Deadly Purpose, page 7
She let out a huff of breath. “Okay, that’s good.”
“Does Merritt know you copied the files?”
Meg tried to figure out why Declan was so interested. Maybe it was simply the cop in him working out a puzzle. Since he didn’t seem to be affected by her proximity the way she was by his, she didn’t think his attention was personal.
“At first, I didn’t think so, but he is smart, and he’s tech savvy in specific areas. He relied on others to manage the details of his work, said his job was the big ideas. He staffs an office in Santa Cruz to deal with the business end of his biotech enterprises, and he pretty much trusted the workers there to take care of that side of things so he wouldn’t have to.”
“What part of the company did you deal with at his house?”
“Whatever had to do with the research side. I was hired to write the biography, but he started asking me to do more work related to the medical devices. His big project right now is launching the heart device in the Asian markets. FDA authorization has stalled, so he’s focusing on getting it into China and India. According to him, success there will help support approval here and in Canada. He’d been looking for investors.”
“What records did you take?”
She clenched her fingers. “Evidence he was falsifying reports for his heart device. Records showing that during testing there were high levels of catastrophic failure that led to deaths. And evidence that those documents were being altered to indicate satisfactory results.”
“Shit.”
She nodded. “Exactly. I don’t know much about the testing process, but what I do know is that Julius was working with a group of university professors who had formed a research company. Preliminary investigation had shown problems, but Julius refused to believe the reports, and he was going ahead as if the trials had been successful. He had big-time investors on the line and he didn’t want to lose them.”
“And you have evidence of this on the flash drive that’s hanging around your neck.”
“I do. I also have the copy of an email from him where he makes the argument that any failures of the devices and subsequent deaths are the blame of the surgeons who implanted them. Deflecting blame is classic Julius Merritt behavior, but it’s evidence that he was aware of the deaths related to his device.”
“Why didn’t you take all that to the police?”
“I did, eventually. At first I wasn’t sure what I was finding. Then Dad took a turn. He’d been doing so well, said he liked the assisted-living place. I was able to take him out for breakfast a couple of times a week, we took drives along the coast, hung out in the gardens. He had ischemic heart disease, but he seemed to be holding his own. Until he wasn’t. Within a couple weeks doctors were telling me there was nothing more they could do for him and to consider hospice care.”
The compassion in Declan’s expression echoed her own sadness. She cleared her throat before continuing. “I was dealing with Dad while still trying to do my job. I wasn’t paying close enough attention, and later, after the funeral when I was finally able to clear my head a bit, I realized the files indicated I’d falsified the records. On top of that, emails had been sent to investors from my account, with the IP source being my laptop. I may be guilty of fraud.”
Chapter Seven
“Fuck that. Your computer was hacked. You wouldn’t have done anything sketchy like that.”
“When Dad died, I was in a fog. It’s possible I sent emails out at Julius’s direction. But I don’t think so. Someone is framing me, and the only person in that house who has the skill to hack into my computer is Julius.”
“Bastard.”
“Yes.” The muscles in her shoulders that had tensed as the story unfolded began to unknot. She hadn’t realized how relieved she’d feel to share. And the fact that Declan seemed to believe her had a warm glow encircling her heart.
She continued. “I think Julius was hedging his bets. By making it look like I sent those emails, he was guaranteeing that if the whole thing went sideways, blame would fall on me and he would walk free. It worked brilliantly for him. The emails went to the investors with the false data, and Julius was able to garner over a million dollars of investment money based on that information.”
“What did you do once you realized what had happened?”
“When I first discovered that the data had been manipulated, I thought the researchers were at fault, so I told Julius. At the time, he appeared surprisingly cool with it. Given his propensity for temper tantrums, that in and of itself should have been a clue. He said he’d take care of notifying the investors that the records were wrong and offer to return their money. But at the same time he was moving ahead with producing and marketing the devices in Asia. Which meant that patients were receiving heart implants that could likely lead to their deaths.
“It was wrong, and difficult to prove. Once I realized what was happening, I decided to take my chances by going to the police. I figured I could defend myself against charges if I needed to since I absolutely do not possess the skills to falsify scientific test results. Though I guess that might be hard to prove, but Julius definitely has the skills to hack into my computer. So I gathered what information I could and took it to the local police.”
“What did they say?”
“That they’d look into it. I never heard anything back from them.” Those long weeks waiting to hear from the police had felt like an executioner held a blade over her neck.
“I made a follow-up phone call, got the runaround, and came to the realization that nothing was going to happen. There are some powerful people in that little community who had invested in Julius’s company, and they have a lot of influence. I can’t be certain, but I suspect a friend of Julius’s, or someone he has influence over, may have found out about my accusations and squelched the investigation.”
“You could have gone to the FBI.”
