Plain Truth (Military Investigations) (16 page)

“Sir, why don’t you call your wife,” Zach suggested. “Tell her to keep her doors locked and the phone number for the Freemont police department close at hand. It might be overkill, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“You’re right, Zach. That’s good advice.” The strain on Mr. Landers’s face revealed how worried he was about his family.

Keep the girls safe.

The words flashed through Ella’s mind. A thought? Or a prayer? If it was a prayer, would the Lord listen? And if He heard her, would He also respond?

SEVENTEEN

E
lla escorted Mr. Landers to the head table and introduced him to the director. While they talked, Zach went into the hallway and called Sergeant Abrams.

After explaining his concern about Corporal Powers, Zach added, “If you can, have one of your cars patrol around the Landerses’ home. The first sergeant plans to keep Powers overnight in the barracks, but things can change. I wanted you to be aware of the situation.”

“Thanks for the information. We’ll watch the house. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little girls or to their grandmother. Hate to think that their father would do something to harm them, but we’ve seen the results of PTSD before this. What time do you plan to return to Freemont tomorrow?”

“By early afternoon. I’ll call you when we arrive.”

“And I’ll let you know if anything changes around here.”

Zach disconnected and found Ella standing near their table. She shared that Mr. Landers had given the director a sizable check to help their research continue. “He embarrassed me by saying that I had saved his granddaughters. I told him I wasn’t the one to thank.”

“You’re too humble, Ella.”

“The thanks goes to my husband and the members of the research team who made the breakthrough, which I mentioned to Mr. Landers.”

She seemed more positive about her husband, Zach noted. Being back in the environment of researchers and physicians—her peers—probably gave her a renewed appreciation for what he had accomplished.

“Your husband must have been a brilliant physician,” Zach said, feeling a tug of sadness. It hadn’t been that long ago when Ella had allowed Zach to take her hand, had relied on him to keep her safe.

The director moved to the podium. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would take your seats at this time, please.”

Zach helped Ella with her chair and shook hands with the other people sitting at the table. They worked at the center, but in other areas of research, all except Ian.

Ella had mentioned the assailant’s accent. While it seemed unlikely that the British researcher could be involved in the clinic break-in, Zach had learned long ago to keep an open mind.

Ian sat on the other side of Ella. Too close for Zach’s comfort, but he could do little to change the seating arrangement.

The director tapped the microphone and the room quieted. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve asked Reverend Henry to lead us in an invocation.”

The minister was tall and middle-aged, with a high forehead and long nose. “Father, we thank You for this gathering and for all that has been done in medical research to help children everywhere.”

Zach glanced at Ella before he bowed his head. She seemed lost in prayer, and Zach wondered if he was wrong for not turning to the Lord.

God, I’m sorry. Forgive me for not making time for You in my life. Help me tonight to keep Ella safe.

Dinner was served following the invocation. Ella talked to Ian and occasionally tried to bring Zach into the conversation. She ate the salad and roll, but ignored the main entrée when it was served.

“You’re not hungry?” Zach asked.

“We had a late lunch,” she offered as an explanation.

Perhaps she wasn’t hungry because she was enjoying the British man at her side. Ian seemed to be the life of the party and his accent became more pronounced with each glass of wine.

After the dessert was served, the director stepped to the podium again. “We have a special treat tonight. I know you’re here to celebrate all the work done at the clinic. Because of your generosity, young boys and girls will have access to the medical care they need.” The audience applauded.

“I’d like to pay a tribute to those involved in our latest project. Please, sit back and enjoy the program.”

The lights dimmed and a photo of Amish children at play appeared on the large television monitors positioned around the room. A series of photos showed the research team. Some were bent over microscopes, others were at their computers and still others were in the Amish community talking to families. The photographer, no doubt understanding the Amish aversion to snapshots, had remained at a distance. The faces of the children were hard to make out, but their distinctive clothing and the farmhouses in front of which they stood pointed to their simple lifestyle.

Ella stared at the video and sighed at the photos of the children. She pointed to a man carrying a young child in his arms. “That’s Quin.”

Ian patted her hand. “I’m sure it’s hard to watch.”

