by Cindi Myers
The others nodded. Then, as a group, they moved on. Ana continued down the sidewalk. When she was about ten feet from the memorial, Leo Elgin leaned down and snatched up the vase of flowers and hurled it over the fence. It smashed on the concrete on the other side, sending glass and petals flying. Then he turned and ran away, with the awkward gait of someone who doesn’t run often. He didn’t look at Ana as he passed, but she had a clear view of his face, his expression one of agony, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Chapter Three
Laura spent most of her first night in Mayville tossing and turning and deeply resenting Jace for sleeping so soundly. She could hear him snoring in the next room. After she finally managed to doze off she overslept, awoke in a panic and charged into the trailer’s single bathroom to find a shirtless Cantrell, face half-covered in shaving cream, a straight razor in one hand.
Even half-asleep, she was impressed, both with the way he wielded the razor over his cheekbones and the impressive abs and pecs revealed in the anemic bathroom light. Stammering, she backed out of the room, his laughter trailing her all the way to the kitchen.
By the time he emerged from the bathroom, she was halfway through her first mug of coffee and had managed to rein in her racing heart. She ignored him and went to take her turn in the steamy shower, unsettled by the knowledge that he had been in here only moments before—naked. Then she was even more disturbed by the idea that he could hear her in here and might at this very moment be imagining her naked.
Clearly, she hadn’t had nearly enough sleep. She and Cantrell were both professionals. She did not fantasize about her coworkers as a rule, so why should she assume he did? Then she remembered his wolfish grin when they had argued over the bed and bit back a groan.
When she returned to the kitchen, he shoved something wrapped in a paper towel in her hand. “We have to go now or we’ll be late for our first day,” he said.
“What is this?” She stared at the warm bundle in her hand.
“Fried egg sandwich.”
“I don’t eat fried foods.” Her usual breakfast was a cup of yogurt or a piece of toast.
“Today you do.” He handed her her purse. “Let’s go. I’ll drive and you can eat in the truck.”
The sandwich was delicious, though she was aware of him watching her eat, which made her feel self-conscious and awkward. Then again, everything about this assignment was awkward.
The next hour passed in a blur. Laura suffered through an orientation that consisted of a ten-minute film about the history of Stroud Pharmaceuticals, a fifteen-minute drill on safety procedures and thirty minutes signing paperwork with her new fake name. Finally, she was directed to her new office, where she was greeted by a slender young man with thinning hair, oversized ears and a sour expression.
“Are you the new admin?” Parker Stroud, her new boss, asked.
“Yes, Laura Lovejoy.” Laura offered her hand. He stared at it until she put it back down at her side.
“Great. Can you start by getting me some coffee?” He moved past her toward his office. “Two sugars,” he called over his shoulder.
She retrieved the coffee from the machine in the adjacent break room and carried it in to him. Stroud was seated behind his desk, staring at a computer screen. He accepted the coffee and looked her up and down. “My mother said she hired you for this position,” he announced. “What happened to Cheryl, the girl who was here before?”
The “girl” was fifty-five years old and had been temporarily relocated to work in the accounting department. “I’m not sure,” Laura responded.
“No offense to you, but I’m thirty-four years old. I don’t need my mother to pick out my secretary—excuse me, administrative assistant.” He sipped the coffee, gaze lingering on her chest in a way that made her bristle. “Though I have to say, you’re a lot better looking than Cheryl. And you know how to make a decent cup of coffee. So we’ll see how it goes.”
“Yes, sir.” She tried to appear neutral in front of him, though inside, she seethed.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Go back to your desk.” He waved her away. “If I need you, I’ll call you.”
She returned to her desk and studied the row of old-fashioned filing cabinets along one wall. She’d investigate their contents under the pretense of organizing her workspace or something. Later, she’d attempt to hack into the firm’s personnel and financial records. She could contact Maynard for help if she needed it.
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She wasn’t used to wearing it down at work, and it felt in the way. But the support office had deemed her usual chignon too sophisticated for the role she was playing.
She opened the top drawer of the first cabinet and stared at a row of files, each labeled with a month and a year. A quick flip through the first file revealed production records for the two manufacturing plants—one of which had produced all of the Stomach Soothers sold by Stroud’s, the other responsible for herbal throat lozenges, a sleep aid and a preparation for teething infants.
“It’s a little early in the day to be looking for an insomnia cure.”
She hadn’t heard the door to Parker’s office open, and his voice right behind her startled her. She choked off a gasp, returned the file and shut the drawer, then turned to him with a smile firmly in place. “Did you need something, Mr. Stroud?”
“Call me Parker. Mr. Stroud is my father.” He nodded toward the filing cabinets. “Every bit of this data is in our computer system, but my father insists on hard copy records. Just one of the many examples of how my parents are keeping this company from realizing its full potential.”
“Surely you’ll be in charge of the company one day,” she said.
“Thinking you’ll be moving up in the world if you stick with me?” he asked. “Don’t hold your breath. My folks have made it clear they don’t intend to let go of the reins for years to come. Though why they’d even want it now, I don’t know.”
