by Cindi Myers
“You saw action?”
“Too much action. Fallujah. Baghdad, Kamdesh. It’s how I ended up with the Bureau. They were recruiting military types.”
She never would have described him as a “military type.” “Davis Rogers came out of the military,” she said.
“Yeah. He and I have compared notes. How did you end up with the feds?”
“I have a degree in forensic accounting from George Washington University, so it seemed like a good fit.”
“Of course.”
He spoke as if he had her all figured out. “What does that mean?” she demanded.
“You’re a number cruncher. The whole coloring in the lines thing again. Don’t get your back up. It’s a useful skill. It’ll probably be a big help with this case.”
She forced herself to relax. They were never going to be able to work together if she took offense at everything he said. “You think money is behind the poisonings?”
“I think money has a lot to do with everything. And Stroud Pharmaceuticals is a multimillion-dollar concern.”
“You said things in the factory aren’t as secure as the Strouds like to portray. What did you find out?”
“I’ll want to verify this, but apparently, the facility where the Stomach Soothers were manufactured is identical to this one. The surveillance cameras are focused on the production area, but not the break rooms or hallways or restrooms. I think it would have been possible for someone working with their back to the camera to slip the poison into a batch of the tablets before the bottles were sealed.”
“What about the missing bottles of Stomach Soothers?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet, but it’s early days. Anything suspicious in the front offices?”
She shook her head. “Parker Stroud is apparently involved with one of the women who works in the offices, Merry Winger.”
“What’s Stroud like?”
She made a face. “Full of himself. Disdainful. Kind of a jerk, but as far as I can tell, competent. I got the impression he resents that his parents don’t want to retire and turn the whole business over to him, but he was very clear that he stands to inherit one day, so I can’t see a motive for him to destroy the company’s reputation by poisoning their most popular product.”
“We should dig into the personnel files, see if anyone has a grudge, maybe because they were passed over for a promotion or something.”
She nodded and was about to ask him more about how the factory was set up when an ear-piercing siren shrieked. All over the restaurant, chairs were shoved back and people stood. “Fire alarm,” a man said as he hurried past.
Another man pressed his cell phone to his ear. “It’s at the plant,” he said.
“Stroud’s?” Laura asked.
The man nodded, then broke into a jog toward the parking lot. Jace threw some money on the table, and he and Laura joined the others leaving the restaurant. As he started the truck, both their cell phones rang.
“It’s not a fire,” he said, phone pressed to his ear.
“No.” Ana Ramirez had just informed Laura of the reason for the alarm. “Someone planted a bomb at Stroud Pharmaceuticals.”
Chapter Four
Yellow crime-scene tape flapped in a hot wind that carried the acrid scents of burning plastic and ash. Ana stood with Rogers just outside the tape, surveying what had once been a side entrance to Stroud Pharmaceutical Headquarters. The steel door, now grotesquely twisted, lay on the buckled sidewalk in front of a scorched hole rimmed by jagged brick. The windows on either side of the door had shattered and buckled. The area swarmed with fire and law enforcement personnel while farther back, dozens of Stroud employees and townspeople crowded against police barriers.
Rowan Cooper, the team’s liaison officer, stepped through the wreckage of the doorway. A tall, slender woman with long black hair, Rowan was skilled at soothing ruffled feathers and persuading even the most reluctant law enforcement officers to cooperate with the FBI. She spotted Ana and Rogers and started toward them, followed by a stocky man with a gray buzz cut and heavy jowls. “This is Special Agent Terry Armand, ATF,” Rowan said. “Terry, this is Special Agents Ana Sofia Ramirez and Davis Rogers.”
They shook hands with the Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives agent. “What can you tell us about the explosion?” Rogers asked.
“Everything I can tell you is preliminary, but it looks like the explosive was wired to the door lock. Inserting a key in the lock set the trigger, and a few seconds later—enough time for someone to step inside—it went off. The bomb itself was a fairly simple pipe bomb. The damage is pretty typical.” He glanced back toward the doorway.
“Would whoever planted that bomb need access to the interior of the area?” Rogers asked.
Armand nodded. “Oh yes. As best as we can determine at this preliminary stage, the bomb itself was located just inside the door.”
“Whose key set off the explosion?” Ana asked.
“Lydia Green, forty-four,” Rowan said. “She’d worked at Stroud for three years as an independent commercial cleaning service.”
“I talked to a few people who said that door is kept locked and generally only used after hours,” Armand said. “The plant is only running one shift right now, and that ended at five. Otherwise, many more people might have been injured.”
“Was that intentional or coincidental?” Rogers wondered. “We need to find out who had keys to that door.”
“Here’s the person who can tell us,” Ana said.
They turned to watch Donna Stroud make her way through the crowd. She was still dressed in a boxy pantsuit and low heels. Only her red-rimmed eyes and pale face betrayed her distress. She hurried to join Ana, Rogers and the others on the sidewalk. “What is going on here?” she asked. “I thought you were here to help, and now this happens.”
