Kathleen Long - A Necessary Risk

The footfalls slowed as they neared, and Jess turned, doing her best to mentally prepare for whatever—and whoever—she might find behind her.

A middle-aged man stood close yet kept a respectable distance. His complexion was scarred, as if he’d battled severe acne in his youth. His dark hair had begun to recede, and he’d slicked it back, creating a stereotypical New Jersey tough-guy appearance. His manner of dress, however, belied his intimidating looks.

He wore an impeccable suit, crisp white shirt and tightly knotted tie. His clothes showed not a hint of wear or wrinkling, as if he’d just dressed or emerged from a corporate limo.

He reeked of money and confidence, and Jess didn’t recognize him from the neighborhood.

“Can I help you?” she asked, hoping the fear that had her trembling inside wouldn’t infiltrate her voice.

The man tipped his head to one side, a slow smile lifting the corners of his mouth. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Jess narrowed her gaze, suspicion filtering through her. “I’m fine. You’re not from around here, are you? Do you need directions?”

He pursed his lips. “You were running. What made you do that?”

You, she thought.

The man’s tone had turned icy, and Jess swallowed reflexively, doing her best to ignore the fingers of dread that wrapped themselves around her neck and squeezed.

The man took a step toward where she stood, but Jess held her ground, steeling herself.

“I was wondering if you had reason to be afraid of something.” His voice dropped low now, menacing, the implied threat unmistakable.

She shook her head. “Why would I be afraid?”

He leaned near and Jess seriously considered screaming. She tensed, ready to strike out should he make a move.

“Sometimes people stumble into situations where they don’t belong,” the man continued. “You’d be surprised what can happen to a person who loses her way, to those she loves, especially when they can’t defend themselves.”

Jess fought the urge to take a swing at him but stood frozen to the spot. She hated how much fear his words had shot into her system. Just who was he threatening? Her? Her family? Her disabled father?

The man tipped his chin, then pivoted away from her. “Take care now. And don’t forget to lock your doors. You wouldn’t want to leave yourself vulnerable.”

Jess did nothing. Said nothing. She merely stood and watched him walk away as if her feet had been anchored in concrete.

Either the man was merely a Good Samaritan with a penchant for gloom and doom or he’d followed her with the express intent to intimidate.

She’d put her money on the latter.

Someone had sent the man with the message for her. She’d stumbled onto something someone else didn’t want her to stumble upon. But what?

Detective Thomas’s allegations were the only development out of the ordinary in her otherwise predictable life. Surely Dr. Van Cleef hadn’t sent the well-dressed man out to scare her. And other than those two, the only person she’d contacted was Scott, yet she’d mentioned no specifics in her voice mail, purposely being discreet.

Could the conversation she’d just had have been a random warning from a well-meaning stranger?

When she punched in her security code and entered the building, she had her answer. The door to her condo sat wide-open, as if she’d gone off to work and never pulled it shut behind her.

She stood to the side of the threshold and listened but heard nothing. Glancing inside, it was evident nothing obvious had been touched or moved. The condo was designed as an open loft, and she was able to scan the full interior from the door.

Her living area, kitchen and sleeping area were all as she’d left them with no intruder in sight.

No matter. Jess knew she’d locked the door just as she knew someone was sending her a message. No doubt the man she’d just encountered on the street.

She pulled her cell phone from her briefcase and speed-dialed her parents’ number. After they’d assured her they were fine, she disconnected, prepared to call the police. Then she had an even better thought.

She pictured Zach Thomas’s dark and intense features, a shiver tracing its way across her shoulders at the image. What if the detective was behind both the intrusion into her apartment and the warning from the stranger? What if he’d orchestrated the moves to intimidate her into cooperating?

Her gut told Jess he hadn’t, but there was only one way to find out.

She pulled Detective Thomas’s card from her pocket, read the digits of his phone number, then punched them into her cell.

Thomas’s gruff response suggested he did not appreciate the interruption.

Too bad.

“Detective Thomas?”

“Who is this?”

“Jessica Parker. We need to talk.”

Zach sat uncomfortably on the edge of Jessica Parker’s sofa, still angered by the woman’s accusations but thankful for the excuse to speak to her again so soon.

She drew in a slow breath, and for a split second worry clearly shone through her controlled features. She squinted, as if his presence made her terribly uncomfortable.

Zach pinned her with a glare. “It’s not every day I get accused of sending some thug to threaten a woman and break into her apartment.”

“I thought you might have done it to get me to cooperate with you. To get me to pull the data.”

Heat fired in Zach’s face, and he knew he was treading a thin line when it came to control. He might be desperate to get to the truth, but even he wouldn’t go so far as intimidation. Would he?

“Lady, I’m a police officer. The last thing I need to do is scare you into believing me. I’ve got the facts on my side.”

She shook her head. “I’m not so sure you do.” Her eyes locked with his, their intensity shaking him to the core. “Your brother’s name is nowhere to be found in any of the records.” She spoke flatly, her gaze never leaving Zach’s. “Could he have lied about his involvement?”

Zach battled to keep his sudden anger and frustration under control. He shook his head. “My brother was not a liar.”

She gave a quick lift and drop of her shoulders.

“What about the earlier study?” he asked.

Hope simmered inside him as she nodded her head.

“Dr. Van Cleef said an earlier trial did take place, but Whitman pulled the drug out of the approval process.”

He arched one brow. So she’d asked. “My information was right, then.”

Jessica shook her head. “There’s no data. No proof of any adverse reactions.”

Zach shoved a hand through his hair. “Why else would they pull the drug?”

“Competition, insufficient market potential—”

“Someone has to know something, remember something,” Zach interrupted, lifting his gaze to hers, momentarily transfixed by her pale blue eyes. He gave himself a mental shake and refocused. “Have any ideas?”

Jessica sucked in a deep breath, then sighed, turning toward her phone. “I do, actually. Scott McLaughlin. I replaced him as lead researcher on HC0815. He left rather abruptly.”

“Any reason why?”

She shook her head as she flipped through a small spiral book. “We were only told he was gone. He had a terrific reputation, though. Let me try him again.”

“You’ve already tried?”

Zach had to silently admit his surprise. So he’d piqued the woman’s curiosity enough that she’d put out feelers to the former lead researcher.

Jessica nodded. “Before I left work.”

“Anyone else you talked to other than McLaughlin and Van Cleef?”

“No one. And I left a vague message for Scott. No specifics.”

Zach listened as she left another message for McLaughlin. The woman appeared calm and collected, but the slight tremor in her hands gave her away.