The Last Lie Read online

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed how thin he is? Or how pale and sickly he looks? Something’s going on with him and it started before the shooting. I’m worried about him.”

  “He’s been under a lot of stress. And by the way, it’s not unusual to lose a little weight when you’ve just been shot. Of course he looks like hell. Wouldn’t we all?”

  “Come on Cai. Don’t go lawyer on me. I’m concerned about my friend. I think he’s sick and not talking about it. And I think you know it and that you’re both pretending everything is okay because of this IPO.”

  Cai raised her eyebrows and looked at me over the rim of her coffee. “That’s quite the story you’ve fabricated. Do you think the guilt trip works on attorneys? You know I can’t discuss my client or his business with you. Are things so rough at work that you need innuendo to sell subscriptions?”

  I’d pissed her off. The attorney voice was back. She was a master at well-placed inflection. My phone pinged a text from Michael.

  Call me ASAP. I dialed while Cai recapped her coffee and picked up her wallet. I laid my hand on her forearm, asking her to wait a minute, so I could apologize. I was doing a lot of that today.

  “Did you get the appointment?” I asked Michael.

  “No, I got distracted.” He paused. “We have another dead kid. Male, 22, fitness buff. Roommate says he’d been doing a three-day fast, drinking nothing but VTF. I thought you’d want to know.”

  I stared out the window, stunned at what Michael had just said. My worst fears were coming true. “I’m heading to the hospital now.”

  I hung up with Michael my thoughts immediately on my sister.

  “What’s wrong?” Cai asked. “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

  “I think your client’s going to need a different type of attorney, and soon.”

  17

  I left Cai standing at the counter with her coffee, a confused look on her face, as I ran out of Starbucks. She’d hear the details of the latest incident from her client, perhaps even from police headquarters. Right now the only thing that mattered was getting to my sister. I hailed a cab and got over to Northwestern Hospital as quickly as I could.

  “I need to see Dr. Lassiter. It’s urgent,” I said to the nurse managing the station. Seeing the look on my face, she hesitated only a second.

  “I’ll track him down and send him to your sisters room,” she said, reaching for the phone.

  Lane was awake when I entered her room, her hair in a loose bun and her bathrobe over the hospital gown. She was having a conversation with my father about a book he used to read to her as a child. A midday talk show host added commentary in the background. Something inane about the rising price of Thanksgiving turkeys this season. The normalcy of their conversation immediately felt incongruent.

  I looked from Lane to my father feeling my heart race. I’d been so intent on speaking to the doctor that I hadn’t figured out what I was going to say to Lane. Seeing her awake and conversational lessened my anxiety, slightly.

  “Everything okay?” my father asked. “You rushed in here like something was wrong.”

  I made a quick decision not to say anything until I’d spoken to the doctor. The additional stress wasn’t going to help anyone, especially since we couldn’t tell her we had a remedy. I walked over to the side of Lane’s bed and grabbed her hand.

  “You look a little livelier today. Are you feeling better?” She didn’t really, but I felt the need to sound a little more upbeat.

  She looked down at my hand on hers and lifted her eyebrows. “That bad, huh?”

  Our relationship was complex to say the least and public displays of affection between the two of us were reserved for extreme moments. Oops, caught in the act. I laughed it off as if she were being silly. I slipped off my coat and set my tote bag on an empty chair. Inside was a bottle of VTF I’d picked up downstairs in the hospital food court to give to the doctor. At the very least, maybe the ingredient list would give some ideas.

  Lane sighed and adjust the pillow behind her back. “I’m getting sick of this damn place. I’m so tired of the mush they call food around here that I’m almost willing to try one of your disgusting green drinks.” She gave me a weak smile.

  “Now I know you’re still sick.” I laughed. “Had you asked me for a caramel macchiato I would’ve known you were feeling better.”

  “Oh, come on, the food ain’t that bad,” my father added, picking up the Chicago Tribune he had on his lap.

  Since he was content with anything wrapped in plastic, he could throw in a microwave, I told Lane I’d run downstairs and get her something from Beatrix. After overdosing on Spaghetti-O’s and Campbell’s soup during high school, I didn’t wish canned food on anyone other than my cat.

  The doctor came into the room. He looked around, appearing confused by the relaxed mood he’d walked in to.

  “You wanted to see me, Ms. Kellner?” he said.

  “Yes, I do.” Then to Lane. “I’ll go get you two some lunch.” May as well continue being evasive.

  I didn’t say any more but stepped out of the room, Lassiter following behind. I turned the corner and walked down the hallway until I felt we were out of earshot.

  “The nurse said it was urgent.” He looked quickly at a text that had popped up on his phone. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  I took a breath. “I may know what’s wrong with my sister. Or at least a direction that we can investigate. I know we spoke about her high caffeine intake, but I believe it’s possible that something Lane has been drinking may be the cause of her illness.”

  “I’m listening.” He looked at me, brow furrowed, anticipating what I had to say.

  “My sister has been consuming an energy drink produced by a local company called VTF Industries. You may be aware of them. They’ve had quite a bit of media coverage recently. However, I have reason to believe that two individuals have died suspiciously after heavy consumption of the drink.”

