Silent Awakening

Wilthauer looked up at him for a moment, then replied, “What’s got into you about this Patterson woman, Tomasini?”

Brady drew back as if he had been singed.

“What happened? Doesn’t she like you?” Wilthauer shook his head. “Look, Romeo, take my advice and keep away from her. If she falls flat on her face, I don’t want any of my detectives going down with her.”

Romeo.

“Tomasini, did you hear me?”

“I heard you. Did you hear me?”

Wilthauer’s expression grew frigid. “Should I have?”

“How do you expect Stansky and me to conduct an investigation if we can’t depend on the information we’re getting?”

“She hasn’t been wrong so far.”

“That’s no guarantee.”

“All right, show me where Natalie Patterson doesn’t have the background for this investigation, and I’ll get her off the case. Put up or shut up, Tomasini. Now get out. I’ve got work to do.”

Brady walked back out into the squad room and signaled Stansky to his feet.

As they reached the door, Stansky asked, “So, how did it go?”

“I told you,” Brady replied coldly. “We’re screwed.”

STUNNED, DR. HADDEN MOORE stared with disbelief at the headline on the newspaper lying on the table in front of him. No, it couldn’t be true! Candoxine was untraceable in the human body. There was no way an autopsy could have revealed that it had caused the Winslow deaths!

He read the article. Frustrated, he slammed the newspaper back down on the table. He had executed the perfect crime and had achieved the perfect revenge on the woman who had led him on and betrayed him—only to be foiled by yet another woman!

Mattie Winslow appeared before Hadden’s mind’s eye as she had looked the first time he saw her, and he seethed with a familiar rage. He had been representing Manderling Pharmaceuticals at a reception given by Parkerhouse Pharmaceuticals, the major U.S. drug company contracted to handle production of the British lab’s breakthrough cancer drug when it was approved for sale in the U.S. She had been wearing a black cocktail dress that hugged her slim, faultless figure. Her eyes were the same color as her lovely hair, her perfect features bright with laughter, and her beautiful legs so long and slender that his heart had started racing the moment he saw her. She had been the most desirable woman he had ever seen.

By far the most brilliant scientist on the staff at Manderling, he was also the most extroverted in a field where introverted types abounded. Brilliant and handsome, with blond hair, blue eyes, patrician features and a carefully tended physique, he had always stood head and shoulders above the average man, both literally and figuratively. He had been a prodigy from the moment his progress was measurable as a child. He had graduated university at the age of seventeen and had earned his doctorate at the age of twenty. He was also fluent in five languages, which he spoke with no discernable accent, adding to his suitability as temporary liaison in a country as diverse as the U.S. He had been the perfect choice on many levels to represent Manderling at Parkerhouse when a meeting between the two labs had been deemed necessary.

Yes, there had been no one who could match him at the party the night he met Mattie, and he’d had the world at his feet.

He recalled the event, his heart pounding. Mattie had entered the room on the arm of a researcher from Parkerhouse whom she was dating. It was love at first sight for him, and he was determined to have her. The common fellow she was dating was no challenge at all, and in the weeks that followed, he wined, dined and charmed her. He would have given her the world if—

Fury again flooded his face with color. He had been so sure of Mattie’s love, so certain that no woman, most especially the magnificent creature who had stolen his heart, would be foolish enough to refuse him when he offered her his ring. Yet she had actually had the gall to pretend to be surprised when he did, and to explain that although she was fond of him, she didn’t love him the same way he loved her. Even after she had rebuffed him, he could not make himself believe she had simply led him on.

Whore!

He finally had come to the realization that Mattie was lying, that her rejection was simply more of the same type of thing he had experienced all his life—jealousy of his superior intelligence and achievements. When it came down to the wire, Mattie had known she would always stand in his shadow while standing at his side, and she had been too vain to accept that fate.

But he had loved her and had been prepared to forgive her and overlook that flaw in her character. He was certain he could make her see that she had made a mistake in passing up the opportunity to rise with him as he met his destiny.

