Chapter 2 - The Man in the Sheriff's Jacket
Emily nearly dropped the phone.
"What did you say?"
Garrison's voice remained controlled.
"You are not safe in that house."
"Who are you?"
"I told you."
"Anyone can say a name."
"Then look through the front window."
Emily moved toward the curtain.
Across the street sat an old black pickup truck.
Beside it stood a silver-haired man wearing a brown sheriff's jacket.
He raised one hand.
Emily froze.
"You're law enforcement?"
"Sometimes."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I need you outside before Julian realizes what you've found."
Emily looked toward the external drive.
"Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't. Not yet."
That answer made her trust him slightly more.
Garrison continued.
"But you should trust the evidence. Bring the drive. Leave everything else."
Emily stepped outside six minutes later.
Garrison opened the passenger door.
He did not touch her.
He did not hurry her.
Once she was inside, he drove.
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere Julian doesn't know exists."
"Why are you involved?"
Garrison kept his eyes on the road.
"Because eight years ago, my daughter died after being treated at the same fertility clinic that treated you."
Emily's anger briefly gave way to surprise.
"I'm sorry."
"So am I."
"What happened?"
"They said complications."
"And you don't believe them."
"No."
Emily looked at the trees passing outside.
"Why me?"
"Because your name appeared in a batch of internal records connected to altered fertility cases."
"Altered how?"
Garrison's jaw tightened.
"Medications changed. Diagnoses manipulated. Embryo transfer data falsified. Pregnancy outcomes deliberately obscured."
Emily stopped breathing.
"My miscarriages?"
"I don't know yet."
"You just told me Julian lied about them."
"I know he accessed your medication orders before each pregnancy loss."
Emily stared at him.
"No."
"I'm sorry."
"No."
"Emily."
"He is a surgeon."
"Yes."
"He saves people."
"Sometimes the most dangerous people are very good at being useful."
Emily turned toward the window.
For several miles she said nothing.
Garrison eventually drove through iron gates marked Blackwood Wildlife Reserve.
Beyond them stood a quiet ranch house overlooking a lake.
Inside waited two people.
Dr. Helen Voss.
And federal investigator Daniel Ross.
Emily recognized both.
She stopped in the doorway.
"What is this?"
Ross closed a folder.
"Mrs. Carter, we've been investigating irregularities within Carter Reproductive Medicine for fourteen months."
"Julian doesn't own that clinic."
"Not publicly."
Dr. Voss stepped closer.
"Emily, I should have contacted you earlier."
"You knew?"
"I suspected."
"When?"
"After your second miscarriage."
Emily recoiled.
"You suspected my husband was harming me and said nothing?"
"I suspected records were being altered. I didn't know by whom."
"You still said nothing."
Voss lowered her gaze.
"You're right."
Garrison intervened.
"Emily doesn't need excuses tonight."
Ross opened the folder.
Inside were financial documents.
"Julian has ownership hidden through two holding companies. Chloe Brooks is listed as an administrative consultant."
Emily laughed bitterly.
"Of course she is."
Ross slid another paper forward.
"Three months before your last pregnancy, the clinic purchased an experimental compound that should never have been administered outside a monitored research protocol."
Emily looked at the medication name.
She recognized it.
"It's the injection Julian gave me."
Silence.
"He said it was progesterone."
Dr. Voss closed her eyes.
Emily's chair scraped backward.
Garrison caught it before she fell.
Her hands trembled.
"He injected me every night."
Ross spoke gently.
"We don't yet know whether those injections caused the pregnancy loss."
"But you think they might have."
"Yes."
Emily stood.
"Then arrest him."
"We need evidence that survives court."
"He's destroying evidence while we're talking."
"That's why we needed the drive."
Emily placed it on the table.
Ross connected it to an isolated laptop.
Folders appeared.
He opened one.
Then another.
His face changed.
"What?"
Ross did not answer.
"What?"
He turned the screen.
There were patient codes.
Payments.
Medication schedules.
Beside several names appeared a designation.
NONVIABLE.
Emily's name appeared three times.
Beside her third pregnancy was a different label.
TERMINATE PRIOR TO WEEK 11.
Emily made a sound that barely resembled a breath.
Garrison stood beside her.
She gripped the table.
"Why?"
Ross enlarged another column.
There were amounts.
Large ones.
Each payment came from the same private investment fund.
Blackwood Biomedical Ventures.
Emily turned toward Garrison.
His face went still.
"You funded them?"
"No."
"Your name is on every payment."
"My company's name."
"What's the difference?"
Garrison stared at the screen.
Then slowly removed his sheriff's jacket.
Underneath he wore a plain black shirt.
His expression had changed.
For the first time, Emily saw fear.
Not for himself.
For what the evidence meant.
"I sold Blackwood Biomedical seven years ago."
Ross looked up.
"To whom?"
May you like
Garrison's answer made Dr. Voss step backward.
"My younger brother."
