The Target (27 page)

His phone rang and he glanced at the ID. The evidence facility. About time. He picked up, praying for something he could use. “It’s Cortez.”

“DeMarco at the processing center. I went back over the Avery vehicle to see if I could pull more fingerprints. I found one on the inside of the steering wheel, and you’re not going to believe who it belongs to.”

Cortez’s breath caught. “Who?”

“Jonas Brickman. He was printed twenty years ago on a DUI, so he’s in the system.”

Yes!
A solid break. “Thanks. I’m about to pick him up for questioning.” Cortez started to get out of the car, then stopped and called Harris. He might as well have backup. Brickman was a big man, and this could get ugly.

Dallas promised the officer she’d give a full statement the next day and hurried into her condo. She headed straight for the kitchen, gulped three aspirin for the pain in her head, and brewed a strong pot of coffee. The saltwater had made her skin itchy, so she took a quick shower. The water made her think about herself lying there on the beach in the dark, with waves washing over her body. She’d almost disappeared into the nothingness of death. Like her father would soon do. Cold pain gripped her torso. She jumped out of the shower, pulled on a robe, and had to sit on the bed for a moment and just breathe.

It wasn’t the closest she’d ever come to death, but this time it scared her more. She reminded herself that death was only painful when you looked at it too hard. Once it happened, there was no more to think or feel or regret. Still, she was lucky to be alive. Lucky that someone had found her and given her help. She wished she could thank the young men. But her father wouldn’t get a second chance. He would just be gone soon. Dallas found her lucky cloth and rubbed it between her fingers, but it brought her no comfort.

Shaking it off, she dressed in work clothes—‌lightweight pants and a short-sleeved shirt—‌then grabbed her bag. No longer undercover, she pulled her gun out of its zippered compartment and strapped it to her ankle.

The lot at the clinic was full, so Dallas had to circle the block and park at the sandwich shop next door. Before she got out, she put her hair up and donned sunglasses in case Decker was around. She would hang back and keep a magazine in front of her face too. She was curious to see how Decker and Brickman would interact. But more important, she wanted to scout the crowd for the unsub who’d tried to kill her. If Decker was determined to sabotage ProtoCell, she might have planned something for today. The meet-up last night could have been about this last-minute opportunity.

Dallas looked over at the medical building. Larger than she expected, with an urgent care entrance that accommodated emergency arrivals. There was Decker’s silver car, parked in the back by the ambulance bay. Feeling better about being here—‌instead of searching computer files with the rest of the team—‌she headed into the clinic, each step causing a fresh wave of pain in her head.

The cool air inside the clinic eased her distress. She stood near the entrance and took in the scene. A tall man with the weight of an aging linebacker stood behind a podium, taking questions from a group of reporters—‌while patients waited and clerks went about their business. A strange juxtaposition and too many people to keep track of. She scanned the patients in the chairs against the wall. No one who looked like the unsub. One woman was the right size and skin coloring, but she had a little boy in her lap. Where was Decker?

Brickman held up his hand to the reporters, gave a parting smile, and turned toward the nearby hallway. As he walked into the medical back area, a woman in a black dress and white shoes darted out from behind an L-shaped bend.
Decker!
The scientist headed straight for the group of reporters and pushed her way through. What the hell was she up to?

Dallas crossed the huge waiting area, no longer concerned with whether Decker would spot her. She followed the woman down the hall and watched her push past a nurse in pink scrubs. Brickman turned a corner and so did Decker. Dallas started to run. A male doctor stepped out of the back office and blocked her path.

“Please leave this area immediately.”

“I’m FBI. Move!”

She pushed past him and rounded the corner. In front of a procedure room, Decker had a gun to Brickman’s head and a syringe in her other hand. A fifty-something woman in a doctor’s coat was against the wall, about five feet away.
Holy shit!
Decker had snapped. Dallas itched to grab the weapon in her ankle holster, but feared that the sudden move could get her or Brickman killed.

“Back off!” Decker yelled. “Or I’ll kill him and inject the doctor.” Decker turned briefly to the woman against the wall. “Take this scarf and tie his hands. Now!”

The doctor followed orders, making short work of it, and stepped back.