  I could see I had his attention. I pulled the bottle out of my tote and handed it to him. He looked carefully at the label.

  “Beyond a heavy dose of caffeine, I don’t see anything concerning on the ingredient list. What do you know of these two previous cases? What links do you believe exist?”

  As I was filling him in on Kelly Cavanaugh’s death, I saw Michael rushing down the hall. A slight sheen of sweat glossed his forehead. I hadn’t been this happy to see him since the night Erik died.

  The men exchanged greetings.

  “I was updating Dr. Lassiter on Kelly,” I said to Michael. “Why don’t you fill us in on today’s situation.”

  “A fitness center employee came back to his apartment this morning after being out all night and found his roommate dead,” Michael said, his voice showing none of the anxiety that was in mine. I listened intently as he spoke, soothed by his nearness. “A Jeremey Wolanski, age 22, a personal trainer at Equinox. According to the guy we spoke to, there’d been no evidence of illness, but he said Wolanski had complained of feeling like he couldn’t catch his breath. Like his heart was beating too fast was the exact quote. The young men worked together.”

  “And the deceased drank this energy drink?” Lassiter asked.

  “Yes. He was on his fourth day of what he called a juice fast. And by juice, he meant this.” Michael nodded at the bottle in Lassiter’s hand

  “Can I assume an autopsy will be performed?”

  “We’ve been able to speak with Wolanski’s mother and she’s granted permission. She also confirmed that as far as she knew, he had no health issues and was not taking any medication. She isn’t sure if he had a primary care physician. I’ve been in contact with the medical examiner’s office and a copy of the autopsy report of the first victim is being sent over to you. Clearly this is conjecture, but it’s worth looking into.” Michael said, watch me for a reaction.

  “I agree,” Lassiter said. “How long ago did the first victim die?”

  “Th
ree months,” I said.

  “That means we should approach toxicology differently. Perhaps there’s a bacterium we missed or possibly a contaminant. I’ll speak with the ME. If we can isolate any other common elements in the pathology, it can help us with the direction. I’ll get this bottle in for analysis, but if there’s a contaminant, that doesn’t mean it will be present in this batch.” The doctor looked from me to Michael, then tapped notes into his phone.

  “I understand. Does that give you any ideas about how to treat my sister differently?”

  “I’ll order some new toxicology tests, see if there’s anything out of whack.” He lifted the bottle. “I’ll speak to you soon.”

  Lassiter left, leaving Michael and me alone in the hall.

  “She’s going to be okay,” Michael said, pulling me into his arms. “We’ll figure this out.”

  I clung to him, willing his words to be true, drawing on his strength. I pulled away keeping my hands on his arms. “It’s time I told Lane.”

  “What happened to my salad?” she said as we returned to the room. “He’s cute, but not what I meant when I said I was hungry.”

  Lane and Michael had met after Erik died. But at the time, he’d just been a cop doing his job who happened to have a little bit of a crush on me. I could see her mind whirling, but couldn’t tell if she was curious or nervous. Regardless, the cat was going to be out of the bag on my love life soon enough.

  I introduced Michael to my father. It felt odd. But this was hardly the time to be concerned about father/daughter protocol.

  “What’s going on? You two look all serious,” Lane said, suspicion winning out.

  “Lane, how frequently are you drinking VTF energy drinks?”

  18

  I’d lied to Lane. Well, that is if you call omission a lie. Michael had left the hospital to get back to work on the Wolanski case while I stayed to explain the situation to Lane and my father. I told them enough about the concerns we had regarding the energy drink to explain the additional testing Lane would be going through but left out the part about anyone dying. In other words, enough to scare them a little, but not enough to cause panic. Bottom line, they seemed to be relieved to be one step closer to an explanation for her illness. Too bad I wasn’t.

  Then I’d made the lunch run to Beatrix I’d promised, picking up a Supernatural Chopped Salad for Lane and a Prime Burger with Kennebec fries for dad.

  Leaving them to their meal, I made a run to Lane’s apartment to pull all the VTF out of her fridge, assuming Lassiter would want it for testing, then hustled over to have another heart-to-heart with Seth.

  This one might lead to bloodshed. He’d lied. I could feel it and I was disgusted.

  I stormed into the VTF company headquarters, blowing past the receptionist I’d met yesterday. She was on the phone engrossed in some sales pitch. She frowned and tried to wave me down, but I kept walking. Today wasn’t a day for politeness.

  I found him in his office leaning over his large conference table sorting through piles of head shots. His desk phone was beeping as the receptionist tried to get in a warning call, fortunately she hadn’t been fast enough. A young woman wrapped in Lycra stood next to him making some inane reference about having used a brunette in the last photo shoot. They both looked up as I burst into the room.

  “You’ll need to finish this later,” I said to the woman. “I need to speak with your boss.” She swung her eyes from me to Seth wondering what he wanted her to do. He nodded and mumbled something about using her best judgment as she shuffled the photographs into a folder. Neither one of us said another word until she was out of the room and the door was closed.

  “Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance,” Seth started. “I assume this phone call is my warning announcement?” He stepped to his desk and picked up the handset, assuring his receptionist that everything was fine.

