Empty Promises Page 9

  “Died? Fragile? What are you talking about?”

  “Long story. That’s why we were in Turkey to begin with. He was recovering from a gunshot that had left him clinically dead. He may have survived, but…he’s changed. He’s…different than before he was killed.”

  “He’s a good man. How is he different?”

  “It’s complicated. He’s still a kind, brave and wonderful man—that’s not what I’m talking about, though. It’s just that h-he’s lost a lot of his memory—some of who he is.”

  “But I’ve seen him in action—heard him speak about clinical topics. He doesn’t seem addled in the least.”

  George snorted. “No, not in that way. He’s still a brilliant physician. I-it’s more of the personal aspects of his life that he can’t recall well. Like his dead wife and the dead mother of his daughter.”

  “What? H-he never mentioned those people to me.”

  “Of course, he didn’t! That’s the whole point I’m trying to make. He barely remembers them—two of the most important people in his entire life! Hell, he says he only has fleeting memories of his mother, who he adored! It’s not that he doesn’t want to remember them—he just…can’t.” George was silent for a few seconds. “I think it has to do with the fact that he blames himself for their deaths, even though he had nothing to do with them. Each woman was an unfortunate victim—collateral damage.” He sighed loudly. “From being around Jack.”

  “People were trying to harm him? Why? That makes no sense—he’s a doctor!”

  “I agree, Sara. Not a damn bit of sense, but, yet, it’s happened…several times now. That’s why he’s so adamant about not getting involved with another woman. I hate to say it, but his experiences have left him…broken. I’m just not sure he can survive the loss of another love. That’s why you shouldn’t pursue a relationship with him.”

  “But even if I believe he is broken—which I don’t—I think I can help him. Help him recover. I just know it!”

  “All of us who know and love Jack feel the same way…have uttered those very words! But we also know he’s at a precarious point in his life, so we’re treading carefully. He may look tough as nails, but he’s quite fragile on the inside.” He paused again. “I’m serious…you may love him more than you ever thought you could love anyone, but that love may just end up killing him…and quite possibly you, too!”

  “I don’t know…” Sara mumbled.

  “Please…don’t test my assumptions. Just hold off—he’ll be around.”

  Sara remained silent.

  “Sara? You there?”

  “Yes…I’m here. Just thinking.”

  “Did you listen to what I just said?”

  “I heard what you said.”

  “And? Will you do as I ask?”

  She huffed. “I suppose.”

  “Good. Believe me, it’s for the best.”

  “I suppose. I need to go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Thank you, Sara.”

  Sara hit the “end” button on her phone and set it on her desk.

  “Again, I’m sorry, Dr. Smithson, but I cannot honor your request. Jack needs my help, and I’m going to give it to him.”

  Chapter 24

  Two Days Later

  As usual, when Hank was in an appointment with Harley Grant, he paced the floor of the office, refusing to be seated, let alone lie on the couch. Grant was reminded of a restless leopard in a zoo cage.

  “I’m really feeling much better, Dr. Grant. I think I’m fully recovered.” Hank shot a fleeting glance at Grant. “Maybe I don’t need to come back…”

  Grant held up a hand, waggling it back-and-forth. “Uhhh…then you won’t mind sitting for a few minutes while we talk. Right?”

  Hank stopped abruptly and spun toward Grant. “I don’t want to do that, sir. I don’t like sitting. I just get…agitated when I do.”

  Grant settled into his chair and made a note on the pad on his lap. “Huh. And have you always gotten ‘agitated’ from sitting?”

  Hank’s shoulders sagged, and he turned his gaze to the floor. “Well…uh…not exactly.” He suddenly looked up at Grant, an expectant look on his face. “Maybe not agitated…but I’ve never liked it!”

  “Hmmm. Well, as much as I hate to say it, Hank, I’m not buying into you not coming back again. This agitation you’re feeling seems to be one of the critical side-effects of the study drug. At least, in your case.” He watched Hank mill around the room. “We need to understand why that’s still an issue for you—try to figure out how to stop the drug from triggering that emotion.” He shook his head and gazed down at his notepad. “No, I just don’t share your opinion that you’re ‘fully recovered’.”

