The Runaway Reporter (A Police Procedural Mystery Series of Crime and Suspense, Hyder Ali #3) (24 page)

Lopez followed him all the way to an old, dilapidated house.

The man parked and went inside.

Lopez got out of her Acura and moved toward the house.

EIGHTY-SIX

Hyder looked at the telephone number in his hand, but he didn’t know what to do with it.  It required a password.  He didn’t have it.  Maybe he could force Felix to tell him. He could, after all, use the footage to persuade him.

Hyder was back in the SUV.  They were heading back to the apartment.

But what if Felix didn’t talk? Hyder wondered. What if he knew by giving the password he would incriminate himself further, then what?

Every fiber in his body wanted to make Felix pay for what he did to Francine and for what he had done to him.  He had never wished ill on anyone, but today he felt different.

He could use DeShawn, Dante, and Tiny to get to him.  They would make him talk. They would make him suffer.

He shook his head at the thought.

For one thing, he didn’t want the people protecting him further involved.   It was his problem, not theirs.  They never asked for it and they shouldn’t have to deal with it.

Secondly, there were more people involved in this than just Felix.  Someone had left a message that they only wanted Felix to be privy to.

Who were these people?  Would Felix give them up if pressure was applied?

Hyder didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to hurt another human being to find out.  It would be wrong in many ways.  Torture was not something he would ever approve of.  It was an inhumane way to gather information and he wanted no part of it.

He would have to find another way.  He would have to go back and start from the beginning.

Why did Felix push Francine to her death?  What did she have against him?  And who was the person in the van? How was he involved?

Go further back,
a voice in his head said.  What was Francine doing?  She was a reporter… what was she working on?  She was working on a story on…

…
J. Robert Munn.

Huh?

It didn’t make any sense.

So what if Francine was doing an exposé on Munn?  That didn’t mean she was murdered for it. Or was she?

Hyder took a deep breath. If Francine was killed because she had something on Munn, then the only way to confirm this was to find the file she had on Munn.

Every reporter had a working file on their stories and they made sure to never destroy it.  It allowed them to prove or disprove anything that came up after the story was printed.

Where was this file? Hyder wondered.  Was it at the
Franklin Herald
?

Then something occurred to him. They were the words of Francine’s editor, Irving Richer. Hyder tried to replay them in his head.

“
France was secretive when it came to her stories, even with me sometimes.  She mostly did her work from home.  She believed it was best not to reveal anything until she was certain of it.
”

Hyder grinned when he realized what he was searching for.

“
She mostly did her work from home.
”

Hyder turned to DeShawn and said, “I need you to take me somewhere.”

“No problem. Where?”

Luckily for Hyder, he knew Francine’s address.

EIGHTY-SEVEN

The condominium building rose twenty floors up to the sky.  It was made of steel and glass.

Hyder knew the apartment number, but he didn’t know if any of her stuff was still there.  She had died more than a month ago.

“I have to do this alone or else it would attract too much attention,” Hyder said.

“You sure you don’t want Tiny with you?” DeShawn said.

“I’m pretty sure,” Hyder replied.  If the police somehow missed him, they would definitely not miss Tiny.

Hyder went up to the building, but made sure to keep his head down.  He didn’t want the security cameras to get a full shot of his face.

He didn’t have a key or even the buzzer code to enter, so he just tapped on the window.

The condominium’s security guard came over.  Hyder hoped he didn’t recognize him.

“Can I help you?” the guard said.  He was young, probably a college student, with smooth skin and bright eyes.

“Yes, I’m here about unit 1603.  My friend used to live there, but she passed away last month.”

“Oh, you mean, Ms. Robeault?”

“Yes,” Hyder said.  “I was wondering if I could pick up some of my stuff from her place.”

“Ms. Robeault’s unit was emptied just last week.  We could only keep it under her name until her last month’s rent cleared.”

“Oh, that really sucks.” Hyder looked genuinely upset.

“You said you’re her friend?”

Hyder nodded.

“Can I see some ID?” the guard said.

Hyder wasn’t sure if he should reveal his name.  The guard had obviously not recognized his face, but what if he remembered the name?

