Fredric Stern - The Endorphin Conspiracy

She returned his stare, her warm smile reassuring.

Geoff took a sip of the cold, dry wine. “Anyway, I’ve got evidence.”

Suzanne leaned closer. “Let me play devil’s advocate. You spot a missing PET scan of a crazy man on Dr. Pederson’s desk while he’s placing you on probation for illegal entry into Balassi’s lab. While you’re in the lab, you stumble upon a dead body, under mysterious circumstances, though they’re calling it a suicide for now. The dead man and you never got along real well, and were often at odds in public. Tell me, Geoff, what are you going to do, call the FBI? Who do you think they’ll arrest? Balassi and Pederson, or you?”

Geoff sighed, sipped his wine. “Doesn’t look good, does it?”

“Quite honestly, it doesn’t. Neither does your theory. Josef Balassi, world renown researcher by day, mad scientist by night, stalking the hospital and injecting patients with lethal doses of medication.”

“I didn’t say he was the one who did it.”

“That’s what your accusation amounts to.”

“I said he was somehow involved in a cover-up.”

“Your evidence is circumstantial. It would be thrown out of court in a second.”

Geoff grinned. “I’ve got something a lot more than circumstantial.”

“Besides sighting the mysterious scan on Pederson’s desk? Like what?”

“A couple of things, actually.”

“Well, let’s hear it.”

“I found Walter’s isotope log book. There was nothing wrong with the isotope used for the PET scan on Jessica. Balassi lied.”

“Hmm. They could say it was a mistake. Maybe Walter made the wrong entry, transcribed his initials in the wrong column or something.”

“Maybe, though Walter’s a pretty compulsive guy. I guess you’re right. They could try and explain it that way.”

“What else did you find?” Suzanne asked, her interest clearly piqued.

“Two vials of synthetic endorphins, one of which probably matches the substance found in the brains of three of the patients who recently died.”

Suzanne’s pupils dilated in surprise. “How did you—”

“They were in Balassi’s refrigerator in his lab. I have them well hidden right now, but I’ll get them to you tomorrow. Run the assays, and we’ll have our smoking gun.”

Suzanne tensed, leaned back on the couch. “Does anyone else know about this?”

“I haven’t told a soul, Suzanne. You’re the only one.” Geoff thought about the e-mail messages, the encrypted message he copied from Balassi’s computer. He debated whether or not to let Suzanne in on the rest, then had second thoughts. Maybe after the assays were run and they had their evidence documented, but something told him not just yet.

“Then don’t tell anyone . You’re getting in pretty deep, Geoff. You just never know who you can trust.” Suzanne straightened up, finished her wine.

Geoff looked at her warm, brown eyes, saw a hint of sadness behind them. She was holding something back. He leaned toward her, smiled, placed his hand beneath her chin, looked her in the eye. “I think there’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Suzanne Gibson.”

“I could say the same about you, Geoffrey Davis.”

Geoff brushed a wisp of hair off her face. A scent wafted by him. Fendi, Sarah’s favorite. He pulled back, fought the urge to get up and leave.

“Something wrong?” Suzanne asked.

“Not a thing,” Geoff said. He leaned closer to Suzanne, caressed her smooth cheek.

“Want to review those scans?” she whispered.

Their lips met, Geoff feeling a warmth he had not known in many months. He was unhappily certain he knew what the scans would show. “How about in the morning?”

Geoff lifted his heavy head off the pillow, reached over, and squelched the shrill buzz of the alarm clock. He managed to open his puffy lids just a slit, gazed at the time, the red glow of the numbers forcing his eyes to squint. Five-thirty a.m. One glass of wine too many had given him a hangover. He wasn’t a big drinker and rarely had more than a couple of glasses, so the bottle of wine he had last night with Suzanne just about put him under the table, or on top of the counter, in this case.

His head throbbed and his thickened tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth. He felt strangely uncomfortable this morning. It was something more than the hangover, more than a restless night of tossing and turning in bed. He felt as though he had betrayed Sarah, though he had no real reason to feel that way. He liked Suzanne, enjoyed working with her, was attracted to her. There was a sultry sensuality smoldering beneath her cool, intellectual façade. He needed her help, at least until the assays were run. Maybe the relationship would go somewhere, or maybe sleeping with her was part of breaking away from the past.

Geoff stared blankly at the ceiling, tried to replay his conversation with Suzanne. She had succeeded in planting seeds of doubt, warned him he was becoming too involved, suggested his conspiracy theory needed more proof. He thought about backing off, but quitting was something he hated more than anything. It was one of the few childhood lessons from his father, the renowned surgeon, that had stuck with him: never give up, even when the odds are stacked against you.

Geoff had been sucked into the vortex of the violent storm swirling around him. His involvement was beyond neutralizing, whether or not he stopped now, even if he returned the endorphins. He knew too much. Whomever was behind it all was clearly aware of that. He had to beat them to the punch, but first he had to root out the key players, and his plan to do that was already in motion.

All he had to do now was wait and watch—carefully. Very carefully . These people played for keeps. They had proven that with Kapinsky.

“Geoff, what are you doing up so early?” Suzanne said sleepily, as she reached over and gently stroked his inner thigh.

“I’m going to go for a run before heading down to the hospital to clean out my locker.”

Suzanne snuggled up close to Geoff, her hand continuing to roam between his legs. “I could give you a better workout here.”

He reached over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, then threw off the covers and sat up. “I really need to get back to my apartment. I need you to tuck the scans away some place safe for the day. Will you do that?”

“You’re no fun.” Suzanne frowned and pulled the covers up over her firm breasts.

“I had a really strange dream last night,” Geoff said.

“Oh?”

“I dreamed we had wild sex on the bathroom counter.” Geoff leaned over, his hand caressing her back through the sheets and kissed the back of her neck.

“That was great, wasn’t it?” she purred with a satisfied smile. “I guess I’ll let you go now, but you had better be prepared for tonight.”

“Tonight?” Geoff wondered what he had gotten himself into. “What’s it going to be tonight, the kitchen table?”

“Sounds exciting.” Suzanne’s smile faded as she reached out to grab Geoff’s arm. She pulled him close. “You did have a strange dream last night, Geoff, but it wasn’t about us.”

Geoff noted the seriousness behind Suzanne’s eyes. “Tell me about it.”

“You kept repeating Sarah’s name in your sleep. I’ve got a secure ego, Geoff, but I have to tell you, a woman doesn’t like this sort of thing, especially after a passionate night of lovemaking.”

Geoff looked away, tried to remember such a dream from last night, but he drew a blank. Was it his drunkenness that put him into such a deep sleep he couldn’t recall it? He had felt uncomfortable when he woke up, feeling he had slept in the wrong bed with the wrong woman, but he had convinced himself it was just a hangover making him feel so down. He was at a loss for words. “I’m—”