“Mrs. Stroud, have you or your husband or son received any threats?” Rogers asked. “Anyone trying to intimidate or coerce you?”
“If there was anything like that, I would have told you,” she said. “We’ve been as cooperative as we know how to be.” She looked back toward the ravaged doorway, her face a mask of pain. “Did the same person do this who poisoned the Stomach Soother tablets?”
“We don’t know,” Ana said. “Do you think there’s a connection?”
“I don’t know what to think.” She shook her head. “They told me Lydia was killed. She has three children. What is going to happen to them now? What is going to happen to all of us?”
“Mrs. Stroud, where is your husband?” Ana asked. “Is he still out of town?”
The haunted look in her eyes increased. “My husband isn’t well,” she said.
Before Ana could ascertain the nature of his illness, a young man in jeans and a golf shirt elbowed his way through the crowd and jogged up to them. “I just heard the news,” he said, putting his arm around the woman.
“My son, Parker Stroud,” Donna said. “These are Agents Ramirez and Rogers, from the FBI.” She frowned at Rowan and Terry. “I’m sorry, I don’t know these people.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Parker waved away the introductions and scowled at Rogers. “If you’re the FBI, what are you doing to put a stop to this persecution of my family?”
“So you feel these attacks are personal?” Rogers asked. “Aimed directly at your family?”
“What else am I supposed to think?” Parker asked. “The Stroud family is Stroud Pharmaceuticals. This is clearly an attempt to destroy our reputation and our livelihood.”
“Who has a key to that door?” Ana asked.
Donna took in a deep breath and moved out of her son’s embrace. “I do, of course. Parker. Angela Dupree in accounting. Merry Winger, the accounting admin. Gini Elgin before she died. And of course, Lydia had a key so she could come in and clean.” She pressed her lips tightly
together.
“Was this Mrs. Green’s usual time to enter the building to clean?” Ana asked.
“No.” Donna paused and took a deep breath. “Most of the time, Lydia came in the morning, before the other employees reported for work. I like to get an early start myself, so I often saw her then. But this morning she reminded me that she was due to leave on vacation tomorrow, and would I mind if she cleaned tonight, so she could get an early start.”
“How many people knew about this change of schedule?” Rogers asked.
“I’m not sure,” Donna said. “I didn’t mention it to anyone, but Lydia might have.”
“What about Mr. Stroud?” Ana asked. “Does he have a key to that door?”
Donna exchanged a telling look with her son. “My father isn’t well,” he said.
“How exactly is he unwell?” Rogers asked.
“My husband suffers from early-onset dementia,” Donna said.
“He’s not able to participate fully in the business anymore,” Parker said. “I do what I can to help my mother, though I could do more if she’d let me.”
“I’m still capable of running this company,” Donna said.
“What happened to Gini’s key after she died?” Ana asked.
Donna’s face clouded. “I don’t know. I’ve been meaning to ask her son for it, but with so much else going on...” Her voice trailed away.
“Whoever set up that bomb knew only certain people had the key to that entrance,” Ana said. “It’s possible one of those people was the target.”
“That’s too big a coincidence,” Parker said. “This has to be related to the tampering with the Stomach Soothers.”
“Then who do you think is targeting the company?” Ana asked. “Do you have a rival who would wish you harm? A disgruntled former employee? Or perhaps a personal enemy?”
“We don’t have any of those things,” Donna said. “This has to be random. Some kind of terrorist.”
“Whoever did this, it’s your job to find out and put a stop to it,” Parker said.
“We fully intend to do so,” Ana said. “And if you have any suspicions about anyone, be sure to share them with us.”
“You might start by interviewing the Lovejoys. They just started work today and now this happens. That’s a pretty odd coincidence, don’t you think?”
Ana followed his gaze across the parking lot, to where Jace and Laura stood with a group of other employees. “I really don’t think the Lovejoys had anything to do with this,” Donna said.
“No, that’s a good idea,” Rogers said. “We’ll be sure to talk to them. Is there anyone else you can think of who might be angry with you personally, or with the company in general?”
Donna stared at the ground but said nothing.
“There isn’t anyone,” Parker said.
“Gini Elgin’s son was very upset when I spoke with him yesterday,” Donna said. “He blames us for his mother’s death. But he certainly didn’t poison Gini. I think it was mostly grief talking. I remember him from when he and Parker went to school together, and he was always such a nice young man. Gini was very proud of him and I know her death has devastated him.”
“What is his name?” Rogers took out his phone to make a note.
“Leo Elgin,” Parker said. “But he didn’t have anything to do with this. You’re wasting your time with him.”
“Have you spoken to him since he came back to town?” Donna asked her son.
“I haven’t had time,” Parker said. “I’ve been too busy trying to keep this company going.”
“I think it would mean a lot to him if you touched base,” Donna said.
Parker shook his head but made no reply.
“Is there a location near here we can use to interview people?” Ana asked.
“Can’t you do that at the police station?” Parker asked.
“It would be easier if we had someplace closer.” Ana said. “Since we’ll need to talk to all your employees. It’s possible one of them saw or heard something unusual.”
