Nondisclosure: A Medical Thriller

My head was pounding, and the ceiling was spinning. At least I thought it was the ceiling, although I couldn’t see clearly. I tried to roll over, and someone started to run toward me. Singer? But hadn’t he already shot me?

I started to yell, but whoever it was gently took my head in warm hands. A soft voice said, “Shh, it’s all right. You’re okay now.”

I managed to focus. And saw Karen kneeling beside me. “Take it easy. Don’t try to move yet,” she said.

A wave of relief swept over me. “Karen? How did you get here? Where’s Singer?” I forced myself to a sitting position and started to look around the apartment. Nobody there but Karen. And Rosie, who was vigorously snuggling up to me.

“Singer’s all taken care of,” she said. “I got here just in time, while you had him talking. I could hear him as soon as I opened the door, so I snuck in quietly, and neither of you saw me. Then you threw the glass at him, and I had my chance to jump him with the pepper spray. The gun went off and put a hole in the wall, but that was it. You’ll be fine as soon as the drug wears off.”

I squeezed her hand. “Did you hear what he was saying? I can’t remember exactly, but I think he was talking about killing Emily.”

“I heard him, and it’ll probably come back to you too. But even better, it’ll all be recorded on Rosie’s surveillance system. Thanks to you being such a goofy dog owner, we have his full confession on tape.”

Relief washed over me. It had worked after all. I rubbed Rosie’s head to thank her for getting us the recording system. “So where is he now?” I asked.

“I called for help, and they’ve taken him downtown. You’ve been out for over an hour. They’ll want to get a statement from you, but it can wait until tomorrow. Maybe you’ll be able to remember more then, but it really doesn’t matter. We have plenty to be sure that he spends the rest of his life in a cage.”

“So it’s really over? You have enough to put him away?”

She smiled again. But this time, there was a cold look in her eyes. “Singer’s finished. But it’s not quite over yet. You and I still have a bit more work to do.”

The room had gone back to spinning in my head. “Now?” I asked.

She bent over and kissed me. “No. After you get some sleep and you’re back to being yourself again.”

I was naked in bed when I woke up. I didn’t remember getting here, but I did remember Singer trying to kill me last night. And Karen saving my ass.

I threw on a robe and padded out to the kitchen. Karen was there with a cup of coffee and a newspaper in front of her.

“Good to see you walking on your own,” she said. “Get some coffee and take a look at this.”

Most of the front page of the Globe was devoted to Singer’s arrest. Karen was the woman of the hour, the heroic detective who’d single-handedly taken down a monster—dubbed the “College Killer” by the reporter. I got a sidebar mention as her helper and near next victim, which was plenty for me.

“How’d they get all this?” I asked.

“The chief called them as soon as we arrested Singer last night. He loves publicity for the department, even if it was about me instead of him. Anyway, the news people were all over it. I spent an hour or so with a reporter after I got you to bed, and he hustled to get it in this morning’s paper. And of course, it was immediately picked up by TV and radio, so it’s all over the place now.”

I swallowed more coffee. It felt great going down. “So you’re the star of the hour. Maybe even of the day—or week. They’re not going to fire you after this, I assume.”

“No, they already offered me a promotion instead.” She shrugged. “Not sure if I want it, though. The chief’s still the same. Anyway, I’ll see. First, we have some more work to do if you’re up to it.”

I finished the coffee and stood up. “A quick shower and I’ll be good to go. Where to?”

“You’ll see. Don’t worry—it’s an errand you’ll enjoy.”

We got to the Presidential Palace a little before nine. It was still an impressive building, but it seemed to have lost much of its grandeur since my last visit. Perhaps because I knew it was about to take a fall. Or at least the man at the top was.

Two uniforms met us outside, but Karen asked them to wait in the lobby while we took the elevator up to the top floor. The receptionist greeted us with an icy stare.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

“No,” Karen said. “But I think President Emerson may be expecting us.” She held up her badge.

The receptionist glanced at it but was unimpressed. “I’m sorry, but nobody just walks in to see the president.” She pushed a button on the desk, and two well-muscled apes in black suits appeared from nowhere. “Please see these two out,” she said.

One of them grabbed Karen’s arm, and I half expected her to pepper spray him. But instead she said, “Don’t you recognize me?”

“From where, the local nuthouse? C’mon, lady, let’s go.”

“I was thinking you might have seen this morning’s news.”

He paused, and a look of recognition crossed his face. “Wait, are you the one who took down that rapist?”

She nodded. “That’s me. And do you want to be the cop who threw me out of the building? Our new chief will love that.”

He let go of her arm and seemed to be trying to think. Then he turned to the receptionist. “Sorry, Alice, let them go ahead in.”

