A Taste of Tragedy

by Kim McMahill

  “I’ll see what I can do. Is this the best number to reach you?”

  “Yes, it’s my cell. I’ll answer at home or work. I really do appreciate this. I haven’t slept well in about a week, and I have a feeling that if I could just talk to this Stan guy, it would put my mind at ease.”

  She prayed he would say something else. Hearing his voice was bitter-sweet. It reminded her of the most stupid and selfish decision of her life, but the sound of his reassuring tone still calmed her nerves, despite everything they had been through.

  He was an interesting and honorable man. Meticulous and detail oriented, but nothing ever seemed to ruffle him at home or work. He was always on an even keel, but he was no pushover. When she expected him to quit his job and follow her career, he had put his foot down. He had offered up compromises, but she had wanted it all, and instead, she ended up with nothing that mattered.

  “Have you been to the place in Sedona?”

  Relief swept through her at his question. She craved a conversation with him. “Yes, I went up there last weekend. That’s the main reason I took this job. Those few acres and the house are really the only links I have left to my past. I’ve always found a lot of happiness there.”

  “Are you happy?”

  Now it was Morgan’s turn to go silent. How could she tell him the truth when the situation was of her own making? She had no reason or inclination to lie to him. She had nothing to gain and nothing to lose from the truth.

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll call as soon as I find your man.”

  The line went dead. Morgan hoped she had made the right decision calling her ex-husband for a favor. She really wanted to talk to Stan Jacobson to get a clearer picture of what had been going on around GCF and why he left so abruptly. Most of all, she wanted clarification on the information in the e-mails. Stan was probably the only person who could dispel the ominous feelings crowding her thoughts.

  If she were being totally honest with herself, though, part of calling her ex was the need to hear his voice to soothe her rattled nerves.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Devyn followed Gage to his truck. She stood back as he opened the door for her. She smiled at him before grabbing the handle and pulling herself up into the tall four-wheel-drive pickup with as much grace as she could muster.

  It was just lunch, but she felt like it was a first date. She had to get a grip on her inappropriate daydreams and her emotions where this man was concerned. He was a nice guy with great old-fashioned manners, so he was probably just being polite by asking her to lunch and opening her door.

  “Anything in particular you’re in the mood for?”

  “Something spicy,” Devyn replied.

  Gage chuckled. “Yes, I pegged you for hot and spicy.”

  He always did this to her when they talked, and she found it very frustrating. She was a great investigator, but she had no idea if there was a double entendre in his statement. Maybe I just want there to be, she chided herself.

  “Mexican food it is. So, how’s the Risky Research case going?”

  “I’m just thrilled the FBI is now formally investigating, and that Nick and I are the leads. We’re definitely getting a bigger picture of what’s going on, and the links between all the incidents are getting stronger by the day, including directly tying Frank to another incident. What we still don’t know, and I’d really like to find out, is Frank’s true identity. If we could figure that out, maybe we can backtrack until we locate the head of the snake. As is, I feel like we’re just barely hanging onto the tail.”

  “I have a feeling it’s a pretty long snake and extremely venomous. You have a lot more resources at your disposal than I do, but if there’s anything I can help with, let me know. If you just want to talk some theory through or have anything else on your mind, call me anytime, day or night.”

  He did it again. She was terrible at social games. Devyn wasn’t even certain he was trying to play one. Unfortunately, she didn’t possess the patience to sit back and wait to see. She was always so certain of her next move and preferred the most direct approach possible, but that was where work was concerned, not her personal life, which was basically nonexistent. If she didn’t figure out how he felt soon, she feared she’d do something stupid and end up looking like a lovesick fool.

  “Is Agent Melonis still sticking around?” Gage asked with a crooked smile.

  “Yes, he is. I’m really not that bad.”

  “Never said you were. I haven’t had a lot of good experiences with the men in your agency either. They seem easily intimidated, but Melonis must be tougher than he looks with his perfectly styled hair and wardrobe straight out of some big-city high-end men’s fashion store.”

  Devyn chuckled. “Yep, he is. Maybe he is right, as much as I hate to admit it.”

  “About what?”

  “Why you and I are both still single. He said we’re both alpha males, and need to find someone strong enough that we can’t bulldoze over them.”

  “Ouch. Did you slug him?”

  “No. There was too much truth in it.”

  “Well, he was only half right. You can be a little ‘alpha,’ but there is nothing masculine about you,” he replied with that killer smile that made her want to unbuckle her seatbelt, crawl into his lap, and run her fingers through his unruly hair.

  “Enough about me. How are Grace and Logan doing now that some time has passed since all those tragedies occurred at her uncle’s ranch in Wyoming?”

  “Married. And too happy. I’m a little worried about my deputy’s focus at the moment, but I have faith he’ll pull it together when he needs to.”

  They continued to make small talk about Gage’s deputy as they wove their way through the downtown traffic. Devyn was always surprised at how easy he was to talk to, since personal, non-work related chitchat wasn’t really her strong suit. Usually, she had a difficult time holding a conversation without offending someone, but he understood her and never read more into her words than she intended.

