Chapter Twenty-SixPast
One thing to know about me: I dig. If I can’t find it — I dig deeper, harder. I dig until I find it. The only thing I couldn’t dig into was my own mind. I didn’t want to see it.
My father was acting strange, even for him. Twice, I’d caught him swallowing a handful of pills. The only pills I’d ever seen him take were vitamins. These were not vitamins. I found the bottle in the top drawer of his desk.
The bottle said it was a Vasodilator — a high blood pressure medication, but also mixed in the same bottle was a pill I recognized — Klonopin, an anti-anxiety pill. My father had anxiety. I wanted to know how long he’d been taking them and why he was taking them. My father had always been the healthiest man I’d ever met. He was sixty and he had a six-pack. It was an old man six-pack, but still. He made fun of people who suffered from things like depression and anxiety, ironic since he supplied them with medication.
I called my mother.
Her voice warbled across the line when I asked her about the pills.
“He’s fine,” she affirmed. “You know how things get in the office. He’s under stress with this new drug he’s testing.”
I held the receiver closer to my ear. Whatever I said from here could either end the conversation or tell me exactly what I needed to know. I opened my copy of Manipulating Mother 101.
As far as I knew, the testing of our newest drug, Prenavene was successful. Daily, I had to sign off on paperwork that Cash or my father delivered to my office. The drug had been in its testing phase for more than five years. We were on the final leg toward marketing it. Why would my father be having anxiety over a successful project?
“I bet he’s a mess,” I said, trying my hardest to sound sympathetic. I could almost see her nodding on the other end of the line.
“I wish I could just smack that terrible man,” she whispered into the receiver, "claiming Prenavene induced his heart attack. Your father hired a private investigator, you know. The man was a walking heart attack. He has a history of it in his family and he weighs three hundred pounds.”
She said three hundred pounds like it was a swear word. It took me a few seconds to wrap my mind around the words heart attack.
Holy f*ck.
Why hadn’t I heard about this? A heart attack during a trial run of a drug was huge! It was enough to shut down the testing until the drug could be re-formulated. It was hard to say anything after that announcement. Why? Why would he risk everything? Not wanting her to know she’d just outed something I obviously wasn’t already privy to, I listened to her babble for a few more minutes. I needed to use her for more information. I swallowed the betrayal in my throat and told her that I had another call coming through.
Why would he keep something like this from me? Why hadn’t they shut down the testing? I thought about calling Cash, but her loyalty was obviously to my father if she hadn’t told me already. I was going to have to dig this out myself. Money. That had to be it. At the last sales meeting, he’d mentioned a drop in our sales. Prenavene was a way to bring the company back. Were we really that desperate for a new drug that he would do something like this? Risk everything?
The next morning, I went into the office early. My father arrived promptly at six o’clock every day. I had an hour before he would show. I had a set of spare keys to his office. I unlocked the door and flicked on the light. Stepping around to his computer, I powered it on, drumming my fingers on his desk. His level of access in the system was higher than mine. I would need his passcodes to access his files. Swearing, I typed in my parents' wedding anniversary. Incorrect Code popped up on the screen. That was a terrible guess on my part — he wasn’t exactly the sentimental type.
I tried birthdates, my sister's and mine. Nothing. Finally, I tried the coordinates to his hunting cabin in North Carolina. The system magically opened, and I had the vast grid of OPI-Gem in front of me. I clicked on the icon marked Prenavene and went to town.
It was true. Oh God, it was true. By the time I locked the door to his office, I had enough information to shut down my father’s company and put him in prison for the rest of his life. The worst part was I wanted to. No, I didn’t. He was my father … well, kind of. He’d raised me. Or maybe Mattia had raised me. I wasn’t even sure anymore.
My head throbbed as I made my way to the elevator. I was going to call in sick. I couldn’t look all of those people in the face when I knew what I knew. I had to figure this out. Find a way to know exactly who was involved and who was being kept in the dark like me. My head was down as the doors opened. When I looked up, he was standing in front of me, a newspaper tucked under his arm. Shit, why hadn’t I thought to take the stairs?
I threw my shoulders back, forcing a smile.
“Good morning, Daddy.”
He nodded at me, exiting the elevator. Then all of a sudden, he stopped. “Why are you here so early?”
The lie rolled off my tongue easily. “I’m not feeling well today. I just came in to pick up some work. I’m taking the day off.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You look fine. Go home and change and come back in. I need you here today.”
“I’m sick,” I said, like he hadn’t heard me the first time.
“This is a pharmaceutical company, Johanna. Go get some samples out of storage and medicate yourself.”
I watched the empty hallway for a good minute after he’d disappeared into his office. Did that really just happen? Of course it did. My father hadn’t taken a sick day in twenty years of work, what would make me think it would be okay to offer him illness as an excuse? I stepped into the elevator and the door closed. If I hurried, I could be back in forty minutes.