“Yeah, I probably should have. I might have been more proactive, but I was still grieving over my dad and dealing with the bureaucracy of his death, which I can tell you is no fun. Then I learned that Julius had a meeting with a Chinese businessman named George Liu. Liu is a billionaire with ties to the political elite in China, and Julius had high expectations about how much Liu would invest. I began to suspect that Liu had never been informed that the reports were misleading. Usually, I went to those meetings with Julius, but was told I wouldn’t be needed at that one.”
“Because Merritt didn’t want you tipping his hand.”
“Right. I felt like I had to do something, so I emailed Liu and told him about the records. I found the documents showing the true data from the research and sent those as well. I figured I was burning bridges with Julius, but I didn’t know what else to do.”
The timer on her phone chimed and Meg grabbed at the reprieve. “I need to check the pizza.”
Declan beat her to it, pulling the tray out of the hot oven, the mouthwatering aroma filling the air. He set it on the stovetop. “Looks done.”
He got cold beers from the fridge, holding up one with a brow raised in question. “You want?”
“What’s pizza without beer?”
“Exactly.”
Meg slipped the hot pizza out of the pan and onto a cutting board where she used a steak knife to cut it into slices, then carried the loaded board to the table. The stoneware plates Declan set out were the same sand-colored ones her father had used.
Declan opened a bottle and handed it to her. The label showed a noose encircling the words “The Hangman’s Lager.” She sipped, giving a sigh of appreciation for the rich, yeasty taste. Declan took an enormous bite of pizza, groaning as he chewed. “This is fucking amazing,” he said around his mouthful. “You’re hired.”
She took her own bite and savored the burst of flavors. Swallowing, she agreed, “It is pretty amazing.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes until she glanced up and found him regarding her with the thoughtful expression she was beginning to understand meant he was working something out in his head. She didn’t want to talk about Julius Merritt or her impending incarceration, so she asked the first question that popped into her head. “What happened to your leg?”
He stopped chewing for a moment, then swallowed and took a pull on his beer without answering.
“Okay, sensitive subject. But I’ve been spilling my guts, so you should reciprocate.”
“Not gonna happen.”
She considered that while she worked her way through her slice of pizza. “Okay, your leg’s a sensitive subject. Maybe more than your leg was injured. We’ll leave that for now.” She thought about what she really wanted to know, and decided to go for it. “Are you married? Divorced? Gay?”
“You think I’m gay?”
She shook her head. Nope, no way was he gay. Despite not having acted on them, except for that “moment,” as he called it, this evening she was catching sexy vibes, the type that said, “I’d like to get it on with you but it’s a bad idea.”
“No, not gay. My guess? You’re divorced and came up here to heal your broken heart.”
He tipped back his bottle again, then wiped moisture from his lip. “Damn. Okay, I am divorced, but I’m not up here to heal a broken heart.”
“You must have come up here for a reason, and to get away from your life seems most likely. If it’s not because of a still-broken heart, then it’s because of your job. Am I right?”
His gaze didn’t waver, and she figured if he was trying not to show emotion she was probably on the right track.
“Hmm, that’s right, you said you’d quit your cop job. Did you quit because your, you know, parts got injured?”
That got a reaction. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You didn’t want to talk about your injury and I saw you rubbing the upper thigh area, which made me think it was more than your leg that got injured. And guys are so sensitive about their parts I thought maybe those had been injured, too. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re a case. Yes, my leg was injured, and no, my parts were not injured.”
“Well, that’s good everything is still intact.”
“Eat more pizza, it’ll shut you up.”
“Not much shuts me up. I’m not one of those introverted writer types.”
“More’s the pity.”
“Are you? The introverted writer type?” When he raised a brow, she gave a gusty sigh. “If you didn’t want me to know you’re a writer, why leave those craft books stacked up like clues waiting to be discovered?”
He chewed, swallowed, sipped his beer, all while keeping his gaze locked on hers. She was starting to fidget when he said, “I’m working on being a writer, and—” he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to ask another question. “And before you start in on that, I don’t want to talk about my writing.”
“You make a lot of rules.”
“Not rules. Setting boundaries.”
“Boundaries are important. Why’d you get divorced, or is that out of bounds, too?”
“I liked you better when you were too sick to talk.”
“You’re quite the charmer. So the divorce is still a painful subject, and therefore out of bounds?”
He rubbed a hand over his face and down his beard. “Shit. You’re not as sweet as you look. Okay, I’ve been divorced two and a half years. My fault. She’s moved on. I’ve moved on.”
“What was your fault, the marriage failing, or wanting the divorce?”
Dark brows lowered. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“Think of me as your therapist. And with me going to jail, you can be pretty sure I won’t be around to blab your secrets to anyone.”
“You’re not going to jail, and I sure as hell don’t think of you as my therapist.” He took another slice of pizza from the board. “But fine. The marriage failing was my fault.”
“Did you have an affair?”
“No.”
“Did she?”
“Not really.”
“What’s that mean, not really? Either she did, or she didn’t.”
“Not a physical affair.”
“An emotional one, then.”
