Dangerous Conditions Page 7

  “Meaning...”

  “Basically, I check to be sure that our products are free from mircroorganism contaminations and that the finished product is sterile and free from corruption. We run routine collection and testing of raw material, samples and all final products. But according to this—” she pointed at the printout “—some product has been produced without adequate testing. Without any testing, really. That’s what Dr. Sullivan is writing about.”

  “And because of the contents of this letter and the removal of Dr. Sullivan’s computer you think...”

  The detective was very good at open-ended questioning, she decided.

  “I don’t know, but it occurs to me that his death might not be accidental.”

  “You think this case might need to be moved from manslaughter to murder?”

  “I just wanted you to be aware of this information.” But in her heart, she was thinking, yes, it could be murder. They dealt in controlled substances, and even a casual observer knew that bad people made lots of money off the illicit drug trade. Had Ed inadvertently stumbled onto something related to that?

  He tucked away the printout and her card in the inner pocket of his coat.

  “I appreciate you two driving up to see me. You were on my list of callbacks, Dr. Morris. But as you can see, it has been a busy twenty-four hours.”

  Paige looked past the detective to the tow truck using a winch to drag a crumpled compact car from the ditch at the median. The roof had collapsed, the plastic fender hung and the hood had folded like a perversion of origami. She shuddered.

  “I’ll get back to you with any follow-up questions.”

  “Is there anyone else I should speak with?” she asked.

  “Sheriff of the county is assisting in the investigation. His name is Axel Trace. Though he’s stepping down end of the month. But I can assure you that I have received this evidence and will take appropriate actions, including getting Dr. Sullivan’s computer, hopefully this afternoon.”

  “One more thing,” said Logan and he told the detective about the untimely death of Mrs. Sullivan. The detective looked like a wolf catching the scent of prey. His eyes narrowed and his mouth twitched.

  “I didn’t know. That’s very sad. Timing is suspect. I’ll get in touch with the sheriff as soon as I finish here.”

  “Let me know if I can help,” said Logan and extended his hand.

  Logan and Albritton shook hands. He nodded at Paige and then returned the way he had come. Logan walked her back toward her car.

  “I’m going to get fired,” she said.

  “That’s against the law.”

  She gave him a look of skepticism and he had the decency to glance away. She was well aware that most whistle-blowers were fired and the rest were demoted, transferred or given poor evaluations.

  “You did the right thing,” said Logan. “Sometimes that comes at a cost.”

  She thought about the cost of Logan’s doing the right thing. A Silver Star seemed a poor trade for all he had lost. But could he have done otherwise? Determined to do a worthwhile job while providing for the wife he planned to take, he’d served his country. Then he had saved the lives of three comrades and lost her. The rest had come back. He could walk. His speech was still improving. But the hearing cognition had not improved. And the memories... His father said the doctors thought those were gone forever.

  Paige weighed again the costs of continuing to keep Lori’s parentage from him. Initially, he had proven incapable of retaining the information. Now he was processing complicated details in relation to this case. There was no reason to delay. She needed to tell him again about Lori and this time, she was certain, he would retain the information. Should she also tell him about Lori’s accident as a baby?

  Was it now possible for them to try again?

  She knew what her mother would think about that.

  But now he had a job and he wasn’t the joke that many thought. He was doing that job and she was proud of him.

  On the walk to her vehicle, she thought about Logan’s words and what they might mean for her. It was true she could lose her job, but she wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing what she did. Knowing that her friend might have been murdered and that the culprit would get away with it. She would never have been able to keep silent.

  When she got back to Hornbeck, she dropped Logan off at his office at just after one, just as the sign on his door had indicated. That coincidence made her shake her head.

  At work she was greeted by Lou Reber, who told her that Dr. Sullivan’s wife had overdosed the night before and had died. She told him that she had heard the news from the village constable.

  “Grief is a funny thing,” said Reber. “Depression, too. People in that much pain just...well, it’s too much sometimes, is all.”

  As far as she knew, Ursula was not depressed before Ed’s death, and Paige couldn’t imagine the woman abandoning her children, even as she suffered the loss of her husband. The fact that Reber had been so glib about it at first annoyed and then concerned her. Was he spinning her death to cover something up?

  Paige headed upstairs to find Jeremy speaking with Dr. Sullivan’s replacement.

  Carol Newman arched her brows at Paige’s appearance. “There you are. Is everything all right?”

  “Personal business,” muttered Paige.

  Newman glanced at the wall clock for a long moment before returning her attention to Paige. “In the future, I’d prefer it if I were in the loop.”

  “Yes. Of course,” said Paige. She collected the samples that awaited her. Throughout the rest of the day, she kept expecting someone from IT or security to arrive and escort her off. If they checked Sullivan’s computer, they’d see that someone had logged in to the device after he had died and exactly what she had been doing. Surveillance footage would show them it had been her.

