Chapter 32
32
V iper lay in bed, Lina’s hair fanning out over his arm and her body pressed against his. They had three hours before they needed to be at the club to meet everyone. He should be sleeping, but his habit of waking early was too ingrained to change. Getting out of his house before his parents woke had been the best way to avoid them, and the army had reinforced the habit. Still, lying in bed with Lina, watching the sun’s rays shift through the blinds on his window, wasn’t a bad way to spend his time.
He ran his fingers gently through her thick locks, the silky strands flowing over his skin. They’d researched Navios for hours the afternoon and evening before—they’d considered heading to Rita’s for a break, but rabbit hole after rabbit hole kept them glued to their computers and they’d ordered delivery instead.
They hadn’t found a smoking gun—in fact, they’d found nothing overtly shady about the company at all—but they’d noted things that, in a certain context, could be interesting. They’d have to wait and hear what the others found, though.
Lina stirred, then sighed before her breathing fell back into a steady rhythm. He could count on one hand the number of times he’d woken with a woman in his arms. He wasn’t a cad by any stretch, but his experience was mostly limited to a few hours—neither he nor his partner interested in more.
How easy being with Lina was would probably give him pause if he thought about it too much. But he didn’t want to analyze or assess or plan. He just wanted to be. For the first time, his body, brain, and heart felt in sync. He’d never realized they weren’t until they were, and he wanted to savor the peace of it.
He lifted his head and kissed the top of hers, then let his eyes drift close. He may or may not fall asleep, but there was nowhere else he wanted to be.
By the time they filed into the meeting room at the clubhouse, he and Lina were well-rested, well-fed, and ready for the day. They’d stopped by Bun Times, the best bakery in town that also made excellent breakfast sandwiches and coffee. In addition to eating, they picked up a couple dozen doughnuts for his brothers. They left one box in the main room, but he slid the second onto the table as they took their seats. Scipio and Philly sat together on one side of the table while he, Lina, and Leo took seats opposite.
“Okay, who’s first?” Leo asked, pulling his computer out.
“We’ll go,” Scipio said as Philly grabbed a maple bar—his favorite. When Leo nodded, he continued. “We talked to at least one family member of each of the deceased. Annibel Rutgers was the first to die, but the second person your dad identified, Lina,” he said. “After her death, her husband went looking for answers, including attending conferences covering all sorts of hematological topics. He met your dad at one. They talked about what happened to Annibel, and he sent your dad her medical records. They spoke one more time a year later, and your dad suggested he found something, but didn’t relay any details. They haven’t spoken since.”
“When did they meet?” Viper asked.
“About two years ago,” Philly said before shoving the rest of the maple bar into his mouth.
Viper nodded. “What about the others?”
“Joyce King was the third to die in our timeline, but the first your dad came into contact with. He participated in the clinical trial team when she went into sepsis at the UW hospital,” Scipio continued.
“You said your dad was good at patterns,” Philly said, picking up the summary. “We think Joyce’s work history came up during the trial, and he remembered the name Navios when he spoke with Annibel’s husband. Scott, Annibel’s husband, confirmed he did mention it.”
“Two people doesn’t make a pattern,” Lina pointed out. Beside her, Leo nodded.
“No, but Joyce King and Jeremiah Talley were cousins. Well, second cousins once removed, to be exact,” Scipio said.
“What exactly does that mean?” Philly interjected.
“They were second cousins but different generations,” Lina replied.
“Which is math you can figure out another time,” Viper interjected with a pointed look. Philly rolled his eyes.
“In this case, Jeremiah is Joyce’s mom’s cousin’s grandson,” Leo replied. They all looked at him. He shrugged. “Joey went to work early this morning. I had some free time.”
“Right,” Viper said on an exhale. “So, Dr. Kato connected Joyce to Jeremiah?”
Scipio nodded. “Based on the timeline we’ve put together, three years ago, Dr. Kato met Joyce King when he was part of her treatment team. Then, a year later, he met Scott Rutgers at a conference. Seeing a connection to Navios, he reached back out to Joyce’s husband, Patrick, to learn more about his wife’s work. Patrick confirmed they spoke, but Joyce didn’t talk about her work, so he didn’t have much to offer.”
“Although, he recognized Annibel’s name as one of Joyce’s colleagues,” Philly interjected.
Scipio nodded. “Then, Jeremiah Talley died a year later. When Patrick found out, he called Dr. Kato because Talley had worked at Navios, too.”
“And three makes a pattern,” Lina said. Scipio and Philly nodded.
“What about Ochoa, Cox, and Ms. Slaughter?” Viper asked.
“Found through Joyce’s husband. Like I said, he didn’t know much about the actual work she did, but he has a good memory for names, and he remembered several she mentioned frequently. He gave a list to Dr. Kato after Jeremiah’s death.”
Lina let out a huff. “Okay, so my dad figured out that at least six people working for the same company died DIC-related deaths. We know they worked together, but did they work in the same lab or on the same project?”
“We do and they did,” Philly confirmed. “According to Joyce’s husband, all six worked on a project the company shut down five years ago. The entire team was let go. Any chance you found out anything about that while looking into Navios?” he asked, his gaze bouncing between the two of them.
“That kind of granular information wasn’t available in the public searches we did,” Lina said. “And they are privately owned, so we couldn’t get a hold of any financials. Did any of the family members you spoke with remember anything about the lab?”
“Only that it was some sort of RNA project,” Scipio said.
“Navios specializes in antiviral research and pharmaceutical development, so that would make sense,” Viper said.
“What else did you find out about Navios?” Leo asked.
Viper stared at the cyber genius. Leo stared back. Their gazes held. Leo’s lips twitched. Viper sighed but didn’t stop the resigned chuckle that rose in his throat. “Probably not as much as you,” he said.
Leo grimaced and shrugged. “Like I said, I had free time. Figured I’d put it to good use. But you start and I’ll fill in any gaps.”
Viper rolled his eyes but looked to Lina. She shot Leo a “whatever” look, then pulled up the notes they’d taken. “Navios was founded nearly forty years ago by a husband-and-wife team, Natalie and Arthur Caine. It’s based in North Carolina and has grown steadily since its founding. It’s now a $2.5 billion enterprise and poised to be bought by one of the big pharma companies out of Europe.”
“Are the founders still alive?” Philly asked.
Viper shook his head. “Natalie died over a decade ago—cancer—and Arthur four years ago in a car accident. They have three children: Jennifer, Christopher, and Andrea. Jennifer is a scientist at the company. Christopher, the CFO, and Andrea is doing a medical fellowship in Los Angeles.”
“Who runs the company now?” Scipio asked.
“Craig Sonnenberg. He came up through the ranks, so to speak, but from what we could tell, his relationship with the Caines started before that. His mom was at university with Arthur.”
“What’s the value of the sale?” Philly asked.
Lina shot Viper a look. “It’s not public, but we found rumors. The consensus is that the offer price is upward of thirty billion dollars.”
Both Philly and Scipio let out a low whistle.
“That’s a lot of money,” Philly said.
Scipio inclined his head. “Definitely enough to kill someone over.”