The Fair & Foul (Project Gene Assist Book 1) (24 page)

Then, the stories began to rehash the details of Elena and Louis’s whirlwind romance. They described Elena as Louis’s true partner and love of his life. Juliane felt her eyes tighten as reporters reminded their audience of the rumors regarding those days and how early their relationship truly started. Juliane even saw her own image and old name referenced in a couple of stories.

Juliane’s phone alert flashed once again. She glanced at the identification code in the corner of the screen and accepted the call.

“Durham, did you see the news?”

“Good morning, Juliane. Yes, it was hard to miss. Do you need to tell me anything?” Durham asked.

“About what?” Juliane frowned. Over the last five years, Durham had never acted once like he recognized her from the time when she and Louis were together.
Is he be calling about the factory?
That could only mean that the news had leaked to the media, and she still didn't have a satisfactory report from the production heads.

“About last night.”

“I was at the game last night with Alan.”

“Exactly. You were there. Alan was there. Louis and Elena were there.”

“Damien and Eithan too, as well as several other thousand people. What difference does that make?”

“There are witnesses who saw you together, claiming that there was a somewhat heated exchange.”

“Louis made a fool of himself and terminated Alan, but it was hardly a heated exchange. If anything, Alan acted happy about it. We walked away and watched the Sharks beat the Suns in the second half. That’s all. What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything. I am merely trying to understand the facts so that I can get out ahead of any rumors that might come out of this.”

“The man was practically a bottle of antiseptic; he had so much alcohol in him. I don’t see why you are worried that there could be any other rumor. Certainly not anything that would involve us.”

“Except that you just confirmed that Alan was fired. Not only that, but fired very publicly. And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You haven't been seen in public in years, and then, the first time you are, you just happened to run into your ex-boyfriend? Some people might question anyone's mental stability in the situation.”

Juliane bit back a quick retort as Durham’s words registered. “So you recognized me after all?"

“Juliane, I am not an idiot. Of course I recognized you. I've was never fooled by that avatar you insisted on always using. None of us were. Well, at least most of weren't," Durham amended.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Damien told us before the meeting began that you wanted a fresh start, and after what Louis did to you, I chose to respect your wishes." Durham paused. More softly he said, "I would have hoped you had more confidence in my memory. After all, you were a big part of the reason I sought other employment.”

Juliane looked out her window. The day had started out with brilliant clear skies, but clouds were beginning to roll in. She realized she had been pacing around the room’s perimeter. It was one of the rare times she wished she still maintained a separate phone device. She had read some classic novels over the years and finally believed she understood why the characters would waste time twirling cords.

Durham's voice was once again all business. “So, back to my question. Is there anything, anything that I should know about last night?”

“I went to the game. We saw Louis and his wife during halftime. The Sharks came back in the second half to win. I was dropped off here. Nothing else.”

“And you stayed in your condo all night?”

“That is what I said.”

“I meant that once home, you didn’t log into your virtual reality program?”

Juliane frowned. Durham had undergone a version of the upgrade procedure too, the same as all of Damien's high-level officials. If he hadn't recognized her program's benefits yet, he likely never would. Some people were just blind.

“No, I had promised Alan that I would take a night off. But it is beginning to sound like I shouldn’t have. Are you satisfied yet?”

“It is better I ask these sorts of questions than the police.”

“I still don’t understand why in the world the police would be involved in the first place. Louis was obviously under the influence. I don’t see why any investigation would need to look any further.”

“Well, that’s the interesting thing. Have you heard a single story which would suggest Louis was intoxicated at the time of the accident?”

Juliane found herself shaking her head before remembering that Durham wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. “No. I assume that's because his publicist is trying to keep that aspect quiet. The company’s value would plummet if Louis ever lost the cult of personality thing he has going for him.”

“Well, according to my sources, the reason why alcohol isn’t mentioned as a possible cause is because he had none of it in his bloodstream at the time. In fact, he had nothing at all in his system that would have impaired his judgment or his reflexes.”

Juliane's eyebrow shot up. “Someone has to be altering the records then, because he clearly was having a good time yesterday.”

“I have been assured that the records are accurate. My source was there as the blood work was analyzed. She saw the results firsthand.”

“How did you manage that? Doesn’t that sort of information violate some confidentiality?”

Juliane didn’t need to hear Durham’s answer. She could picture him shrugging with a smug smile.

Durham sighed into his phone. “Juliane, I know all too well how it feels to be tossed aside, and I do apologize if you thought I had done the same to you."

His words forced Juliane to remember the day she was first introduced to Damien’s team. Those terrible minutes when he had made her feel like a discarded plaything. Now, while he obviously had a relationship with this woman in the hospital, he was casually throwing around information that could cost the woman her career as if they were talking about the weather.

"We were on our way to being friends once. Now that everything is out in the open, do you think we could try to be friends again?"

Durham was lying to himself if he thought he was any better than Louis. Durham could keep his friendship. She hadn’t missed it during all this time.

“I’ve said all there is to say.” Another headline crossed her newsfeed as she terminated the connection. Louis’s condition had stabilized. While he had suffered some severe trauma, he was expected to recover. The stock market was already responding with record purchasing on any company associated with one of Louis’s business ventures.

The market action reminded Juliane that the weekend was over and it was time to return to the office. She had already wasted too much time lounging around the condo and had yet to receive an updated report regarding the factory’s internal investigation. Once that was in, she would make her way to the hospital to visit Betty. Louis’s news was terrible, but Juliane couldn’t honestly say she was going to miss Elena.

As she reached her destination, Juliane’s vision began blinking with another incoming communication request. She rolled her eyes. The call had to be from a reporter. Durham must not have been the only one to make the connection between Louis and the woman seen at the game.