  She was a little disappointed when they reached the restaurant, but more determined than ever to figure out where she stood with this man. She studied him as he parked the truck near a small old brick house on the edge of the commercial district that had been converted into a restaurant.

  Devyn jumped out of the vehicle as Gage made his way around the front of the truck toward her. She stood with her back against the fender, arms folded across her chest, a serious look on her face.

  “Are you offended when I try to treat you like a lady?”

  Gage was standing close, looking down into her eyes with a smile on those enticing lips. Before she could lose her nerve, Devyn closed the distance between them, reached up, laced her fingers behind his neck, and kissed him.

  Immediately his arm encircled her waist, pulling her so close she could barely breathe. He deepened the kiss as his other hand slowly stroked down her back. Devyn matched his passion, not caring that they were standing on a public street, undoubtedly drawing attention from those driving by.

  Devyn struggled to regain her senses. By the time she pulled back, she had the answer she sought.

  “Does that mean you’re okay with being my lady?”

  “Suppose so,” she said as she turned and headed for the restaurant, hiding the smile that spread across her face.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Morgan paced the length of her office windows, her nerves wound tight. It had only been a few hours since she had talked to her ex, so she wasn’t surprised he hadn’t called back. She didn’t dare reach out to Preston until at least twenty-four hours had passed since their conversation about Stan’s emails. He had made it pretty clear he had everything under control, and he did promise to call her the minute he heard back from the lab.

  She grabbed her smock and walked out the door. Stopping in front of Aaron’s desk, she folded her arms and waited until he ended the call he was on. He looked slowly up and their eyes met. “Can I help yo
u, Ms. Hunter?”

  “I want the keys to my desk.” She held out her palm and waited.

  Maybe it was childish. Heaven knows she would never leave anything important, confidential, or personal in there again, but it was the principle. She had to establish boundaries or he would have to go.

  Aaron held her gaze for a moment, looking uncertain, but then slowly retrieved the small key from his drawer and handed it to her.

  “Anything else?”

  This time, his tone wasn’t quite as cordial, but she didn’t care. She was the boss, and the sooner he accepted that fact, the better.

  “Yes, if Mr. Hoyle calls, I want to know immediately. I can be reached on my cell or you can page me. I’ll be down in the plant.”

  Morgan got on the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor. She took several deep breaths to reign in her anger and realized she was clutching the key so tightly it left a red imprint in her palm. Slipping the key into her pocket, she rotated the stiffness out of her neck and forced a smile in greeting as a woman joined her in the elevator.

  Both women exited on the main floor but went different directions. When Morgan stepped inside the manufacturing area, she was surprised not to see Wiley on the floor among the workers as usual. She strode past the watchful eyes of the crew and entered his office.

  “Another visit? What do I owe the pleasure?”

  “Maybe I was just looking for a friendly face around this joint.”

  “Trouble already? You’ve only been here a few weeks. Usually it takes people longer to fall out of love,” he said in a joking tone.

  “How long did it take Stan?”

  Wiley cleared his throat, stood, walked over to the door, and shut it. He returned to stand in front of Morgan.

  “Ms. Hunter, the company really frowns on gossiping about former employees, especially Stan.”

  “Please, call me Morgan. I’m sorry to make you uncomfortable, but everyone’s refusal to talk about him only makes me more curious. Will you answer just a couple questions?”

  “If I can, but then I don’t want to talk about him ever again. They’ve been good to me here, and I can’t afford to lose this job.”

  “Fair enough. I’ll start with an easy one. Was he a good boss?”

  “Sure. He didn’t lay off too many of my people when he started, seemed to care about working conditions, didn’t get in my way much, and he kept his issues with management to himself.”

  “Did he mention what those issues were?”

  “No, but something was bothering him pretty bad a few weeks before he left. Or was fired, I’m not really sure what happened. Management never even told us that much. They just said Stan was gone and we’d have a new boss as soon as possible. Couple months later, here you are.”

  “Have you kept in touch?”

  “No.”

  “Do you know where I can find him?”

  “No.”

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it? I’ll keep my part of the bargain, and I’ll never mention his name again.”

  She could see Wiley visibly relax. Morgan felt guilty about putting him in an awkward position, but so far, she had found no one else to talk to at GCF. She was curious about whether or not Stan really had a drug problem, but without knowing the man, she felt uncomfortable soiling his image if it was a secret he had kept well hidden.

  “I appreciate it. You’re my direct boss, but Mr. Hoyle keeps a pretty tight rein on everything. I’m not saying that’s bad. This has been a great company to work for. The pay’s good, and we’ve got excellent benefits and decent working conditions. I don’t want to do or say anything to get me in trouble.”

  “I understand, and actually, I had another reason for stopping by. Mostly, I needed a break, but I also wanted to get a better grip on the quantities of raw product you keep on hand. Obviously fresh fruit and produce can’t be stockpiled to any degree, but what about non-perishables?”

  “You have access to all the orders, so I’m assuming you’re more interested in a visual, like how much is sitting in the warehouse and in the refrigeration units at any given time.”

