Silent Epidemic (Book 1 - Carol Freeman Series)

by Jill Province

  What gave me away? she thought, staring at the ceiling. 

  The doctor checked Carol’s chart and asked if she was on any other medications.  Carol informed him she was not.  “Okay, Mrs. Freeman," the doctor concluded.  “We want to see you back here in ten days.  Same time, okay?” Carol nodded.  “You can get dressed now."

  When Carol re-entered the waiting room, she noticed that only two remained.  She smiled at the remaining volunteers, and went to the checkout window.  A nurse asked Carol for her medication bottle.  Carol handed it to her and noted with surprise that she really didn’t want to give it up.  “We’ll return this to you after the study is concluded," the nurse reassured her as she handed Carol a pamphlet outlining the rules of the study.  “Read this over carefully.  You cannot consume any alcohol or unauthorized medications during the study.”  Carol thanked the woman and left the building.  When she reached the general vicinity of her car, she noticed Brian Carter in the parking lot. 

  “Hey, you survived it," she said jokingly.  Brian turned, looking somewhat relieved. 

  “Yeah, no big deal.  Did they tell you to come back in ten days?"  Carol nodded.  “Good," Brian said in relief.  “I thought maybe they found something wrong with me." 

  “No,” Carol said.  “Don’t worry.  They’re probably doing that with everyone.”  Brian walked over to where Carol was standing.  She guessed that he was in his late thirties, or early forties.  He was tall and muscular.  His straight brown hair was cut stylishly short.  His neatly trimmed mustache finished off his handsome appearance.  He seemed to want to say something, but was unsure about how to say it.  Carol waited.  

  Finally, Brian said, “I’m a little nervous about going off this stuff.  I‘ve been taking it for so long, and these people don‘t really seem to care.” 

  “Well they are only interested in one thing,” Carol interjected.

  “That’s what worries me," Brian stated. 

  “Here," she said, getting out one of her business cards.  “Here is my number at work.  You can call me there anytime.  You know we are all in this together." Brian seemed a little relieved as he reached for the card and placed it in his wallet. 

  “Thanks," he said, “I guess I’ll see you at the next drug fest."   Brian walked back to his car.  Carol waved goodbye and headed to her first day at work in her new position.  On the way, she turned on the radio.  “Roll With It Baby” was in full orchestration.  Carol couldn’t help but smile and wondered if God spent part of his time as a D.J.

   

  Sheila had arrived to work at the usual time, despite Jeff’s instructions to the research team to be early that day.  She now had an outward and obvious hatred for the man, and had no problem letting him know about it.  He had no idea who he was dealing with.  If she had wanted him gone, she had the inside track to make that happen.  But Jeff was not her primary concern.  She just regarded him as an annoying obstacle.  He did not make important decisions, so who was behind the creative twist in the research design?  Sheila’s mission was to find out.  Maybe it would turn out to be something she could use. 

  Sheila had a special interest in the outcome of this research project, but if some additional dirt could be obtained along the way, it would become another tool to be used to her advantage.  She entered the waiting room that had been arranged for the volunteers.  To her surprise the room was empty.  She opened the door and walked inside the examining room area and met one volunteer on their way out.  Sheila barely took note of the woman, stepping aside so she could make her way to the door.  Sheila continued down the hall and entered the room labeled Pharmlab.  Inside, she found a table that was stacked with the volunteers’ charts, and began reading them.  “I’m sorry, but this is a restricted area," a voice said, startling her. 

  “It’s okay, I’m Sheila Montgomery.  I’m on the research team."  Sheila watched the woman pick up a phone and dial. 

  “Mr. Edwards," the woman said into the receiver.  “I have a Sheila Montgomery here.”  The woman became quiet as she was obviously listening to a long reply. “Sure, Mr. Edwards.  I’ll take care of it," she answered and hung up the phone.  “Ms. Montgomery, Mr. Edwards has advised me that no one is authorized to be in here.  I’m sorry, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”  Sheila did not want a scene and returned the chart she was reading to the table.  When she turned to leave, the woman added, “Oh, and he’d like to see you in his office."  Sheila turned on her heels and marched off in the direction of Jeff’s office.  What a coincidence.  I want to see the little mosquito too.    

