by Margaret Kay
From what Doc was hearing, they were adhering to DoD protocols. He still wouldn’t buy a one-hundred percent pass rate, though. “You’ll have to let me know next week, what day is testing day. I need to be present to validate the process as part of the audit.”
“That’s not necessary you know,” Dr. Rod scoffed. “Our past audit team never needed to be present to validate we adhered to DoD protocols.”
“Is that a problem if I am?” Doc asked.
“Yeah, it is. The only reason you’d want to be here, is if you don’t trust that I am following the guidelines at time of collection. What the hell?” He demanded.
“Whoa, easy there, Doctor,” Doc said. “I don’t mean to insult you. There is a new requirement in the audit review for this. Any auditors going forward must be present at the time of collection for the audit to be verified.”
“Oh, sorry, I wasn’t aware of that change.”
“No hard feelings,” Doc said. He left the good doctor’s office amused by his reaction. Yeah, the company doctor did not want to have his shoulder looked over. That could only mean one thing as far as Doc was concerned.
Janey Walters didn’t arrive until zero-nine hundred hours. She already knew the team was on-site early. Her husband had text messaged her. She and her husband called the team together in the conference room immediately.
“What the hell?” Rick Walters demanded after he’d closed the door. “Between the inquisitions last night when your team pulled the divide-and-conquer tactic on us and the early morning surprise visit, we’re starting to think you suspect us of something. We called you, remember?”
Doc watched Cooper’s jaw clench. Doc knew he was pissed.
“Inconsistencies,” Cooper said.
“What inconsistencies?” Walters questioned with outrage.
Cooper nodded to Madison.
“Your internal transfers to cover expenses are suspicious at best. You undercut the bids for the government contracts so low, you are barely turning a profit and just to make payroll, you are drawing down funds that were infused into your company four years ago.”
“We already explained that,” Janey drawled. “My mamma gave us our inheritance when she sold her home in Atlanta and moved to the little villa, in Naples. We knew it would be tight for a few years with the growth we were planning if we got the DoD contracts. We knew we needed that money.”
“Then why the shell game of moving it around?” Cooper asked.
Rick and Janey exchanged glances. “Mamma stipulated the funds could not be used for the business’ operations. She wanted it to be our little nest egg for retirement. She’s never had faith in Rick’s business sense.”
“Do you deny you’re barely turning a profit?” Cooper asked.
Rick Walters leaned across the table. “We are solvent. That is the only stipulation in the DoD contracts. We predict we’ll pull out in front during Q-three this year. Too much took place in taxation that we didn’t anticipate this year to get there sooner. Our original estimates had us in the black during the Q-one, but thanks to both the Federal Government and the State of Montana raping small businesses, it isn’t going to happen.”
“Certainly, these things are not enough to fail an audit?” Janey asked.
“It depends how it’s presented,” Cooper said. “But I agree, there has to be more of a smoking gun the blackmailer was referring to.”
“And how is it neither of you seem to know about the other person’s side of the house? Rick, I don’t buy for one second you know nothing about the HR functions. And Janey, you are way too involved to know nothing about R&D and the daily manufacturing process,” Madison said.
“Look, we nearly got divorced two years ago because we both kept putting our fingers in each other’s pies. Our therapist made us draw strict boundaries. I do not get involved in Rick’s side of the house, ever. And he steers clear of everything HR. It’s the only way we can stay married.”
Doc watched Garcia take notes. He’d be online verifying both statements Janey Walters made as soon as possible. He wasn’t surprised when Garcia started typing on his keyboard. He was probably already searching bank records to confirm payments to a marriage counselor. Doc’s lips ticked into a grin as he listened to the tap, tap, tap on the laptop’s keys.
Cooper nodded to Doc. “The piss tests.”
“What about them?” Janey asked.
“No company achieves a one-hundred percent pass rate, ever.”
“Oh, this again. I explained it to you last night. We have an aggressive anti-drug education program.”
“Excuse me, ma’am,” Garcia interrupted. “No company has that good of an education program. No company has that good of a screening process with new hires. No company is immune from the national epidemic of drug abuse. I met your third shift team. I can guarantee you at least two of them are using something.”
Janey’s face showed shock. “You tell me who and we will test them when they walk in the door tonight.”
“We’ll add my suspects to the screening, next week,” Garcia said.
“I will be with Dr. Rod next week when your program spits out the lucky employees and we’ll add a few of our own in,” Doc said.
“If you are referring to Jason P., I know he looks like a pothead. Hell, he was a pothead prior to coming to work here. His stepdad is on first shift, an old Marine buddy of mine. If I didn’t know his dad, I’d never have hired him. But he’s clean now and a good worker.”