“This is Juliane Faris.” She braced herself for the onslaught of questions.

She was expecting a brash tabloid journalist to be on the other side of the line. Instead, the voice was weak and broken up as if every word was a struggle. It took Juliane several seconds to realize that the voice belonged to Betty.

“Betty? Is that you? I was just thinking about you. We must have a terrible connection. I can barely make out what you're saying. Can you repeat that?” Juliane heard a large crash in the background, followed by a tear-fueled scream.

“Betty! Are you there? Are you all right? Betty? Betty!”

A male voice answered, one that Juliane was not familiar with. “Are you a friend of Dr. Dronigh's?”

“I was. Yes, I mean I am. I don't know. It's complicated. But yes, I know her. Is she okay?”

The person on the other end sighed. “Would it be possible for you to come this way?”

“Have you called her husband?”

“She refuses to see him. She's refused to allow us to call anyone.”

“Is everything okay?”

The man on the other end cleared his throat. “I think it might be best if we spoke face to face. Can you come over? Please.”

"I'm on my way."

Juliane hadn't bothered to ask the caller for additional information that might help her locate him when she arrived at the hospital. She had just assumed that she would be able to trace the call and locate the source. However, when she entered the hospital's main entrance, her Internet connection was severed. Signs posted along the walls periodically suggested that wireless signals had been intentionally disrupted due to concerns about interference with medical equipment. As a result, Juliane had to rely on a series of signposts and building maps that took her down several hallways, across walkways, and in and out of no less than three elevators.

As she arrived at the suite of rooms, she couldn’t be sure what floor she was on or even if she was still in the main hospital complex or some satellite building. She hadn't felt so lost in years. "How can people work like this?" she muttered under her breath.

The medical staff must have access to some limited network
, thought Juliane. Her skin tingled as if she could sense wireless activity just outside of reach. After living with constant connection for so long, the lack of data made her itch.

Juliane had heard of the rise of technology retreat centers. They were spas designed to help clients relax by embracing similarly disruptive materials. She cringed at the thought. She would never be able to relax feeling this incomplete.

A tall, older man met her as she entered through the suite door. His eyes were nearly hidden under thick furry eyebrows. His skin around his neckline was loose, as if he had recently lost significant weight, but his belly still extended. He reminded Juliane of one of the troll dolls she had seen in Chad's collection of old toys. All he lacked was a smile. Juliane pushed the comparison out her mind. She was here for Betty.

“Thanks for coming over so quickly. I am Dr. Thomas," said the man as he reached to shake her hand. "I am sorry you had to come down this way, but I just didn’t feel like we could discuss this over the phone.”

Juliane hesitated to meet the gesture. “Where is Betty?”

“We have her resting in a private room.”

“What happened? What is wrong with her?”

“Frankly, that's why I asked you to come here. Would you happen to know if your friend has been under psychiatric care or on medication that could alter her mental state?”

“I don’t know. We used to work together years ago, but haven’t really kept in touch as well as we should recently.”

Dr. Thomas ran his hand through his hair as his shoulders sank. “You were listed on her information as her emergency contact. I was afraid that it might be a long shot, but I hoped that you might be able to provide us with a little more information than what the records show.”

“I still don’t understand why you aren’t contacting her husband. I know that you said she doesn’t want to allow it, but surely, he has to be able to provide better insight than I can.”

“We’ve tried but have yet to reach him, and we are running out of time to react.”

“What exactly are you trying to react to?”

“Well, at first we thought her behavior was merely a result of the strain caused by coping with her son’s condition, but over the last twenty-four hours, she began to display symptoms of extreme paranoia. We attempted to sedate her, but it would seem our efforts may have made the condition worse. She suffered cardiac arrest, and her levels indicate some internal hemorrhaging, except we cannot seem to determine the source. There is a chance that the sedative triggered the attack if she was already being treated with other medication. We may have successfully stabilized her heart, but unless we identify the source of the bleeding, we cannot be sure that other treatment options might not cause additional issues, and we really don’t have much more time to waste.”

The doctor kept talking, but Juliane couldn’t process the words. She sent a ping to Alan, only to receive a message delivery error. She cursed the hospital’s signal suppression under her breath. He should be here, not her. “I am truly sorry. I wish I could help, I do, but I really don’t know why she put me down as a contact.”

He sighed. “I understand. Well, I'd like you to try talking to her in any event. Maybe hearing from a friend will rally her enough to respond to some basic questions.”

The doctor ushered Juliane into a room the size of a closet. Her one-time colleague lay on the bed, connected to a multitude of machines and tubing, her skin washed out under the harsh ceiling lights. She looked much smaller than the woman who had entered Juliane's office just a few days prior, fragile and weak. As Juliane approached the bed, a machine whirred and a plastic cuff located around Betty’s arm inflated.

Another machine sounded an alarm, and a nurse pushed Juliane to the side so that she could replace a depleted IV drip bag. After adding a quick notation to the chart located at the foot of the bed, the nurse disappeared as quickly as she had arrived.

Juliane tentatively reached out to touch Betty’s skin. She felt like a plastic doll that had been left out under the sun for too long, soft and waxy. “Betty, it's me, Juliane. Can you wake up?”

Juliane and Dr. Thomas glanced up at the monitors to see if her words had resulted in any activity, only to see that there was no reaction. “Betty, you need to wake up. The doctors can’t help you if they don’t know what is wrong.”

The machine attached to the arm cuff whirred again, punctuating her words.

Juliane walked over to Betty’s chart, more out of a lack of better ideas rather than any expectation that it could offer any clues to the cause of Betty’s condition. The numbers and readouts shown on the chart could have been written in a foreign language for as much help as they offered.