“You mean, because of what happened with the Stomach Soothers?”
“Yeah, what else do you think I mean?”
She widened her eyes, feigning ignorance, hoping she wasn’t overacting.
Apparently, Parker bought it. He rolled his eyes. “Go down to accounting and tell them I need last month’s financials ASAP. And don’t let them give you any nonsense about this whole business with the Stomach Soothers disrupting workflow. That isn’t the only product we make and people have wallowed enough.”
“Yes, sir.” The way he said the words sounded rehearsed, as if he’d been practicing a tough-guy act in front of a mirror. Maybe that was how he thought a hard-nosed CEO should behave.
She hurried out of the office, but slowed as soon as she turned the corner. Now was as good a time as any to familiarize herself with the layout of the building. She strolled the halls, opening and closing doors, locating the men’s and women’s restrooms, an empty classroom, a larger meeting room and the janitor’s supply closet.
“Can I help you with something?” A round-faced young woman with a halo of brown curls, a sheaf of papers clutched to her chest, approached as Laura shut the door to the supply closet.
“I’m looking for the accounting department,” Laura said.
“I’ll show you.” The woman motioned for Laura to follow, then set off down the hall, high heels clicking like castanets on the polished tile floor. “Ask for Angela,” she said, indicating a frosted glass door, then turned and tap-tapped away.
Angela proved to be a middle-aged woman with flawless brown skin whose desktop was dominated by an oversized computer monitor. “Mr. Stroud needs the April financial reports,” Laura said. “Parker Stroud,” she clarified.
Angela frowned. “Today is the third. Those reports aren’t compiled until the tenth. He knows that. And now you know it, so don’t bother me again.”
“Did he send me here to bother
you to give me a hard time because I’m new, or does he do this every month?” Laura asked.
Angela’s frown eased some. “Probably a little of both. Don’t let him get to you. He’s really okay, just a little tightly wound, I guess. A lot different from his mom and dad, that’s for sure.”
“I’d think everyone would be a little extra tense right now,” Laura said.
“You got that right.” She held out her hand. “Let’s start over. My name is Angela Dupree. Welcome to Stroud Pharmaceuticals.”
Laura took the hand, which was warm, smooth and beautifully manicured. “I’m Laura Lovejoy. I’m the new administrative assistant to Parker Stroud.”
“This is a good place to work, despite the recent troubles,” Angela said.
“Scary to think about the poisoning.” Laura leaned toward Angela and lowered her voice. “I heard a reporter say the police think someone who worked at the plant must have put the poison in those bottles. Who would do such a horrible thing?”
“Nobody I know,” Angela said. “And I think the reporters are wrong. I know it’s a cliché to say a workplace is like a family, but we really are here at Stroud. No one has any reason to want to hurt people like that.”
“That does make me feel a little better,” Laura said. “Thanks.”
“It was nice meeting you, but we both need to get back to work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Laura started to turn away, but Angela stopped her. “Laura?”
“Yes?”
“It would probably be a good idea if you didn’t go around talking about the poisonings and such,” she said. “People are pretty upset and it’s not the best way to make a good impression.”
“Gotcha. Thanks.”
Laura wasn’t worried about the kind of impression she made, except that getting people to like her might help her do her job. Had Angela warned her off because she was really trying to be helpful, or because she knew people here had things they wanted to hide?
* * *
“WHO IS THAT woman in with Angela?” Merry Winger craned her head around the edge of her computer screen to look toward the office. She had a view of a woman’s slim back, long blond hair in graceful curls, slim-fit khaki trousers, low beige heels and a light blue shirt.
“That’s Parker’s new admin.” Jerri Dunn followed Merry’s gaze toward the office door. “She’s a cutie, isn’t she?”
“I didn’t know they’d filled that position.” Merry tried to hide her disappointment.
“Yeah, I think the job was only posted a week ago, but I guess they wanted to fill the spot quick.”
Merry had put in for that position. It would have been ideal—she and Parker working together, seeing each other every day, not just a few times a month. He had an office with a locking door and a big desk—the fun they could have had in there. “You’d think they would choose someone from inside the company,” she said.
“I gave up second-guessing decisions around here a long time ago,” Jerri said.
Merry waited until the blonde left, then stood. “I’m going to the ladies’,” she said.
She bypassed the ladies’ room and headed for Parker’s office. The blonde looked up from her desk when Merry entered. She was pretty enough, though kind of skinny and flat-chested. “Hello. May I help you?” she asked.
“I need to see Parker.”
Merry started to walk past the desk, but the blonde stood. “Let me see if Mr. Stroud is available. What is your name?”
“Merry Winger. That’s Merry, with two r’s and an e. Like merry Christmas.” She wanted to make sure this woman knew exactly who she was. “And I’m sure Parker will want to see me.”
