Adverse Events, page 3
Gibson left her purse, wallet, and cellphone behind when she went down to the beach. Her friends and family don’t know where she might have gone, if she went somewhere voluntarily, Johnson said.
Although investigators aren’t ruling anything out, it’s too early to say whether Gibson’s work at the University of Texas Medical Branch might be related to her disappearance, Johnson said.
UTMB officials also expressed shock at the news.
“We’re devastated to hear that Emily is missing,” UTMB spokeswoman Claire Dupont said. “She is a valuable member of our community, and we’re doing everything we can to assist the police in their search. Our thoughts and prayers go out to her family and friends in this difficult time.”
Through Dupont, Newhouse declined to comment on the situation, except to say he hoped Gibson would return soon.
“As you can imagine, this has been a severe blow to our Ebola team at a very crucial time,” Dupont said.
Gibson, who is working toward an MD/PhD, has spent the last year in Newhouse’s lab, helping to develop his Ebola vaccine. He has credited her with overcoming some of the last hurdles to make the serum stable and get it ready for human trials. Gibson, who grew up in the Woodlands, graduated top of her class from the University of Texas at Austin.
During a recent interview with CNN, she said she knew early in her studies she wanted to work with infectious diseases. Galveston’s National Biocontainment Laboratory, one of only two in the country, made UTMB her top choice for medical schools.
“There are so many things we know how to cure,” she said. “I wanted to work toward finding a cure for diseases that have no cure and can wipe out entire communities. I wanted to spend my life doing something that would make a lasting difference for people who don’t have the advantages of clean water, working sewer systems, and universally available health care.”
Chapter 3
Johnson shifted on the white leather sofa outside Dr. Aaron Newhouse’s office and laid his hand flat on his knee to keep from drumming his fingers. He’d waited ten minutes, with no sign of Newhouse. The doctor claimed he wanted to do everything he could to help find his missing researcher, but he had so far put more effort into postponing a meeting with police. At first, he said his work needed his full attention. Then he said he really had no information that could help the investigation. Johnson finally warned him any further attempts to delay an interview could be considered obstruction of justice.
After five more minutes ticked by, Johnson sprang up and strode toward the secretary on the other side of the room, ready to announce he would be back with a warrant. But before he could cover half the distance, Newhouse stepped through the door leading in from the hallway.
“Detective, my apologies,” he said. “I had to deal with an issue in the lab that could not wait. I did not expect it to take this long.”
Johnson nodded curtly, clenching his teeth against the cutting reply stampeding over his tongue. Newhouse led the way to his office and waved a hand toward the sleek red chairs in front of his desk.
“Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said, walking around the wide glass tabletop and perching on the edge of an overstuffed, throne-like seat. Newhouse crossed his arms and leaned over them on the desk, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Johnson.
“Tell me truthfully, detective. Do you really think Emily is alive?”
Surprise widened Johnson’s eyes and left him momentarily speechless.
“Why are you so sure she’s not?”
“Detective, please.” Newhouse waved his hand as though swatting away an incomprehensible insult to his intelligence. “When you called yesterday morning to tell me Emily was missing, you thought she had drowned. That seems the most plausible explanation, as terrible as it is. But the story in the newspaper this morning made her disappearance sound like a big mystery.”
The suspicion itching at the edge of Johnson’s mind began a full-scale scrabble for attention.
“We still consider drowning a possibility,” he said carefully. “But someone ransacked her apartment. Until I can explain that, I can’t rule out a connection to Ms. Gibson’s disappearance.”
“You don’t think it was a robbery? Break-ins are not unheard of here, after all.”
“Nothing of value was missing, that we can tell. It looked as though someone was looking for something specific. Did Emily ever take home anything related to the vaccine research?”
“Not that I know of. It would be highly irregular. We follow very strict security measures with the serum, and of course with the virus samples. Nothing like that could ever make it out of the lab.”
“What about the data and any other written material? Test results, that kind of thing?”
“We maintain everything on computers in the lab. No one can copy the data to a computer outside the network without my permission. And only Emily and I have access to the most sensitive data. The lab technicians can only input data.”
“Could someone print it?”
“Well, yes. But, detective, I don’t see what any of this has to do with Emily’s disappearance.”
“Is it possible Emily took something from the lab that someone might have wanted?”
“You mean another researcher?”
“Perhaps a competitor?”
Newhouse sat back in his chair and gripped the arms, flexing and relaxing his fingers as he squinted across the desk. Johnson watched his face darken. The thought of his data being stolen seemed to catch him by surprise.
“Of course scientific espionage is not unheard of,” Newhouse said slowly, as though still considering the possibilities. “But I cannot think of anyone who is close enough to us in vaccine development to benefit from our data. I suppose perhaps a drug company could be doing research that I’m not aware of.”
Johnson nodded and looked down at the notepad in his lap. He wanted to let Newhouse chew on the implications and see where it led him.
“But, detective!” Newhouse rocked forward, his balled hands hitting the desktop with enough force to make the few items sitting on it jump. “You don’t think Emily was working with someone trying to steal my research?”
“Do you?”
“I didn’t until you suggested it.”