  When she arrived at Jeff’s office, the door was opened and she could see that he was not alone. Great, the mosquito has backup.  

  “Ah, Sheila," Sam Reynolds said engagingly.  Sheila took a few awkward steps into the office, and accepted the chair that Sam offered her.  “Thanks for coming so quickly,"  

  “No problem," Sheila responded, making it sound more like a question than an answer.  Sam picked up on the implied question and jumped right in.

  “Sheila, we have just been made aware of a problem that we want you to help us with." 

  “Sure," she replied. 

  “Our marketing department in New Jersey is in dire straits."

  “Go on," Sheila said, suspiciously.  Sam was on a role, doing what he did best and was not detoured by her tone. 

  “We had a good Marketing Coordinator, but he left the company a month ago."  Sheila did not say a word, keeping a steady gaze on both Sam and Jeff.  Sam continued.  “Well, since then, our northeastern district sales are down substantially.”

  “Really," Sheila said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. 

  “That’s right," Jeff chimed in.  “We need an experienced marketing person to go in and fix the problem."  He had emphasized the word ‘experienced’ to convey his obvious opinion of her qualifications.  Sheila ignored the jab.  She could not believe what she was hearing. 

  “So you want me to go to New Jersey?"  Sheila emphasized the last two words, making them sound like a disease. 

  “Sheila," Sam interjected.  “Your role as Marketing Director extends far beyond the southeastern division, didn’t you know that?  I thought we had discussed this when you were promoted.” 

  “And besides," Jeff added, “it’s only for a few months.”  Sheila could not help but notice how happy Jeff looked at this very moment.

  Sheila was smoldering.  Jeff Edwards was an insignificant worm.  His little “special project” plan would have been limited to what he was authorized to throw at her.  Sam Reynolds was a greater force, and she had not anticipated having to take him on as well.  She should have expected this.  She was so focused on her mission, that she had underestimated the possible pitfalls.  She still didn’t know what was going on, but her assessment of its implication had just taken on new heights. If they were this desperate to get rid of her, they were covering up more than an onsite lab.  How was she going to get to the bottom of this from New Jersey?  She only had one option: Charles Roman.

  Sheila had to get out of this cozy meeting fast.  “When do I need to be there?" Sheila concluded. 

  “I think they need you right away, but one week should be sufficient." Sam offered generously. 

  “Thanks," Sheila said, getting to her feet.  “If you will both excuse me, I’m late for an appointment."  Sheila walked quickly out the door.  She wanted to stick around and argue about it, but she had to find Charles.  She had no intention of going to New Jersey, and he was the only one that could stop it.

  Sam walked over and closed the office door.  “Well, that went well," he said, pleased at having avoided a scene. 

  “Don’t kid yourself," Jeff responded.  “She gave in too easily.  She has no intention of going quietly." 

  “Well, she can kick and s
cream all the way, but she’s going."

  “We’ll see," Jeff said skeptically.  “She will need to stay out of the picture until the study is over. The last set of volunteers will not even begin their six weeks of abstinence for ten more weeks.  This whole process is going to take a total of four months." 

  “You don’t think we can keep her in New Jersey for four months?" Sam said with a smile. 

  “She is very resourceful." 

  “So am I," Sam said.  “You leave Sheila Montgomery to me.  We need you to keep your focus on this study." 

  “That’s fine by me," Jeff said with a sigh.  “That woman gives me the creeps." 

  “Oh, she’s harmless.  As long as you don’t get in bed with her."

   

  Sheila was marching down the hallway to Charles’ office with fire in her eyes.  She did not know how things had de-compensated so quickly.  Her curiosity about Pharmlab was not out of line.  It was a surprise addition at the last minute.  Why were they all acting so paranoid?  It would have been stranger if she hadn’t reacted with some question about its sudden appearance.  If she had known that the onsite lab was going to be such a sensitive subject, she would have been more covert about it.  Now she was being sent off to the North Pole. 