Mattie had said she thought it would be best if they stopped seeing each other, but he’d been persistent. He’d called her until she had her number changed and unlisted. He sent her flowers and precious gifts, hoping to win her back, but she refused to accept them. Desperate to talk to her, he approached her on the street, but she would not speak to him.

He began watching her apartment day and night, hoping to catch her with the new man who he then became certain had taken his place. Neglecting his work in order to keep up his constant surveillance, he’d finally returned to his temporary office at Parkerhouse Pharmaceuticals only to be served with the restraining order Mattie had signed against him.

Humiliated, he had been unable to restrain his rage when he was served, and an appalling scene had ensued.

His fury took a quieter tack, however, when his work visa was unexpectedly revoked and he was forced to return to England without Mattie.

He was a different man after that. With Mattie dominating his thoughts and his heart broken, he became quiet and morose. Yet hope remained…until the day he learned Mattie had married another man.

It was at that moment when he awakened to the true depth of Mattie’s betrayal, and his hatred for her then flowed through his veins with molten rage, encompassing his every thought.

His fury was too overwhelming for his common contemporaries at Manderling to comprehend, and they began avoiding him. His “problem” was finally brought to the attention of the board of directors, who worked within the legal system to assert that he’d had a breakdown and needed temporary confinement and treatment in a mental institution. Yet he knew that wasn’t true. He knew the members of the board had simply taken the opportunity to serve their concealed jealousy and the fear that he would one day replace them.

But he didn’t blame them. It was all Mattie’s fault, after all.

Aware that he was powerless against the courts, but too smart to allow them a control he did not sanction, he decided to play along. He told the doctors at the institution exactly what they wanted to hear, and allowed only enough time to elapse between phases of his “recovery” for his act to be convincing.

He was released within six months.

He then began planning his revenge in earnest.

Manderling Pharmaceuticals so generously restored him to his former position after his release. He had access to the Candoxine once more, but that did not surprise him. The drug had been his brainchild, after all, and he was the man with the greatest knowledge of its intricacies.

He was so careful. He removed Candoxine from Manderling’s stores in small amounts that would not be missed, uncaring of the time it took to accumulate the quantity needed.

It amused him to realize that, although everyone was exceedingly kind when he returned from his “breakdown,” they were relieved to see him leave when he finally served his notice.

Back in the U.S., he headed straight for the little house in Queens where research had revealed that Mattie and her new husband had taken up residence. He watched for several days as Mattie and the common fellow came and went in the daily routine that had been denied him.

Deceitful witch!

He had been determined to make her pay for the misery she had caused him.

It wasn’t difficult at all to ascertain the perfect moment to pick the lock and slip into the house unseen. Placing Candoxine in the lemonade Mattie had prepared for the barbecue the next day had been inspired. He knew Mattie would choose that drink over any alcoholic beverage that was being served. He also knew Candoxine was untraceable, that it deteriorated in the human body and would not be discernible under normal laboratory procedures in the remnants of the lemonade.

Then he had sat back and waited for the “natural, inexplicable catastrophe” that followed.

Mattie and her husband…dead.

The parents who had given birth to Mattie…dead.

Relatives who had doted on her…either dead or so impaired that they wished for that sweet release.

He had not been concerned by the furor that followed as public health officials conducted autopsies and tests, failing again and again to ascertain the source of the deadly contaminant. It was the perfect crime, revenge was sweet and he was free to return to his former profession in England whenever he desired.

Hadden looked down again at the unexpected headline in the newspaper. It screamed out at him in the silence of the room, and his fury heightened.

Mysterious Winslow Deaths Suspected Homicides

His perfect crime unearthed by a lowly, inauspicious laboratory technician who was being feted at his expense.

No, he would not allow it!

He would see to it that this woman did not profit from the blow she had dealt him. He was good at that.

He searched the article again, his gaze finally coming to rest on the technician’s name.

Oh, yes.

Her name was Natalie Patterson.

Chapter Three

“I don’t believe it.”

