A Necessary Risk. Kathleen Long

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СКАЧАТЬ 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.

      After all, Zach wasn’t stupid. He’d been around long enough to know how the game was played. Push hard enough, and sooner or later Internal Affairs would push back—straight to the department shrink and then straight to a paid leave.

      Zach wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but he also wasn’t about to apologize for manipulating the system to his advantage—all the way to a three-month sabbatical.

      More than enough time to investigate Jim’s death and expose New Horizon.

      The white-haired gentleman in a badly fitting suit—Van Cleef—continued to drone on, using a laser pointer to highlight features on a graph.

      Zach sat back against his chair, patiently waiting for the next topic on the printed agenda.

      The Whitman Pharma trial.

      HC0815.

      The drug that had taken Jim’s life.

      Zach swallowed down the ball of fury climbing up his throat and concentrated.

      He studied the name listed as presenter for the HC0815 segment.

      Jessica Parker.

      He lifted his gaze back to the stage and scanned the faces of the scientists and number crunchers seated in the two rows of chairs.

      He settled on a young blonde, her enthusiasm plastered across her face, and decided she was the best candidate to match the name.

      Her sleek blond hair had been swept back off her face, no doubt into a tight bun or twist or whatever it was women called that style.

      Her white lab coat was buttoned just about to her neck, exposing nothing other than a peek of flesh between the gentle curve of her chin and the collar.

      Uptight, no doubt.

      Yet when her eyes met his, the mix of emotions in her gaze was unmistakable.

      Curiosity and a bit of nervousness.

      His pulse kicked up a notch. If the woman was Jessica Parker, she’d be exactly the person he needed on the inside. She’d have the knowledge and the access to information his investigation required.

      She also had the facial expression he’d been looking for. Open. Alert. Intelligent.

      Her pink lips pressed into a tight line, and he immediately realized his attention had made her nervous.

      Her pale blue eyes flashed back toward the podium and Dr. Van Cleef, as if she were waiting for her name to be called.

      Perfect.

      If she were Jessica Parker, he’d use his phony media credentials to cozy up to the woman, then drain her for every ounce of information she could provide.

      Zach had been smart enough to keep a low profile after Jim’s death. If he’d gone nuts and acted the role of grief-stricken older brother, he’d no doubt have been recognized today, bogus credentials or not.

      Thankfully, he’d kept his head during the weeks since Jim’s death. Hell, truth be told, there’d been a few days when he’d barely been able to lift his head from the pillow. He felt quite certain a large part of his heart and soul were permanently gone—destroyed in the seconds it took for his younger brother to plunge to his death.

      The blonde stood and approached СКАЧАТЬ