“He’s got a wife and the cutest little baby girl keeping him from using drugs,” Janey added. “We have a company picnic every year and the families all come. We know our employees. They are like family to us. I don’t like the inference that we have drug users we don’t know about. Part of our education plan tells an employee if they are struggling with addiction to come to me. We will put them off on FMLA until they are clean and can come back to work drug-free.”
“Have you had any employees take advantage of that offer?” Doc asked.
“Yeah, I didn’t see anything in anyone’s employee files about that,” Jackson added.
Janey sat up straighter and raised her chin into the air. “We would never have recorded that in an employee file.” She looked like she was considering it. She huffed out. “Four employees have. They were drug tested upon their return and passed. They have passed every screening since.”
“You know I’m going to need those names,” Doc said. “It goes no further than me.”
The program spit out the ten employee numbers on Thursday morning the next week. It was zero-five-thirty. Doc sat beside Dr. Rod as he filled in the names next to the numbers. Doc validated the names against the employee numbers from a second source sheet. So far, so good.
Garcia had identified a total of six employees he thought from observation could be using. Only one of them had come up in the random selection. “I have five more employees we are adding,” he told Dr. Rod. The four employees who had voluntarily come forward to Janey and were placed on FMLA while they were in rehab were not on the list.
Dr. Rod shot Doc a sharp sideways glance. Either the man was not happy with Doc’s interference or he needed his morning coffee. “Fine.” He took the slip of paper from Doc and eyed the names. “Jason P. is clean. I can guarantee that.”
Doc shrugged.
Dr. Rod gathered four collection cups for the third shift employees on the list. He labeled them and then sat them on his desk. Then he placed a call to the third shift supervisor, requesting the four employees report to his office immediately for screening.
Cecily Mays, the employee Garcia categorized as acting twitchy came through the door first. Her behavior was no different as Doc observed her. She refused to make eye contact with Doc. Instead, her almost pleading eyes stayed locked with Dr. Rod’s.
Doc wasn’t surprised when she tested positive for heroin.
“Cecily, did you take one of your husband’s Vicodin pills for that tooth ache? Vicodin will test positive as an
opioid.”
“Yes, yesterday morning when I got home from work, so I could sleep. You know this tooth is killing me.” Her eyes flashed to Doc. “I’m in the middle of a root canal and got an infection.”
Doc’s eyes narrowed on Dr. Rod. That was blatant coaching.
“Cecily, we’ve talked about this before. You can’t share his back medicine. Go on back to work now and have Chuck send the next victim back.” He winked at her. He scanned the results into the system and made the physician’s override notations.
“Thank you, Dr. Rod,” she said and then slipped from the office.
“Are you shitting me?” Doc demanded.
“Come on. She’s a good kid. Don’t tell me you would bust her for an honest mistake? A lot of people out here don’t go to the doctor for minor issues. They use what’s in the house. This is a little town, not the big city like I gather you are used to.”
Doc made notations on his tablet, which was all the authority an auditor had. He would speak with Janey about this and he would want that same employee retested on Friday morning. The next three workers came in one at a time. They all passed their tests, including Jason P.
First shift had six workers on the list. One of them failed for marijuana. Dr. Rod tried to explain that one away as the employee spending too much time with her elderly father, who has a medical marijuana card for cancer, while he smoked.
“Secondhand smoke, my ass!” Doc said, borrowing Madison’s catch phrase.
Doc stuck around for the start of the second shift. Five of their team were on the list. Garcia kept the keys to the second rental car and stuck around as well. He was still conducting some of his own tests against the company’s firewall and servers. The others left, heading back to the hotel.
Two of the five second shift employees failed. Dr. Rod tried to explain those two fails away as well, writing overrides. This was definitely enough for Walters Tactical Equipment to fail this audit. Doc had to wonder if Dr. Rod was the blackmailer, exacting his revenge that the funds had not been paid.
“Fifteen piss tests, and four people failed,” Doc said. “I can’t believe there has been a clean record. There were no overrides previously in the records, so I have to ask you what the hell is going on?”
“I think you’re jumping to conclusions,” Dr. Rod said. He checked his watch. “Can we meet with Janey tomorrow and talk this through? I know she’s already left for the day. I know you’ll understand and agree with my decision when you see the information in its entirety.”
“In its entirety?” Doc demanded. “It’s black and white, pass or fail.” Doc’s head was about to explode.
“I’m going home,” Dr. Rod said, picking his keys up from his desk. “I will see you in Janey’s office at nine a.m.”
Doc watched him walk out the door. He wanted to put him against the fucking wall. From where Doc stood, Dr. Rod falsified the records today, so he had to wonder how else the records had been falsified in the past. Now that was enough to make Walters Tactical Equipment fail their audit.
Doc pulled his phone out and dialed Garcia. “Hey, look deeper into Dr. Rod’s financial records. Look to see if he needs cash, if he has gambling debts, owes back taxes, anything that could make him the blackmailer.”