  “But…Doc!” he whined. “I’ve really got my act together again.”

  Grant nodded. “I agree. You do.”

  Grant stood, putting a hand on Hank’s shoulder when he walked by. Hank’s muscles contracted, and Grant yanked his hand back.

  “You’re still exhibiting some concerning symptoms—like the hypervigilance I just felt.”

  Hank glanced at his shoulder where Grant had touched him then hung his head.

  “I see you know what I’m talking about. The irritability—or agitation, as you call it—that just isn’t your baseline mood from what I understand.” He again sat in his chair. “I don’t know what the hell they used on you in that study—I still can’t find anyone who will tell me—but it’s clear to me you’re still feeling untoward side-effects.”

  “But I can control them now!”

  Grant frowned as he shook his head slowly. “I know you’re a strong man, Hank, but…as an addictionologist, I can tell you you’re being delusional if you believe that.” He pointed a pen at Hank. “And we haven’t even explored the haunting nightmares you’ve been having. No, I think we need to monitor you closely for a while yet.”

  Hank punched a fist in the air. “How the hell did I get addicted so quickly, Doc? I’d been clean for a long time—not so much as a minuscule interest in crawling back into a bottle or syringe. I just don’t get it!”

  Grant jerked his shoulders up-and-down in a quick shrug. “I don’t either. It’s not like anything I’ve run across before. That’s why I want to keep seeing you every week.”

  “All right. Whatever you say.” Hank looked at his wristwatch. “Looks like my time’s up. I better get outta your hair.”

  “Same time next week?”

  Hank groaned. “I suppose,” he mumbled then rushed from the room.

  * * *

  Hank walked into the house, stopping when he saw Smithson sitting at the kitchen table.

  “Hey, George.”

  “Hi, Hank. Everything go okay at the appointment?”

  Hank smiled and nodded. “Oh, yeah! Dr. Grant just gave me a clean bill of health.” He smirked, stood at attention, and saluted. “Ready to report for duty, sir!” he quipped.

  Smithson tilted his head and arched an eyebrow as he regarded Hank then a wry smile crept onto his face. “Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I just call Harley and see what he says.”

  Hank moaned and hung his head.

  Smithson chuckled and waved Hank over to the table. “In the meantime, I need your help—Jack is being stubborn again.”

  Chapter 25

  Even after a lot of digging around in various VA files and on the Internet, Sara hadn’t been able to find any details about the Greater American Pain & Spine study sponsored by the VA. She’d exhausted all leads she’d thought of for VA internal files, afraid to explore further within the VA on her own for fear someone might take note of her search. It was as if the study had never even existed. She was ready to give up when a colleague had told her they knew of an IT person who might be able to help. After swearing Sara to secrecy, they’d given her the person’s name. Sara viewed his internal employee profile and Googled him, as well. Every piece of information pointed to him being a stereotypical IT geek, his profile picture reinforcing that p
ersona.

  “Well, Mr. Brandon Jacobs, are you going to be my knight in shining armor…or another dead end?”

  Sara sighed as she looked at Brandon’s picture on her computer screen. She guessed he was at least a hundred pounds overweight. She found it hard to believe he’d used a picture with greasy, unkempt hair as his work profile shot. His “Clark Kent” style glasses and thick, pouty lips left her with the impression he was a schemer—someone who was always looking for some way to outsmart everyone else.

  “That’s not fair, Sara. You shouldn’t make assumptions based on a picture—he’s probably a nice guy.” She flipped her laptop shut, sighing heavily.

  “Time to go find out.” She stood, checking her appearance one last time in her dresser mirror, brushing a lock of her dark hair into place. Much as she disliked doing it, she was going to ply her beauty this night to try to get some answers.

