LITMIR.BIZ

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it took to get to that truth.

      He’d borrowed a buddy’s press credentials to gain access to the new pharmaceutical testing company’s open house, hoping to gain some insight into how the company worked, into who he might tap on the inside for information.

      So far he hadn’t spotted anyone who might be a potential target. The parade of staff had comprised hardened individuals. No one bearing the expression years of police work had taught Zach to zero in on. The open, curious, caring face.

      Jim had been gone and buried for six weeks now. Six.

      The kid hadn’t lived to see his twenty-first birthday, yet here the New Horizon people sat bragging about their efforts to make the development and release of new drugs safe for the public at large.

      Safe, his ass.

      His younger brother had taken a header off the balcony after a supposed bout with depression and psychosis. The coroner had refused to call the death anything but suicide, but Zach knew better.

      Jim hadn’t been depressed or confused a day in his life, no matter what sort of statements his college buddies had given the officers on the case.

      When Zach had pressed the investigating officers for their case notes, they’d told him to take care of himself, to leave the investigation to them.

      When he’d tried to swipe those same notes from the files, the department had told him to take a hike.

      After all, Zach wasn’t stupid. He’d been around long enough to know how the game was played. Push hard enough, and sooner or later Internal Affairs would push back—straight to the department shrink and then straight to a paid leave.

      Zach wasn’t proud of what he’d done, but he also wasn’t about to apologize for manipulating the system to his advantage—all the way to a three-month sabbatical.

      More than enough time to investigate Jim’s death and expose New Horizon.

      The white-haired gentleman in a badly fitting suit—Van Cleef—continued to drone on, using a laser pointer to highlight features on a graph.

      Zach sat back against his chair, patiently waiting for the next topic on the printed agenda.

      The Whitman Pharma trial.

      HC0815.

      The drug that had taken Jim’s life.

      Zach swallowed down the ball of fury climbing up his throat and concentrated.

      He studied the name listed as presenter for the HC0815 segment.

      Jessica Parker.

      He lifted his gaze back to the stage and scanned the faces of the scientists and number crunchers seated in the two rows of chairs.

      He settled on a young blonde, her enthusiasm plastered across her face, and decided she was the best candidate to match the name.

      Her sleek blond hair had been swept back off her face, no doubt into a tight bun or twist or whatever it was women called that style.

      Her white lab coat was buttoned just about to her neck, exposing nothing other than a peek of flesh between the gentle curve of her chin and the collar.

      Uptight, no doubt.

      Yet when her eyes met his, the mix of emotions in her gaze was unmistakable.

      Curiosity and a bit of nervousness.

      His pulse kicked up a notch. If the woman was Jessica Parker, she’d be exactly the person he needed on the inside. She’d have the knowledge and the access to information his investigation required.

      She also had the facial expression he’d been looking for. Open. Alert. Intelligent.

      Her pink lips pressed into a tight line, and he immediately realized his attention had made her nervous.

      Her pale blue eyes flashed back toward the podium and Dr. Van Cleef, as if she were waiting for her name to be called.

      Perfect.

      If she were Jessica Parker, he’d use his phony media credentials to cozy up to the woman, then drain her for every ounce of information she could provide.

      Zach had been smart enough to keep a low profile after Jim’s death. If he’d gone nuts and acted the role of grief-stricken older brother, he’d no doubt have been recognized today, bogus credentials or not.

      Thankfully, he’d kept his head during the weeks since Jim’s death. Hell, truth be told, there’d been a few days when he’d barely been able to lift his head from the pillow. He felt quite certain a large part of his heart and soul were permanently gone—destroyed in the seconds it took for his younger brother to plunge to his death.

      The blonde stood and approached the microphone.

      He smiled as he studied her, eagerly waiting to scrutinize every word she had to say.

      Jessica Parker.

      Zach had his mark.

      Now all he had to do was wait for the right moment to make his move. When he did, he only had to remember one thing. His supposed identity.

      Rick Levenson with the Times Herald.

      Ms. Parker would never know what hit her.

      JESS REACHED DR. VAN Cleef’s side moments after he’d made his concluding remarks and was just about to begin the tour.

      “I think we might have an impostor, sir.”

      Van Cleef smiled ever so slightly. “Leather jacket?”

      Jess blinked yet realized she shouldn’t be surprised Van Cleef had jumped to the same conclusion.

      She nodded.

      “I always liked your perceptiveness, Jessica.” Van Cleef tipped his head toward the man, who appeared to be moving through the throng of reporters, headed directly toward where Jess and Van Cleef stood. “Why don’t you show our guest some individual attention? Find out just what he’s up to.”

      Jess had to admit she was less than thrilled with the idea, but she’d do whatever she could to protect the integrity of New Horizon’s work.

      She stole a quick glance at the approaching man, trepidation crawling across her skin.

      “Will do, Dr. Van Cleef.” She pasted on a smile. “My pleasure.”

      She stepped away from Van Cleef and pivoted, wanting to put herself in a position to appear casual when she approached the supposed reporter, but the man had already reached her side. She started momentarily but quickly gathered herself, smoothing down the front of her lab coat.

      “Rick Levenson.” The man extended his hand and smiled, the move not quite reaching his dark eyes.

      “Jessica Parker.” Jess gave his hand a quick pump then took a backward step, wanting to put a bit of breathing room between them.

      “I enjoyed your presentation on HC0815.” He tipped his head toward the podium. “Fascinating possibilities.”

      Pride flirted with the cautious edge she’d snapped into place. “Lifesaving possibilities.”

      The man nodded. “No doubt. But at what risk?”

      Jess shot him a frown. An odd question for a competitor to ask. Or was it?

      “Pardon me?”

      “The risk,” he repeated, his dark gaze going steely and cold. “Just how much risk is justifiable in the development and testing of such a drug?”

      She stiffened defensively. “The beauty of HC0815 is that it’s virtually risk-free. The studies to date have shown none of the adverse mental reactions existing Hepatitis C drugs display.”

      Levenson held up one hand as if he’d heard enough. “I heard the company line during your presentation.” He glanced toward the rest of

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