If Ben had been standing in front of the door, he would have been instantly killed. Thankfully, the door frame and siding had protected him since he was positioned to the left of the door. Frank had been similarly safe on the other side of the door. The explosion did make Ben’s ears ring and he was covered in fragments of rubble, but besides that, he was unharmed. He recovered quickly and signaled to Frank, who silently responded that he was also good to go.
Since Ben was the point man on this operation, he swiftly entered the house through the damaged doorway. The other team members quickly formed a single file line and snaked in behind him. Other SWAT members entered from the rear at the same time, and they all kept in contact with headset mics to alert each other about their progress. Ben’s weapon was drawn, and he scanned the area, looking for the perpetrator, secure in the knowledge that his team had his back. As the point man, he knew he might have to make a snap decision that could ultimately be a matter of life and death. The assailant could rush them at any time, and he would probably be armed. There could also be booby traps or other surprises anywhere in the house like the bomb they’d discovered at the front door.
Once they were in the living room, each member of the team immediately moved to a combat position as they covered their area of responsibility. They had practiced this move on several occasions and had trained with a variety of scenarios. By dividing up the room, the law enforcement officers were able to ensure that they weren’t in each other’s way, and could also verify that the entire area was covered in case the perpetrator came at them.
“Sheriff’s Office!” the team yelled, hoping to disorient or surprise the suspect, even though surprise probably wasn’t possible at this point since the explosion at the door had obviously been meant for them. Rushing loudly into a room usually shocked the suspect for a few seconds, which was enough time to cover him with weapons and force the arrest. In this case, though, the assailant was nowhere in sight.
Ben motioned for two of the other officers to move toward the stairs. Most of the time, the law enforcement operations would run so cleanly that the entire arrest would happen without the law enforcement team firing a single shot. That’s the outcome they hoped and trained for. Ben didn’t have a good feeling about this one, however. The man they were chasing had a history of forcing confrontation and had obviously killed before. He probably had no qualms at all about taking out a few law enforcement officers if it meant he could escape.
“Clear,” Ben called, and Frank followed him into the dining room that was to the left of the living room.
“Clear,” Frank called, when they found the next room empty, as well.
They returned to the living room just as two team members were cautiously starting up the stairs. They had only taken a few steps when suddenly a round of bullets sprayed the staircase just above the officers’ heads. They turned to engage, but Ben was quicker. From where he was standing below, Ben had the perfect angle where he could see the man standing behind the railing, using an armoire as a shield.
Ben aimed his weapon and fired twice, hitting the gun the man was using and sending it skittering across the floor. The officers on the stairs rushed up the remaining distance in seconds and quickly had the man within their sights.
“On the floor, now, hands out!” The perpetrator slowly raised his hands and then went to his knees. A moment later, he was facedown on the floor, spread eagle, and the two officers were frisking and cuffing him.
Ben’s mind returned to the photo Frank had shown him of the perp right before they’d left their vehicle and started toward the house. He had no doubt the man being arrested was the same one who had both attacked him in his home and pushed their car off the bridge into the St. Johns River. He had a smirk on his face while he was being cuffed, as if being arrested was no big deal and he was confident he could beat the rap. The man’s expression bothered Ben more than he wanted to admit. This was the face of the man who had tried to kill not only him but the woman he had planned to marry. He knew he should be able to keep his feelings under control, but this time Ben just didn’t trust himself. A thin sheen of perspiration appeared on his face as he felt the anger and desire for retaliation sweep over him. This was not how he was supposed to feel. This was a case just like any other case. His feelings for Jordan shouldn’t play a part in it at all.
But they did.
He turned to Frank and gave him a pensive look as they secured their weapons. Thoughts of Jordan had been swarming around in his mind, and although he had pushed them aside during the operation, now that it was over, they had returned to the forefront of his mind in full force. “So, things are good between you and Bailey?” he asked in a low tone, but he already knew the answer. Whenever Bailey was near, a wide smile would cover his friend’s face. That smile said it all.
“Oh, yeah.” Frank said. “They couldn’t be better. She’s an amazing woman. I am truly blessed.”
