by Vivian Barz
It was time to face facts: He needed to get himself under control. He was drinking too much, had wasted hours and days and months of his life feeling sorry for himself . . . and then there was last night. He’d blacked out most of it, which, he suspected, might be something he’d done out of self-preservation. So, where would he begin?
He needed a distraction to help take his mind off things. He had school, of course, plus his teacher’s assistant gig. But, really, those things didn’t count. Those things were jobs. Which, truth be told, he really didn’t need to have anyway, given that he had inheritance money he could live off for the rest of his life, should he choose. But that was the last thing he’d ever want, since he’d probably die of boredom.
Observing strangers like a secret agent, however, would be a blast, and the notion of going undercover gave him something to look forward to almost as soon as the idea struck him. He was so enthused that he forgot all about his pounding headache as he made a move to take a shower. After that, campus.
Jake started to get into character as he crossed the campus quad toward where all the school clubs were setting up booths to promote their causes. His mission? To infiltrate DOTE, who might hold the key to uncovering what had really happened to Samantha Neville and Bryan McDougal, who may have been a victim of murder himself. While he was still “playing” Jake Bergman, his plan was to take on a slightly varied persona by mirroring the attitudes of the doters. It would be good to have a little escape from his life, if only for a minute.
Jake made a quick U-turn as he passed a coffee cart about a hundred yards out from the quad. He bought an eco-friendly, refillable bottle of water and two vegan cookies, then placed everything at the top of his backpack. Props for the encounter.
The DOTE booth was on point with his expectations. Fanned out across a couple fold-up tables were pamphlets promoting various environmental causes. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the depictions on the covers were gruesome in nature: bloody fox carcasses lined up like cigarettes, fur stripped from their bodies; emaciated children, clothes soiled and tattered, playing in a river of sewage; cute little bunnies locked in cages, eyes red and bloodied from chemicals that had been rubbed in them. Subtlety was clearly not the aim of the club.
Likewise, the doters that stood scattered around the tables were just as he’d anticipated. They were mostly clean cut with a rebellious, ecological edge: a stripe of blue hair here, a rip of designer jean there, trendy slip-on shoes made of natural fibers, bright woven bracelets. They snapped pictures with smartphones, exchanged social media information with new recruits. Jake was surprised to see an older student like himself seated behind one of the tables. He was also pleased to note that she was quite pretty—pleased, that was, until he reminded himself that he was there doing reconnaissance.
“Hi there,” she called after she’d noticed him lurking. “It’s okay; you can come closer. I won’t bite.”
Jake provided her with a warm smile. “No, I’m . . .” He hadn’t really come up with an opening, which was a terrible start for someone who considered himself a budding secret agent. He gestured toward the pamphlets. “These are just, um, wow . . .” He shook his head, as if at a loss for words.
“Pretty full on,” she finished for him.
“That’s one way to put it. I used to have a pet bunny, so that one in particular makes me sad,” he said, pointing at the pamphlet that called for putting an end to animal testing.
“Well, don’t let them scare you off. I’m Kimmy,” she said, extending a hand to him.
He took her hand in his. “I’m Jake, and those pamphlets don’t scare me. They’re just really—”
“Sad?”
He nodded. “Exactly. It’s good there’s people out there like you guys, who still care. Or else the world might be in trouble.”
Kimmy got to her feet and came around the table so that she could talk more freely with Jake. “You make it sound as if anyone can’t do what we do—we’re not magical. You’re always welcome to join us. That’s why we’re here, to reach out to like-minded people like yourself.”
“But what if I don’t have what it takes?”
Kimmy frowned. “What do you mean?”
Jake shrugged, his expression guilty. “A lot of this stuff is new to me, but I do know that I love animals and I care about the environment. I’m not really political. I mean, I’m not against talking about politics, but it’s not something I know a lot about.” While the part about him caring about animals and the environment was true, the claim that he knew nothing about politics was wildly incorrect. In truth, Jake knew a great deal about the subject. He had to, since it was a popular topic at the dinner table whenever he and his family got together. He needed to stay current to avoid being railroaded by his mother, who kept the news on in her home and car during most waking hours. It was a wonder they were from the same family, their worldviews so different.