  “Exactly. I just want to see how we’re utilizing our space and if there is any room for upgrades to improve efficiencies. I don’t want to propose any equipment upgrades that don’t make sense with the current infrastructure.”

  “Come on, I’ll give you a tour,” Wiley said as he handed her a hard hat.

  They walked past dozens of machines which Morgan didn’t pay much attention to. They passed a forklift carrying a pallet of containers toward the production area. When they reached the warehouse, she listened as Wiley explained how all the packaging and raw products were stored on this end of the linear production facility, and the final packaged meals and desserts were held in the ultra-cold freezers at the other. Loading docks were located at both ends to facilitate unloading fresh goods at the beginning of the production line and shipping out the finished product on the other side.

  “This quantity is standard stock in the perishables, since the products have a pretty short shelf life. Right after the holidays, when we have an uptake in sales, there may be less in here, but seldom more unless we get a real good buy on something, but then we’ll have to increase production to get it out of here faster.”

  “Looks like the area is pretty efficiently used. I don’t see much empty space. Though it doesn’t seem like things are overcrowded either, which makes it easy to identify items and keep tabs on the rotation of products.”

  Next, they went through the nonperishables. Morgan noticed that the stock was well organized and Wiley had an efficient system in place to make sure items were rotated to ensure nothing sat around too long.

  “I didn’t notice where the MFHG3 is stored.”

  “We don’t store it in the manufacturing area. Each day, the R & D folks deliver the estimated quantity for the day’s production based on what we’re running. Desserts require more than entrees—in fact, some entrees contain no added sweetener,” he stated, pointing toward several sealed five-gallon jugs sitting on a shelf labeled SUPERVISORS ONLY—QUANTITY CONTROLLED.

  “That doesn’t seem like a lot of product compared to the quantities of all the other ingredients on hand.”

  “Don’t need much. MFHG3 is 300 times sweeter than sugar.”

  “Amazing, but doling it out like this doesn’t seem very efficient.”

  “It’s a little unusual, so I asked about it once. I was told that since it’s the most expensive and difficult to produce ingredient, they wanted to make sure every bit is accounted for. If we have a breakdown which causes a short run, they’re waiting to collect the excess.”

  “That’s ridiculous. What are they afraid of? The employees aren’t going to stuff their pockets with a sugar substitute on their way out each night.”

  Wiley chuckled. “Not likely since it’s in liquid form.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “No, leave it be. It’s an odd system, but it works. Besides, Stan tried to change the process.”

  Morgan stared at Wiley for a moment, waiting for him to finish, but he didn’t. “And?” she asked in frustration.

  “And he’s gone,” Wiley stated as he turned and headed out of the storage area.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Nick shrugged out of his jacket and sat down at his desk. He’d had a productive day. Reaching out to the CIA, as much as he hated to, had paid off. They now had a positive ID on Frank. He was surprised that Frank was his real name, and now they knew his last—Soto.

  According to the sheet he got on Frank, he was born in Puerto Rico to a single mother, Silvia Soto. The woman worked two jobs to send her son to the University of Puerto Rico. He was an only child and his father wasn’t listed on his birth certificate.

  While investigating shipments of illegal synthetic drugs coming into the U.S. mainland from Puerto Rico, the CIA had traced the origin of the manufactured drugs back to a group of university students Frank was
associated with. They busted the ringleader, a chemistry student, and several others, but before all the players could be rounded up, Frank had disappeared. He hadn’t surfaced until now. His mother died shortly after learning of her son’s involvement in illegal drug manufacturing and distributing activities.

  Picking up the old photo of a young Frank, Nick had no doubt he was one in the same. Since Frank had never been arrested, Nick gambled that he might have used his real name for legitimate activities like banking. Nick made a few calls and, before long, was able to track down an account in the Caymans. There were multiple large deposits into the account, all dated shortly before each pharmaceutical company incident.

  Nick decided the next step was to try and trace where the money came from. A task not as easy as it sounded, which was why the ultra-rich and big-time criminals chose the Caymans for their banking needs. But, all in all, it was a good day. He knew Devyn would be thrilled when he filled her in when she returned from the hearing in Wyoming.

  As he checked his messages, his excitement with finally getting a break in the case ebbed, and visions of his ex-wife crowded into his mind. He should have known better than to fall in love with a woman like her, but he couldn’t help himself. Not only was she the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, she exuded everything he had dreamed of while growing up in a barely middle-class household, his father always struggling to keep them from slipping down a rung on the economic ladder. She was pure class, in her mannerisms and her looks. Everything about her was just the right amount—tall not towering, slim with just enough curves in the right places, fair complexioned without looking ghostly, smart without seeming pompous, and her hair style, makeup, and clothes were always glamorous and flattering without being ostentatious.

  Her family was well respected in Atlanta’s social circles. When she wanted reservations at an exclusive restaurant, she used her maiden name, and that had bothered him. She had come from a long line of money, but she wasn’t spoiled. Her family had earned everything they had and she was no different. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, but she was afraid of breaking the family tradition of success.