Betrayal of trust a medi.., p.1
Betrayal of Trust: A Medical Thriller, page 1
ADVANCE PRAISE FOR BETRAYAL OF TRUST
“Tense, intelligent, and relentlessly engaging, Betrayal of Trust is a standout in the genre. From its explosive opening to the final twist, the novel delivers a sophisticated blend of scientific intrigue and psychological drama. Cooper’s writing is crisp and confident, bringing complex characters and high-stakes research to vivid life. A must-read for anyone who appreciates thrillers with brains and bite." —Kyle Eaton, Seattle Book Review
“Cooper probes the dark undercurrents of academic medicine, where reputation shields predation and victims are too easily dismissed. For readers who like their science sharp and their stakes personal, this one cuts deep.” —The Prairies Book Review
"A gripping medical thriller that delivers both emotional depth and razor-sharp suspense. Betrayal of Trust masterfully explores themes of ambition, revenge, and the consequences of unchecked power in the world of cancer research. The dynamic between Brad and Karen is compelling, but it’s the story’s raw portrayal of justice that makes this installment unforgettable. Geoffrey M. Cooper has crafted a tale that is both timely and unflinchingly bold." —Kathryn Dare, San Diego Book Review
PRAISE FOR EARLIER BRAD PARKER AND KAREN RICHMOND MEDICAL THRILLERS
Nondisclosure
“One of this year’s best mysteries by a Maine writer . . . a gritty mystery, well-crafted with a complex, intriguing plot, tense suspense, vivid action and wholly believable characters.” —Bill Bushnell, Central Maine Sentinel
Forever
“A medical thriller on the lines of a Robin Cook–style saga . . . designed to keep readers on edge to its satisfying conclusion.” —D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review
“A persuasive tale of scientific intrigue.” —Kirkus Reviews
Bad Medicine
“Plot twists and fast-paced action make this a fun yet scary story.” —Bill Bushnell, Central Maine Sentinel
“A noteworthy whodunit with unexpected plot twists.” —Kirkus Reviews
Ill Intent
“A whodunit that effortlessly navigates a complex plot and deepens its narrator’s characterization.” —Kirkus Reviews
“A medical thriller that is firmly rooted in psychological interactions and unexpected developments.” —D. Donovan, Midwest Book Review
Perilous Obsession
“Perilous Obsession is Ogunquit author Geoffrey Cooper’s fifth mystery in his thriller series featuring Brad Parker and FBI Special Agent Karen Richmond. And this is probably the best one of all.” —Bill Bushnell, Central Maine Sentinel
“An often-exciting tale of medical malfeasance and wide-ranging criminality.” —Kirkus Reviews
The Fifth Student
“College students cheating on a test sizzles into something far more complex and deadly in the latest thriller from Geoffrey Cooper.” —Matt Cost, award-winning author of Velma Gone Awry and the Clay Wolfe/Port Essex and Mainely Mystery series.
“A zippy, tricky academic murder mystery.” —Kirkus Reviews
The Third Man
“Falling between Robin Cook’s medical thrillers and Robert Parker’s Spenser potboilers isn’t a bad place to live—and this one hits a sweet spot.” —Blue Ink Review
The Plagiarism Plot
“Brad Parker and his crime-fighting fiancée Karen Richmond unravel a case of plagiarism that leaves dead bodies in its wake. Cooper's jaundiced take on academia's rarefied air combined with Parker's scientific approach and Karen's no-nonsense pragmatism make for an engaging police procedural that uncovers the malice underlying academia's poised facade." —BlueInk Review
BETRAYAL OF TRUST
A MEDICAL THRILLER
BRAD PARKER AND KAREN RICHMOND
BOOK 9
GEOFFREY M COOPER
CAPTAIN THOMAS PUBLISHING
Copyright © 2025 by Geoffrey M Cooper
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN 979-8-9924261-1-3 (paperback)
ISBN 979-8-9924261-2-0 (eBook)
To two special friends who were undergoing cancer treatment while this book was being written.
Ulla Hansen (1953-2025), my closest friend and colleague for forty years.
And Deborah Dobie (1952-2025), Audrey’s best friend since college.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Geoffrey M Cooper
CHAPTER 1
SHIRLEY
She got to the auditorium early and grabbed a seat in the third row. An audience of close to a thousand was expected, and she wanted to be close enough to have a good view of the bastard’s face as he presented his lecture. A lecture she vowed to make his last.