Hyder patted his pockets.  “I must have left my wallet in the car… but wait.”  Hyder pulled out his cell phone and after a few swipes, found a photo of him and Francine at a marathon event.  “That’s me and that’s Francine.”

The guard hesitated, but then said, “Ms. Robeault’s stuff is in storage, but the landlord wants us to do something about it.”

“I can make sure to have it cleared for you guys.  Let me find what I’m looking for and I’ll come back with a truck and take everything.”

“Okay, come with me.”

They took the elevator down to the basement.  “Each tenant is given a storage locker, but with the amount of stuff Ms. Robeault had, we had to keep it in a separate room.”

The guard unlocked a door and they went in.  When he turned on the lights, Hyder was relieved to find all of Francine’s belongings neatly stacked up by the walls.  The boxes looked like they had been labelled, which would make his search that much easier.

Hyder didn’t have time to spare so he jumped in.  He quickly scanned each label.  There was one for kitchen, bathroom, living room, closet, bedroom, and even one that was labelled “office.”

He pulled that box off the top and opened it.  Inside were binders, papers, and many other documents.  He quickly began pulling out the materials.

“Will this take long?” the guard said.

“I don’t know, maybe,” Hyder said.  “It depends on how the movers packed it.”

“You know what? I have to get back to the front desk.  Once you’re done, shut the door and it will lock automatically.”

Hyder nodded.

With the guard gone Hyder went back to work.

Half an hour later, he was spent.  He had gone through all the boxes that were labelled ‘office.’

Where could it be?
He thought.

EIGHTY-EIGHT

Across from the building, DeShawn waited anxiously.  He wished he was with Hyder right now.  This way he could keep an eye out for him.

But what could go wrong?
He thought.  It was a residential condo building, which was surrounded by an empty park.  It didn’t look like anyone was going in or out of the building.  So what were the odds that anyone would recognize him in there?

He quickly regretted thinking that when he saw a police cruiser approach the building.  This was followed by an ambulance. And then a fire truck drove up to the front entrance.

“Shit,” he cursed.

“What’s going on?” Dante leaned forward.

“Should we go in?” Tiny asked.

This wasn’t good, DeShawn thought to himself.  This was, in fact, very bad.

“DeShawn,” Dante turned to him.  “Should we split, man?”

DeShawn wasn’t sure.  If they stayed then they, too, could become snared in the police sting.  They’d charged with multiple felonies. With their records, they’d see a stiffer sentence.

“Five more minutes,” he finally said.  “Once we see them take him away, we’ll leave.”

Both Dante and Tiny agreed.

But each minute that they waited, they further put themselves at risk.

“Okay, let’s go,” DeShawn finally said.  Dante put the SUV in gear when DeShawn suddenly put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. “Look,” he said.

From the front entrance Hyder came out.  He walked past the parked police cruiser, the ambulance, and then the fire truck.

He quickly got in the SUV.

EIGHTY-NINE

The moment Hyder was in the SUV he found himself stared at by DeShawn, Tiny, and Dante.

“What’s up?” Hyder said.

“You okay?” DeShawn asked, nodding in the direction of the cruiser, ambulance, and fire truck.

“Oh, yeah, someone in unit 1910 had a heart attack.  They must have called all the services.”

There was a loud sigh of relief inside the SUV.

“You find it?” DeShawn asked.

“Yep,” Hyder said, holding a file in the air.

As they drove off, Hyder was grateful he had decided to look in the box labelled ‘bedroom’.  He knew Francine was a workaholic and he was certain she worked even while in bed.  The movers must have found the file, but they weren’t sure what to do with it, so they just marked it from where they picked it up.

Now that he had the file, he hoped it would answer some of his questions.

NINETY

Lopez knocked on the door.  She kept a hand on her weapon as she did so.

The door opened slightly and she was face to face with the man who had just picked up the package from the garbage bin.

Lopez flashed her badge.  “Can I come in?”

“Um, I don’t think you have the right house, ma’am,” the man protested weakly.

“I do, and unless you let me, I will force my way in.”  She had probable cause, even if it was flimsy at best.  There was no way she would leave without knowing what was going on.

The man reluctantly opened the door for her.

She went in and the first thing that hit her was the stench.  It was strong and overbearing.  The place was a dump.