Brady sat at his desk in a squad room functioning at full tilt around him. He was deaf to the shuffle of handcuffed prisoners being moved across the room with mumbled protests, the loud conversation at the desk behind him, the droning hum of fans intended to circulate air that never seemed cool enough on a hot summer day and the burst of laughter from the doorway at a joke not meant for tender ears. Unbuttoning his shirt collar and loosening his tie, he stared down at the report faxed to him that morning. He repeated, “I don’t believe it.”

Stansky looked up from the paperwork on his desk, which abutted Brady’s. He said, “Okay, I’ll bite. What don’t you believe?”

“Did you read this fax that came in this morning from Manderling Pharmaceuticals?”

“Did it have my name on it?”

“No.”

“Then I didn’t read it.”

“It’s in reply to the fax I sent them about the Winslow case.”

Stansky’s fair face twisted and he groaned. “Dammit, Brady, that Winslow case is all I’ve heard about for the past week. We do have other cases, you know.”

“Yeah, sure, but only this one has Wilthauer breathing down our necks.”

Stansky opened his mouth as if to reply but then shut it abruptly, and Brady’s gaze narrowed.

“Say it.”

Stansky shook his head. “Say what?”

“What you were going to say.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Say it, Joe. You know you will, sooner or later.”

Stansky paused a moment longer, then leaned across his desk to reply in a softer voice, “Look, I know Wilthauer is on our backs about this one, but I never saw you so wrapped up in a case before.” He paused again, then added, “That little CDC chick wouldn’t have anything to do with it, would she?”

“Little CDC chick?” Brady forced a surprised expression that he was sure wouldn’t fool anyone, especially Joe Stansky. The truth was, that “little chick” had a lot to do with his interest in the Winslow case. After his conversation with Captain Wilthauer, he’d called in a favor from an old buddy in the Atlanta PD. What he’d learned hadn’t confirmed his thinking.

In the first place, Miss Natalie Patterson wasn’t a “fresh from the university know-it-all” as he had thought. She was actually twenty-four years old. She’d had a brush with the radical scene in college, but she had graduated with honors and seemed to have put the past behind her. She had several years’ experience in the field, making her qualifications quite adequate for her job at the CDC. Her work at the CDC was more than adequate, too, if he were to believe the evaluations written by her supervisor, Dr. George Minter, a tough old cookie who seemed to have taken a “special interest” in her. It did not escape his notice, however, that Minter was the same man who’d named her the U.S. expert on Candoxine and recommended she be sent to NYC to supervise the testing of the liver samples.

He didn’t know why learning about her personal association with a fellow worker at the CDC, Charles Randolph, bothered him. Randolph was highly regarded at that agency. It was rumored he had a thing for her and wasn’t the type to give up. That was understandable, Brady supposed.

He’d had to face the fact that there was nothing negative in Miss Natalie Patterson’s background. The only question that remained was if she was really an expert on Candoxine. As far as he could see, the answer was that she was the best the CDC had to offer.

And…it was damned hard to admit that he had been wrong.

Stansky interrupted Brady’s thoughts to say, “That’s right, that CDC chick. You know damned well who I’m talking about.”

“Oh, you mean the CDC woman you agreed was a ‘hot little number?’”

Stansky sneered. “Right. That one. You know, the same woman who tested the Winslow barbecue food this week and discovered traces of Candoxine in the lemonade.”

“After both our lab and the Health Department lab tests failed to reveal any contaminants.”

“So she found Candoxine when our labs couldn’t. So what?”

“So you should’ve been at the Health Department lab the day the specimens were confirmed. You would’ve thought she’d won the Nobel Prize the way those doctors acted.”

Stansky retorted, “Your reaction to Natalie Patterson is unreasonable, Brady, and you know it. I don’t know why she strikes a sour note in your mind, but did it ever occur to you why those doctors may have made such a fuss over her discovery? Dr. Gregory wanted her to be temporarily assigned to his lab so the heat would be off them when the press came calling, and he didn’t want her objecting. That was pretty smart of him, if you ask me.”