  As Sheila reached the CEO’s office door, she was stopped abruptly.  “Ms. Montgomery, you can’t go in there," the secretary warned. 

  “The hell I can’t," she responded coldly, and knocked on the door. 

  “No, really," the secretary said more forcefully.  “Mr. Roman gave me specific instructions that he was not going to see anyone today.”  There was no answer from behind the door, and Sheila was momentarily derailed. 

  “Who is he in there with?" Sheila asked suspiciously.  The secretary released a long breath and just looked at Sheila. 

  “Look, he doesn’t tell me what he’s doing, or where he is going.  I’m just following orders."  Sheila understood the secretary’s position, but did not have time for empathy. 

  “Is he in there with a man or a woman?" Sheila asked, refusing to be put off the scent.  The secretary knew that she was not going to get this shark off the hunt for blood. 

  “I really don’t know.  I was at lunch when the person arrived.” 

  “I see," Sheila said.  “Didn’t take him long."  

  She was halfway down the hall when the secretary said, “It never does." But Sheila did not hear her.  She wasn’t supposed to. 

  I am in the crapper, Sheila thought.  I never should have cut him off, but who would have expected this?  She had only a week before she was going to be shipped off to New Jersey.  She had no plan, but she knew she had better come up with one damn fast.  She decided to wait out the little “meeting” Charles was in. Who ever this bimbo is, she is not keeping me from getting to him, she thought, kicking a chair out of her pacing path.  I have too much time invested in this.

   

  Charles Roman had not been in his office with anyone.  He had alluded to a daytime meeting to his secretary, because it was more believable and understandable than the truth.  The truth was that the handsome, fearless CEO was losing his nerve and was in no mood to see anyone.  The company’s revenue was falling.   This would not have been such an overwhelming problem if Charles had not been spending the past six months expanding the company.  He had assumed that his wonder drug would have been on the market by now, and all the expansion would have been needed and justified. 

  The expansion had not just taken the form of a new building, currently under construction, and additional staff.  The expansion had also included an upgrade in his life style.  The coming of Suprame had inspired a beautiful new home on sixty acres of rolling hills in the elite and expansive suburbs of North Atlanta.  And since his new residence required a longer commute, he had upgraded his mode of transportation.  He had also hired someone to become his permanent driver.  Charles loved the new house.  He loved his car, and he especially loved having a driver.  Unfortunately, Charles was running out of money and time.  He had a minimum of four months before Suprame would see the light of day.  His company and his personal expansion would come closing in on him long before then. 

  Charles was sitting back in his chair with his feet up on the desk and his eyes closed when he heard the door open abruptly.  He opened his eyes and sat up, startled by the intrusion.  

  “Charles," Sheila said, closing the door and sitting in the chair facing him, “we have to talk." 

  “Well, you are a nice surprise," Charles said, regaining his composure.

  “Listen," Sheila said, remaining focused, “you have to help me." 

  “Of course I’ll help you," Charles soothed.  “What’s going on?" 

  “They’re sending me to New Jersey."  Her opinion of the state was conveyed in spades on her face.  

  “Sheila," he laughed.  “You make it sound like you’re being sent to Siberia." 

  “This is not funny," she said, bordering on rage. 

  “Okay, I can see that.  Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell me the whole story."  

  Sheila spent the next fifteen minutes telling Charles everything she could without giving him any real information.  After all, Charles was probably the primary conductor on the ride to hell.  Without any real information, she found she was having a hard time making a case for herself.  How could she justify the need to remain in Atlanta without divulging the reason?  

  After she finished tap dancing around the issue, Charles just looked at her dumbfounded.  

  “Sheila, I still don’t understand the problem.  As I see it, you have done a good job with the study, but now you are needed elsewhere.  Is that right?" 

