Page 69 of Fearless

Compassion and understanding were apparent when Jules broke into the silence with, “Start from the beginning, Kate. Help us to understand.”

“Lars was twenty-two years old when he first heard of WREN. Though, at that time, it was still called the Wren Project. Connor Newberry was the son of one of the board of directors of the organization. He was also a fraternity brother of Lars. After university, they lost touch. Lars became a successful businessman in his own right and, as you know, was a well-known philanthropist.

“Connor contacted Lars—he hadn’t heard from him in years—and told him about the Wren Project and the good that it did. Lars was impressed with the charity and gave a substantial donation. Eventually, he became more involved, but as with most of the charities he helped fund, he requested his name never be associated. Lars didn’t give money for the publicity.”

“He had a big heart,” Jules said softly.

A small smile tugged at Kate’s mouth. “The biggest.” She blew out a shaky breath. “Throughout the years, he helped fund everything from hospitals to schools to medical research through the Wren Project. He was eventually asked to become a more active participant and later became a board member.

“Not long after that, he began to question some of the decisions the board was making. Funds that were to be allocated for specific endeavors had been diverted to unapproved studies and questionable businesses. When he brought this to the attention of the other board members, they all agreed an investigation should take place.

“It was only a couple weeks after that when Lars began to have headaches. He’d always been ridiculously healthy, so when he mentioned them, I was worried. He went in for a physical and was told nothing was wrong, other than perhaps the headaches were stress-related.

“Again, that seemed ludicrous. I’d watched the man get in the face of three world leaders at the same time and practically curse them out without one drop of sweat. Stress had never been an issue for him.

“We were on vacation. I think we’d been in Italy for maybe three days when Lars woke up late—which was very unusual on its own. He looked at me, had the blankest look in his eyes, and asked me my name.”

Kate’s eyes went shiny with tears as she whispered, “He didn’t recognize me. At first, I thought he was kidding, but I could see the confusion and panic on his face. A couple of minutes later, he remembered. We tried to laugh it off, but both of us knew we could no longer assume the headaches were anything other than something serious.

“We went back home, and Lars had a head-to-toe full-body work-up. The diagnosis was devastating. Early-onset dementia. We were told that with the advancement of his condition, he should have been experiencing symptoms for at least six months, if not longer. Other than the occasional business trip, I was with my husband every single day. He had never shown any sign of the disease until the headaches began two weeks prior. And suddenly, he was in a rapid state of decline.

“He lost his ability to walk and talk. When he suffered a massive heart attack, the doctors said it was a blessing, and perhaps it was. There was no way to reverse his condition, and I know Lars never would have wanted to live like that.

“I contacted a friend who was a pathologist and former state medical examiner. I funded a complete autopsy. Nothing was off the table. They considered everything. And, of course, money was no object. I wanted answers.”

“You believed his illness was caused by someone,” Ash said.

“I had no doubt, but I needed proof.”

“And something was found?”

“Yes, traces of an unknown enzyme. Every organ in his body had elements of the enzyme, but his brain was saturated with it. Problem was, I couldn’t prove anything. I only know that the problems with the Wren Project and his illness started around the same time. So I started my own investigation. The harder I looked, the more convinced I became.

“WREN’s research knows no bounds, nor does their funding. I still have no definitive proof, but I know with one hundred percent certainty that those bastards killed my husband.”

“Did you ever question anyone at WREN?”

“No. I knew it would do no good. They all expressed their condolences, of course. Sent flowers, acted as if the loss of Lars was a great tragedy to them and the organization. I knew better, but still, I had no proof.

“Then, a couple weeks after his death, I received a cryptic, one-sentence email. I know it was from someone at WREN because they used Lars’s WREN email.”

“What did it say?” Ash asked.

“‘I promise you, my dear, they will pay for this one day.’”

“Could it have come from Lars?” Jules asked. “Maybe he delayed the email until a certain date?”

“No. Lars had no access to any kind of electronics for months before he died. Whoever it came from is inside WREN. But I don’t know who it could be. I never received any messages from that account again.”

“So you may have an ally there.”

“That was my hope. But not having heard from them again, they might be gone, too.”

“Kate,” Jules said softly, “why didn’t you tell us this before?”

Another sigh, this one filled with frustration. “Not long after I accepted that Lars had been murdered by WREN, I told two separate people in confidence. Both of those people were dead within a week of each other. My friend, the medical examiner… Both he and his assistant were killed in a plane crash a few weeks later. All the deaths appeared to be accidents, but I knew the truth. It was a warning, one that I took very seriously.”

“Telling a civilian and telling an OZ operative are two entirely separate things,” Ash said.