Anger consumed her as she watched Eric Salton, nattily dressed in a black dinner jacket, accept the award for Outstanding Achievement in Clinical Cancer Research. Then he strode arrogantly to the podium and began talking about his work on melistomab, which he immodestly claimed was the most effective treatment for lung cancer to have been developed in years. He began by discussing the laboratory results and then reviewed the initial clinical trial, in which his team had first documented the striking activity of melistomab against advanced lung cancers. Based on that early success, they’d moved on to a large trial with nearly a thousand patients, and those results proved unequivocally that melistomab was far better than any other available treatment. Followed, of course, by FDA approval, so melistomab was now available to everyone.
Shirley’s blood boiled as she listened to the audience applaud. She knew what he was really like. A piece of shit who never thought of anyone besides himself, devoid of any feelings of empathy. People who trusted him were just objects to be used and discarded at his convenience. No better than laboratory rats.
A small crowd surrounded Salton when he stepped down from the podium, and she watched as he shook hands and chatted with admirers until the group dispersed. Then he left the auditorium with a man about Salton’s age and a young woman who looked like she was in her late twenties. Probably one of Salton’s students, twenty-five or thirty years younger than he was.
She’d hoped to catch him alone after his lecture, but she shrugged off her disappointment and followed at a safe distance as they walked through the passageway from the Hynes Convention Center to the Sheraton Boston Hotel and went into the lobby lounge. Probably for celebratory drinks, she thought, as she took a seat in one of the plush leather chairs toward the side of the lobby, where she could keep her eyes on the lounge entrance. Maybe she’d be able to get to him when he came out.
Twenty minutes later, the other man left by himself, leaving Salton alone with the young woman. Shirley figured he was probably getting ready to hit on her. That would be his style. If he was successful, her own plans for tonight would be spoiled.
But luck was on her side. It was no more than another five minutes before the young woman came out of the lounge alone, glanced nervously over her shoulder, and hurried across the lobby to the elevator bank. Maybe Salton had tried to hit on her, and she’d shot him down. It didn’t matter. Whatever had happened, he was alone now.
She only had to wait a few more minutes before Salton left the lounge by himself. Her time had come.
She got up and hurried across the lobby to catch up to him. “Dr. Salton,” she called out, “I’m so excited to run into you!” She gave him the eager smile that usually worked. Especially with older men. “I heard your lecture; it was fabulous, and I’d love to talk to you. I apologize for waylaying you like this; I know how busy you must be, but I’d be really grateful if you could spare me just a few minutes sometime.”
He ran his eyes over her and returned her smile. “Not a problem, I’m pleased to meet you. But you have me at a disadvantage.” He extended his hand. “I’m Eric.”
“And I’m Shirley. Shirley Leavitt.” She took his hand and held it for longer than necessary. “Thank you so mu
“Sure, I’d be happy to take a look.” He gestured toward the lounge. “Why don’t we talk over a drink?”
She could tell she had him. Even easier than she’d hoped. “I’d love to, but I don’t have a printout of the data to show you.”
“That’s okay. We can look at it on your iPad or whatever you have with you.”
She sighed. “I’m afraid all I have is a thumb drive.” Then she gave him her most seductive smile. “Do you have a computer we could use?”
“No problem. I brought my laptop to the meeting with me. I’m staying right here in the hotel, so it’ll just take me a few minutes to run up to my room and get it. Do you want to go ahead and get a table in the lounge for us?”
“Oh, why don’t I go upstairs with you instead?” She moved close to him and squeezed his arm. “Maybe we can have a drink in your room and look at my data there. I’m sure that’d be more comfortable.”
His face lit up with anticipation. Gotcha, she thought.
He took her arm and guided her toward the elevator. She pressed against him as they rode up to his floor and went down the hall to his room. When he opened the door, she moved in for a kiss.
When they were finally in his room and had come up for air, she asked if she could use the bathroom to get ready. He’d taken off his dinner jacket and was starting to turn down the bed when she came out. Naked.
“I’m ready now, Eric,” she purred.
He turned to her, and she watched his crotch start to bulge at the sight of her nude body. Then he noticed the knife in her hand, and she smiled as she saw his lust turn to fear.
He started to say something, maybe to protest or beg. But she sunk her blade deep into his chest before he had a chance.
Now that the job was done, she let her rage loose and plunged her knife into him again. And then again, and again. His chest, his stomach, his face . . . everywhere her blade could find a home until her fury was finally spent.
Then she took a shower to wash his blood off, got dressed, and took a final look at his mutilated corpse. She recalled that someone had said, “Revenge is a dish best served cold.” But she decided it was better enjoyed hot.
Composed again, she locked the door behind her, took the elevator down to the lobby, and walked several blocks east to where she’d parked her car. When she was halfway through the drive home, she stopped at a gas station and used the restroom to wash off her makeup, remove the contacts, and discard the wig.
But she kept the knife. There was more work to be done.