“I did a cursory financial review on all employees, and nothing flagged on him, but I’ll do a deeper dive tonight from the hotel. Are you ready to go?”
“Yeah, I’ll meet you out by the car.”
Doc grabbed his coat and his backpack and headed towards the exit. He pushed the door out and was hit by a cold north wind. Garcia was nowhere in sight.
“Fuck this,” he cursed aloud.
No, he would not wait by the car till Garcia got his ass out there with the keys. He quickly ducked back within the building, closing the door as he retreated. At that same moment, the unmistakable sound of a shotgun firing, blasted the serenity of the frigid night. Its birdshot peppered a five-foot section of the metal door and walls. Doc heard the sharp impact of the many rounds hitting where he had just been standing. He drew his .45 from the small of his back.
“Son of a bitch!” He cursed aloud. Then he grabbed his cell phone and hit redial with the thumb of his left hand. He held it to his ear as he rushed down the hallway that led to the manufacturing floor. He’d go through it and exit the building at the front entrance.
“Patience, I’m on my way,” Garcia answered.
“Where are you?” Doc barked.
“Damn, I’m just entering the lobby. I had to log out.”
“Don’t go outside till I reach you. Someone just took a fucking shot at me,” Doc exclaimed. He was pissed!
Garcia drew his weapon as well. The glass lobby door was ten feet in front of him. He froze and pressed his back against the wall, concealing himself just within the hallway that led to the lobby restrooms. He told Doc where he was.
Doc tucked his handgun under his jacket as he rushed across the manufacturing floor. He exited it without speaking to anyone and then redrew his weapon. He hurried through the corridor, coming up on Garcia’s position.
“Call Cooper and tell him what happened. I’ll call the Sheriff’s department as soon as he says if he wants DEA or FBI to report this.”
Garcia hit dial. He filled Cooper in. “No law, just DoD auditor,” Garcia told him.
“Son of a bitch! I’m not waiting on the Sheriff. I’m going out there to find the asshole who took a shot at me.”
“It’s colder than fuck outside. He’s probably long gone,” Garcia said. “Call the Sheriff. Report it like a normal citizen would.”
“Like a normal fucking citizen.” Doc shook his head. “Coop doesn’t want our cover blown yet.”
Garcia shrugged.
Doc and Garcia stayed within the building, feeling like pussies hiding from danger until the Sheriff arrived. He was what Doc expected, a burly man with a grizzled beard and tons of attitude. His men were checking the area. They stayed within the building until he was given the all clear.
Once he got it, Doc and Garcia followed him from the building. He led them to the door Doc identified as the exit he was using when the shot was fired. “Was this where you were at?” The Sheriff asked, pointing at the door with a five-foot pattern of birdshot pitting the metal.
“Yes. I stepped out, looked at our car across the parking lot,” Doc said pointing to the car, “saw he wasn’t there yet,” he said pointing to Garcia, “and thought it was way too cold to wait for him, so I ducked back into the building. Next thing I know, I hear the shot and the impact on the door.”
“Yep, as you can see, the birdshot messed the door up pretty good. It’s lucky you didn’t want to get too cold. You’d be at the hospital right now had you been hit.”
Doc flashed a ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me’ look at Garcia.
Garcia looked around. There was no camera covering the outside of this exit, not from the outside, anyway, just interior cameras that recorded who came into the building.
“Did you see or hear from which direction the shot came?” The Sheriff asked.
“No,” Doc replied. “I wish I did.”
“There’s an awful lot of ground to cover in the dark to try to find the spent shell or the wad. That’s if the shooter didn’t pick them up. My men and I will be back in the morning to take a look.”
“That’s not acceptable,” Doc argued. He pointed at the door. “I’d assume the shooter was between thirty and forty yards away based on the spread pattern. That narrows the search grid down considerably.”
“And what do you know about spread patterns and search grids?” The Sheriff asked.
“We audit a lot of things, weapons manufacturers included. Check a perimeter thirty to forty yards out and I’ll be satisfied. Then you can search the rest in the morning if you don’t find anything,” Doc said, his voice forceful.
The Sheriff’s deputies were gathered around. The Sheriff exchanged glances with a few of them. “You heard him. G
o walk that perimeter.”
Doc and Garcia moved out towards the correct distance, as well. The wind was colder than a bitch. They understood why the Sheriff wanted to postpone this till morning.
“I’ve got a casing,” one of the Deputies yelled. He picked it up with his gloved hand and dropped it into the Sheriff’s also gloved hand.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” the Sheriff remarked. His eyes locked with Doc’s. “I didn’t think we’d find anything.”
“You going to take that to the lab and run it for prints?” Doc asked.
