Silent Awakening. Elaine Barbieri
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