Ben couldn’t be happier for his friend and coworker, but an unexpected twinge of jealously also swept over him. Frank’s relationship with Bailey was solid. They both knew where they stood. With Jordan, Ben wasn’t sure about much of anything, but he did know that his feelings of protectiveness and rage were overwhelming him at the thought of Jordan being anywhere near Aaron Rich. He stood, shaking off the unprofessional thoughts. He tried to detach himself. It was a losing battle.
“Make you a deal,” Ben said to Frank as the other members of the team escorted Rich from the building. “If you do the interrogation, I’ll do the paperwork.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “You serious? I thought you wanted this one.”
Ben shrugged. Doing the paperwork meant a lot more than just filling out his own report. He had been point on the situation anyway, so his load of the work was heavier than the others’ to start with, but any large operation like this one would be reviewed and evaluated by the upper echelons of the Sheriff’s Office. There would also be a team discussion of the positives and negatives that would result in another report that would be used to direct future trainings and correct any issues discovered. Usually, they all shared a bit of the work, so it was no surprise that Frank was surprised by Ben’s offer.
“Yeah. That the guy took a shot at me and tried to take me out—not only in my own home but also in the St. Johns River.” He shook his head, his hands fisted on his hips. “But what really gets to me is that he tried to hurt Jordan. I have to admit, I might lose my cool if I’m in the same room with him.” He hated to confess his shortcomings, but there it was. Every instinct he had was to protect Jordan and defend her, regardless of the adversary he faced. He wanted to be the consummate professional in every circumstance, but this time, he just didn’t think he could maintain his objectivity. He did not want to blow this case because he lost his temper in the middle of the interrogation.
Frank nodded. “I get it. I felt the same way when we had to rescue Bailey from Dr. Fredericks.” Ben remembered when Fredericks had kidnapped Bailey and they had barely arrived in time to save her. They had come close to losing her that day, and Ben still remembered the relief and joy he had seen in his friend’s eyes when they had rescued her from certain death at the last possible moment. He also remembered that he’d had to insist on driving to the scene because Frank had barely been able to keep his emotions under control when they had been rushing to her aid. The memories gave Ben some measure of solace, but he was still irritated with himself and his lack of control.
Frank gave Ben a nudge, drawing him out of his reverie. “Does this mean you and Jordan are getting back together?”
Ben drew his lips into a thin line as they started to leave and head back to their car. “I don’t know. I did finally realize that I’m still in love with her. That’s a big step for me. Jordan is still holding back, though. I’m not sure why. Every time I try to talk to her, she clams up and disappears. We haven’t really had a chance to talk about where we go from here.”
“Well she can’t go too far since she’s still in protective custody.”
“True enough,” Ben agreed. “I’ll just have to keep trying.”
“She’s going through a lot right now,” Frank said sagely. “Even if you have to close this Southeastern case before you have a real conversation, she’s worth the wait.”
Ben nodded in agreement. “Don’t I know it. I just about went crazy when she almost drowned. You know, I’ve been slow to trust her because I’ve been afraid that she will suddenly disappear on me again. I don’t think I could survive the heartbreak of losing her a second time. But now it feels like someone has finally removed the blinders from my eyes. We can work on our trust issues, but I can’t imagine life without her.”
God was good. All the time. Ben knew he had a lot to be thankful for. His thoughts returned to the case as he watched the team lead Aaron Rich away. “Hopefully now, we’ll get some answers.”
Jordan typed a few more notes, then turned and frowned at Bailey. “I can’t believe it. These numbers are even worse than what we feared. A full thirty-eight percent of the testing pool experienced seizures. Thirty-eight percent! That’s horrific! And at the same time, only twenty-three percent actually had relief from migraines. It sounds to me like the cure is worse than the problem.”
“Not only that,” Bailey added as she skimmed more files from the hard drive. “Some of these other side effects are also terrifying. Look at these numbers—aren’t those deaths that can be directly attributed to the drug?”
She pointed toward the screen, and Jordan looked closely at what she had highlighted, then leaned even closer to verify what she was actually seeing. “Yes. Good grief! With this information and the interviews the deputies already did when they were investigating, we can finally show how dangerous this drug really is. Jeremy is the one who signed off on most of these documents. I imagine that’s why he saved copies of them all. They look like scanned originals.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I also imagine that these are the only copies of these documents left in existence. I believe everything else has been wiped from Southeastern’s computers and replaced with forgeries. None of these numbers match what they reported to the Food and Drug Administration.”