Karen said, “You can stay where you are, Alice. We’ll let ourselves in.”

And we proceeded into President Emerson’s inner sanctum.

He was sitting behind his big desk with a copy of the Globe in front of him. Our entrance startled him, and he looked up sharply. “What’s this about?”

“It’s about obstruction of justice,” Karen said. “Kenneth Emerson, I’m placing you under arrest.”

“You’re crazy,” he spat. “You can’t do that! You work for the institute. For me.”

“I’m a police officer, sworn to enforce the law. That comes before loyalty to whoever signs my paycheck.”

He stared at us, and a moment passed as he got control of himself. I could almost picture the gears in his head shifting as his face morphed into the picture of the prototypical college president. A pleasant, reasonable man.

Maybe he’d offer us tea.

“Of course, I understand your priorities,” he said. “But I have no idea what you’re talking about. Obstruction of justice? Whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure I can explain.”

“We’re talking about rape and murder,” Karen said. “And Michael Singer.”

He sighed audibly and shifted his eyes to include me in his response. “All right, I know you’ve dug into the nondisclosure agreement I signed with Singer at Yale. But that’s standard academic practice to get rid of a tenured faculty member who’s gotten into trouble. Your dean did the same with Steve Upton.”

I couldn’t contain myself any longer. “And then you continued supporting Singer here, where he’s raped and murdered one of our students. Was that a little tit for tat after he helped you get the president’s job?”

“Look, I tried to explain this to you before,” Emerson said. “Singer was one of our top faculty members. He brought in more grant money than anyone else, and with this new Immunoboost thing, he would’ve made us the top research institute in the country. Supporting him was a no-brainer.”

“A known rapist?” Karen said. “And when he did the same and worse here, you tried to protect him by framing Brad and having him arrested. He was part of an ongoing investigation that you attempted to obstruct.”

“Wait a minute,” Emerson said. “I don’t know anything about Brad’s arrest. Are you saying it was some kind of setup? If that’s true, I’ll be happy to deal with the responsible parties. Most severely, I can assure you.”

“The responsible party is Doug Westman,” Karen said. “Acting on your orders. He gave up the whole story to our detectives last night.”

Emerson snorted and raised his eyebrows. “And all you have is his word for that? I don’t know why he would have done such a crazy thing. Maybe he thought it would please me. But we never talked about it.” He laughed. “And now Westman’s trying to make a deal to save his own ass. That’ll never hold up in court. My lawyers will get it thrown out so fast your heads will spin.”

Karen smiled at him. “You might get off in court. We’ll see. But it’s not going to matter after I’m through with you. This is going to be sort of the opposite of a nondisclosure agreement. Now stand up and put your hands out. I’ll be nice enough to cuff you in front if you cooperate.”

He paled when he saw Karen take out the cuffs, but he stood up. “You don’t have to handcuff me. I’ll go with you.”

Karen grabbed his right arm and snapped the cuffs on. I grabbed his left and held it out for her to do the same. “Hope you don’t mind a little help,” I said.

“Not at all. Would you like to walk out with us?”

“Always happy to assist an officer of the law.”

Emerson was squirming as we perp walked him out of his office, Karen on his right and me on his left. Alice was still at her reception desk. Her mouth dropped to the floor when she saw us. Emerson yelled at her to call his lawyer, but she seemed too shocked to move.

Other staffers had the same reaction as we dragged him to the elevator, with Emerson yelling that they’d better not say anything about this to anyone.

The lobby was empty when we got to the ground floor, having been cleared by the two uniformed cops who were standing at the front door. It was when we opened that door that all hell broke loose. We were greeted by three squad cars and news trucks from some half a dozen local television stations. Not to mention a crowd of reporters and photographers all yelling for attention. And a growing throng of interested bystanders.

Emerson tried to hide his face from the cameras as we strong-armed him through the crowd, but his efforts to cover his face only accentuated the handcuffs. In the meantime, Karen answered a few of the reporters’ questions.

Her simple statement, “Kenneth Emerson is under arrest for obstruction of justice in the case of Michael Singer,” elicited a frantic scrambling and jostling of video cams, microphones, and smartphones.

One reporter shouted, “Isn’t Singer the man who was arrested last night?”

“The murderer and rapist I arrested last night,” Karen clarified. “And now we’re bringing the man who made Singer’s crimes possible to justice as well.”

“How did President Emerson do that?” another reporter yelled.

“I can’t provide further details at this time,” Karen said.

When we finally got Emerson into the back seat of a squad car, I was pretty sure he understood what Karen had done to him. But just to make it clear, she drove the stake home. “Check out the news later today. I bet they somehow get the full story.”