Her eyes brimmed with tears. Zach flicked his gaze from her to the British researcher, who seemed overly zealous. More pictures of Quin flashed on the monitor.

The final photo showed him surrounded by children, looking happy and upbeat and not the negative person Ella had described.

The years of his birth and death were superimposed over his photograph, followed by, “With gratitude for the contributions Dr. Quin Jacobsen made to the Amish Project.”

The applause was instantaneous.

Nancy Vaughn moved to the microphone. “At this time, I’d like Dr. Ella Jacobsen, Quin’s wife, to join me onstage.”

Ella gasped. She patted her cheeks and fought back more tears. Zach stood and helped her with her chair.

Ian stood in turn and hugged her. “Well deserved, Ella. We’re so glad you’re here this evening to receive the award.”

“Award? I...I never expected anything like this.”

Zach squeezed her arm, but she hurried away from him and made her way to the stage.

Ross gave her his hand and steadied her as she climbed the steps to join the director at the podium. Nancy greeted her with open arms, and the two women embraced for a long moment as the applause continued.

Ella brushed her hand over her cheeks, wiping away tears, and accepted the etched crystal plaque engraved with the caduceus logo of the research center.

The director kept her arm around Ella and spoke into the microphone. “It is my honor and privilege to present this award for the inspiration, dedication and hard work of Dr. Quinton Jacobsen, who led the research team in the early days and contributed a great extent to the breakthrough in childhood enzyme deficiency. Ella, I am so grateful that you could join us this evening so we could recognize your husband posthumously for his involvement with the Amish Project.”

Ella gripped the award to her heart and leaned toward the microphone. “Thank you for this special honor for my husband.” She glanced up. “I know Quin is looking down upon all of us and is appreciative of this expression of gratitude for his service. His work was his life. Thank you for recognizing him tonight.”

Another round of applause accompanied Ella back to the table. Zach rose to help her with her chair, but she shook her head ever so slightly, grabbed her purse and hurried from the ballroom, still holding the award.

He excused himself from the table and hastened to catch up with her. She was standing in the hallway waiting for the elevator when he did so. Tears streamed from her eyes, and her grief seemed overwhelming.

Ella was mourning for a husband she still loved. Zach had been a fool to think that something could have developed between them. Her husband had died just eight months ago, hardly time for her to get over his passing.

The door to the elevator opened and they stepped in. Zach pushed the button for the seventh floor, handed her his handkerchief and then stood aside, hands folded in front of him, giving her space and a bit of privacy so she could continue grieving without him hovering too close.

The elevator stopped on their floor, and he walked her to her room, took the key from her hand and opened her door.

“We’ll leave in the morning, Ella. What time shall I have the valet bring the car around to the front of the hotel?”

She shook her head. “I can’t stay here. I need to go home.”

“It’s late,” Zach reasoned. “You’re tired.”
And not thinking rationally
, he wanted to add, but seeing her troubled expression, he didn’t voice his additional concern.

“I want to go home. There are boxes I need to unpack that belonged to Quin. There’s a picture I want to find.”

A picture of both of them, no doubt. As unsettled as she seemed, Zach knew going home was important to her.

“Give me fifteen minutes to change out of my uniform. Is that enough time for you?”

She nodded. “Knock on the door. I’ll be packed and ready to go.”

He hurried to his room, feeling heavyhearted. He’d made a mistake by getting emotionally involved with the doctor. He’d drive her home and ensure she was safe. Maybe he’d stand guard outside her clinic throughout the night.

Sergeant Abrams might have answers by now. Daniel Fisher could have confessed. Or perhaps Corporal Powers was somehow involved.

The end of the investigation was in sight; Zach could feel it as surely as he knew it was time to reel in his feelings and control his heart.

Once Tyler returned from his trip, Zach would ask him to take over the case. Zach needed to return to post. He didn’t need to cause Ella any more problems.

Before he entered his hotel room, he turned and looked down the hallway, thinking of when he and Ella had first arrived and the sense of connection he’d felt when he was with her. How had he been so wrong?

Letting out a stiff breath, he entered the room and closed the door behind him. If only closing the door to his heart would be as easy.