She counted half a dozen cats inside.   She’d heard of an old cat lady, but never a young cat man.

“Where is it?” she asked.

“What?”

“The package you took from the garbage bin.”

The color drained from his face.  “I… I never…”

“Don’t even try to lie to me.  I saw you,” she scowled. “There are several people dead because of what you’re involved in, and if you don’t co-operate I will hold you personally responsible for it.”

Suddenly, his shoulders sagged.  “I’ll take you to it,” he said.

Lopez followed him down to the basement.  She was now fully gripping her weapon in case it was a trap.

Fortunately for her, it wasn’t. The basement had been transformed into a makeshift lab.

“What do you do here?” she asked.

“I tinker with stuff,” he said.  “I have a degree in chemical engineering, so I have many hobbies.”

“Where do you work?”

“I’ve been unemployed for a while now, so I just stay home.”

That explained the state of the house.

“Let’s start with your name,” Lopez said.

“Tim Ersham.”

“Mr. Ersham, do you mind telling me what’s going on?” she said. “Why did someone drop a package for you to pick up?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said.

“Start from the beginning.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay, so a while back I went on this forum—it’s members only—and it’s for people who have suffered through the side effects of medication. We go to it to air our grievances and also show support for those still suffering.  Some people had lost loved ones, some had lost the use of their limbs, others had found themselves with more health problems, and some had even attempted suicide because of the drugs they were given.  As for me, I lost my whole life.” He then went silent and stared at the floor.

“Mr. Ersham?” Lopez verbally nudged him.

“Oh yeah, a couple of years ago, I had a panic attack and my doctor wrote me a prescription for an anti-anxiety medication.  I took it as instructed, but I only got worse.  I ended up having a full out nervous breakdown which resulted in me losing my job, my wife, my kids, everything. Then one day while I was on the forum I received a message.  It said I could get my revenge on the pharmaceutical company that made my anti-anxiety drug.  You see, that drug should have never been on the shelves.  During the drug study, they had discovered that for a small portion of users, it not only did not help them, it exacerbated their symptoms.  Even with that, it was still approved by the FDA, as they figured the benefits to many outweighed the harm to some.  I was one who came in the latter category.”

“What was the name of this company?” Lopez asked.

“Devon Pharma.”

It was finally making more sense.  “Keep going,” she said.

“Anyway, I jumped at the opportunity to get some retribution.  I never knew the person who contacted me.  One of the forum’s rules was to keep your identity hidden. The administrators didn’t want the members ostracized or singled out in the real world.  We were there to be open about our suffering and not be worried that it might be used against us one day.”  He paused as if to collect his thoughts.  “I honestly never made much of the offer.  I thought it was some angry member trying to act out his fantasies.  I mean, we’ve all thought of the ways we would like to punish those that made us suffer, but we’ve never gone beyond just thinking about it.  Then one day I received a message from the forum that I should go to a pay phone and dial a number.  Along with the message I was given a password.  I did as told and there was a voice mail that instructed me to go to that garbage bin—the one you saw me go to today—and there, waiting for me, would be a package. Inside the package I found this.”  He held up a small patch he had taken from the package he had just picked up. “I was told to alter the composition and then place it back in the box and return it from where I’d found it.”

Lopez picked up the package.  The addressee’s name was stripped off.  “So you don’t know who dropped off the package or who it would go to?”

He shook his head.  “It’s supposed to be anonymous, remember?”

“What were you supposed to change in the patch?” she asked.

“I included a form of Toxoplasma.”

“A what?” Lopez was clearly confused.

“It’s a single-celled parasite.  It’s treatable, and most people have some form of it.  It’s commonly found in cats, but can be transmitted to humans too. If people do get infected, then they show signs of flu-like symptoms, like fever, sore throat, tired muscles, and so on.  It can become a serious illness for a certain portion of the population, like pregnant women, people with AIDS or cancer, but I was assured those people wouldn’t receive the modified patch.”

“Can it affect someone’s behavior?” Lopez thought of Rudy Jr. and Nolan.

“Yes, absolutely,” he said.  “Those who become infected show signs of neurotic behavior.  Plus, they become very risk averse, which means they are susceptible to being controlled and manipulated.”