  “Either way, you’re likely my last chance. I hope you come through for me.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, Sara recognized Brandon as soon as he entered the sports bar, groaning when she saw his beady eyes freeze as his gaze landed on her. He wiped his nose on his hand and shuffled toward her, barely lifting his feet from the ground. His clothes looked like he’d slept in them, one of his shirttails hanging over his waistband, the other sloppily tucked in. There were several greasy stains on his shirt. The cuffs of his pants dragged on the floor, his pendulous belly not allowing his pants to stay where they were designed to be worn. He licked his lips and gawked at Sara as he approached.

  “Shit,” she muttered softly then stood and offered her hand. “Brandon?”

  “Uh huh,” he grunted then suddenly threw his arms around her, hugging her tightly. “Hey, baby.”

  Sara squirmed and pushed away, overpowered by the stench of his body odor, pulling one of his hands off of her buttock. She hopped back onto the bench in the booth.

  “Uh…hello. Thanks for agreeing to meet me.”

  Brandon tried to wedge himself onto the seat next to Sara, but she wouldn’t move over.

  “Sorry, I’ve got my purse and coat next to me…there’d be more room on the other side.” She flashed a smile at him. “Besides, I can see you better if you’re across the table from me.”

  Brandon frowned then turned, squeezing his girth onto the bench on the far side of the booth, shoving the table toward Sara. She found herself with the edge of the table pressed against her chest. She felt imprisoned. A feeling she was too familiar with—and didn’t like.

  He stared at her through narrowed eyes. “So, what do you want?” he asked brusquely. “Pretty girls like you don’t usually pay any attention to me—unless they want something.”

  “Well, I need some help with system stuff at work…and everybody kept mentioning your name.”

  “Uh huh. I get it—you need the IT geek to help you with your computer.” He started to edge out of the seat. “You can go to hell. I’m off-duty.”

  Sara shot her hand across the table, resting it on top of his. “Wait! It’s not like that at all…Brandon. When I looked at your profile, you just seemed like a nice person. Someone I could count on.”

  “For what?” he shot back. He arched an eyebrow as he stared at her. “What’s your game?”

  “No game—any time you want to leave, you can, as far as I’m concerned. If you don’t want to help me, all you have to do is say so.” She smiled demurely. “But…please stay.”

  He looked down at her hand on his then back at her face. Though his eyes were cloaked behind heavily smudged glasses, Sara could see them zero in on her breasts. He licked his lips, and she shuddered.

  “You ordered any food yet?” he asked tersely.

  “No. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

  He jabbed a finger at her. “Whatever it is, you’re buying.”

  Sara nodded. “Sure. That’s fine. Would you like something to drink, too?”

  “Yeah—and I want the good stuff. No cheap shit! And you have to move over here and sit next to me.”

  Sara’s eyes shot wide, and her mouth dropped open.

  “If you don’t, I’m outta here,” he said resolutely. He crossed his arms, resting them on top of his protruding abdomen.

  He scooted over on the bench, leaving barely enough room for Sara to sit next to him. She forced herself to smile then moved around the table, perching on the edge of the bench. As soon as she was settled, he put a hand on her thigh and squeezed it tightly. Sara pushed it away and turned to him.

  “Shall we order?” You better have some good info for me, buddy! she thought as she struggled to keep her smile from slipping.

  * * *

  After wolfing down his meal—and most of Sara’s—Brandon pushed his plate away. He was on his third Long Island Iced Tea, his speech now slurred.

  “Now what?” he asked, looking hungrily at her, again licking his lips.

  Sara felt like an eclair on a dessert buffet. “Well, you’ve told me all about yourself—very impressive, I must say.” She struggled to sound sincere.

  He puffed out his chest. “What can I say? I’m smarter than anyone I know.”

  Sara nodded. “I’m counting on that. I-I need some help finding some information at work.”

  He pointed a thumb at himself. “If it exists, I can find it.” He leaned against her. “But it’ll cost you.”

  His body heat and odor made Sara feel nauseated. His hand landed on her leg again, and she jumped. He slid it up her thigh, closer to her groin, smirking at her as he did so.