What was in the syringe? “Don’t do this,” Dallas pleaded. “He’s not worth life in prison.”

Decker didn’t seem to hear or recognize her. The crazy woman’s eyes were glazed over, like someone on meth. She began to step backward and yelled at Brickman to do the same. He hesitated, frozen in fear.

“I will shoot you in the head!”

No one doubted her. Brickman began to walk backward too, his body shielding Decker. Ten feet behind them, sunlight burned through a glass-door exit.

“Do not call the police!” Decker shouted. “If I see a squad car, I’ll kill him!”

Dallas scrambled through her options. She could rush them and use Brickman’s body to take down Decker. No. Risking the civilian’s life to save him wouldn’t fly. She could keep moving forward, hoping for a chance to shoot or knock down Decker before she made her next move. Another risk to Brickman. The needle worried Dallas even more than the gun. People survived gunshot wounds all the time. Gangbangers sometimes survived multiple GSWs. But whatever was in the syringe could kill instantly. Dallas was leery of getting too close to the crazy woman until she had parted with her lethal injection.

Decker reached behind her back and opened the door. She was talking to Brickman, but Dallas couldn’t hear what she said. She made a decision. The best thing she could do was follow Decker, watch for an opening, and be there when this scenario played out. She turned and bolted for the front door, a faster way to reach her car. On the way, she passed a man in a dark suit asking a clerk what was going on. Was he law enforcement? She didn’t stop to find out. Someone at the clinic had probably called 911 already. Decker wouldn’t get away. But she might kill Brickman before they arrested her.

Dallas sprinted toward her car, glancing to the right as she ran. A paramedic was climbing into the driver’s seat of an ambulance. Nearby, Decker shoved Brickman toward the vehicle. The big man went along, probably terrified of the syringe. Or maybe Decker had already drugged him with it. The crazy woman shouted something at her captive, and he opened the back of the ambulance and climbed in. Decker followed, slamming the door closed.

Dallas finally reached her car. She fired up the engine, grabbed her weapon out of its holster, and called River. As the phone rang, she put in her earpiece and looked over at the clinic. The ambulance was rolling toward the street.

Cheryl’s heart had been thundering like a freight train, but as soon as the ambulance rolled forward, she felt calm. At least she would get some answers before the FBI arrested her. And if she were smart—‌and caught a break—‌she might make it to Saul’s house where she could pick up necessities, then cross the border into Mexico. Saul would send a guide with her, and she would be safe. From there, she could continue south until she reached Costa Rica, where the Slimbiotic trials had been conducted. Cheryl knew doctors who would give her access to labs and help her continue her research. She had ten grand in her purse and could buy another ID, plus she had an offshore bank account the feds wouldn’t be able to find or freeze. Giving Amber unapproved medications was illegal, and she’d been doing it for years. So she’d prepared long ago to be ready to flee to a less-restrictive country. Marta could take Amber to Saul’s, and he’d eventually help them reconnect.

“What do you want, Cheryl?” Brickman kept his voice even, as if dealing with a crazy person. “Continuing this is insane.” He had sat on the floor, wedged between a gurney and a stainless steel medical cabinet.

She moved past him and tapped the plexi-glass between her and the driver. The man glanced over his shoulder, his expression surprisingly calm. “Head south toward Ocean View Hills,” Decker directed. “Stay off the main roads. No sirens, no radio. Just keep making turns and drive fast. This bastard’s life is in your hands.”

The paramedic lurched the ambulance into traffic, forcing drivers to brake. He gunned the gas and sped toward Palomar Street.

Cheryl turned back to her captive. “What did you do to my father? You bastard!”

“Come on, I had nothing to do with that. The police are just making wild accusations.” Brickman gave her his best you-know-me look.

She did know him. He had the same driving ambition she did, only he was capable of hurting people on purpose. Cheryl inched toward him, checking his hands to ensure that his wrists were still tied. The scarf wasn’t ideal, but it would hold long enough.

“You’re a lying pile of shit.” She still couldn’t believe her father was dead. Even though she’d been mad at him, she still loved him. And she’d been hurt when he’d finally given up contacting her. Apparently, he’d cut her out of his will too. Otherwise, his lawyer would have contacted her.

Brickman was still unresponsive, so she prodded. “Did you go to James for campaign money?”

