Max read her frustration. “Almost there,” he said. They turned onto 494, zipped past the Carlson Towers, took the next exit, and then bumped down a south-side frontage road until they hit a shabby-looking redbrick strip mall. There was a tax preparer’s office, a Thai restaurant, an office furniture store, a veterinarian, and three other small-to medium-sized businesses. He pulled into a parking slot in front of a silver sign that said MEDIGAIN. “Some corporate office, huh?”
Medigain, Afton had learned, was one of a hundred upstart medical tech companies that had come on the heels of millions of dollars of venture capital money. Most of that money had long since dried up or been frittered away, but there were a few companies that had dug in their heels and hung in for the long haul. Medigain was one of these. It had recently received a government patent for a new type of heart valve and its stock was slowly beginning to tick upward.
Afton and Max entered the lobby and were pleasantly surprised. The reception area was neat and orderly with a half dozen bright red club chairs and dozens of healthy-looking green plants. Their front desk was staffed by a smiling twentysomething woman who was wearing a telephone headset.
“Welcome to Medigain,” the receptionist said, beaming.
“Good morning,” Max said. Then he caught sight of the clock over her shoulder. “Afternoon,” he corrected.
“No worry,” the woman said. “That clock just ticked past noon a minute ago.”
Max fished out his badge and held it up for the woman’s inspection. She seemed to experience a moment of indecision, then said, “How can I help you, Detective?”
“We have an appointment to speak with Bob Binger,” Max said. “We called earlier.”
“Then I’ll let him know you’re here.” She hit a few buttons, connected with Binger, and announced their arrival. “Okay,” she said into her headset. “I’ll bring them right back.” She stood up and smoothed her flowered skirt. “If you’ll follow me, please?”
They were led down a narrow corridor between beige industrial-looking cubicles. A few of the cubes were empty, but most held staffers who were busy talking on their phones, texting, or eating lunch. The receptionist opened the door to a generic-looking conference room and ushered them in.
“Thanks,” Max said.
“He’ll be with you in a minute,” the receptionist said.
Afton sat on one side of the table, Max on the other.
“Thoughts?” he said.
“I don’t know,” Afton sighed. “I understand why we’re here, but I still think we should be focusing on the pizza guy. I think we’d do better if we were back in Hudson working the crime scene.”
“The FBI has that covered. We’re here to dot the i’s and cross the t’s.”
“Bob Binger being one of the i’s?”
“You never know.”
“Hey,” a man said as he huffed his way through the doorway. He had a sallow, pudgy face and a paunch that was barely restrained by his belt. He looked tired, overworked, and scattered.
Afton and Max both rose to shake Binger’s hand and introduce themselves. His palm was damp and his face was florid. Maybe he was nervous, Afton thought. Or maybe he just had high blood pressure.
“I hope this won’t take long,” Binger said, plopping down into a chair.
“We’ll try to keep it brief,” Max said. “Like I explained on the phone, we’re trying to gather background information on Richard Darden.”
“This about his missing kid?”
“We’re focusing more on him right now.”
Binger snorted. “King Shit Darden, huh? Well, what do you want to know?”
“Richard Darden fired you, is that correct?”
A tiny vein in Binger’s forehead pulsed and his nostrils flared. “That arrogant puke cost me everything. Fourteen years I put in at Novamed. I led a team of eight developers. Never had a bad word in my personnel file. Never. Year after year, my team was one of the most productive in the company.”
“Then what?” Max asked.
“Darden, that’s what,” Binger said.
“Care to explain that?” Afton asked.
“Darden looked smart in a suit, played a good round of golf, and had enough smarm to spread around in the executive offices. He hopscotched his way up to head of R and D—that’s research and development—and became my boss. Every time we came up with a new idea, Darden took credit for it. When I finally called him out, he fired my ass. Security came in, threw all my personal gear in a cardboard box, and escorted me out the front door.” He mopped at his forehead. “Right in front of my team. God, it was embarrassing.”
“So you were angry,” Max said.
“I was livid. Plus, I was out of work for almost six months after that.”
“Ever have any revenge fantasies?” Afton asked.
Binger looked startled. “What? Me? No.” He stared at them. “I see where you’re going with this, but it wasn’t me who kidnapped that baby. Heck, I’ve got three kids of my own. I could never pull a stunt like that. No way.”
“Do you know anyone who would?” Max asked.
Binger was slow to answer. “No, I can’t say that I do. Oh, there were plenty of people who wanted to get back at Darden. But . . . I don’t think they’d go about it that way. No, I can’t think of anyone who’s that crazy.”
*
AN hour later, Afton and Max were back at the office.
“C’mon,” Max said. “Let’s grab a cup of coffee before we check in.”
“Sure,” Afton said.