to happen to you, Sarah, not while I’m still breathing. And that’s a promise.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-TWO
Max stepped out of the bathroom, wiping his freshly shaved jaw with a white towel. Another towel circled his waist, the corner tucked in near his navel. “I knew this was too good to last,” he said. “What gave me away?”
“A little birdie named Wilmont,” Caden said.
“Sam?”
“The one and only.” Elliott tossed him a shirt, boxers, and a pair of jeans. “Get dressed, we’ve got some questions for you. You can use the bathroom to change, but leave the door open.”
Max didn’t seem inclined to argue or attempt a disappearing act, but Caden wasn’t taking any chances. He stood in the doorway, his foot blocking the door from fully closing.
Max changed and Caden handed him his shoes. “What’s all this about?” the man asked.
Caroline gave a short laugh. “We’d like to know how a dead man is working . . .”
“. . . and living . . . ,” Elliott said.
“. . . at a hospital without getting caught,” Patty said.
“But you did catch me.”
“Not very quickly,” Elliott muttered, then scrubbed a hand down his cheek. “Let’s find a conference room.”
The security officer led the way out of the closet and down the hall to stop in front of a closed door. He swiped the key card and held the door while they all filed in, with Max in the middle and Caden bringing up the rear.
Elliott turned and pointed to Heather. “You don’t need to be in here.”
Caden cleared his throat. “I think it might be helpful to have a physician’s ears on this. I know her and I trust her one hundred percent.”
Elliott and Caroline exchanged glances and frowned. Then Caroline gave a slight nod. Elliott shrugged.
“I’ll be right out here if you need anything,” the guard said.
“Thanks.”
The door shut and Caden took a seat at the end of the table. Mr. Xia sat opposite him, with Caroline and Elliott bookending him, one on each side of the table. Patty Boyer leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. Heather perched on the edge of her seat next to Elliott.
“That was you in the wreck, right?” Caroline asked.
Max nodded. “I managed to get out of the car shortly before it exploded.”
“Why play dead?”
“Because the accident wasn’t an accident. Someone tried to kill me.”
Caden raised a brow. “By planting a deer in the road?”
“There wasn’t a deer. There was another car. It cut across in front of me and I went down the embankment.”
Elliott leaned forward. “Who?”
Max shifted and rubbed his chin. “Someone from the company I used to work for.”
“Marshbanks Pharmaceuticals,” Caden said.
Max nodded. “You’ve done your homework.”
“It wasn’t hard. I remember the wreck from the news. What about your family?”
“They know I’m alive but in danger. I sent them to London to stay with my sister-in-law until I could figure out how to bring down the company.”
The detectives exchanged a look. “Why do you want to bring it down?” Elliott asked.
“Because it killed my son.”
Silence fell, then Elliott cleared his throat. “Can you give us some details?”
“Terry, my son, was in Kabul. He was Army. A little over a year ago, insurgents bombed an orphanage and he was part of the rescue crew.” Tears pooled in his eyes and he blinked them away. “It nearly destroyed him. Fortunately for him, the psychiatrist there recognized his pain, put him on some medication, and sent him home.” He cleared his throat. “By the time he got home, he was doing so much better. It was wonderful and amazing. My wife and I decided it was safe to take a weekend vacation, and when we came home, we found Terry hanging by the neck in the garage.”
Caden closed his eyes. Then opened them. “My brother committed suicide when he jumped off the roof of the hospital where he was a psych patient. Brianne Davis, another psych patient who served in Kabul, shot herself. Helen Craft, a doctor in Kabul, jumped from her apartment window. What in the name of all that’s sacred is going on?”
“It’s the drug,” Max said. “And I helped create it.”
Heather let out a low gasp and Caden shot her a warning look. She bit her lip and sat back in her chair.
Max pressed his lips together, then said, “The company is marketing it as a PTSD drug, and they’re working the numbers so that the FDA will approve it.”
“Then why would you send Wilmont to Brianne’s house with more of it?” Caden asked.