Richard Mabry - Lethal Remedy

When the doorbell sounded, Sara pulled the curtain aside a tiny crack and peeked outside. A gray Toyota sat in her driveway.

Unfortunately, she'd forgotten to ask John Ramsey what kind of car he drove, so that information didn't do much to assure her this wasn't her attacker, come back to finish the job. She moved to the door, but hesitated there. Hadn't she heard about murderers waiting for the peephole to darken, then shooting through it? You've watched too many crime dramas. "Sara, it's me," the familiar voice called. She released the security chain, turned the deadbolt, and opened the door just wide enough for John to slip through before she reversed the process.

"Sorry to be so security conscious, but… " "I understand. Now why don't we have some coffee and talk about this?" After they took seats at Sara's kitchen table, she told John what she could recall about the shooting. "It was all over so fast. I never noticed a car following me. And if I hadn't swerved into that parking lot, I guess he'd have had a clear shot right through my side window." "Sounds like you had an angel sitting on your shoulder." It was an offhand remark, but it triggered a thought in Sara's mind. "You may be right. My mother always said we don't die until we've done everything God put us here for. Maybe I'm not finished." John drained his mug. He started toward the sink, but Sara stopped him. "Just leave it. I'll clean it up later." She snorted. "You know, we're getting into angels and God, and it sounds like we want to talk about anything except who shot at me and why." "Then let's get to it." John turned slightly and crossed his legs. "We're both diagnosticians. Look at this situation like it was a patient with symptoms we don't understand. Where do you start?" "With the history," Sara said automatically. "How is the problem manifested now, what preceded it, and what's been done about it so far?" "Let's start with the manifestations. Someone took a shot at you. Now the simplest explanation is that it's an isolated incident-in this case, a drive-by shooting, a case of mistaken identity. Unfortunately, nowadays that would be the most common explanation as well." "Do you think that's it?" John shook his head. "Doesn't matter. When you're making a diagnosis, do you stop with the most benign possibility?"

"No, you have to consider other causes and rule them out, especially the worst ones. You work your way down." "Right," John said. "The worst possible scenario is that this was deliberate. If that's the case, we have to consider the why." Nothing was said for a moment.

Finally, Sara broke the silence. "I can't think of a reason why anyone would take a shot at me." "Nothing you've been doing could make anyone angry?" Sara chewed on her lip. "The only thing is that for the last couple of days I've been trying to get information about Jandramycin.

But surely that wouldn't-" "Let's just follow that line of thought.

Who did you talk with yesterday about Jandramycin?" "This is crazy,"

Sara said. "We're being ridiculous." "Maybe," John said. "But are you sure this isn't a valid scenario? If this was a simple drive-by, our discussion just costs us a little time. If it was something more, you may still be in danger. Now who did you talk with about Jandramycin just before the shooting?" "Rip and I confronted Jack, but he blew us off. Then I called Jandra Pharmaceuticals, talked with a Bob Wolfe, tried to talk with the head man there, and hit a stone wall both times." "Go back a little further-just before our lunch yesterday.

What about the irregularities in the research project? Where did that come from?" Sara nodded. "Right. Rip told us the numbers weren't matching." "And he got that information from-" "Carter Resnick." John ticked the names offon his fingers. "So if we're going to connect the shooting with your inquiries about Jandramycin, the triggering event could have come from Jack Ingersoll, someone at Jandra, or Carter Resnick." Sara opened her mouth, then closed it. "Yes? Take it further," John encouraged. "Well, we had our meeting yesterday to talk about all this, and Mark Wilcox was there. So I guess we have to include him." Sara frowned. "You know, you introduced Mark to us, but we don't really know much about him. What does he do, anyway?"

"Lawyer, doctor, very sharp, dependable." John ticked the points offon his fingers. "He had a successful law practice, but apparently got tired of it and decided to go into medicine. I get the impression he thought he could do more good that way. Now his practice is sort of a mixed bag: a small general practice, some legal medicine, occasionally consulting for pharmaceutical companies. I've known him since he was in med school, and I think he's okay." "If you say so," Sara said.

"What about me?" John asked. "I was at that meeting." "No!" Sara felt as though she were lost at sea, with no land in sight. Only John Ramsey was a fixed point on the horizon. "I have to trust someone, and everything in me tells me I can trust you." John gave the briefest of nods. "And I'll make sure your trust isn't betrayed. But there's one more person who's been involved in the Jandramycin saga. One more member of our little crew." "I don't know who-Oh! Absolutely not." "So how do we eliminate him? Does Rip have anything to gain if Jandramycin moves forward and the side effects stay buried?" "I can't see any benefit to him." "I can," John said. "Rip would be co-author of every paper of Ingersoll's on Jandramycin. When he finishes his fellowship, think how much it would improve his chances of getting a plum faculty appointment or research job if he'd worked with Jack Ingersoll on the Jandramycin project." "I just don't think Rip's that kind of person.

And he's been working right beside me to find out more about these side effects. I can't see him trying to stop me now." "Okay," John said. "I don't think we should totally take Rip offour list, but we can move him down toward the bottom, at least for now." Sara felt her shoulders slump. "This can't be happening. I don't want to live my life suspecting everyone around me. I can't function that way." John rose and moved to stand beside her. "Just be careful and watch your back." "I'd like to think I'm over-reacting. Maybe this has nothing to do with Jandramycin. Maybe it was all simply random." John patted her shoulder. "That's enough for now. You need some rest. I'll pick you up in the morning, and if you need a ride to pick up a rental car, I'll take you." Sara rose and took John's hand. "Thanks. It helped to talk about this." John paused in the living room. "Are you going to be okay alone here tonight? Maybe you should check into a hotel." "I'm not going to let something like this run me out of my home," Sara said, her words carrying more conviction than she felt. "We could call one of your female friends to stay with you. And I could ask the police to drive by your house several times tonight." "They've already offered to do that," Sara said. "No, I'll be fine. I'll lock up after you leave." She gestured at the bat by the front door. "And I have my old faithful softball bat here if I need to deal with an intruder." "Just remember, a bat won't help if someone starts shooting at you." "It's what I have tonight, but I'm already thinking of… never mind." No need to tell John she'd already made up her mind to buy a gun. The next time someone started to shoot at her, she was determined to return fire. After she heard John's car pull away, Sara slumped into a chair in her living room. Her mother's Bible was on the coffee table beside her. She'd put it there after her parents were killed in an auto accident, but hadn't opened it. Maybe this was a good time to do so. She reached for the book, and it slipped from her hands, falling open to what was apparently a frequently visited page. Sara lifted the Bible into her lap and scanned the verses. She stopped when she came to a passage marked with a yellow highlighter. Her lips moved silently as she read: "You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday." Thanks, Mom. I could always count on you for help.