Getting over Ella would take time, but he would succeed. He had to. He had no other choice than to say goodbye to her and to what he had hoped would develop between them.

What Zach had hoped for would never be.

Not now.

Not ever.

EIGHTEEN

E
lla’s heart was heavy as they drove back to Freemont. She stared into the dark night, her head turned away from Zach. She couldn’t talk. Not tonight. Not after everything she had experienced in Atlanta.

The tribute to Quin had been unexpected. She’d set the crystal award at her feet in the car, unwilling to let it out of her sight. Quin deserved recognition, and she was thrilled the research team had honored him.

No wonder the director had been so insistent that she join them in Atlanta. Yet Ella was awash with mixed messages.

She thought of Ian, who had been so solicitous. He’d always been a friend to her. Quin had found fault with him at times, but her husband had been prone to finding fault.

Ross had seemed especially grateful for Quin’s contribution. Even the director, who could be cold and unemotional at times, had tears in her eyes when she’d presented Ella with the award.

Yet Nancy hadn’t mentioned Quin’s name at the medical symposium. Perhaps she had saved her praise until the evening function to make the award more of a surprise.

Ella thought back over the last weeks of Quin’s life. The comments he’d made concerning the treatment data played over in her mind. Something had bothered him. If only he would have been more forthcoming.

Zach coughed. She turned to glance at him. Even in the half-light from the car console, she could see that his face was flushed and a line of sweat rimmed his brow.

“Are you feeling okay?” The doctor in her became alert to the signs of some medical problem.

“I’m fine.”

She touched his forehead and then pulled his hand to her cheek. “That’s strange.”

“I don’t have a fever,” he insisted.

“Maybe not, but something is making you flushed. Do you want me to drive?”

He shook his head. “We’re almost to the Freemont turnoff from the highway.”

“How’s your stomach?”

He shrugged. “A bit queasy.”

“The twins had a gastrointestinal virus the night of the attack. You could have been exposed at the clinic.”

“The twins were gone by the time I arrived.”

“Still, if you’d touched the bedding or if the virus lingered in the air... That type of bug is highly contagious.”

“I don’t have a stomach bug. It’s probably fatigue.” He rubbed his brow.

“You’ve got a headache?”

“A dull one, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Men always try to be so strong.”

He glanced at her with tired eyes.

“I didn’t mean that as a negative comment,” she was quick to add. “But it’s the truth, Zach. I want you to lie down in my treatment room when we get to the clinic. You can’t drive back to Fort Rickman tonight.”

“I planned to stay at Tyler’s house.”

“You don’t want him to get sick,” she reasoned.

“He’s out of town.”

“As ill as you look, you shouldn’t be alone. Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

He shook his head again. “Here’s the turnoff. We’ll be at your clinic before long.”

The drive through Freemont and then onto the road to the Amish community seemed to take longer than usual tonight.

Ella didn’t like the way Zach looked. His face was pasty white and his breathing seemed labored. He held the steering wheel with one hand and rubbed his stomach with the other. A twenty-four hour virus was the most logical diagnosis, but she’d know more when she got him into her clinic and took his vitals.

Whatever was affecting him, it wasn’t good.

“Turn there,” she suggested. “It’s a shortcut.”

He shook his head. “I want to drive by the Landers place to make sure the twins and their grandmother are safe.”

“Can you ever stop being a special agent caring for the needs of others?” Ella asked, hearing the sharpness in her tone, no doubt from worry.

“It’s my job,” he answered.

A job that was taking a toll on him, especially tonight.

He pulled the car into the Landerses’ driveway. Ella grabbed his arm when he started to get out. “Stay here,” she insisted. “I’ll run to the door and talk to Lucy.”

She hated to leave him. “Are you sure you can make it to the clinic?”

He nodded. “Just see if the Landerses are all right.”

Ella hurried to the door and tapped lightly so as not to wake the girls. “Mrs. Landers?”

“Who’s there?” The grandmother’s worried voice came from inside the house.

“It’s Dr. Jacobsen.”

The older woman opened the door, her face tight with concern. “Bob called. He said he saw you in Atlanta. He was surprised that you were attending the charity event.”

