Simone stared at the coffee table as if she were seeing it for the first time. “Lyle Dobbs was not one of the three people convicted in Steve’s case.”
“No,” Ryan said, looking over his shoulder at Mitch. “He wasn’t.” He glanced back at Simone. “When it came to the trial, Steve surprised the prosecution and named the three from his firm, but not Dobbs. The Feds were pissed—understandably. Dobbs had just become the Cypher’s chairman, a position he still holds today. They were expecting the big fish. Instead, they got three small ones who didn’t do a thing to help their case against Dobbs.”
Silence settled over the room, then slowly, Simone’s eyes narrowed and her gaze lifted to Ryan’s. “Lyle Dobbs. You don’t mean Senator Lyle Dobbs from New Hampshire, do you?”
“The same.”
Simone’s eyes slid closed, and she leaned back against the couch. “Oh my God.”
“I don’t get it,” Tate said from the kitchen near Mitch. “What’s the big deal about this Dobbs character?”
Mitch wanted to punch the guy. Yeah, he was fairly bright, but he rarely paid attention to what was going on in the world around him. He was too caught up in his music to care. “Don’t you ever watch the news? Dobbs is gearing up to run for president.”
“Oh.” Tate looked back at Simone. “Oh yeah, that’s not good.”
Not good didn’t even cover half of it. Mitch had been wrong. Dead wrong. The Cyphers hadn’t come after him like he’d thought.
“They think Steve told me something that could ruin Dobbs’s shot at the presidency. That’s why they came after me, isn’t it?” Simone asked Ryan, obviously realizing the same thing.
“That’s what my PI thinks.”
Ryan’s words hung heavily in the air. So heavy Mitch felt the weight of them bearing down on his shoulders and chest.
Simone huffed out a laugh and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I didn’t even know he was a Cypher. What does that tell you about my knowledge where all this is concerned?”
“Maybe it’s time you started thinking.”
“Why?” Simone dropped her hand, but instead of shock, anger filled her chocolate eyes. “So I can tell whatever it is to the Feds? If this is true, then they’ve been watching me all this time. And they did nothing to help when Dobbs sent those people after me who shot up Mitch’s house. I’m supposed to hope they’re going to protect me now? That they’re going to keep Shannon safe? Forgive me for not trusting them, but I’m not stupid. If they really think I have something that can be used against Dobbs, they’re not going to look out for my best interests. They’re going to use me and then cut me loose. And then I’ll be back in the same situation I’m in now. Running from a group who obviously wants me dead.”
She had a point, but Mitch didn’t want to believe it. Turning to the Feds could be her only chance now. And his.
Dammit. They were right back where they’d started. Only worse off, because even if he agreed to disappear to get away from all this, he knew for certain he wasn’t doing it with her.
“Simone,” Ryan started.
“No.” She pushed out of her chair. “I’m not running back to the Feds, because I have nothing to give them. Did your PI find out anything else? Anything at all that could be of use to me?”
Ryan’s wary gaze slid from Simone to his wife, seated beside her. Simone glanced from one to the other. “Just tell me already.”
Ryan rested one hand against his thigh. “There is one more thing, but I don’t know how relevant it is.”
“Spit it out.”
When he hesitated, Kate said, “Ryan, you have to tell her.”
Simone waited, her brow lifted, her face expectant. Across the room, the tick of a clock was the only sound that echoed through the vast space.
“My PI got a hold of your husband’s medical records,” Ryan said. “And while it’s true he showed symptoms that are often present in pancreatic cancer patients, that’s not what’s listed on his chart as cause of death.”
“What was?” Simone asked cautiously.
“A blood clot. Which traveled to his brain and caused a stroke.”
Several second passed as Simone glanced around the room, clearly not seeing it. “I don’t understand. His doctor diagnosed him with cancer. He got sick and passed quickly, but that’s what happens with pancreatic cancer. They said his symptoms went unnoticed for months, and that his organs just…shut down.” She looked at Ryan. “Are you telling me he didn’t have cancer?”
Ryan glanced at his wife, then pushed off the coffee table and stepped to Simone. “I’m not saying he didn’t. I’m just saying that the acute onset of symptoms related to pancreatic cancer can be attributed to a lot of different…substances.”
“Substances,” Simone repeated suspiciously.
“Chemicals,” Ryan clarified.
Simone stared at him. And from across the room, Mitch felt her anxiety as if he were standing right next to her. Ryan ran a pharmaceutical empire. If there was anyone that knew about side effects—intended or not—it was him.
Shit. Don’t say it…
“Chemicals,” Simone repeated. “You mean poisons. Are you trying to tell me Steve was poisoned?”
“No,” Ryan said quickly. “There’s no way to know that unless Steve’s body is exhumed and tests are run. And I’m not saying that’s the case here but, from a medical perspective, after looking at his files and everything else, I’m saying…something seems fishy to me.”
He reached for a folder he’d set on the coffee table and handed it to her. “Steve’s attending physician was a man named Clayton Browers. He got his undergrad degree at the University of California at Berkeley, then did his post grad work at George Washington University in DC. The Cyphers don’t have a chapter at George Washington, but they do at Berkeley. They’re one of only a handful of bicoastal societies on record. Browers’s name isn’t listed on any formal charter that we could find, but associates my PI talked to claim he has the same dagger brand all Cypher members have. The fact there’s no genetic history of cancer in your husband’s family, coupled with the reality that some of his symptoms don’t match up with those we see from cancer patients, well, it has me curious.”
Simone looked down at the folder in her hand. “This is Steve’s medical record?”
“And the info on Browers. Nothing’s definitive, Simone. I don’t want you to get worked up. I’m just pointing out some inconsistencies and areas of caution.”
Mitch watched the color drain from Simone’s cheeks, and an uncontrollable need to go to her, to comfort her, consumed him. But he kept his feet rooted in place, knowing if he did, she wouldn’t turn to him. And honestly…why should she? If what Ryan’s guy had uncovered was true, the Cyphers—his associates—had murdered her husband.
His stomach rolled, a sickness that consumed him from his toes upward. He looked toward the bottle of Jamison on the counter, desperate for a glass.
“I… I think I need a few minutes alone,” Simone said, turning for the stairs.
Kate pushed off the couch. “Simone—”
Simone held up her hand to keep her friend from touching her. “No, I’m okay. I just… I want to read through this. I was pretty stressed back when Steve got sick, and I didn’t pay attention to everything like I should have. I’m not saying I buy into all this, but…” She swallowed and faced Ryan once more, and even in the middle of what Mitch knew had to be the shock of her life, she pulled up that rock-solid strength she’d always had and faced it. “Thank you. For all of this. For what you’ve done. I…appreciate it. I really do.”
She disappeared up the stairs. Above, a door closed, then silence fell over the room.