  “You willing to pay to play?” He leered and pushed his hand firmly against her groin, his fingers wriggling as he pressed them against her.

  Sara gasped. Her heart was racing, her throat constricting as she fought to slow her breathing. She tamped down her urge to jump up and run, managing to nod slowly.

  “All right. What do you want to know?” he asked.

  Sara tried to talk, but her first attempt to form a word came out as a squeak. She cleared her throat. “I-I was looking for some research data…for some human trials I think are being sponsored by the VA. They may even be taking place at VA facilities. I-I can’t find any records anywhere on the system at work, though.”

  His eyelids narrowed as he looked at her. “Why do you want to see it?”

  “Well, I have a friend who I think might benefit from enrolling in the study…but I want to see some details before I refer them.”

  “Uh huh. I’m sure.” He regarded her silently for a few seconds. “What study?”

  “I don’t know—it’s supposed to be for some pain treatment. I think it’s being done by Greater American Pain & Spine, maybe a pharma company…Pharmadosh, I think.”

  Beside her, his body suddenly grew tense.

  “I might be able to help with that. I’m actually the designated IT liaison for that study.” He pressed his fingers harder against her, probing clumsily. “But I get to do whatever I want if I help you.” He swiped at a strand of drool that hung from one corner of his mouth.

  Sara huffed impatiently. “Look, Brandon, I understand the price—you don’t have to keep reminding me. I’ve already said I’ll do whatever you want…once you tell me what I need to know. Then we can go to your place, and I’ll give you a night to remember—so just quit with the lewd comments, okay? It’s turning me off.” She threw his hand off her thigh.

  Brandon’s mouth fell open.

  Sara struggled to keep her voice even, bile burning the back of her throat as her stomach knotted. “So…tell me—why can’t I find any records on the system at work?”

  He guffawed, his mass shaking so hard Sara thought she’d be thrown from the booth.

  “You dumbass! It’s not on the internal system. It’s a ‘dark’ study so I keep all the data out in onionland—nobody finds it unless I want them to.”

  “Onionland? I’m lost—where is that?”

  He guffawed again and shook his head slowly. “Not where—what, you
rube”

  Sara shrugged and looked blankly at him.

  “You know, the dark web!” he said incredulously. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Oh, you’re one of those web virgins, eh? Well, let’s just say, the only way for you to find it is through me.”

  “Of course. Can you just tell me so we can get this night over with.?”

  “Okay, but you can’t write any of this down—you have to memorize it. You smart enough to do that?”

  “Yes, I’m smart enough—I’ve been blessed with an excellent memory,” she said wearily.

  “Promise you won’t ever write it down or tell anyone?”

  She slapped her forehead with her palm and ran her gaze quickly around the dining room. “Yes, I promise! Now, can you please tell me?”

  He leaned over and whispered in her ear. She cringed as his wet tongue probed deeply in her ear when he finished. Sara snatched her head away and twisted toward him.

  “Tell me one more time. I didn’t quite catch it all—your tongue in my ear distracted me.” She patted his thigh quickly then snatched her hand back, wiping it on her dress. “There’ll be plenty of time for that tongue later.”

  He leaned in close to her again, cupping a hand over his mouth and her ear, again whispering instructions for finding the dark website. As soon as he leaned back, he shoved his hip against her, pushing her off the end of the bench. Sara stumbled as she tried to regain her balance.

  “All right, I told you—now it’s time to pay up.” He wormed his way free from the seat and stood in front of her, staring down at her breasts.

  She flashed a quick smile up at him. “Sure, Brandon. But let’s start by going out on the dance floor.” She winked at him. “We can start bumping and grinding right here to get things warmed up a little.”

  He nodded vigorously and rubbed his hands together, as he had when their food had been placed on the table. She took his hand and led him to the middle of the crowded dance floor then stopped suddenly, spinning toward him and smiling alluringly. He stepped closer to her.