  Maybe his computer was just sitting on a shelf somewhere, waiting to be wiped. If they wiped it, they would have no idea, except when the detective arrived to ask for it. Would he give them her name or would they have to figure it out with their own internal investigation?

  “Paige?” Jeremy was watching her with his brow lowered over his eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “Did you hear what I said?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “They found the truck that killed Dr. Sullivan.”

  Chapter Eight

  Paige had been so lost in her own troubles that she did not even hear Jeremy’s revelations. Her coworker slid his stool closer to Paige before continuing.

  “The truck belongs to a guy with a record for possession and a DUI. He’s driving on a suspended license.”

  “Who?”

  “Some guy from Plattsville Center,” said Jeremy, referring to the small village to the northwest of them.

  “What was he doing here?”

  “That’s all I know. The sheriff arrested him. Yazdi was down on the loading dock and heard it on the scanner,” said Jeremy, referring to one of the senior custodians at the plant.

  Their new supervisor meandered over to Paige, holding a clipboard out in her direction.

  “Dr. Morris, are these your test results?”

  Paige glanced at the data sheet as her stomach knotted. Those were the results of yesterday’s testing, done after she had received news of Dr. Sullivan’s death and his final text. Had she made some error?

  “I’m afraid these numbers are incorrect,” said Newman, confirming Paige’s fears.

  Paige looked at the data but saw everything within specifications.

  “Calibration? There is no calibration data.”

  That couldn’t be right. Paige glanced at the empty box on the top of the sheet beside Newman’s extended index finger. She’d filled that in. Hadn’t she? The preliminaries were a matter of routine. Done bef
ore each series.

  She glanced to Jeremy, whose expression reflected worry to her shock.

  “I’m sure I ran them.”

  “That may be so, but you did not record them. This entire series needs redoing.”

  “I’ll get to that right now.”

  “No,” said Newman. “Not you. Dr. Chen will cover it. I’m sorry to do this, but your absence earlier and this glaring mistake, I’m afraid I’ll have to put this down in writing. Do you have any other reprimands in your record?”

  “Other reprimands? No. I don’t.” This was sudden. Was Dr. Newman intent on discipline at any cost? Or was something else going on?

  “Hmm.” Her expression seemed skeptical.

  “I can assure you, Dr. Newman, I am good at my job.”

  “All evidence to the contrary,” she said.

  “This is ridiculous.”

  Jeremy shook his head, warning her to back off.

  “I did those tests and I recorded the data.”

  “Then how do you explain this?” asked Newman, waving the clipboard.

  “I can’t,” she said firmly, as if daring the woman to contradict her.

  “Yes. I see. You are denying that you failed to run the calibrations?”

  “I am.”

  She nodded, made a note and then glanced up at her.

  “I’m suspending you until further notice.”

  Paige shot to her feet. “What?” Could Newman even do that? Paige had such a stellar record under Ed, she hadn’t ever had to bother keeping tabs on company policy regarding suspensions.

  Newman was already on the phone requesting security. Paige gaped and blinked like a fish who suddenly found itself hooked and landed as security arrived. It was Tony Fitzpatrick, one of the newer guys who seemed to spend as much time lifting weights as he did at work. He was accompanied by Ken Booker, the head of human resources who relieved her of her security badge and keycard.

  Paige had the humiliating experience of being walked out of the lab, flanked by the two men. The elevator ride seemed endless, but in the lobby she had the additional mortification of being trooped out past Veronica Vitale, the CFO, who paused from speaking to Lou Reber to watch her march past. Lou joined the procession. The three men did not leave her side until she was in her car. There Tony, Lou and Ken waited as she turned the ignition, set the vehicle in gear and drove out of the employee lot.

  Her mind reeled, trying to comprehend what had just happened. It screamed setup. But was Newman responsible for it or someone else?

  More immediate questions faced her. Where should she go? If she went home, her mother would interrogate her, and she just didn’t feel capable of explaining right now.

  Had she made that mistake or had someone doctored that form? But why would anyone do that?

  The possibility that this was tied to a conspiracy did occur to her. But the more likely scenario was that the distraction of the text and the death of her supervisor had led her to make an oversight.

  Even so, suspension seemed extreme, especially since she’d never made such a mistake before. All of yesterday’s work would need to be repeated. She would be willing to stay late to do that. She vaguely wondered if she should call Newman and offer to do so.

  Without realizing where she was going, she found her Volvo sedan parked before the constable’s office on Main Street. Orange signs had been fixed to the light poles notifying the public that there would be no parking allowed tomorrow on the main street. The Harvest Festival, she realized. That meant tonight was the spaghetti dinner at the firehouse. She had planned to attend with her mother and daughter. Now she was so embarrassed. Having to face a lot of questions about work just made her stomach hurt. Paige put the sedan in Park and switched off the ignition. Then she folded her arms over the top of the steering wheel and lowered her head to her forearms.

  Someone tapped on the glass of her side window.