CHAPTER 2
BRAD
Karen was still in bed when I finished dressing to go downstairs and meet Eric Salton for breakfast. She’d driven down from our house in Maine yesterday afternoon so we could spend a couple of days together in Boston at the tail-end of the cancer research conference. After spending the last four days alone, I’d been delighted to see her. Thrilled, in fact. A hotel room was a whole lot nicer with Karen in it.
Last night we’d taken advantage of the pleasant spring weather, a welcome change from the steady rain that had fallen for most of April, to take a walk through my old neighborhood of Back Bay. From our hotel on Boylston Street, we’d gone up to Newbury, window-shopped for a bit, and then crossed over to Comm Ave. The cherry trees on Commonwealth Mall were in full bloom, so we enjoyed a colorful stroll past my old condo to the Public Garden. From there we walked around the pond, stopping to admire the Swan Boats, and had dinner at a French bistro on Boylston before returning to our hotel. Where we did our level best to make up for the last several nights of separation.
My plan for today was to attend just one talk after having breakfast with Eric. Then I was going to play hooky for the rest of the day so Karen and I could enjoy a leisurely visit to the Museum of Fine Arts, a classic Boston haunt that had always been one of our favorites when we lived here.
But just as I was bending down to kiss her before I left, someone knocked on the door to our room. Karen jumped up and threw on one of the hotel’s terrycloth robes, while I went to the door and asked who was there.
Whoever it was simply said, “Police” and held a badge up to the peephole. I opened the door and was surprised to see Stan Zelen, a Boston homicide detective Karen had known from back when she’d been an FBI agent in the Boston office. I’d met Zelen last year when my friend and colleague Carolyn Gelman had been wrongfully accused of murder. Despite the uncomfortable circumstances, he and I somehow hit it off and developed a liking for each other.
“Zelen!” I exclaimed. “Didn’t expect you to show up here.”
He grinned. “Hope it’s not too much of a shock, Parker. How you doing? And how’s your better half?”
“No shock, it’s nice to see you again. I’m fine, and Karen can speak for herself.”
Zelen’s smile broadened as he spotted Karen in her bathrobe. “You’re a surprise; I wasn’t expecting to see you today. And judging from your outfit, I’d guess you weren’t expecting me either. Or do you always dress so formally for visitors?”
“Oh, shut up, Zelen,” Karen laughed. “Any more crap like that and I’ll bring harassment charges against you. But what’s up? Or did you just drop by to see Brad because the two of you became bros last year?”
Zelen’s expression turned serious. “I’m afraid I do have some business. Brad, do you know Eric Salton?”
A question like that from a homicide detective didn’t bode well, and I had a bad feeling as I answered. “I’m actually supposed to meet him for breakfast this morning. Why?”
“I know, I saw your meeting in his calendar,” Zelen replied. “I’m sorry to tell you, he was murdered last night.”
“Christ! What happened? A robbery?”
He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t a robbery. He was knifed in his room, just two floors above you. Nothing was taken, including a wallet stuffed full of cash and a fancy watch. Did you know him well?”
“Not really,” I said. “We were professional acquaintances, not personal friends.”
“So the meeting you had planned with him this morning was to talk shop?”
“Yeah. Eric is—was—an expert in running clinical trials of new cancer drugs. We have a couple of candidates coming along at MTRI, and I wanted to see if he’d be interested in working with us.”
Zelen took out a notebook. “Let me just make sure I have this straight. MTRI is the Maine Translational Research Institute in Wells, right? And you’re still the director?”
“Right,” I confirmed. “Is that relevant? If it wasn’t a robbery, what do you think happened?”
“We don’t have much to go on at this point, so we’re trying to put together as much background on the victim as we can. The killer kept going at him after he was dead, stabbed him at least a dozen times all over his face and body. So it was pretty clearly angry and personal. Do you know anything about his private life?”
“Nothing to speak of. I know he was married. And I’ve heard that he had a reputation for being a bit of a player with young women, possibly including some of his students.”
“We heard that too,” Zelen said. “Maybe he had something going on last night that went wrong. Badly.”
“How about his wife?” Karen chimed in. “It sounds like the kind of rage you might see from a spouse who’s been cheated on.”
Zelen nodded. “Yeah, the wife was my first thought, too. But it doesn’t look like she’s it. Two of our guys saw her earlier this morning to do the notification. They say she has a solid alibi for last night. Anyway, the killer left plenty of DNA in Salton’s room. It’s not a match to anything in the database, but we can use it to follow up any suspects, including the wife. I’m pretty sure it’ll rule her out.”
“If it’s not the wife, I’d put someone he had a fling with next in the line of suspects,” Karen suggested. “Or a student he harassed. But if he was killed in his room, don’t you have video to go with your DNA evidence? The hotel’s bound to be chock full of security cameras.”