“There’s a conference room at the back of the production plant across the parking lot,” Donna said. “We use it sometimes for training. If there’s anything else you need, let us know.”
“Thank you,” Rogers said. “We’ll start with the Lovejoys. Agent Cooper, would you bring them to us, please?”
Rowan left to fetch Cantrell and Smitty. Donna turned away. Instead of following her, Parker moved closer to Ana. “If you learn anything, come to me first,” he said. “My mother doesn’t need any more stress right now. My father is a lot worse off than she wants to admit. That, along with everything else that has happened with the business, has her at her breaking point. I’ve been trying to persuade her to turn everything over to me, but she just can’t give up that control.”
“We’ll share information with you as we are able,” Ana said. But Donna Stroud was still president of Stroud Pharmaceuticals, and would be informed as well.
* * *
LAURA AND JACE kept up the pretense of not knowing Rogers, Ramirez and Rowan Cooper until they were all in the back conference room, which, as a precaution, the ATF had swept with bomb-sniffing dogs, and Rogers had checked for listening devices. Jace dropped into the chair across from Ramirez. “Before you ask, we haven’t found out anything so far.”
“Parker Stroud thinks you two are suspicious,” Ramirez said.
“Both of us?” Laura glanced at Jace. “I’m surprised he even knows we’re a couple.”
“You said he didn’t strike you as incompetent,” Jace said.
“Did you know Steve Stroud is suffering from dementia?” Rogers asked.
“No.” It annoyed Laura that that information had escaped her. “Though it explains why Parker thinks his parents should turn the business over to him now.”
“Does he resent his mother’s stubbornness enough to try to sabotage the business?” Jace asked.
“Why undermine his own inheritance?” Laura asked. “I think we’d be better off focusing on anyone who has a grudge against the company or the Strouds personally.”
“It’s possible the bombings and the medication tampering are the work of two different entities,” Ramirez said.
“That makes the most sense to me,” Jace said. “Poison and bombing are two very different modes of attack. For one thing, the poisoning took out a number of random individuals. The bombing seems more focused.”
“Only a handful of people had a key to that door,” Rogers said. “The bomb was set to go off when someone inserted their key into the lock.”
“But the bomb was planted inside the building,” Ramirez said. “Someone would need access to the area on the other side of the door—and time to plant the bomb, probably after everyone left for the day.”
“There was only an hour between end of shift and the time of the explosion,” Jace said. “They’d need fifteen or twenty minutes at least to be sure the office was empty. We should find out who stayed late that day.”
“Or who came back after everyone left,” Laura said. “Is there a security camera at that entrance?”
“There was,” Rowan said. “It was destroyed in the blast, but maybe the tech guys can pull something off of it.”
“Donna mentioned that Gini Elgin’s son, Leo, is blaming Stroud Pharmaceuticals for his mother’s death,” Rogers said. “He could have used Gini’s key to let himself into the building after everyone left.”
“I saw him here at the factory yesterday,” Ramirez said. “At that makeshift memorial on the corner of the property. He smashed a vase full of flowers and looked pretty upset.”
“We’ll definitely be talking to him.” Rogers braced his hands on the back of a chair and leaned toward them. “Ramirez, Cooper and I are going to be talking to every employee over the next few days. But we’re counting on you two
to figure out what they aren’t telling us. Somebody associated with this place has secrets. We learn those, we’ll be closer to finding our killer or killers.”
* * *
THE DAY AFTER the bombing, the factory operated as usual. Jace’s job was to monitor a machine that boxed up herbal throat lozenges—twelve bottles of lozenges to each box. He pulled out any boxes that unfolded crookedly or didn’t contain twelve bottles. Mistakes didn’t happen often, and he had plenty of time to observe the workers around him who monitored various other aspects of the packaging process. Since all the poisoned Stomach Soothers, as well as the missing bottles, were from a single lot, manufactured on a single day, he suspected someone had intercepted the bottles before they were sealed, introduced the ricin in the form of a fine powder that had clung to the tablets, then put the bottles back into the assembly line to proceed to packaging.
How to do that, though, without being noticed?
The woman who was training him, Barb Falk, stopped by two hours into his shift. A stocky middle-aged woman with bleached hair pulled back in a ponytail and sharp blue eyes that didn’t appear to miss anything, she was affable and talkative. “How’s it going?” she asked.
“No problems so far,” he said.
“Yeah, things run pretty smoothly around here,” she said. “It can make the job boring at times but be thankful for the boredom. I worked at a place before this where the machinery was always breaking down. We were constantly playing catch-up. Better to sit back and have nothing to do than to constantly be scrambling to do the impossible.”
“I can’t help thinking about that tragedy with the Stomach Soothers,” Jace said. “I heard on a news report that the FBI thinks someone tampered with the tablets before they even left the factory, but I don’t see any way that’s even possible.”
“I guess anything is possible if you try hard enough,” she said.
“Being a trainer, you probably know every part of the manufacturing process,” Jace said. “How do you think it was done?”