  She startled and turned to see Logan peering in at her. Paige opened the door and stepped into his arms. The familiar scent of him merged with the memories of the man he had been. His arms were still strong and his cheek was still rough.

  He rubbed her back as his words rumbled through her with a deep, low vibration. “What’s wrong, Paige?”

  “I got suspended.”

  Logan drew back to study her face, cupping her chin in his warm hand. “Why?”

  “They say that I made a mistake in testing. But I don’t think I did.”

  “You can’t prove a negative,” he said and his hand dropped away.

  She wrinkled her brow. “How do you know that?”

  “I’m an officer of the law. It’s a legal principle. And you told me. Once.”

  She had told him, but that had been in high school when Cliff Martin had been accused of stealing and denied he had done so. The missing phone had been found in his locker, so he was out for four days. Logan had pointed out that anyone who had that locker in the past years could know that combination and any of the administrators could have planted the phone.

  She drew back and he resisted, then let her slip from his arms to perch on the edge of the car seat of her old Volvo, her feet resting on the pavement. Logan filled the space between the open door and the street as the occasional car rolled past them.

  “You think someone is setting me up?”

  “Possibly.” He tucked her under his arm and led her back toward the office. There he veered to two plastic chairs, seating her in one and taking the other. He didn’t have a desk so much as a counter, now used as a reception divider and for filling out paperwork.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she said softly.

  “You have to fight them, Paige.”

  “How? You just said that I can’t prove I didn’t do something.”

  He drew his arm from her shoulders, but she leaned against him and lowered her head to his chest. His arm came back around her and gave her a little squeeze.

  “Did you hear they found the car that killed your boss?” he asked.

  Paige nodded, feeling that her troubles were suddenly less important than the Sullivans’.

  “Yes.” She shifted, straightened and used the cuffs of her jacket to wipe her eyes. “Who is the driver?”

  “State police made that arrest. It’ll be in the news. All I know is that his name is Seth Coleman, he has priors and denies hitting Dr. Sullivan.”

  “Well, he would. Wouldn’t he? Especially with his record.”

  “An innocent man would also deny it,” said Logan. “He’s the perfect suspect.”

  Too perfect, Paige wondered.

  “They’ve removed Mrs. Sullivan’s body.”

  “To the funeral home?”

  He bobbed his head, his face grim.

  “They’re together again, I suppose,” she said.

  “No. Dr. Sullivan is in Albany awaiting autopsy.”

  Paige grimaced and lowered her head back to his shoulder.

  He told her about Mrs. Sullivan’s request last night to have the sheriff see her. “She seemed rattled when your plant’s head of security showed up.”

  “Lou was there? That’s odd. Isn’t it? He’s not a friend of the family.”

  Then Logan told her that he’d seen Reber coming down the stairs.

  “Said he was using the bathroom.”

  “He might have been.”

  “Or he might have been taking some of the opiates you make at that plant and spiking something she would drink.”

  “That’s a serious accusation,” said Paige. “Kind of out there.”

  “Maybe. But a lot of this is out there.”

  “Besides, every single pill is accounted for. It’s not like he could go down to the manufacturing floor and help himself.” She rubbed her wrist with her thumb as she thought. Ed had mentioned some product, th
ough, that seemed not to exist. Maybe not every pill was accounted for, after all. “Did you tell the sheriff this?”

  “Yes. I told the sheriff that Mrs. Sullivan asked me to have him come see her today because her husband was worried about missing samples.”

  “Missing tests?” she asked.

  “She said anomalies and missing samples.”

  Paige lifted her head. “I don’t like any of this.”

  “Trace is listing the death as suspicious.

  “This is terrible.” Paige pressed her hand to her mouth, then dropped it.

  Paige looked at him, really looked. He was leaner than in high school, having lost all the roundness in his face, leaving a hard jawline and cleft in his chin. His eyes were bright, and he needed a shave. She began to wonder if they could start again.

  “Your speech has improved.” Not only that. His ability to connect thoughts, to reason about what was happening. From what he’d just said, he might be ahead of the detective and sheriff on this case.

  “Wasn’t my speech. It was finding the words. They’ve been coming more quickly lately as if something in my head opened up the word bank.”

  “What about your memory?”

  “Still gone. It’s like during surgery. They give you that drug to knock you out, but it also makes you forget. Lose time. You know?”

  Paige had never had surgery, but she was familiar with that drug as they produced it at Rathburn-Bramley.

  “You remember how the anesthesiologist asks you to count backward and the next thing you know it’s six hours later and you know you weren’t out for six hours, but they are still all missing.”

  “Only for you it was five years.”

  “Yes.”

  “That must be very difficult.” Was this really the first time they’d spoken of this? No, but it was likely the first time he could and would remember them speaking about it. She now realized how cold that might make her seem, and was filled with regret. She should have tried again, instead of doing as his family had requested and waiting so long.

  “The hardest part is having everyone think I’m mentally challenged. You, too, Paige. Up until a few days ago you always looked at me with pity in those big blue eyes.”