“I’ll let him know you’re here.” She knocked on Parker’s door and, when he said “Enter,” she slipped inside, leaving Merry to cool her heels in the outer office. He had better not refuse to see her. Not after all she’d done for him. Done with him.
The door opened and Parker followed the blonde out. “Merry, come in.” He gestured toward the office. No smile of welcome, but then, Parker wasn’t much for gestures of affection.
Parker shut the door behind them, but didn’t move toward his desk. “What do you want?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
She pressed her palm against his chest and gave him a warm smile. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”
She stood on tiptoe and tried to kiss him, but he turned away. “I told you, not at work,” he said.
She pouted. “Why not at work? Are you ashamed of me?”
“Of course not.” He patted her shoulder. “But there are rules about executives dating workers. If anyone found out, we’d have to quit seeing each other and I don’t want that, do you?”
If he married her, she wouldn’t have to be an employee here anymore and that would solve the whole problem, but she knew better than to bring that up. Parker was the type of man who liked to think of things himself. “You’re so considerate of me and my reputation,” she said instead. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”
“Thanks for being so understanding. Now you’d better get back to work.”
He urged her toward the door, but she resisted. She nodded toward the outer office. “Who is she?”
“The new girl?” He frowned. “I don’t know. Someone my mom hired.”
“You don’t even get to pick out your own admin?”
“She’s just a body behind a desk. I don’t really care.”
“I was hoping to get that job,” she said. “Did you know I applied?”
“No, but it’s just as well you didn’t get it.”
“Why not? Wouldn’t you like having me around all the time?”
“I think it would be too distracting—for both of us.” There was definite heat in his eyes now. A thrill shot through her. Whenever she started to worry he was getting tired of her, he always did something to quell her doubts. He really did care, he just had to be careful, given his position and all. She needed to be patient. When the time was right, they’d be together forever.
She left the office, even smiling at the new admin as she passed her desk. The blonde might look down her nose at Merry now, but she’d be singing a different tune when Merry was Mrs. Parker Stroud. By then, Parker would be running the whole business. And Merry would be running Parker.
* * *
LAURA WAITED UNTIL Merry and Parker were in Parker’s office, then she moved to the door and pressed her ear to the gap between the door and the frame. A few moments later, she moved away. So Parker was fooling around with one of the office staff. That didn’t strike her as a motive for mass poisoning. But she filed the information away as one more facet of the picture she was assembling of the company and its inner workings.
Promptly at five o’clock, Parker Stroud exited his office. “Go home,” he told Laura. “No hanging around hoping for overtime.”
“Good evening to you, too,” she said.
He frowned and moved on.
She was searching Parker’s desk a few minutes later when Cantrell strolled in. Jace. She needed to get used to thinking of him as Jace, so she wouldn’t slip and address him as Cantrell, blowing their cover. Dressed in gray coveralls with his name in red script on the pocket, he still carried himself with a swagger. He was chewing gum—not smacking, but the muscles of his jaw bunched in a way she found distracting. He leaned on the doorjamb and watched her rifle through the desk drawers and peer under the blotter. “Find anything interesting?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She shut the last drawer and moved toward him. “What about you?”
“I’m getting a feel for how this place operates. I can tell you, things aren’t as watertight as the Strouds think. I’ll fill you in at home. Let’s get out of here.”
They crossed the parking lot in a crowd of other workers leaving for the day. Heat billowed out
of the cab of the truck when she opened the door, and she slid in carefully to avoid burning the back of her legs. Jace climbed into the driver’s seat. “I’m starved,” he said as he cranked the engine. “What’s for dinner?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“I made breakfast. And lunch. It’s your turn to cook.”
Lunch had been a ham-and-cheese sandwich. With mayonnaise, which she hated. She had pulled out the cheese and eaten it with the apple and fig cookies, which had been surprisingly good. Her stomach grumbled at the memory. “Let’s get takeout.”
“Then your choices are pizza or barbecue.”
They opted for barbecue, which was moist, smoky, spicy and some of the best food she had ever eaten.
“Director Pembroke says you grew up in a place like this,” she said, wiping sauce from her fingers with a paper napkin.
“Yeah.”
“What was that like?”
“What do you want me to say? It was okay, until it wasn’t.”
“I’m just asking. Trying to be friendly.”
Some of the tension went out of his shoulders. “Sorry. I grew up in Hatcher, Tennessee, which is a whole lot like Mayville. My mom and dad and sister still live there. My dad has had some health problems, so transferring to the Knoxville office means I can be around to help out more.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your dad.” She set aside the wadded-up napkin. “What’s wrong with him? If you don’t mind my asking.”
“He has mesothelioma. A lung disease coal miners get from inhaling asbestos underground.” He spoke very matter-of-factly, but his eyes wouldn’t meet hers, as if he was afraid of revealing too much emotion.
“That must be rough,” she said.
He shrugged. “What about you? Where did you grow up?”
“All over. My dad was in the military.”
“That explains a lot.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Your ‘don’t color outside the lines’ attitude. No offense. The military just ingrains that in you. I know. I was in the army for six years.”
