Anamnesis: A Novel (19 page)

Olivia didn’t flinch at the name of her
father. I suppose we already knew he was involved. At least now we knew
how
he was involved. Still composed, she asked, “Did the trials end when the
company shut down?”

Fearnley finished nibbling on one of his dirt
patty cookies. “Of course. Those last few months were anarchy. The FDA wanted
to shut down D.P. for too many violations involving Good Clinical Practice and
Human Subject Protection. Both of which I’m sure you’re familiar. Once the Whiteout
trials were under question most of our financial backers pulled out. Our other
drugs were put under scrutiny. We ended all of our trials after the stock
market crashed. The bank seized our building, God I remember how awful that
was, and the rest is history.”

“That’s so unfortunate. I’d imagine
Whiteout could’ve been a very useful drug had it been properly researched and
tested.” Olivia set her teacup down. She shifted to the edge of her seat, her
hand on her purse. “I suppose there’s still room for me to pave the way and try
making it again though, right?”

“There’s always something newer and better
on the drug market,” Fearnley agreed. He tidied up his tea tray and stood,
signaling our time was over. “Pharmaceutical companies have to stay in business
somehow.”

I clenched the armrests and sized up
Fearnley. This is what we were leaving with? We had a guy who was
there
when
Whiteout was being tested, who was obviously mind fucking us, and we weren’t
putting any heat on him? His wording, his attitude, pointed to something else.
Didn’t Olivia see that?

“What have you been doing to stay in
business all this time?” I gestured around the study. “Something lucrative I’d
imagine. You pay for this place with your sculptures?”

Fearnley studied me. His right hand went
to his neck, but he dropped it when he noticed he’d done it. “Yes, I do.”

I wasn’t done. “Great part of Seattle,
too.”

“It is.”

“Expensive?”

Olivia reached out to my shoulder. I
shrugged her off and leaned farther back in my chair. Fearnley was unmoving,
his gaze fixed on me.

“Whiteout seems like the kind of drug that
would do well on the streets. But for a nicer clientele. Someone who has a lot
of money to spend and something important to protect. Don’t you think? Imagine
what men of power could get away with.”

“Perhaps it would’ve been, the important
word here being
would’ve
.” Fearnley finally took a step towards the
door. “I think it’s time for you to leave. I shouldn’t have let you stay after
you brought up D.P. That’s extremely private information.”

“But you did. Guilty conscious maybe?
People asking around about something you’ve been keeping secret for nearly a
decade, profiting off of. Dirty money never feels good.” I sprung out of my
chair and strode to the bookshelf. “No amount of books will ever help you get
rid of that feeling. Trust me, I know.”

Olivia sat stone still, her hands still
clutching her bag. My style of information gathering was very different from
hers, but in this case it was the only way we’d get more if there was anything.
Olivia got us in. I was grateful. It was my turn now. And part of me knew
Fearnley might’ve been telling us the truth. Maybe he didn’t know anything
about Whiteout. Maybe he did make all his money off sculptures. My bluff could
be for nothing.

Or maybe not.

Fearnley took two more steps to the door.
I closed the distance between us and grabbed him by the arm. “You know why
we’re here. Admit it. You’ve been waiting for something like this to happen.”

I was going out on a limb, but I was all
in. My gut told me Fearnley was hiding something. If brute force was the only
way to get it out of him, so be it.

“I was just trying to be helpful! Jesus,
you’re going to break my arm!”

“Whiteout is on the streets. People are
dying. The worst things it could be used for are happening
right now
.
Don’t you feel at all bad about that?”

He took a deep breath. When he spoke, his
words were forced. I’d broken something in him. Planted the seed. “It’s time
for you to go. If you promise not to come back, I won’t call the police.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Please,
please
just promise me and
go.” Fearnley shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut. He pointed at the door
with one limp hand. “Get out of here.”

“What was that?”

Olivia was livid the moment Fearnley shut
the doors to his studio behind us. Her cheeks were flushed red.

“He was hiding something.”

“Where did you come up with that? Just
because he’s different than you, he’s hiding something?”

“We’re playing the class card again, huh?”
My laugh was bitter at best. “Nice, Olivia. I thought we were over that. When
he saw me, he…I don’t know, he recognized me or something. He kept staring at
me.”

We were already at her car. She flung the
driver’s side open into the road, eliciting a honk from an angry driver passing
by. Olivia ignored it and slid into her seat. I got in the car.

“Staring? That’s a terrible reason for
what you did. And I’m not playing the class card and you know it. The second we
went in there you were defensive. I admit, Fearnley was a little odd. He’s an
artist, they’re always a little off. But your outright accusations were poorly
handled.”

I leaned back, replayed what just
happened. I didn’t regret it, but I might’ve handled it better. Hindsight being
20/20 and all that. If only I had been in a mindful mental space, I could’ve controlled
my reaction. Fucking self-help books.

“There was something up with him. Plus,
Fearnley didn’t seem interested in reporting us. I think we’ll be okay. We have
more names now, too.” I put my seat buckle on. “Let’s go back to your
apartment. We’ll look over the files. We should make one of those boards with
names and strings showing connections. What do you say?”