“I didn’t suggest it. You did.”
Newhouse opened his mouth but snapped it shut without saying anything. He sat back in his chair. Johnson waited. He’d rattled the doctor. Good. Without his mask of composure, maybe Newhouse would actually share something useful.
“Until Emily disappeared and you came here asking all these questions, I never doubted her dedication to this effort,” he finally said. “I haven’t seen anything to make me suspicious in the least. But perhaps I’m too trusting. As you said, it’s possible Emily could have been working with someone trying to gain access to our research. It wouldn’t have been easy for her to take that material from the lab, but where there’s a will, there’s a way, as they say. That still doesn’t explain her apartment.”
Johnson nodded but didn’t reply.
“Unless, of course, you think she had a falling out with whomever she was working with and they came looking for whatever she’d promised them.” Newhouse’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “That’s quite a theory, detective.”
Johnson smiled. “Tell me about the nature of your relationship with Ms. Gibson.”
“I’m not sure what you mean. She was my researcher. That was the nature of our relationship.”
“And that’s it?”
“Of course.”
Johnson locked his eyes on the doctor’s face, tracing the lines across his forehead and the soft fall of his jaw. Newhouse fidgeted.
“Emily is a beautiful woman, and one of the most intelligent students I’ve worked with in a long time. Possibly the most intelligent. Definitely the most driven. That’s what makes her disappearance so disappointing, detective. She would have been a leader in this field in a very few years, I have no doubt.”
“It sounds like you admire her quite a bit.”
“I suppose I do. Yes, of course I do. But that does not mean there was anything going on between us. It would have been highly inappropriate. Haven’t you ever worked with a woman you admired but could not, or would not, pursue?”
Johnson pretended he couldn’t feel the warmth spreading across his chest. He refused to admit he knew exactly what Newhouse was talking about.
Newhouse dismissed the unanswered question with another wave of his hand.
“Besides, Emily has a boyfriend. Have you talked to him? From what I could tell, he seemed like a fairly possessive fellow.”
“He’s the first person I talked to.”
“Good. Frankly, detective, it would not surprise me to learn he had something to do with Emily’s disappearance. I always thought he was not quite in her league. Maybe she finally figured that out, and he didn’t want to let her go.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Is there anything else you can tell me about Ms. Gibson that you think might be useful?”
Newhouse sat back again in his chair and sighed. “Not that I can think of. This is all a most unwelcome distraction from the very important work we’re doing here. Emily will be missed. Deeply missed. But we will soldier on, as they say.”
Newhouse stood abruptly and tucked his hands into the wide front pockets of his white lab coat.
“I wish you the best of luck in your investigation, detective. I really hope you find her.”
Johnson stood slowly and fixed the doctor with another hard look.
“Thank you for your time, Dr. Newhouse. I’ll be in touch if I have any follow-up questions. I don’t suppose you plan on leaving the area in the next few weeks?”
Newhouse shook his head and smiled as though talking with a child.
“No, detective. I have too much work to do here, especially now that Emily is gone.”
Johnson nodded and walked toward the door. He expected Newhouse to ask him for updates on the case. He never did. As Johnson closed the office door behind him, he took a deep breath. For all his claims of admiration and professions of disappointment, Aaron Newhouse didn’t appear devastated by his researcher’s disappearance. And while he latched on to the idea Emily might have been working with someone trying to steal the vaccine, he seemed more interested in having Johnson believe it than in believing it himself. He didn’t act like a man who sensed a threat to his life’s work.
As Johnson left the building, suspicion slithered after him. Nothing about the doctor’s reaction struck him as appropriate. But he was sure of only one thing: Aaron Newhouse did not expect his valued researcher to return. What made him so sure she was gone for good?
Kate took a sip of her lukewarm coffee to hide a satisfied smirk as Kenton Mattingly, managing editor of the Galveston Gazette, paced back and forth behind his desk. His tie hung loose around his unbuttoned collar, and his shaggy hair stuck out at odd angles from his melon-shaped head. But Kate hadn’t seen him take a swig from the Maalox bottle on his desk all day.
“Great job with this, Bennett. Great job. You stuck it to those snobs from New York. They don’t own the news in this town, we do!” Mattingly stopped to slap the top of his desk for emphasis.
Kate snuck a sideways glance at Hunter Lewis, the paper’s assistant editor and her immediate boss. From the chair next to her, he flashed a grin. The Gazette staff had finally recovered from last year’s layoffs and the disappointment of the sex trafficking case conclusion. Watching the mayor and Eduardo Reyes, Galveston’s favorite son, evade justice had devastated Kate. But she took a small measure of comfort from watching it cast a pall over the rest of the reporting staff as well. Journalists all cared deeply about justice. Her colleagues lamented the failure in their collective mission to proclaim the truth almost as much as she did.
After losing his battle with the publisher to avoid newsroom layoffs, Mattingly had chugged two bottles of Maalox a day for a week before his wife ordered him to take some time off to recover. Since then, he’d been grouchy and glum, keeping his office door closed for long stretches throughout the day. But eventually, his righteous journalistic fire burst into flame again. About a month ago, Kate and her colleagues sat transfixed as they listened to him wage a screaming match over the phone with a county official he’d skewered that morning with an especially vicious editorial. When he finally slammed the phone down, the newsroom erupted in applause.
