Kathleen Long - A Necessary Risk

She’d been named lead researcher on Whitman Pharma’s testing of HC0815 two weeks earlier, and Van Cleef had asked her to handle one section of today’s presentation.

She couldn’t be more thrilled.

Or more nervous.

While she considered herself a whiz with facts and figures, people were another matter altogether. Let alone speaking in front of a crowd this large.

As Van Cleef covered the basics of New Horizon’s relationship with area pharmaceutical companies and New Jersey College, Jess scanned the crowd, taking note of the expressions of those present.

Some intent. Some quite obviously watching the clock.

When her gaze landed on one individual in particular, she found herself riveted, unable to look away. Her typically strong intuition told her instantly something was amiss.

He didn’t belong here.

His strong features showed no sign of emotion. Close-cropped dark hair neatly covered his head, and what had to be at least a three-day stubble graced the sharp line of his jaw.

While others in the room had shed their jackets due to the temperature inside the room, he wore a leather jacket yet showed no sign of perspiration.

No sign of weakness, actually.

She didn’t need her advanced science degree to know he stuck out like a sore thumb. There was no doubt in her mind he didn’t belong.

But who was he? And who was he with?

While the others present displayed an apparent interest—faked or not—in Dr. Van Cleef’s presentation, taking notes and asking questions, the man in question did neither. He stared so intently at the presentation screen it was a wonder his gaze didn’t sear a hole clean through the wall.

The appropriate media pass hung around his neck, but Jess couldn’t make out the name of the organization he represented, even though she squinted intently at the small square object.

Did he work for a competing institution? Had he gotten his hands on media credentials and crashed the showcase?

Investigational drug testing was a brutally competitive industry, and while they did their best to keep their work and specific details of their clients’ drug development a secret, a breach in security was always a threat at New Horizon.

When the man’s focus shifted unexpectedly to her, Jess looked away, her breath catching for a split second. She was being ridiculous, of course. He couldn’t possibly know she’d been studying his every move—or lack thereof. And what if he did? She had a right to stare just as much as he did.

She turned her attention back to the presentation, waiting for her cue to approach the podium, but felt the man’s eyes on her. She ignored the heat of his stare, focusing instead on the work here at New Horizon—specifically her work—and the comments she was about to make.

Taking over the Whitman Pharma testing had been a dream come true. While she’d been with New Horizon for the past two years, she’d spent the five years prior working in the New Jersey College medical research department. She’d learned firsthand just how miraculous today’s medicines could be when it came to curing illness.

Excitement skittered through her as Van Cleef’s presentation shifted to the topic of Whitman Pharma’s development of a revolutionary treatment for Hepatitis C. At long last, a cure sat on the horizon—a total and complete cure. With none of the psychological side effects of existing drug therapies.

Jess wrapped her arms around herself and smiled. Wasn’t this what every kid dreamed about? Being part of developing a lifesaving cure?

Today Hepatitis C. Perhaps tomorrow MS.

Her mind shifted quickly to her father’s struggle, but she refocused immediately, not wanting to miss her signal to begin her talk.

Van Cleef called her name and Jess stood, winding her way between the row of chairs on stage as a smattering of polite applause filled the room.

She stole one last glance at the man in the leather jacket, her thoughts on finding cures evaporating into thin air when her eyes met his, still locked on her face.

Jess’s stomach tilted inexplicably. Her warm smile slipped, yet the man’s expression changed. One corner of his stern mouth lifted into a crooked smile, crinkling the skin around his dark eyes and softening the furrow that apparently had permanent residence between his brows.

She looked away, focusing on the podium and Dr. Van Cleef. The only thing she needed to worry about now was her presentation. She stole one last glance at the man as she arranged her notes before her, adjusting the microphone. Surprise slid through her when she found him making a notation on his pad, the first she’d seen him make all morning.

Yet her surprise was quickly replaced by unease when his dark stare lifted once more to her face.

Jess knew with certainty that any notation he’d made had nothing to do with New Horizon and everything to do with Jess herself.

But why?

If he was from the competition and he’d pegged her as an easy mark, he had another thing coming.

DETECTIVE ZACH THOMAS stared at the show before him, doing his best to contain the pent-up fury seething through every inch of his tense body.

New Horizon. The latest and greatest in conducting clinical trials for area pharmaceutical companies. And the last place his brother Jim had held down a job—albeit a very part-time position.

Clinical trial participant. Healthy clinical trial participant.

Zach shook his head, mentally berating himself for what had to be the millionth time since his younger brother’s death. Why on earth had he encouraged Jim to take the job? For a bit of financial independence? For the contribution to science?

Damn.

Jim had been so excited. So thrilled to be helping test potentially lifesaving medicine and to be getting paid well for the work. He’d been alive.

So very alive.

And now he was gone.

Zach straightened in his seat, adjusting the blank tablet on his lap. All around him reporters made notations or whispered into handheld recording devices. If Zach cared about blending in, he’d do the same, but he had no desire to waste time writing down what were obviously practiced talking points.

If questioned, he’d explain he had a photographic memory. Hell, it was true, after all.

No matter what the coroner’s report had concluded, there was a link between Jim’s work for New Horizon and his death. Zach planned to do whatever it took to get to that truth.

He’d borrowed a buddy’s press credentials to gain access to the new pharmaceutical testing company’s open house, hoping to gain some insight into how the company worked, into who he might tap on the inside for information.

So far he hadn’t spotted anyone who might be a potential target. The parade of staff had comprised hardened individuals. No one bearing the expression years of police work had taught Zach to zero in on. The open, curious, caring face.

Jim had been gone and buried for six weeks now. Six.

The kid hadn’t lived to see his twenty-first birthday, yet here the New Horizon people sat bragging about their efforts to make the development and release of new drugs safe for the public at large.

Safe, his ass.

His younger brother had taken a header off the balcony after a supposed bout with depression and psychosis. The coroner had refused to call the death anything but suicide, but Zach knew better.

Jim hadn’t been depressed or confused a day in his life, no matter what sort of statements his college buddies had given the officers on the case.

When Zach had pressed the investigating officers for their case notes, they’d told him to take care of himself, to leave the investigation to them.

When he’d tried to swipe those same notes from the files, the department had told him to take a hike.