“And I was surprised to see him. Are the girls all right?”

“They’re fine.”

“Did you or anyone else get the virus?”

“Thankfully, no, but then my husband always says I’m healthy as an ox.”

Ella had to smile. “With everything that’s happened, keep your doors locked. Corporal Powers is supposed to remain on post tonight. If he happens to knock at your door, call the police. Don’t let him in. He’s going through a hard time and needs to remain under observation.”

“Sergeant Abrams called and told me to use caution. I hate to hear bad things about my son-in-law, but the officer reminded me that the twins’ safety is the most important thing.”

Relieved, Ella hurried back to the car. When she opened the door, she knew something was very wrong with Zach.

“You need to go to the hospital,” she insisted.

He shook his head. “You’re a doctor. I’m in good hands.”

Ever the optimist and always affirming.

When they arrived at her clinic, Zach was nauseous and could hardly climb the steps to the porch. Unlocking the door, Ella noticed a note stuck under the mat.

“It’s from Levi.” She read the hastily written script.
“Sarah wants to visit her sister. We’re going to Alabama for the weekend.”

Traveling in a horse-drawn buggy wasn’t what she would recommend for a pregnant woman, but Levi could take care of his wife. Ella needed to focus on Zach.

She helped him into a treatment room and had him stretch out on one of the cots. He had a low-grade temperature with an elevated pulse. She gave him an antinausea medication and encouraged him to close his eyes.

“The medicine will make you sleepy. That’s the best thing you can do now. When you wake up, you should feel better.”

As he drifted to sleep, she thought back again to everything that had happened in Atlanta. The video and the information the director had provided didn’t add up. Either the data had been transposed or Ella’s memory was faulty.

The first night, Zach had said her husband’s death could have something to do with the clinic attack. She’d thought that foolish at the time, but now she realized it could all play together. If only she could find the missing link. The box of Quin’s things would be someplace to start.

Thinking of her Amish neighbors and their trust in the Lord, Ella clasped her hands and bowed her head. “Lord, direct my steps. This terrible turn of events needs to stop before someone else is hurt.” She looked at Zach, with his flushed face. “Keep Zach in Your care.”

Hurrying to the hallway closet, she pulled out a box, rummaged through the contents and found the framed picture of the three sets of Amish twins.

The twins will provide the answer
, Quin had said shortly before he left for Memphis.

She turned over the frame. On the back, he had written the dates when the children had started treatment. The Zook twins—two blond-headed boys—were the breakthrough case when Quin first realized they’d developed a successful treatment.

But the director said the Zook twins had come to the clinic three months after Quin had first seen them and two weeks after his death. Ella didn’t understand the discrepancy in the dates. Nor did she understand why Ross had forgotten about the two other sets of twins.

Sitting at her desk, she clutched the frame to her heart, wishing she could clear away the confusion. Her fingers touched something wedged under the cardboard backing on the frame. Her pulse raced as she pulled out the staples that held the cardboard in place, and found a tiny flash drive.

With trembling hands, she inserted the device into her computer and opened the file. Pages of data that Quin had saved appeared, information that was supposed to have remained at the Harrisburg Genetic Research Center.

Ella scrolled through the results, her heart pounding. She was close to uncovering whatever had bothered her husband. Perhaps something that led to his death.

At the end of the last page, she read the final paragraph Quin had written. “I’m heading to Memphis this afternoon and am prepared to confront my assistant. The treatment of three sets of twins—the Yoder, Zook and Hershberger children—was mishandled. The protocol that I developed, which provided the fastest and most efficacious treatment, was not given to all the children. One child in each set of twins received a substandard and less effective medication, and those children have suffered serious complications. The mishandling of these three cases is criminal and was, no doubt, done to decrease cost and thus increase profits. I plan to get to the bottom of this problem, find the person at fault and notify the authorities of medical malpractice.”

Ella thought back to the garbled voice she’d heard. A British accent. Had Quin’s assistant tampered with or switched the medication each child was to receive? Did he know about the data Quin kept, and had he come after Ella in hopes of finding the flash drive?

