Chapter 2 - The Woman Outside the Door
“Daria?”
The voice belonged to Naomi Bell.
Daria's closest friend at Thorn Pharmaceuticals.
Adrian opened the door.
Naomi stumbled inside.
She was thirty-one, usually immaculate, usually composed.
Tonight her dark hair was loose and one sleeve of her blouse had been torn near the shoulder.
“Lock it,” Naomi gasped.
Adrian did.
Daria stared at her.
“Were you the one who gave me the envelope?”
Naomi nodded.
“You have to leave.”
“What happened to you?”
“There isn't time.”
Adrian stepped closer.
“Make time.”
Naomi looked at him.
Fear flashed across her face.
“You weren't supposed to be here.”
“Apparently I'm hearing that often tonight.”
Naomi glanced toward Daria.
“You told me this bathroom was where you went when things got bad.”
Daria remembered mentioning it months ago.
One exhausted conversation over vending-machine coffee.
“You locked us inside?”
“No. I used my maintenance override to open it.”
“Then who locked it?”
Naomi's silence answered enough.
Adrian held up the document.
“Where did you get this?”
“Clinical archive.”
“You have access?”
“I process insurance reconciliation.”
“That doesn't give you clinical archive access.”
“No.”
“Then how?”
Naomi swallowed.
“Someone gave it to me.”
“Who?”
Before Naomi answered, an alarm chirped somewhere outside.
She flinched.
“We need to move.”
Adrian unlocked the door.
The executive hallway looked empty.
Naomi led them toward a service stairwell.
Daria's thoughts spun around one fact.
Her mother.
Experimental medication.
Eleven months.
“Tell me exactly what's happening.”
Naomi kept walking.
“I started finding unusual patient charges four months ago. Medications listed under ordinary billing codes, but the internal product numbers didn't match.”
“TH-47?” Adrian asked.
Naomi nodded.
Adrian stopped.
“How many patients?”
Naomi looked at him.
“At least forty-three.”
The hallway seemed suddenly colder.
“Forty-three?”
“That's what I found.”
Daria leaned against the wall.
Her mother's name was one of them.
“Why didn't you report it?”
“I did.”
“To whom?”
“Martin Kessler.”
Daria closed her eyes.
Of course.
“What happened?”
“He told me it was an accounting migration issue.”
“And you believed him?” Adrian asked.
“For about two days.”
Naomi had copied records.
Tracked invoices.
Compared pharmacy logs.
Then she discovered payments routed through an outside research contractor called Crescent Meridian.
Adrian recognized the company immediately.
“They consult on trial administration.”
“Apparently they do more than consult.”
They reached the stairwell.
Adrian stopped them before opening it.
“Who tore your sleeve?”
Naomi's eyes dropped.
“Someone followed me from records.”
“Who?”
“I didn't see his face.”
Daria touched her arm.
“Naomi, we need police.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I tried.”
Daria stared.
Naomi pulled out her phone.
The screen was cracked.
“I called Detective Paul Mercer twenty minutes ago. Someone answered his phone.”
“Not Mercer?”
“No.”
“What did they say?”
Naomi's voice became barely audible.
“They said, ‘Give us the documents, Ms. Bell.’”
Adrian's jaw tightened.
Someone knew.
Someone had access beyond Thorn.
“Where are the rest of the records?” he asked.
Naomi looked at Daria.
“I didn't bring them.”
“Where?”
“I put them somewhere nobody inside Thorn could reach.”
Adrian's phone vibrated.
A security alert.
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS — EXECUTIVE LEVEL.
Then another.
BUILDING LOCKDOWN INITIATED.
Adrian frowned.
“I didn't authorize lockdown.”
“Who can?” Daria asked.
“Me. Security director. Chief operating officer.”
Daria knew the COO.
Victor Hale.
Adrian's mentor.
The man who had helped build Thorn Pharmaceuticals.
Adrian called him.
No answer.
Naomi looked frightened.
“That's not good.”
The stairwell door suddenly opened below them.
Voices.
Security.
Adrian motioned upward.
They climbed.
At the thirty-fourth floor, he used his badge.
The door opened into a private conference area.
“Where are we going?” Daria whispered.
“My office.”
“You think that's safe?”
“No.”
At least he wasn't lying.
They crossed the dark executive floor.
New Orleans glittered beyond the windows.
Inside Adrian's office, he locked the door manually.
Naomi immediately went to his computer.
“I need external network access.”
Adrian watched her.
“For what?”
“The evidence.”
“You said it's outside Thorn.”
“It is.”
“Where?”
Naomi typed.
Nothing happened.
“No internet.”
Adrian checked his phone.
No signal.
“They've shut down the floor network.”
Daria looked between them.
“Who is ‘they’?”
Nobody answered.
She slammed her palm against the desk.
“My mother is in a hospital receiving something your company made, and both of you keep talking around me.”
Adrian met her eyes.
“You're right.”
He took a breath.
“TH-47 was developed six years ago as an experimental renal-regeneration compound.”
Hope flickered involuntarily inside Daria.
“Regeneration?”
“In early animal studies, it appeared extraordinary.”
“Then why wasn't it approved?”
“Because later trials showed dangerous cardiovascular complications.”
“How dangerous?”
“Fatal.”
The word landed like a gunshot.
Daria sat down.
“My mother…”
“We don't know what dosage she received.”
“You said eleven months.”
“I know.”
“She started having heart problems eight months ago.”
Adrian's face tightened.
Doctors had blamed Evelyn's declining health on kidney disease.
What if they had been wrong?
Daria pulled out her phone.
No signal.
“I need to get to her.”
“We will.”
“Now.”
“Daria—”
“NOW.”
Adrian looked at Naomi.
Then toward a private elevator behind his office.
“There is another way out.”
They moved.
The private elevator required biometric authorization.
Adrian pressed his thumb to the panel.
ACCESS DENIED.
Again.
Denied.
Someone had removed the CEO's credentials from his own building.
Adrian stared at the screen.
“That requires executive administrative authority.”
“Victor?” Naomi whispered.
Adrian didn't answer.
A desk phone rang.
All three froze.
Nobody should have been able to call through lockdown.
It rang again.
Adrian answered on speaker.
“Thorn.”
A distorted voice responded.
“Mr. Thorn. Give us Naomi Bell and the documents.”
Daria felt Naomi grab her hand.
Adrian's voice hardened.
“Who is this?”
“You have five minutes.”
“What happens after five minutes?”
The voice paused.
Then:
“Ask Ms. Rivers what happens when her mother's infusion pump receives a remote dosage update.”
Daria stopped breathing.
The call disconnected.
Her phone suddenly recovered one bar of service.
A message arrived from St. Catherine Medical Center.
MEDICATION PROTOCOL UPDATED — EVELYN RIVERS.
May you like
Daria opened it.
The new infusion was scheduled to begin in eleven minutes.
