Thirty-Four
Eli
* * *
I paced outside the hospital room. It had been three hours since I injected Dani with the epinephrine. I’d read about her allergy a year ago, but it was her reminder yesterday on the plane that spurred me to locate and carry her EpiPen. The paramedics said that without the injection, she would be dead, just like the other people who worked on Propanolol.
The hospital room door opened. Damien and Ella Sinclair came out. Ella’s eyes were red and puffy. She wrapped her arms around me. “Thank you. You saved Dani’s life.”
“Is she awake?”
“She’s resting,” Ella replied.
“Where’s Stephen?” Damien asked, daggers shooting from his eyes.
“He left the restaurant, claiming he didn’t know about her allergy.”
Ella looked to her husband. “Did he know?”
“She’s had it all her life. As close as he’s been to our family, he fucking knew.” Damien handed me back my phone.
“Did you listen?” I’d offered to let him hear Dani and Stephen’s exchange.
Damien nodded with a clenched jaw.
“What are your thoughts?” I asked.
“I want Stephen Elliott to rot in prison for the rest of his miserable life.”
“Before I gave you my phone to hear that recording, I contacted Ben. They’re running a search of Elliott’s financials. Dani hadn’t lied about the trace of the virus, even though I bet she thought she had. Ben confirmed that the virus reported back to a virtual network that they’ve traced to Stephen’s home.”
Ella shook her head. “I can’t believe it. Why?”
My phone vibrated. “It’s Ben. Maybe we will learn more. Eli here,” I said into the phone.
“We have a wealth of information.”
I looked around the hallway and motioned for the Sinclairs to come closer. “Ben, I’m putting you on speaker.”
“Speaker? Who is with you?”
“Damien and Ella Sinclair.”
“First off,” he said. “Carol Webster, formally Carpenter, has been in contact with Stephen Elliott. The Sumter County Sheriff’s department is on their way to pick her up for questioning.”
“We’ll need to get Hoosier,” I said.
“I don’t know what that means,” Ben replied. “But have you heard of a man named Preston Ayers?”
“Yes.” I met Damien’s stare.
“Two months ago, Preston paid Elliott five hundred grand. Elliott turned around and gave three hundred grand as a campaign donation for Preston’s upcoming gubernatorial election.”
“What happened to the other two hundred?” Damien asked.
“We’re working on the identity of the sender, but Carol Webster received a hundred thousand wire deposit around the same time. Another hundred was invested in cryptocurrency. That’s more difficult to track.”
“How does Ayers fit in?” Damien said.
