Chapter 23
Tristan
It’s been two days since the charcuterie incident. I’m not sure I’ll ever dip cheese into honey without thinking of Lucia on my kitchen island.
It’s good luck her phone rang when it did. If she’d opened that office door, the night would have traveled a different path.
My gaze falls on Lucia’s vacant desk and concern churns. She wasn’t feeling well this morning, but Jack Sullivan called before I could ask about her symptoms. I slipped into another room to take his call, and when we finished, she was gone. And now she’s not at the office.
Ryan’s contact within the LAPD shared Dr. Dolsten was driven off the road. Reports originally presumed a drunk driver and hit-and-run situation. However, forensics identified tracks on the pavement that prove Dr. Dolsten slammed his brakes and skidded through the guardrail. The LAPD opened a homicide investigation, but they have no leads. In such a case, police would typically contact family and acquaintances, but Dr. Dolsten lived in Sweden.
Dr. Dolsten left Lumina International almost eighteen months ago, but somehow, someone knew Interpol contacted him. It’s the only explanation. Or, it’s just pure luck. Someone is clearing loose ends without any idea that we’re reaching out to these contacts.
Dr. Dolsten divorced ten years, so we don’t expect his ex will be a source of information. But he has a daughter and, based on her social media posts, it appears they were close. It’s a long shot, but Jack is sending someone to meet with her. At the very least, he may have shared something with her.
Dr. Dolsten reported directly to Peltz. Interestingly, when Dolsten left Lumina, William Salo was being considered for a promotion. Both men are now dead.
On paper, Peltz is clean as a whistle. No suspicious banking activity. No off shore accounts we’ve located. He uses the same phone for work and personal use, which made accessing his accounts particularly easy. While I didn’t go through the sad sacks correspondence over the last three years, our team did, and they assure me nothing is out of place. Expense reports in order. No affair. Nothing. Perhaps it’s all too clean.
Another possibility is that Saint’s source is wrong, and all the strings are being pulled from the client side. Perhaps a pharmaceutical executive was aware, and is cleansing those involved to ensure the unethical project is never exposed. There may be no one still employed by Lumina who is even aware of what occurred.
That would be good for our family. If that’s the case, I have half a mind to let this case go unsolved. If no one here is actively taking part in unethical testing, then it’s no longer personal. It’s still within the realm of Interpol’s interest, but investigating corporate crime is something we leave to the local districts.
Peltz’s office door opens and I watch as he strides past Lucia’s desk. He pauses outside my office and addresses me from the hall.
“Lucia’s not coming in today. Can you join me at the advisory meeting?”
“Certainly. When is it?”
“Now.”
I grab my suit coat and mobile. There’s no response from Lucia. I texted her two hours earlier asking if she needed anything.
On the way to the elevator bank, a silence falls between Peltz and me.
“Who will be at the meeting?”
“Dr. Haussler and at least two others.”
Ah, that’s why he was dragging me along. He wanted equal numbers from both sides at the table.
“What’s wrong with Lucia?” It’s a normal question, and when he raises an eyebrow, I fight the urge to defend the question. She sits outside my office.
“Why do you think something’s wrong with her?”
“She’s sick, isn’t she? Isn’t that why she’s out?”
“She’s taking a personal day.”
“Ah. She didn’t mention that yesterday.”
He takes out his mobile and reads it in the elevator, dismissing me.
The meeting is boring, but it’s also intriguing. It turns out Dr. Haussler worked closely with both Salo and Dolston.
When the meeting concludes, Peltz announces to everyone in the room I’ll be distributing a recap of the meeting. He smiles like he’s caught me and I’m going to fail. He also makes a show of how packed his calendar is and that he must depart, which gives me an opportunity to ask Dr. Haussler and his team to dinner.
I’m not sure what I can elicit from them, but it’s worth a try. With luck, I can separate him from his team.