“So what’s your follow-up going to be?” Mattingly asked, swiping a bottle of spring water off his desk and taking a noisy gulp.
“A profile of Emily Gibson. I have an interview with her mom and boyfriend in a few hours. I’ve talked to some of her friends already, but they weren’t that helpful. None of them seemed to have known her very well. Sounds like her work was her life.”
Mattingly grunted as he sat down hard in his overstuffed leather chair.
“What about Newhouse?” Lewis asked.
“I’ve left several messages for him, starting yesterday and then again this morning. He hasn’t called me back. Surprise, surprise.” Kate rolled her eyes.
“Well, don’t let him put you off like that, dammit!” Mattingly roared.
Kate cringed. “What do you want me to do, ambush him in his office?”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I want you to do. Wait by his car in the parking lot if you have to. His top researcher is missing under suspicious circumstances. He can’t just refuse to talk about it.”
“Have you tried to reach out to UTMB’s press person?” Lewis asked. “Maybe they can encourage Newhouse to talk. It’s terrible PR if he doesn’t.”
“It’s also suspicious as hell,” Mattingly interjected. “Call UTMB, fine. But don’t wait on their help. Put the screws to this guy. If he continues to put you off, we’ll make that our headline: ‘Missing researcher’s boss silent on disappearance.’ Let him chew on that for a few days.”
Kate took a deep breath and nodded. Mattingly’s fury lit a fire in her gut, conviction burning away the natural human impulse to avoid confrontation. Newhouse didn’t have to talk to the newspaper, but it would be uncomfortable for him if he didn’t. She’d be happy to deliver that message.
“I’d better go look over my notes one more time before I head out to my interview,” Kate said, standing. “After I talk to Mrs. Gibson and Emily’s boyfriend, I’ll swing by UTMB.”
“Good. Just remember, you own this story right now. Don’t give these guys from New York and Washington any room to steal it from you.”
Kate grinned, a bolt of competitiveness crackling across her mind like sheet lightning, illuminating her purpose.
“I won’t,” she said over her shoulder as she walked back to her desk.
Chapter 4
From her seat on Emily Gibson’s couch, Kate couldn’t detect any sign of the mess the unknown intruder had left the day before. The small space looked ready for a photo shoot in a decorating magazine. A short stack of medical journals fanned out on the coffee table. Vacuum cleaner tracks lined the carpet. And a slight floral scent permeated the air.
As Kate looked around, Pamela Gibson emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of tea.
“It took me all day to tidy up,” she said, following Kate’s gaze. “Whoever came through here left quite a mess.”
Kate smiled as she took the cup Mrs. Gibson offered. She was glad to have something else to do with her hands while the sorrowing mother talked. Constantly scribbling in a notebook would only remind the woman this was an interview and Kate was an outsider looking in on her grief. She wanted Mrs. Gibson to feel as though she were talking to a friend. She was much more likely to open up if she could forget, even for a few moments, that Kate was a reporter.
Across the room from his perch on a wrought iron bar stool, David Knowles exhaled a heavy sigh. Mrs. Gibson cast a sympathetic, motherly look his way.
“David, are you sure you don’t want some tea? It’s Emily’s favorite.”
“I know,” he smiled weakly. “I’ll save it for her when she gets back.”
Mrs. Gibson nodded. “We refuse to believe Emily’s not coming back,” she said to Kate, her voice catching over the words. “That’s what’s getting us through this. I wanted to clean up right away so she wouldn’t have to see the mess when she comes home.”
Kate winced. Denial was a cruel coping mechanism. It took every ounce of effort to play along.
“I’m sure she’ll appreciate it. Everything looks great. Could you tell whether anything was missing?”
“Nothing seemed to be. And nothing was broken either. Emily will be glad about that.”
“Is Emily a really tidy person?”
“Oh, yes! Always, from the time she was a child. She used to group her stuffed animals by type and color after she was done playing with them. Of course, she didn’t play with them for too long. Once she discovered books, she was done with toys.”
“She sounds like an early achiever.”
“She definitely was. All of her teachers commented on how smart she was, early on. But her curiosity really set her apart. There wasn’t anything she didn’t want to know about. She read everything she could get her hands on. We had a hard time keeping her in books.”
“Did she decide she wanted to be a doctor when she was little?”
“It was after her dad died, when she was ten. He had ALS. We spent so much time in the hospital it became like our second home. Everything the doctors and nurses did fascinated her. She constantly peppered them with questions. I think it was partly her curiosity and partly her way of dealing with a very difficult situation.”
Kate swallowed down the lump in her throat. After losing her husband, this woman would probably have to mourn her only daughter as well.
“That must have been a terrible time.”
Pamela sniffed. “At least we had time to prepare. It wasn’t sudden or anything. And in a strange way, I think losing her dad gave Emily a perspective on life and a determination she wouldn’t have had otherwise. I’ve never met anyone more determined. She just refused to quit at anything.”