“Yeah, I guess. She reconnected with her high school boyfriend on Facebook.”
“I’m not seeing how that makes it your fault.”
He drummed his fingers, and she could all but see his internal debate as to how much to tell her. “Fine. It was my fault because if I hadn’t been working so much, if I’d ‘been there’ for her, as she’d often complained, she wouldn’t have turned to him for something I couldn’t give her.”
“This time I’m calling bullshit, because that’s what it is.”
“Is it? And you know so much about it?”
“Maybe I do. What’s her name?”
“Meg.”
“What, now you’re going to call me by my short name?”
“No, I’m not. Her name is Mary Margaret. Mostly she went by Meg.”
“Well, crap. That’s awkward.”
“Not really. You’re Meghan.”
“Hmm. Regardless, I do know that when you take vows with someone, they better count for something. And an emotional affair is as destructive as a physical one.”
“You’ll have to tell me about your experience sometime.”
“We’re not talking about me,” she scoffed.
“I like talking about you a hell of a lot better than talking about me.”
“Don’t say things like that. They make my heart go all flippity-flop and I don’t like it.”
“Maybe we should try something else to make your heart go all flippity-flop, something more interesting than talking.”
She squelched the extra-excited flippity-flop resulting from his suggestion. “Now you’re being a jerk.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I am. Sorry.” His tone of voice changed when he urged her to continue. “Finish the story. Merritt must have figured out you contacted the Chinese businessman. I’m guessing his explosive personality manifested itself,” his lip curled up, “on the side of your head.”
“We’re back to me again, are we? Well, okay then. Julius wasn’t sure it was me, at least at first. But when Liu told him he’d gotten information that contradicted the research findings, Julius knew it had to come from somewhere in his company, and I was the most likely suspect. But I don’t think he was sure, because he didn’t confront me directly, at least at first.” She spoke softly as the scene replayed out in her mind.
“What did he do?”
She took a sip from her bottle, then set it carefully back on the table. “I was sitting at my desk in my office when I heard him walk through the front door after the meeting with Liu. I was copying the files onto the flash drive and shut down the screen as he came in. You could see the anger barely contained beneath the surface. His being preoccupied was good for me because I know I looked guilty. I knew my role—placate, soothe, stroke his ego. I suggested he go sit out on the patio, that I’d bring him a beer and something to eat to hold him over until I could get dinner cooked.”
“You cooked for him?”
“I like cooking.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he turned and walked into the front room, picked up a glass bowl valued at more than five thousand dollars, and heaved it into the fireplace. It shattered into a million pieces. What was even more scary was that he wasn’t yelling and screaming like he usually did. Containing his emotions isn’t typical behavior for Julius. Whatever he was feeling at the moment—happy, sad, frustrated, angry—he pretty much lets everyone know. How can he be soothed and placated if people don’t know how he’s feeling?”
“That when the fucker gave you the bruise?”
She traced a finger through the condensation on the bottle. She didn’t know why she was embarrassed that Julius had hit her, but telling Declan about it was easier when she wasn’t looking at him. “He’d never been physically abusive before, and he caught me totally off guard. We were in the kitchen. I was starting dinner and he was leaning against the counter, brooding. Then suddenly he grabbed my arm and swung me around to face him. His face was red, and he had this really ugly expression. He asked if I’d talked to Liu, if I’d sent him those files.”
She pushed back her plate and knotted her fingers to keep her hands from shaking. “I denied it. I was scared because I’d never seen him like that. He said Liu knew he was desperate, was acting like his fucking savior, then pulled the rug out from under him, called Julius a con man and said he’d never get money from him. I guess Julius told him he didn’t need Chinese money anyway, that he didn’t like doing business with liars and cheats.”
“Said the liar and cheat.”
“The irony didn’t occur to him. I was scared because I had sent key information to Liu. But I did what I usually did. Tried to calm him, told him he’d get funding from someone else, that Liu would come back, kissing up, begging to get in on the deal. Julius loves it when people grovel.” She gave a rueful laugh. “I thought I’d managed it. He loosened his grip on my arm. After that, I’m not exactly sure what happened. I think he jerked me toward him, but I caught my foot on a rug and tripped. Then he hit me. He was lightning fast and it was completely unexpected. The blow snapped my head back and knocked me to the floor.”
Declan shoved to his feet, hands balled into fists.
“Next thing I know, he’s on his knees beside me, telling me he hadn’t meant to hit me, that I kind of stumbled and hit his fist with my head when he tried to catch me. He said I should be more careful.”
Declan swung around. “Him hitting you was an accident because you ran into his fist? He’s batshit crazy.”
“Agreed. I’d already decided to leave. My plan had been to come here because Julius doesn’t know about this place, and since the title’s still in Dad’s name he wouldn’t be able to find me. I’d been thinking my next step was talking to the FBI, giving them the files. But I also wanted to buy myself some time because in addition to the files, I’d transferred money from his accounts.”