This was the bombshell she had been searching for.  It answered so many of her questions.

But then she thought of something. “The people infected, they never showed any flu-like symptoms.”

“Ah,” he smiled.  “That’s the beauty about the patch.  There is a tiny chip inside that tells it when and how much drug to release into the body.  Like I said, I’ve modified the patch. It will only release the drug when it is triggered to do so.”

“And how do you trigger it?”

“It starts off with a ringing of the telephone.  This alerts the chip that an activity is about to take place, and then when the user answers the phone, they will hear a succession of beeps, which will trigger the chip to release the Toxoplasma into the body all at once.  It is so rapid that the user will become—for the lack of a better word—a zombie.  They will then follow through with whatever they are told to do.”

Lopez found her head spinning.  She wanted to sit down in order to digest what she’d just heard, but she was worried she would catch something by touching the man’s furniture.

“So if someone gave instructions over the phone, the listener—the one who is infected—will do whatever they are told?” she said.

“That’s how it’s supposed to work.”

“They would even commit murder?” she asked.

“I don’t know about that, but they would follow through with their instructions.  You see, at that moment they are no longer in control, they are in a zombie-like state. If they were told to jump off a bridge, they would do so in a heartbeat.”

This meant, Rudy Jr. and Nolan had no control over what they were doing.  There was someone else on the other end who had given them the instruction to kill.  Lopez needed to find that person.  Tim Ersham was just a pawn in this complex game.  She had a feeling so was Francisco Luiz.  There was someone behind both of them who was pulling the strings.  This person had gone to great lengths to hide their identity.  They had come up with a great scheme whereby each person didn’t know the other. That was why Ersham didn’t know who Luiz was. They completed their tasks and moved on with their lives.

But there might be more people involved.  In order to find out she would have to let it play out.

“How many patches have you altered?” she asked.

“I went through several variations, but only the last two worked as intended.”

She already knew who received those two patches.  “What about the one you picked up today?”

“I was just starting work on it when you came in.”

“Finish it, put it back in the box, and then return it from where you found it.”

Lopez would follow the package wherever it went.

NINETY-ONE

Lopez was parked across from the garbage bin.  Tim Ersham had already dropped off the package.

She was now waiting for Francisco Luiz to pick it up.

She checked her cell phone, saw there was a message.  She couldn’t believe what she heard.

She quickly dialed a number.  When Hyder picked it up, she immediately said, “Where did you get that license plate number?” There was hesitation on the other end.  “Hyder, if you want my help then you have to trust me.  We have to work together on this.”

She listened as Hyder filled her in on the death of the reporter.  He told her what he saw on the surveillance footage.

When he was done, she said, “The license plate belongs to a man named, Francisco Luiz.  Right now I’m waiting for him to show up.”  It was Lopez’s turn to tell him what she’d discovered in the makeshift lab.

When she was done, Hyder said, “That means, Nolan didn’t know what he was doing when he attacked me?”

“Yes, and this also means, what you did was in self-defense.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Hyder?” Lopez said.

“I’m here.”

“Once this is over, I’ll do everything to help you so that you’re not charged with what happened.”

“Thank you.  You have no idea how much that means to me,” he said.

“Now we just need to find out who’s behind all of this.”

Hyder told her his theory about J. Robert Munn.

“It could be incidental,” she said.

“Could be,” he agreed.

“What we need is to break into the forum Ersham is a member of and get the password to all those voice mails.”

“Can’t Ersham give us access to it?” Hyder asked.

“He has access, but the passwords are individually sent via personal messages.  Ersham doesn’t even know who else is involved.”

There was a pause.

“I think I know who can help us,” Hyder said.

She hung up when she spotted the courier van in the distance.  As predicted, Luiz got out and retrieved the package.

He then drove away.

She followed.

NINETY-TWO

Hyder was back at the apartment.   DeShawn and Dante had business to attend to so they had already left.

Tiny was fast asleep on the sofa.

Hyder took the opportunity to go over the file.  He spread the contents over the coffee table and set to work.

There was a knock at the door.

Tiny instantly got up, and, after grabbing a sharp object from the kitchen, he went to the door.