inside. Her tapping picked up intensity as a few papers refused to slide into place.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Caroline glanced at the papers she’d collected.
Status of Patient 1’s cells as implanted in Trial CAR T 463 Phase 1 participants.
“I’m fine.” Lori ripped the pile from her hands. “I’ve got it.”
Caroline held up her hands. “Sorry.”
Lori stood and walked away without a backward glance or apology.
What did what she’d read mean? When Caroline reached her desk, she sank onto her chair and quickly jotted down what she’d seen.
Bethany was one of the thirty patients in Phase 1. So was Patrick Robbins—Patient 1—whose turnaround was near miraculous. But Bethany’s body was still in the throes of rejection, which shouldn’t be an issue if the T cells were hers. As far as Caroline knew, none of the other patients had experienced similar issues.
A possibility rocketed through Caroline’s thoughts. What if the cells weren’t hers? What if the protocol had been ignored, and they were using Patrick’s cells instead of the trial patient’s? Even if it was a simple mix-up, it could have devastating consequences for Bethany.
Then she remembered that Anna had said the cells tested as hers and then hadn’t later at the hospital. That testing was done at Praecursoria, which meant someone here would have had to mess with the tests. She didn’t want to believe it.
Could similar questions be what had disturbed Anna and started her digging?
Before she could investigate further, she had to attend a leadership meeting. She grabbed a few files and walked down the hall to the executive suite. She didn’t know the full agenda but needed to be sure they discussed the liability issue.
Quentin sat at the side of the small conference table closest to his desk, with Samson Kleme next to him on his right side. To his left was Hannah Newton, the chief resource officer, leaving the spot across the table for Caroline. She gave everyone a slight smile and settled into her seat.
“Everyone’s here, so let’s get started.” Quentin set his hands on the table and turned to Samson. “Where are we on the CAR T 463 trial? Samson has updated us on Anna’s unfortunate death. Can the trial still proceed, or do we need to call a halt to it until we replace Sarah and Justin and find another doctor to work with? I can’t believe we’ve lost three people involved in one trial.”
Samson raised his hands in front of him, palms up. “We can’t stop, not while patients are actively receiving the infusions.” He looked at Hannah. “I’ll work with HR to speed up hiring. It’s been a bad week, but that shouldn’t derail our work. I’ll fill in for Justin as needed. It would be good to be active in the research again.”
“That works from my end.” Hannah was tapping on her phone. “We always have a backlog of applicants who want a chance to work here. I’ve got a couple folks whose backgrounds mirror Justin’s that we could bring in next week. Replacing Dr. Johnson will be harder.”
“All right, you two work together on that. Samson, you should also check on who Inova has taking Anna’s place in the interim. Maybe we should consider adding him or her to the team.” Quentin looked around the table. “What other issues do we need to address today?”
Before anyone else could take the stage, Caroline held up her hand then dropped it, since she shouldn’t have to ask permission to speak. She lifted her chin and pulled a file to the top of her pile. “We need to review the draft response to the women who were impacted by the genetic tests performed here in 2014 and 2015. I have one right here that I’ve worked on this week.”
Quentin looked at her with a fierceness in his expression that made her very glad there were other people in the room.
Hannah glanced back and forth between them, then addressed Quentin. “What is she talking about?”
Chapter 32
Caroline slid copies of the letter across the table. “Quentin received a letter from women who allege they were harmed based on genetic recommendations from Praecursoria.”
“Genetic information?” Hannah wrinkled her nose and looked at Samson. “Is this about the testing arm we used to run?”
“It’s not relevant.” Quentin waved her concerns away. “We sold that part of the business, so any liability isn’t ours.”
Caroline pulled a file from under her iPad. “Actually, that’s not what happened.” She slid a copy of the relevant page to each of the executives at the table. “Check the highlighted paragraph. The buy-sell agreement contains clear language that Praecursoria retained liability for any harm that occurred as a result of tests and information that was provided by Praecursoria prior to the sale. It�
��s a standard clause, but one you could have negotiated out. You didn’t, so when Genetics for You bought the testing division, it accepted liability only for anything that happened after purchase.”
Quentin paled as he swallowed, then he rallied. “I’m not convinced there was actual harm.”
Hannah raised her manicured hand. “What are you talking about?” There was an edge to her southern tone. “This sounds serious, and I’m just hearing about it?”
“It’s a letter we got from a tort-happy attorney who’s representing a family that claims they were irrevocably harmed by tests they voluntarily took,” Quentin replied.
“Not quite.” Caroline turned to Hannah, hoping she could enlist the support of the only other woman in the room. “They were told that they carried the BRCA genetic marker and that they had an 84 percent or higher likelihood of getting advanced breast cancer. We recommended they consult with their health-care provider about a double mastectomy and other aggressive treatments to minimize that risk.”
“That was the standard recommendation at the time.” Samson waved the page from the buy-sell agreement. “This piece of paper doesn’t change that.”
“It might because the women followed our advice. They experienced complications and then received a letter from Genetics for You in November. It said oops, the results are inconclusive based on what we know now.”
Hannah flinched. “You mean the new owners told them they didn’t need to worry about BRCA anymore.”
“Essentially, yes. But for these women, it’s too late. One of them can’t have children after the hysterectomy she had to limit her chance of reproductive cancer.”
“I’m tabling this for now.” Quentin’s words were almost as tight as his jaw.
“You can’t. We have to develop a response if we want to forestall a lawsuit.”
Hannah looked at the paragraph again. “You’re sure we have some liability?”
“Here’s the best way to think about it. Corporations exist to protect their individual owners and employees from liability for things going wrong. When I work for a company, I’m responsible for any bad advice I give, but so is the company I work for. Selling or spinning off a company doesn’t erase liability for past actions, but you can negotiate who is responsible for those past actions. Unfortunately for us, that remained here.” Caroline studied Quentin. “With thirty focused minutes, we could draft a well-thought-out settlement offer that might cause the threat of a lawsuit to disappear. Then we can focus on the important work we’re doing today.”
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