Ella needed to call the director to warn her. “The data you presented today is inaccurate,” Ella said when Nancy answered her cell.

After explaining what she had found on the flash drive, Ella added, “I remember Quin saying that Ian had been involved in the production of a low-cost treatment that had been rejected early on. Maybe Ian made the switch to compare his own product against the one Quin had developed.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ella told her about the break-in and the attack in her clinic. “I called you some months ago and mentioned reading Quin’s notes. Ian must have feared that I had information that would reveal his devious scheme to gain recognition.”

“You talked to Ian?”

“Only briefly, before he transferred my call to your extension. I kept thinking about what you had said at the symposium, and the photos used for the tribute to Quin. The dates they were taken appeared at the bottom of each photograph. I wrote down the dates you mentioned at the symposium this morning, and they didn’t match. The breakthrough case was actually much earlier than you documented. It was when Quin first developed the treatment. Yet the data you used at the symposium—data Ian must have given you—incorrectly noted that the treatment was not developed until after Quin’s death. It’s Quin’s work, yet the team is claiming the breakthrough as their own.”

“You’re sure about this?” the director asked.

“I’ve got the flash drive that has everything on it.”

“Thank you, Ella. I’ve been suspicious that something underhanded may have been going on. I’ll call Security here at the hotel to apprehend Ian.”

“Be careful, Nancy. The person who came after me was armed and dangerous. Quin didn’t take his own life. I’m convinced Ian killed him.”

“He’ll be arrested within the hour. Keep this confidential until he’s apprehended. I wouldn’t want anything to undermine the charity work that was done tonight. And again, thank you for being with us and for all Quin did for the research team.”

Ella hung up, relieved that everything was coming to an end and that the truth about Quin’s death would soon be revealed.

“Ella?” Zach’s voice sounded weak.

“Are you okay?” She hurried to the treatment room.

His face was beet red, and he was gasping for air. “I...can’t...breathe...”

She grabbed a syringe and a vial of epinephrine. “You’re having some type of allergic reaction.”

Had he inadvertently eaten seafood?

She filled the syringe, tied a tourniquet around his left arm and started to inject the medication.

A noise sounded behind her. Before she could release the tourniquet and completely dispense the epinephrine, someone grabbed her shoulders.

She screamed and fought against his hold. The syringe dropped from her hand.

Zach struggled off the cot and threw himself against the man who held her bound. The guy punched Zach in the chest. He doubled over, wheezing. His legs buckled, and he fell to the floor. His head hit the hard tile.

“No!” Ella threw her arms back against the assailant and kicked her legs. “He needs the rest of the injection or he’ll die.”

“You will, too,” her captor snarled. “On the wooden bridge not far from here. You’ll die like your husband.” His hand tightened around her neck. “Where’s the flash drive?” he demanded.

“I’ll never tell you.”

He cursed and struck her head. She cried in pain and struggled to get free.

“You can’t get away with this, Ian.”

“You’re not even smart enough to know your killer.”

She jerked, trying to see his face, but he held her tight against his chest and started to drag her out of the clinic. They passed a glass-fronted cabinet containing medical supplies. She saw her own reflection in the glass.

Narrowing her gaze, she gasped, never expecting to see the face of the man who wanted to kill her.

“Ross!”

* * *

Zach dug his way back from oblivion and gasped for air. He’d heard Ross and knew the bridge he mentioned. Fall rains had raised the water level. Ella wouldn’t—couldn’t—survive in the angry current. Zach’s heart pounded and his pulse raced. He had to save her.

After rolling to his side, he pushed himself upright. A red rash covered his hands and arms, and a metallic taste filled his mouth.

The syringe lay on the floor nearby, more than half filled with medication. The little bit he had received had opened his airway somewhat. Still, he labored to breathe.

Needing to inject the rest, he reached for the syringe, fumbling as he tried to grasp the slick plastic barrel. His fingers were stiff and swollen, the back of his hands splotched with hives.

Angry with his own clumsiness, he willed his limbs to work. Ever so slowly, he grasped the barrel and lifted the syringe off the floor. The tourniquet was still tight around his left arm. Blood seeped from the initial injection site.