  “Sure," was all Sheila could say.  “But Charles, this research study is my baby.  I put it together, and I should be the one to put it to bed."

  Charles thought for a minute.  His current situation would be better with her around.  At least she was a good distraction.  “Okay Sheila," he said, under the guise of consolation.  “I’ll talk to Sam." 

  “Oh my God, thank you," she said in relief. 

  “Don’t thank me yet," Charles conceded.  “I just said I’d talk to him."

  “Yeah, but you are my big strong CEO," Sheila said, getting up and moving to Charles’s lap.  While his raging hormones were ready to comply, a remaining brain cell was aware of the classified information still visible on his computer.  Sheila began nibbling on his ear, while Charles provided weak objections. 

  “Wait a second," he stalled.  Just let me log off of this program.  Even in heat, he knew better than to leave his financial records glowing on his monitor.  

  Sheila, who was not in heat, zoned in immediately.  He was very motivated to close down the program he was looking at.  She had to know why. 

  “Charlie," she said, stroking his thigh.  “How do you log onto this thing, anyway?  I can’t figure mine out." 

  “Want me to show you?" Charles purred. 

  Sheila looked him adoringly, and asked, “You can do that?" 

  “Well of course," he said proudly.  Sheila watched, while Charles restarted his computer.  “Now when you get to this part," he said, “you have to put in your password.  Do you know what your password is?"  Sheila just gave him a look of helplessness.  “That’s okay," he continued.  “We’ll use mine for now, and I’ll get our computer tech to issue you a new one tomorrow."  Sheila watched closely, while Charles typed in the word “money.”  “See?" he announced, as the computer’s desktop came up.  “Easy as that." 

  “Thanks, Charlie," she said, planting a kiss on the back of his neck.  He really is a prisoner of his own libido.

  “Well, I’m not sure about the study," Charles whispered in her ear, but you can put me to bed anytime you want."  He didn’t bother locking the door.  It was well after 5:00 PM.


   

  Chapter 9

      

  Carol was planted on what had become her permanent place in the house.  When she wasn’t at work in her new subservient role, she was on the couch in front of the TV.  It had become her hiding place.  She had been off the medication for three days and was indescribably exhausted.  The first night had been of no consequence.  She had awakened numerous times throughout the night and felt tired the next day, but she was used to that pattern.  The following two nights, she had been up more than asleep, and when she did sleep, it had been very light and fitful.  Carol was familiar with insomnia and with the feeling of exhaustion as a result.  But the fatigue she felt now was unlike anything she had ever experienced before.  It was as if her arms and legs were useless.  She felt weak and unable to lift herself off the couch.  The only time in her life when she had been this weak was during an illness, and she wasn’t sick.

  Carol dragged herself off the couch and made her way to the phone.  She dialed the number at work and informed the receptionist that she would not be able to make it in.  It had only been a few days since her demotion, and she felt sure that people would attribute her absence to that.  And although her motivation was hanging by a thread, Carol would not have been able to navigate herself to a Caribbean cruise.  Carol hung up the phone and walked back to the couch.  She lied back down, breathless from the effort.  What is wrong with me?  She was too weak to call the doctor, much less drive there.  She decided to wait one more day. Waiting was the path of least resistance.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  It was Friday and the study at Dominex had completed its first week.  The company had received fifteen distress calls from its first fifty volunteers.  The majority of those calls had come from the volunteers that had begun the study early in the week.  The primary complaint was weakness, fatigue and flu like symptoms.  They had all been instructed that some discomfort was normal and to remain home to rest.  It would pass.

  Charles Roman was seated in the conference room, accompanied by Jeff Edwards and Sam Reynolds.  The topic of the day was not the reported symptoms.  The topic was Sheila Montgomery.  Charles was shaking his head.  “I don’t understand why it has to be Sheila.  We have people who are more experienced and can deal with the problem as well, or better."  Sam and Jeff just looked at each other.  The CEO liked to keep his hands clean, but in this case, he had to be informed.