When the meeting concludes, there’s still no response from Lucia. I would check in on her, but I’m scheduled to meet my father for lunch today. If I wrap it up quickly, which I should easily be able to do, I’ll swing by.
Me: Can I bring you lunch?
The cafe my father chose for lunch is on the opposite side of Geneva. When I arrive, while standing at the hostess stand, I check my mobile. There’s still no response.
I dial her, but she doesn’t answer. Maybe she’s sleeping. She wasn’t that sick this morning. A hand claps over my shoulder and my father pulls me in for a hug. I stiffen, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“I don’t have long,” I inform him as we’re seated at a private table for two towards the back of the cafe. “I’d have more time if you picked a place closer to the office.”
“I suppose I should have. It’s force of habit to put distance between myself and that place. How’s it going for you?”
“I didn’t realize you felt that way.”
He waves a hand in the air to catch a wait person’s attention.
“We don’t have long,” he says to the young woman dressed in platform boots, torn tights and jean overalls. “Can we order?”
“Of course,” she says brightly.
After we order, my father places both hands palm side down on either side of the place setting. The wait person hasn’t yet delivered his wine, and he’s on edge without his armor.
“You never answered. Are you liking it there?”
“Well enough.”
He shakes his head and purses his lips. “Well, enough isn’t a way to live a life. I didn’t have a choice. You do. I made sure of it. If it’s not for you, do something else with your life.”
“If you didn’t like it, why’d you stay so long?” He stayed on at Lumina for years after his father died.
“I don’t know.” There’s sincerity in his light blue eyes. And a humility in his posture I used to see in my grandfather. Perhaps age grants humility in everyone, even former titans.
Wine is delivered, and he brightens.
“Have you connected with Jamie?”
“Who?”
“Jamie Baumann. He was a good friend of yours.”
“You mean before boarding school?”
“Well, yes. You both went to primary together.”
“Dad, I haven’t come across him since I was probably twelve years old.”
“Oh, I didn’t realize. Well, what friends do you have here?”
My stay in Geneva will be a short one, so I have cultivated no friendships, but I can’t exactly say that to Dad.
“You need friends. That’s something else I wish I’d realized early on.”
I scoff. “You and mum have tons of friends.”
“Eh. Colleagues can be friends, but they aren’t always friends. And, I’m talking about the friends that aren’t centered on what you can do for each other. Just, you know, people you enjoy spending time with.”
“That’s the friendship you have with Cassandra?”
“It is. But it’s a romantic sort. I’m talking about genuine friendships. Men don’t have enough of those.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” I swirl my wine, regretting my decision to lunch. It’s taken me some time to adjust to my parent’s open relationship. And maybe I’m still not completely fine with it. Although it’s between the two of them and I shouldn’t have any issues with it.
My phone buzzes and I whip it out, hoping to see a response from Lucia.
Lucia: Don’t need lunch. Can’t eat. Stomach bug. You do not want it.
I frown and set the phone down. She’s far too willing to go without eating. If she’s fighting a virus, she should eat for strength.
“Is she your girlfriend?” Dad jerks his chin toward the mobile.
“She’s a friend.” The answer smacks of dishonesty, but he hasn’t been honest with me about his relationship for decades, so…
“You care for her.”
“Yes.” That I can admit. I do care for her. Very much. I don’t like it at all when she’s not with me. It’s unusual for me and I don’t have any idea how long the sensation will last. I don’t know what to make of it.
“I knew you did.” Dad looks smug as he lifts his wine glass and crosses one arm over his abdomen.
“If you knew, then why did you inquire?”
“I wanted to know if you knew it.”
Frustration has me pushing up and excusing myself for the lavatory. He never acted like he cared when I was growing up. I’m not sure how to handle this version of my father. The one who wants to know how I feel. No wonder Mom has thrown herself into work.
In the hallway, I dial Lucia. It rings four times, and she doesn’t answer. I don’t like that at all.