Jordan watched as Bailey closed that file and opened another. They both skimmed the words together. “Their goal is to rebrand Mintax under a new name to sell in the US?” Bailey asked.
“That’s crazy!” Jordan responded.
Bailey scrolled down. “Well, according to this, they’ve been working secretly on developing a copycat drug in China at a manufacturing plant that is hidden under so many layers of bureaucracy that it will be nearly impossible for it to be tied to Southeastern. The Chinese company only recently bought the rights to the formula for the drug. They claim in this article that they plan to make some minor alterations and then offer it for sale again. Apparently, the Food and Drug Administration is lax when it comes to enforcing the importation of unapproved drugs from certain countries like Canada, India, China and Mexico. If the pills are labeled for personal use, not heavily advertised and sold in quantities of less than a three-month supply, then the FDA probably won’t stop them—especially since they wouldn’t see a migraine medicine as a threat since headaches are common and not life-threatening.” She paused as she continued to read. “Well, at least this way, Southeastern figures they can recoup some of the tremendous losses they had to accept when they developed Mintax, while also avoiding any liability if anything goes wrong.”
Jordan took more notes. “They probably made some of the money back from the sale, but only a small percentage. I mean, the volume of sales coming in from a Chinese substitute won’t come close to what they would have earned if it had gone on the market as an American-made drug. It’s a workaround, yes, but that won’t be enough to save Southeastern from bankruptcy.”
Bailey closed the file and opened another. “That’s weird,” she said under her breath.
“What?”
Bailey hit some more keys. “I can’t tell if Southeastern has already been paid for the sale or not. I don’t see any large infusions of cash on their balance sheets, but maybe there’s more that I can’t see. These are only the public records. I guess it’s always possible that they’ve hidden the sale to avoid taxes or other implications. I mean, they’ve wanted to avoid responsibility for Mintax since the beginning. Selling the formula and hiding the sale wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, and it helps them avoid liability if and when the Chinese company gets sued.” She closed one file and opened another.
“There’s a really strange file here. It’s in a totally different format than the other documents, and looks like it doesn’t have anything to do with Mintax or Southeastern. It keeps referring to the Sunset Special train, and some man named Felix Jefferson.”
Jordan turned back to her own computer. “Let me see if I can find anything out about him while you’re reading the rest of that.”
“Sure thing,” Bailey replied, her brow wrinkled. “Apparently, the train starts in New York City and goes all the way down to Miami.”
Jordon typed in her search and quickly scanned the results. “According to this site, Felix Jefferson is an engineer on that train. It’s called the Sunset Special, right?”
“Yes, that’s right,” Bailey confirmed. “But what does this have to do with Mintax? What do a pharmaceutical company and a train that goes up and down the east coast have in common?”
“Maybe nothing,” Jordan answered. “Maybe that file was already on the hard drive for some other reason, and he just didn’t erase it.”
“That can’t be right,” Bailey noted, her tone thoughtful. “Look, the files were all added to the drive the month before Jeremy Sparks died. You can tell by the dates listed here,” she moved her mouse to emphasize what she was seeing on her computer. “In fact, that file and this document were both added on the same date. This PDF in the file seems to be something about a train crash that occurred in Pennsylvania about three years ago. Do you remember that happening?”
Jordan shrugged. “Vaguely.” She quickly skimmed the article. “Oh my gosh. It says that Continental Railways paid over $365 million to the victims of the train wreck. It looks like the engineer was impaired at the time of the crash.” She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, Bailey, you don’t think it’s possible, do you?”
Bailey look at her with a question in her eyes, obviously not following her line of thinking. “What do you mean?”
“The law firm you mentioned earlier, you said they focused on class action suits and personal injury, right?”
“From what I remember. We can check their website to verify that if you want. Why?”
Jordan leaned back as the enormity of the situation hit her all at once. “Lawyers usually earn at least forty percent in fees when they represent victims, and if there are enough of them, a class action suit can be brought against the railroad. Even if all of the victims or their families don’t choose to use the same law firm, they could still pull quite a class together and make a huge amount of money in one fell swoop through the crash and kickbacks.” She threw her pen down on the table and felt nausea swirl in her stomach. “I think those investors are planning on recouping their losses and saving Southeastern at the same time. They’re going to give Mintax to the engineer, and crash the Sunset Special.”