Greg Iles - True Evil

Dr. Tarver gave her an accommodating smile. "I suppose I could pass that on to Dr. Pearson for you."

Struggling to mask her excitement, she walked to his desk and took a pen from a silver cup there. "May I write on this prescription pad?"

"Of course."

Supremely conscious of Chris's eyes on her, Alex wrote the name of each person she believed to be a victim of the killers they sought, excepting those who had not died of cancer.

"This may sound a little nuts," Chris said, "but I've been wondering if it's possible that someone might be purposely inducing cancer in human beings."

Alex looked up from her list. Dr. Tarver was staring at Chris as though he had suggested that priests might secretly be killing babies during baptisms.

"Did I hear you correctly, Doctor?"

"I'm afraid so."

"That's one of the most remarkable things I've ever heard. What makes you suggest something like that?"

"Intuition, I guess. Nothing else seems to explain these cases."

Dr. Tarver gave him an understanding look. "That's frequently the case with cancer, specifically blood cancers. They remain some of the most enigmatic and intractable opponents we face."

"The other thing," Chris said in a Will Rogers drawl-his version of Columbo? — "is that all these patients were married to wealthy people who wanted to divorce them."

Tarver looked incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, sir. I am."

"Are you suggesting that someone is murdering people by giving them cancer?"

"More than that. I think it's a doctor."

Dr. Tarver laughed. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what to say to that. Do any law enforcement authorities agree with your hypothesis?"

"Yes," Alex said sharply. She wasn't sure why Chris had gone this route, but she wasn't about to leave him twisting in the wind. "Dr. Tarver, I'm actually a special agent of the FBI. And I can tell you that the Bureau is looking deeply into these cases."

"May I see your identification?"

Alex reached for her back pocket, then froze. She had never felt so ridiculous in her life. It was like having her credit card denied, only the embarrassment was magnified a thousandfold. "I left my ID at the hotel," she said lamely.

Dr. Tarver was looking at them with obvious discomfort. "I'd like to do all I can to help you, Dr. Shepard. But I must tell you, if Dr. Pearson knew that this visit had anything to do with legal matters, he would be very upset. I should terminate this interview until we can continue it on an official basis." He looked at his watch. "Besides, I'm late for my meeting."

He gathered up some papers from his desk, then ushered them to the door. Once they were in the hall, he locked the door, said "Good day," then hurried down to the elevators.

"I don't know why I did that," Chris said, walking slowly up the corridor.

"A shot in the dark is better than nothing," said Alex.

"Not always. Once Pearson hears about that conversation, I'll be persona non grata at this institution."

"Not if you really refer that many patients up here. Money talks, brother. And my mother's a patient. They can't kick me out."

Chris angled toward a bench opposite the elevators and collapsed on it. Dr. Tarver had already vanished. Probably into Dr. Pearson's office.

"Are you all right?" Alex asked.

"I don't know. I need to get back to the hotel, at least until my stomach settles down."

"That's fine with me. I need to charge my phone." She pressed the elevator button. "What do you think about Tarver?"

Chris shrugged. "Typical specialist. That AV anomaly on his face is bad."

She nodded. "He gives me a weird feeling."

"He wants to get into your pants."

"Not that."

Chris chuckled as though it hurt to laugh. "I know what you mean. But we're just desperate."

The bell dinged, and the elevator opened.

Chris had already boarded the car when a thought struck her. "You go ahead. I'm going back to ask Dr. Pearson something."

Chris held the door open. "What?"

"It's stupid, really. I'm just being OCD. Wait for me downstairs."

"Tell me, damn it!"

"In one of Dr. Tarver's photos, he's standing in front of a building with a sign that says FREE AIDS TESTING. It looked familiar to me. I think it was a restaurant in downtown Jackson that my dad used to take me to when I was a kid. We'd have breakfast there. It was called Pullo's. I just want to know if I'm right."

"You're serious?"

"Yeah. And I want to know why they were testing for AIDS there. It doesn't make sense."

"I'll go with you." Chris started forward.

She gently pushed him back into the elevator. He was so weak that he could hardly stay on his feet. "I'll be right down. Sit on a bench and wait for me."

He sagged against the elevator wall. "Okay."

Eldon Tarver stood behind the trunk of a large oak tree, his eyes locked on the entrance of the new adult critical-care hospital. He had watched Shepard emerge into the cloud of smoke generated by the patients and nurses getting their nicotine fixes outside the entrance, then retreat back into the building. Where was Morse? Was she canvassing the faculty? Or was she at this moment recounting specific suspicions to Dr. Pearson? Eldon wasn't afraid, but the part of his brain that handled threat assessment was lit up like a small city.

He couldn't go back to his office. Nor could he return to his house. Even going back to the primate lab was a risk…but it was one he had to take. He doubted that anyone had the Noel Traver alias yet. He didn't see how they could. But then how had they gotten this far? Rusk, he thought angrily. A stupid fucking lawyer, what else? Eldon congratulated himself on yesterday's decision to pull out early. Fate had revealed that it was not early at all.

It was very late.

The conversation with Morse and Shepard was one of the most remarkable he had ever experienced. Not only had he murdered Morse's sister, but Shepard…Shepard was a walking dead man! Yet there he'd stood, questioning a specialist with his pathetically inadequate knowledge of medicine. Eldon wondered if Shepard knew he was doomed. If he didn't, he would soon. But unlike the other victims, who believed they'd been randomly selected by fate for premature death, Shepard would know that the cancer devouring his body had been placed there by another human being. By his wife, in fact-or at least at her request.

Of course, the cancer did not yet exist. Eldon had simply initiated a cascade of events that, left unchecked, would terminate in carcinogenesis on the cellular level. And no one was going to stop that lethal cascade for Chris Shepard. Because the only man alive who could do so was Eldon Tarver. And for Eldon, Shepard's death represented valuable research data. Alive, Shepard was useless, and in conjunction with Alex Morse, possibly even dangerous.

Eldon needed to speak to Edward Biddle.

He couldn't risk using his cell phone; the FBI might already be monitoring it. But problems like this were easy to solve. Under a stand of trees twenty yards away stood a small knot of nurses greedily smoking cigarettes. He recognized two from Oncology. With a quick glance at the hospital entrance, he crossed the open ground and addressed the smaller of the two nurses, a short-haired brunette who had always greeted him in the halls.

"Excuse me," he said. "My cell phone died, and I need to make an emergency call. It's about a patient. Would you mind if-"

The nurse was already handing him her phone.

"Thank you," Eldon said with a grateful smile. "I'll only be a minute."

He punched in the number of Edward Biddle's cell phone. The phone rang and rang, then kicked him to voice mail. Dr. Tarver hung up. Was Biddle not answering because he did not recognize the number? Was there some problem because he was airborne? That was unlikely, since he was almost certainly in a corporate aircraft. Or was there some deeper problem? Eldon dialed the number once more and got the same response.