  Hardly. But he’d find that out soon enough.

  “You do have my phone number,” he said. Seth was annoyed, but his arrogant tone did nothing to redirect my focus. I’d heard enough of his evasion and lies. People were dying, and he knew it. I could feel his fear under the mask of bravado. Men were predicable that way. The bully in them came out the minute someone pushed them to admit their failings.

  “Sit down,” I barked.

  He slowly pulled out a chair and did as he was told, but leaned back, his good arm braced over the one in the sling, letting me know that compliance was only momentary.

  I had too much anger inside me to do anything other than pace. “You need to start talking and no more of this innocent bystander bullshit you have been dishing out.”

  “Start talking about what? I don’t have time for whatever this histrionic display is all about so please get to the punch line.”

  “Sexist response. Nice touch, but clichéd. It’s time for confession. There are no investors in this room. I want the truth, the truth about Kelly Cavanaugh. The truth about what’s going on in this company that you are hiding. I want to know why people are dying and why you’ve looked so sick even before you were shot!”

  “So you’re barging in here to call me a liar?” Seth started to get to his feet.

  “You dated her. Lied about it, and now someone else is dead.” I stood firm in front of him watching, waiting, gauging his body language as he let that sink in.

  Seth sat back down. The little bit of color left in his face drained away and he stared at the table frozen. “What are you talking about?” he squeaked out.

  “Another man died today after drinking your drink. And my sister is lying in a hospital bed. I’m not going to let her be the next victim because you’re too damn worried about your IPO.”

  My voice had taken on a cold, controlled anger. Nothing made me more irate than when greed trumped humanity. And here, this man, a man I’d known for years, a man I considered a friend, was doing just that. He had concealed information, I could see it in his face. He knew there was a connection between Kelly Cavanaugh’s death and her use of VTF.

  “No, that can’t be. It has to be a mistake.” He looked up at me with confusion and panic in his eyes. But the only thing I cared about in this moment was getting at the truth.

  “Dammit, Seth. Tell me! What really happened? What do you know?”

  The office door opened and Michael Hewitt entered, escorted by the nervous receptionist I had ignored earlier.

  “This is Detective Hewitt,” she said, her face a mix of confusion and fear.

  Seth nodded, and she scurried out, tripping on her own feet as she left.

  Michael looked at me, his eyes flashing anger behind the police detective mask. He wanted to give me shit for being here ahead of him. We stared at each other, words unsaid. I opened my mouth to explain myself, but nothing would come. All my fears and emotions were jumbled up in my head. I was acting on adrenaline, not logic or protocol.

  “I need to speak to Mr. Bowman,” Michael said, his eyes on me.

  In other words, hit the road. I returned Michael’s glare, frustrated to be shut out, frustrated that I hadn’t gotten answers, and frustrated to be out ranked.

  “I’m not talking to anyone without my attorney,” Seth said, reaching for the phone.

  As Seth placed his call, Michael pulled me aside. “You need to leave. I know you’re worried about your sister but you can’t be here.” His voice had softened, but only slightly. “What in the world are you thinking running over here to warn your friend, if that’s what he is?”

  “Warning him?” I snapped my head up. “What are you talking about? I came here to get answers. I came to find out what’s in that goddamn drink so I can save my sister’s life. And you choose this moment for some ridiculous conclusions about Seth and I being romantically involved? As if that were any of your business.”

  “This isn’t the time or place for this conversation.” Michael’s voice was stone cold. “You need to leave now and let me do my job. What you’re doing is bordering on obstruction
.”

  My frustration threatened to overflow. Michael needed room to do his job, and I knew that, but he had no claims on me. How dare he throw jealousy into the situation.

  “My attorney is on her way,” Seth said, too distracted by his own conversation to have noticed ours.

  My eyes swung from Seth to Michael. It appeared they both had ulterior motives. Michael stared at me, his eyes hard. I turned and left the room, disgusted with both of them.

  I paused to control my emotions as I reached the building lobby. Leaning my head against the wall, I took a couple deep breaths. Seth knew, I could feel it. He knew about Kelly, he knew about the connection with his drink, and he hid the information to save his own ass. I seethed with anger at his greed and hubris.

  Michael had been doing his job when he asked me to leave, but the accusation? He could think whatever the hell he wanted, right now I didn’t give a damn who he thought I was sleeping with.

  19

  I returned to my office, my mind laser focused. I needed to know everything I could about VTF Industries. The image of Michael questioning Seth with my best friend serving as his attorney, made my head spin. Once she understood the gravity of the situation, I was certain Cai would help him find an appropriate criminal defense attorney. But for now could this be any more strangely intertwined?

  My fingers flew over the keyboard working my browser into a frenzy. Page after page I dug into VTF’s history. As a private company, it wasn’t as easy as contacting investor relations or pulling up an annual report. I found a few articles on Crain’s and documented the basics but it wasn’t enough. LexisNexis gave me slightly more information. But who were the suppliers? What about investors? Was someone padding the bank account for all this growth? I knew Seth had bootstrapped the company in the beginning, but it seemed unlikely he could fund his aggressive growth strategy on the strength of his personal financial situation alone.