Brady did not respond and Stansky said, “Just forget it, will you? What does that fax say?”

“Nothing—except that Natalie Patterson probably solved the case for us, too.”

“Give me that fax!”

Stansky read the fax, then looked up. “Maybe this Patterson cookie does deserve the Nobel Prize. I’d say this is pretty cut-and-dried. This guy Dr. Hadden Moore met Mattie Winslow in the States when he was sent here by Manderling. If everything this fax reports is true, it all went south from there. He stalked her to the extent that she signed a restraining order against him.” Stansky took a breath, then added, “You’re right. Natalie Patterson did just about solve the case for us. All we have to do now is find out if this Moore guy is still in the country. If he is, we’ll find him and Wilthauer will be happy, the Commissioner will be ecstatic and this case will be history.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s wrong now?”

“Wilthauer wants us to keep ‘the babe’ informed on our progress in the case.”

“Us?”

Brady stared at him.

“Who’s the principal on this case?”

“Me.”

“So—the job’s all yours.”

“Maybe not.” Brady stood up abruptly. “Let’s go talk to Wilthauer.”

NATALIE WALKED ALONG the crowded New York street, weaving between loitering office workers determined to soak up as many rays as possible during a limited noon break on a sunny summer day. She avoided collision with determined street vendors selling all manner of wares—hot dogs and pretzels, knockoff jewelry and handbags, “rare” and used books, “original works of art” or anything else a wandering tourist or a willing New Yorker might buy.

She was neither a New Yorker nor a wandering tourist, but she should’ve known better than to expect to make time when traffic was at its height and taxis were unobtainable. She had finally caught a bus and had ridden as far as she could before getting off to walk the rest of the way to the police precinct assigned to the Winslow case.

She also should have known better than to wear shoes that weren’t completely broken in.

Natalie grimaced as she continued walking. It was only a few more blocks, but she was sweltering in her sober brown suit, she was hungry and every corner where crowds converged to await the signal to cross a street added to her irritation.

Chuck had called her the previous evening to say he missed her and that the days dragged without her. She had been miserable in her lonely hotel room where the droning of the TV was the only sound that broke the silence. Talking to him had lifted her spirits to the point where she sincerely began questioning her former feelings. Chuck was such a great guy. When she was new and uncertain at the CDC, he had been gracious and willing to help her with every problem. There had never been a hint of condescension in his voice or mockery in his gaze—unlike her brief encounters with the obnoxious Detective Tomasini.

Natalie stared at the flashing street signal, then finally admitted to herself the true source of her irritation. George had committed her to completing all the lab work connected with the Winslow case and she had spent the past week conducting tests on samples of the Winslow barbecue food. She had known what to expect, yet the discovery of Candoxine residue in the lemonade had made her flesh crawl. With that grisly finding behind her, she had spent her spare time at the Health Department lab occupying herself with studies regarding the ongoing West Nile virus problem in NYC and its environs. She was enjoying her participation in that important project. The work was intriguing. It took her mind off the Winslow case, and she was pleased with Dr. Gregory’s reaction to her initial efforts; yet as far as she was concerned, she wanted nothing more than to get as far away from the rapidly developing murder investigation as possible.

Also, if she were totally honest, she would have to admit that she was dreading another session with the odious detective in charge of the Winslow case.

Natalie waited impatiently for the signal to change as swiftly moving street traffic roared past and the crowd built up on the corner behind her. The image of Detective Tomasini’s mocking expression returned to mind, and her irritation swelled. Captain Wilthauer had insisted that her presence was necessary at this meeting so she could be brought up to date on the most recent information received on the case. He had also explained that he needed her help in alerting all his detectives to specific information regarding the properties of Candoxine that were essential at this point in the case. The call was a testament to her credibility—yet her discomfort did not abate.

Dr. Ruberg’s reaction to Detective Tomasini still mystified her. She simply could not fathom how such an intelligent woman could find a man like him appealing. Tomasini was—

Natalie gasped as whispered words and a lightning fast thrust in the middle of her back sent her lurching forward into the street.

