“I have his password, but that’s it so far.”

“His password? Good girl. How’d you find it?”

“It was written on a piece of paper in his desk drawer. How’s that for clever?”

“But if you haven’t actually gone into his database, what makes you so sure he’s cooking?”

“Because I saw the printout before he shredded it.”

“What’s that other term you used?”

“Dry-labbing it. Don’t get sidetracked,” she said.

Pete missed Pensky’s response. He pressed his hand against the ear bud and closed his eyes as though that might improve his hearing. Had he used the word “trial”? Must be clinical trials if they were talking about medical charts.

“Listen, Owen. I’m working ten-hour days. I don’t have a lot of time to play Sherlock Holmes. I can only do so much.”

“What about the incident at Arkansas?”

“No good. Hearsay. The girl who told me says he skirted disaster by going away for a ‘much-needed rest.’ After that he disappeared and reappeared somewhere else. She talked to Dr. Stupak twice, but he wouldn’t pursue the matter for fear it would negatively impact his career.”

“Stupak’s career?”

“Not Stupak’s, Linton’s. These guys are always circling the wagons. Any hint of trouble, they close ranks. Shit. Gotta go. Bye.”

The line went dead though he was still tuned into her end by way of the pen mike. Pete heard a door open and a muffled exchange. Mary Lee said, “Wrong number.”

A few seconds later, the door shut and there was silence. She and Willard must have moved into the living room.