angrily. “No. This isn’t the end of it. We don’t have a product, a problem, a solution, and research that backs it, all for nothing. Nick, can you get in touch with this Dubois guy?”
Amber shook her head in exasperation, but Nick wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if he told Jacob no right now. She was right. The man had a crazy look in his eye.
“What harm could it do to call him?” he asked her.
“Well, no harm yet, but….” She sighed. “Okay, have it your way. I’ll make more coffee. If we all get offed by big pharma lobbyists, I will haunt you two.”
“We’ll also be dead,” Nick pointed out as he dialed.
“I’ll find a way.” The look on her face was remarkably convincing.
He spun in his office chair as the phone rang. When he began to think Dr. Dubois had no answering machine, a brusque voice said, “Yes?”
“Uh. Hi.” He cleared his throat. “Is this Dr. Dubois?”
“Yes. Is this important? I was heading out.”
“Uh, I’ll be quick. Yes, it’s important.” Nick looked at the others and mouthed, “The doctor is in.” “I’m calling about your study on using low-level electric currents to stimulate brain activity.”
There was a long pause. “Are you a journalist?” Dubois asked finally.
“No. I’m an engineer.” Nick hesitated, then took the plunge. “My friends and I made a device that, it turns out, is very close to what you had envisaged. We recently found your research and we wanted to meet. We’re in the bay area, and—”
“Huh.” The doctor cut him off. “Send me your resume, kid, with schematics. I’ll get back to you.” He hung up without a goodbye.
Nick put the phone down carefully. “Well, he’s interesting. A little like Professor Elling at high speed.”
Amber raised her eyebrows.
“Guys?” Jacob turned the TV up. “Look at that for a second.”
Amber craned her neck to see better. The TV displayed a broadcast of footage taken from a chopper. Ambulances were crowded around a crumpled piece of metal that looked like it might once have been a car before it met a tree at high speed. Two pictures flashed on the screen. One was of a young woman with dark hair and a mischievous smile, captured in a candid photo. The other portrayed an uncomfortable-looking young man in a sport coat and tie, probably a senior class photo.
“Car accident?” she said. “None of us live near there, man.”
“Look who he is, though.” Jacob pointed to the text that scrolled across the bottom. THE PASSENGER, JUSTIN WILLIAMS, IS THE SON OF JUNIOR SENATOR TAD WILLIAMS. WILLIAMS, WHO WAS ELECTED IN 2018…
“Oh,” she said softly.
“Oh,” Jacob echoed. He gave her a determined look. “It seems we might have found our pull in the senate, doesn’t it?”
Chapter Four
Tad Williams had grown accustomed to thinking of his son as an overgrown child. At six feet two inches, with his father’s broad-shouldered build and a good education, Justin had all the makings of a good looking, successful man. He shouldn’t be living at home at the age of twenty-four, playing video games all day long with no earthly ambition.
The fact was that lately, he hadn’t even been able to look at his son without feeling annoyed.
It was amazing how quickly things changed. He looked at him now, lying still under the blankets of the hospital bed, and all he could think about was when he was still small enough to pick up. When he’d carried him to bed, his blond head pillowed on his shoulder, tiny arms around his neck, and eyes drooping.
He even looked small right now. His chest barely moved and his face was horrifying.
The doctors said they kept the lights dim so that if he woke, it wouldn’t be hard for him to open his eyes, but he suspected it was so that he and his wife couldn’t see how bad the bruising was. Half of Justin’s face looked almost purple, and another bruise was visible at the neck of his hospital gown—the seatbelt had probably made that one.
The doctor said his collarbone had been knocked out of place.
Why that was enough to make his heart squeeze, he didn’t know, but he fumbled blindly for Mary’s hand. When her fingers tightened around his, he looked at her and their eyes met.
Justin didn’t know it, but he wasn’t the only one with a lazy streak. At eighteen, all Tad had wanted to do with his life was work on cars and maybe get a job in the factory in