No response.

“Did he threaten to sell his shares in ProtoCell and plunge the stock price? What happened?”

“You’re wrong. And this is only making it worse.”

Cheryl stabbed the tip of the syringe into his arm, just above the elbow, and gave a tiny push.

Brickman let out a squawk.

“It’s a MRSA-related bacteria, in case you’re wondering.” Cheryl gave him a wicked smile. “An accidental byproduct.” He’d been dying to know what new research she’d pursued all these years, and now he would find out just as it invaded his body. “That dose probably won’t kill you if you take antibiotics in the next hour, but if I hit you with the whole syringe, you’re a goner no matter what. Septic shock is what they’ll write on your chart.” She laughed. It felt so good to hurt him back.

“You’re bluffing.” His natural pink cheeks lost their glow.

“You know me better than that. Tell me what happened to my father!” She glanced over her shoulder at the driver. He had his eyes on the road and didn’t seem to be doing anything but driving. The next turn was only a half-mile away. But the cops had to be looking for the ambulance by now.

Brickman swallowed hard. “Your father snuck into the R&D building, and I caught him. His death was an accident.”

What?
That made no sense. She would have given anything to know what the media had reported, but she knew Brickman was lying. “That’s not what the police think. He’s my father. I deserve to know the truth.” She decided to play on his natural cockiness. “The FBI are probably following us, and I’m not likely to survive this day. It can’t hurt you to tell me. Why was James at ProtoCell?”

A smile played on the bastard’s rubbery lips. “He came to steal the SlimPro. It took me a while to get that information out of him.”

She still didn’t understand. “But why?”

“The idiot was trying to win you back. He had an appointment at our affiliated lab and saw a chance to get into our facility. So he took it.”

James had wanted her forgiveness? Had her father tried to steal a cure for Amber?

Brickman’s eyes narrowed. “It was such a bizarre thing to find him there. And I was having a really bad day. You can blame yourself for that.”

She knew he meant her sabotage campaign, but she didn’t rise to the bait. “So you killed him? To get back at me?”

“I wanted to send you a message. To get you to back off. There’s room in the market for both our products.” Brickman shook his head in disbelief. “But you don’t watch the damn news, so you didn’t hear about his death.” Another half smile. “His new wife must really hate you. No surprise.”

Rage engulfed her. “You’re a sick bastard.” She held up the syringe. “You won’t be around to see the disaster, so I’ll tell you a little more about this bacteria.” She leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. “I infected your product line. Every SlimPro on the delivery trucks is contaminated. Every patient who gets an implant this week will develop a fever and pain in the incision. Their devices will be removed, and their doctors will file Adverse Reaction Reports with the FDA. Your company will voluntarily pull it from the market until it’s been investigated. And my product will launch in the mean time.”

Cheryl laughed again, a full bitter outpouring. “These things will happen whether you and I are here or not.” She had started to doubt her ability to survive this incident. Poor Amber. But her daughter could live with Saul and be homeschooled. The girl might even be happier.

Brickman’s jaw trembled and his eyes jumped with panic. “You selfish bitch! When did you get so greedy?”

She gave him a rueful smile. “It’s not about the money. Not directly.”

“Why then? Revenge? Because I didn’t love you? Because I continued the product development without you?”

Cheryl decided to tell him the truth before she killed him. “Not just revenge. I did it for Amber. Our daughter. She has Prader-Willi Syndrome, and I need the money to continue the research. In case neither of
my
products works this round.”

She readied the syringe and plunged a large dose into his arm.

The ambulance blew through the intersection, and Dallas tried to follow. An SUV making a right turn cut in front. She laid on her horn, cursing the idiot driver. Behind her, an engine roared. She looked in the rearview mirror and spotted a dark blue sedan. The guy in the suit
had
been a cop. Great news. He’d likely called for reinforcement. But what was protocol in this situation? A civilian’s life was in jeopardy if they moved too aggressively. Dallas tried to put herself inside Decker’s head. What did she want with Brickman? Revenge for his old betrayal? Decker had already tried to ruin his company, so maybe she simply wanted to kill him and had taken him hostage to buy herself time. Decker seemed smart enough to realize she had to ditch the ambulance.