Her horrified scream was simultaneous with the screech of an approaching limo’s brakes and the sharp, breathtaking burst of pain that sent her spiraling into darkness.

“A CONCUSSION…needs to rest…needs to be careful for the next week, at least…”

Mumbling and disjointed phrases in soft tones roused Natalie to wakefulness. She attempted to open her eyes, but the light hurt, and she squeezed her eyes shut again.

Finally peering out from between slitted eyelids, she saw an attractive woman in a lab coat move into her line of vision. The woman questioned, “How do you feel, Natalie? My name is Dr. Weiss. I’ve been taking care of you since your accident.”

Accident? No. It wasn’t an accident. She knew that because—

The pounding in her head started again and she couldn’t remember.

The doctor cautioned, “Lie still, please. You have a concussion. Bystanders pulled you out of the path of an oncoming car just in time when you fell into the street, but you struck your head on the curb. Headaches, scraped knees and a general soreness notwithstanding, you should be all right in a few days. You were lucky. The accident could have been fatal.”

“Not an accident…”

The doctor turned to a shadowed figure near the doorway that mumbled something in response. Natalie strained to see the person, but her vision blurred and she closed her eyes.

“What did you say, Natalie?” The doctor’s voice again. “I couldn’t understand you.”

Her eyes still closed, Natalie replied with a touch of breathlessness, “Not an accident…someone pushed me.”

The doctor shook her head sympathetically. “I’m sorry. Such careless behavior is unforgivable, but unfortunately all too common in a crowded city.”

“Not an accident,” Natalie repeated. She raised her hand to her head as a vague memory nagged. A pain stabbed sharply and she rasped, “Somebody shoved me. I felt it.”

The doctor turned back briefly toward the doorway, then replied, “We can discuss this later, Natalie. You’re in no condition to talk now.”

Her stomach suddenly queasy, Natalie insisted faintly, “It wasn’t an accident…” before surrendering to the encroaching darkness.

“WHAT DID she say?” Brady stood near the entrance to Natalie’s hospital room. He frowned as Dr. Weiss approached, awaiting her response.

“She said the accident wasn’t an accident. Somebody pushed her.” Dr. Weiss glanced at his left hand with a look that was slightly less than professional. She smiled at the absence of a ring as she continued, “I wouldn’t take what she said too seriously, though, Detective. It’s quite normal to be confused after a head injury. Somebody at the back of the crowd might have pushed a little too hard and caused her to fall into the street, but I doubt it. It’s been my experience that she probably won’t even remember what she said when she wakes up again.”

Brady shook his head. “Somehow I don’t think so, Doctor. She’s a very precise woman. She doesn’t make haphazard statements.”

Drawing Brady into the busy hospital corridor, Dr. Weiss asked, “Is that why you’re here, in an official capacity because she claims she was pushed?”

“No, I’m here because—” Brady paused. Yes, why was he here? Wilthauer had called for a squad meeting with Natalie Patterson because of the fax he’d received from Manderling. They had waited impatiently for her to arrive, only to receive a phone call from Dr. Gregory when she was already an hour late, informing them that Natalie had had an accident, that she had been taken to the hospital unconscious and that he was on his way there. Dr. Gregory had said he’d let them know more about her condition as soon as the information became available.

Brady hadn’t been inclined to wait.

Dr. Gregory and he arrived at the hospital within minutes of each other to find Natalie still unconscious. Satisfied that her injury wasn’t life-threatening, Dr. Gregory had gone back to his office. Not quite certain of the reason, Brady had stayed.

It had occurred to Brady as he watched Natalie lying in the hospital bed, a bruised patch on her forehead where she had received several stitches and raw, scraped palms the only visible signs of her injuries, that she looked far different from the self-possessed academic that she had sought to appear to be when they had previously met. Instead, she looked young, innocent, and so damned helpless and alone that it twisted him up inside. He wasn’t sure if what he felt was guilt for the way he had acted toward her or if—

Dr. Weiss asked at his continued hesitation, “Is Natalie a friend of yours?”