She tried to keep her scowl but it
dissolved into a reluctant smile. “Sure, Ethan.”

Olivia and I had different frameworks for
everything. Some parts aligned and others didn’t. When they didn’t, sparks
flew. Neither of us could handle being undermined, or having a situation
suddenly go out of our control. Especially when we thought we had it under
control to begin with.

The better part of the drive consisted of
us making little jabs at Fearnley’s sculptures. Olivia even spoke in Fearnley’s
voice about tea and how delightful it was. She told me about an art exhibition
she put on pro bono for a college friend. His art consisted only of sculptures
made of beer cans from frat houses. It was supposed to be a serious commentary
on hazing and the dangers of fraternities. It became a popular destination for
the very frat brothers it disapproved of. They took pictures of themselves with
their phones and stumbled around the exhibition drunk. It was the first time we
talked about something that light. I liked it.

“I’m starving,” she announced as we pulled
into her parking garage, laughter still on the edge of her voice. “Let’s order
noodles. I need to check on some work stuff first, then we can get down to
business.”

Olivia had a handy folding dolly we
stacked the boxes on and one of my bags. I shouldered my backpack and hauled
everything to the elevator for the short ride to the first floor.

Her apartment was exactly as I saw it
last. Even the cardboard circle the pizza had been on was still on the counter
by our empty Diet Coke cans and the bottle of rubbing alcohol. I wheeled the
files to the counter and started clearing space.

Olivia kicked off her shoes and pulled out
her cell. Either she knew the noodle place number by heart or she had it on
speed dial, because in a second she was placing an order for four different
dishes.

I sat awkwardly at the counter, not sure
what to do with myself, until Olivia slipped off to her room to check into
work. I opened the boxes of files and stacked them neatly on the counter by type.

The profiles of the ten dead people
interested me the most. Now out of D.P., I noticed the strong smell of musk and
rot emanating from the papers. I found a pen amongst the junk cluttering
Olivia’s kitchen counters, and began circling anything noteworthy on the
profiles as I read.

All the patients were of different ages,
genders, and backgrounds. What unified them was their history with drugs. Some
were addicted to hard drugs like heroin and meth, while others were pill
poppers. One was an alcoholic. A few of them had specific notes on remaining
family, but many had no family ties. The kind of people no one would miss.

I browsed through all of the consent documents,
but the legal wording made no sense to me. It was like they were written to
confuse. All I gleaned from it was a promise that Whiteout would help addicts
get clean with little strain on their psyche. I wondered if this was some of
the unclear wording Fearnley mentioned.

Forty minutes later Olivia came from her
bedroom when the doorbell rang. She’d changed into loose pants and a sweater
again, despite the sweltering temperatures in the apartment. She brought the
takeout to the kitchen and set it on the floor while she tidied up a space near
the fridge.

“You’ve been busy. Find anything?”

I leaned back. My eyes had a hard time
readjusting to things farther away. “I just checked the last death certificate.
It looks like you have to have a doctor or coroner sign off on it before it’s
official. Guess who signed every single one of these?”

Olivia finally set down the takeout on her
cleared spot. “Who?”

“Dr. Kidd. The guy Fearnley said was on an
IRB for Whiteout. Although I’m still not sure what an IRB is.”

“Institutional Review Board. They’re
supposed to monitor clinical trials to protect the human participants.” Olivia
set up all the takeout boxes side by side and got two plates from a cupboard.
“I was invited to be on one last year to provide a non-scientific humanitarian
point of view. Do you want some of everything?”

“Sure, thanks.” I thought about the IRB
and laughed. “Fuck, they didn’t do a good job of protecting the participants
did they? I have a fake identity and no memory of my past.”

Olivia set a heaping plate of noodles in
front of me with a fork stuck in the side. I caught a piece of noodle that
threatened to fall overboard. I took a mouthful of noodles and savored the
spiciness, the warmth. It wasn’t until I was eating that I realized how hungry
I was. She retrieved more of the wretched diet soda from the fridge and gave me
one of those, too.

“Maybe they didn’t know what was
happening. My dad must have, since he was on there and put Laurel in the
program.” Olivia pushed food around her plate.

I stopped eating and straightened up.
“Hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, I knew he wasn’t a good
person. Now I’m just seeing how bad he was.” She laughed weakly. “Anyway, I’ve
met that Wanda Christoph. She’s the most compassionate woman I know. She’d
never let anything like that slide. Plus, at some point the FDA
did
try
to shut D.P. down so the boards did their job. What I’m wondering is if my dad
was swaying the board or helping to hide things. And Dr. Kidd. He was on the
board and signing off on these death certificates. Which, by the way, we don’t
know if all of them are fake or not. Some of these people could’ve died.”

I speared a shrimp with my fork. “True. I
guess we could do the missing person angle again? Do what I did to track myself
down?”

“We could.” Olivia gained more interest in
her food and started eating again. “Hopefully if I go to the police station
this weekend I’ll be able to find what I can and hand it off to you. I can’t
take more time off work.”

“The mayor thing, right? Election party or
whatever?”

“It’s a gala to announce his running for Senate.
He’ll also have a chance to start working the crowd for financial support, too.
People have a good time, see him in a great light, they’re more likely to show
support. It’s all politics really.” She paused and laughed. “Literally all
politics. But, what I mean it’s a social game.”

“I get it.”

I finished off all my food and got seconds
by the time Olivia finished her first plate. When she was done, she hopped off
the bar stool and headed towards her room. “I’m going to grab my laptop. We’ll
check online for those people first, just in case.”

I set my plate in the sink and turned back
to the files. What we’d learned took a bit of the self-centered loathing from
me. I used to think what happened to me was unique. Someone was out to get me.
They made me suffer, tortured me. That wasn’t the case. Other people were
victims. From what I’d read about myself I wasn’t particularly bright before I
lost time. My parents and the girl, Sarah, cared about me. Apparently I didn’t
care about them or myself enough to get clean. I was wasting my life before and
I continued to waste my life after. Was there anything I’d truly lost that I
didn’t bring on myself?

The thought hit me hard. Hard enough that
I started opening cupboards in search of hard alcohol. Olivia’s cupboards
contained a bunch of healthy foods—why did she eat so poorly when she was with
me?—that I probably couldn’t pronounce the names of. After yielding no results,
I went to the freezer. It was a treasure trove of ice creams and frozen pizzas.
Then I spotted it; a frosted bottle of vodka. It hadn’t even been opened.

I heard murmuring from Olivia’s bedroom.
It sounded like she was on the phone. I bet she’d say yes if I asked for a
drink anyway, so I took the bottle and cracked it open. The ice cold liquid
fogged the glass I poured it into. I knocked the shot back, then another, and
poured myself a reasonable looking portion before returning the bottle to the
freezer.

Heat spread from my throat into my core, then
began to work its way down my arms and legs. That familiar tingly feeling
washed over my head and my eyes smarted. Now all I needed was a cigarette and
I’d be in good shape. I wandered over to the couch where I sat and studied
Olivia’s stuff. Closer to her room, I heard her talking. It was hushed, too
quiet to make out words.

She had books on meditation and happiness
that I recognized or had read myself. They were well worn, with dog-eared pages
and sticky notes popping out of the edges. Just as I was about to reach out and
pick one up, Olivia came from her room.

“That was Kaylee’s mother. They found her
body.” She noticed the glass in my hand but didn’t say anything.

“Jesus, are you serious? How did that
happen?”

“She said they found her car turned over
off the road on I90 towards the mountains this morning. It had caught on fire
so the funeral will be closed casket. Coroner identified her by her dental
records. Funeral is tomorrow morning by the way.” Olivia fell into the couch
next to me and tucked her legs beneath her.

“Tomorrow? That’s a fast turnaround. Don’t
these things take a while?”

“Normally,” she agreed. “Knowing her
parents, their money, and track record with generous bribes, the timeline is
possible.”

People and their money. Must be nice. “Any
idea why she was headed out that way?”

“According to the police she had snow gear
in her car, like she was going snowshoeing.”

“Is that something she did by herself?” I
asked.

“Sure, it’s possible, but the Kaylee I
knew was a city girl. She didn’t care for the outdoors and she certainly
wouldn’t go off by herself snowshoeing. Not like I told that to her mother.
Naturally, she’s devastated. Plus since the police came to her with this, she
has no reason to suspect they’re lying.”

“Good point. No one except the people
behind it, and us, know the truth.” As I spoke an idea came to me. “You and
Kaylee hang out in the same circles, right? You have most of the same friends?”

“There’s a lot of overlap. We do have a
few associates each who don’t know each other.”

“It’s safe to say they’d be at the funeral
tomorrow, right?”

Olivia grimaced. “What, do you think the
killer will go to the funeral? Even if they did, what makes you think we’d know
who it was?”

I took a deep breath. “This is the part
you aren’t going to like, but hear me out. You told me yourself you’re drugged
during these events where a lot of people are present. Tomorrow, those same
people will likely be at the funeral. What if there was a way to find someone
we know for certain is involved in this?”

“You’re right, I don’t like where this is
going.”

“What if we used you as bait?” I said it
out loud anyway.

Olivia dropped her head back against the
couch and rubbed her face, keeping the palms of her hands over her eyes. “God,
Ethan, do you realize how desperate that sounds? You want me to knowingly put
myself into danger.”

“Well, you were going to go the funeral
anyway, right? Just don’t take any of your precautions. At the reception, drink
and eat anything and everything people bring to you. Make it easy for them.
I’ll stand by and if you go off with someone, I’ll follow. We could catch a guy
in the act of trying to abduct you.”

“What about
me
? Who knows what
he’ll do to me if he takes me and manages to escape you. And what would you
even do if it seemed like someone was
abducting me?”

She wouldn’t remember what happened to her
anyway, but I didn’t point that out. It wouldn’t do us any good. I did admit
she was right on them escaping.