“You don’t have to be a poli-sci major to be in DOTE—though I am. Our members come from all kinds of backgrounds and ages. Obviously.” Kimmy swept an arm out to indicate herself.
“Yah, it’s great to see another older student here on campus.” He smiled. “I usually give the other ones I see a little tip of the head, like, I feel you.”
Laughing, she gave him an enthusiastic nod. “That’s too funny; I do the same thing! We’re few and far between, that’s for sure—students here are always confusing me for their instructor on the first day of school. But, even though it’s a little embarrassing at times being the oldest person in class, it’s no worse than what I had to deal with working in customer service. After a few years of taking other people’s crap, I decided to go back to school and train to do something I was actually passionate about.”
“Good for you.” Jake grinned. He unzipped his bag, pulled out the bottle of water, and took a swig. When he returned the water to the bag, he pretended to be surprised by the two cookies as he drew them out. “Here, would you like one? I almost forgot about these. I was hungry this morning when I packed my lunch, so I grabbed two. Guess my eyes were bigger than my stomach. They’re vegan.”
“Thanks so much! I’m starving,” Kimmy said, accepting the cookie gratefully. She tore into the package as if she hadn’t eaten for days. “Vegan, huh? See, you’re already on the right path.”
He shrugged. “I do what I can.”
She took a bite, chewed. “Yummy.” He’d have to take her word for it. The thing had all the culinary appeal of a hockey puck. “Hey, speaking of doing things, what are your plans for tonight? You doing anything?”
Jake frowned, as if considering the question. “Nothing that I can think of. Why?”
“Want to come to a party? Well, it’s more of a meet and greet.”
Jake had to make a conscious effort to keep his voice neutral. “For DOTE, you mean? If so, count me in.”
Perhaps he might make a great private investigator after all.
CHAPTER 16
Susan peeped down at her cell phone, saw that it was Eric, and sent the call to voice mail. She wasn’t quite caffeinated enough to have a conversation with the ex, even though she missed him—maybe it was because she missed him, even, that she didn’t want to talk. That, and she was on her way to Gruben Dam to speak with employees.
Moments later, her phone bleeped with a text. It was from Eric: Hi Suze. Hope you’re having a good day. Wondering if we could talk later about Jake? He’s okay, but he’s struggling.
Susan knew what he meant by struggling, as she’d suspected the same thing. Jake was closer to Eric, but she still considered him a friend, so she was aware of the strain the deaths of his bandmates had put on him. She quickly replied that she was at work but they could talk later, hoping that Jake would be okay.
Now at Gruben Dam, she found that the HR office was open. That was just perfect, since that’s exactly the department she needed to speak with. It had been niggling at her that a man with Dov’s background had been able to obtain employment
at a high-security facility like Gruben. It made her wonder what else might have slipped through the cracks, and whether their negligence might have played a part in Chung Nguygen’s murder. If the rumors could be believed, many of the dam employees suspected Dov of using drugs, so it was astounding that Human Resources—a department created for the sole purpose of keeping tabs on employees—was completely in the dark.
Then again, Dov had fooled his own wife. And, on that note, what did that say about their marriage if his coworkers were aware of his drug use, yet Anne had no idea? Had she been that clueless with Eric? Were there signs that had indicated their relationship was faltering long before they both finally decided to throw in the towel? If so, what did that say about her as an investigator, being so blind?
She shook her head to clear it, setting her mind to complete the task at hand. Perhaps this was why she’d always avoided serious relationships, because they became distracting once they inevitably failed. Maybe solo was the only way she could roll.
She was surprised to see that there were two security guards in the HR office: a tall, lanky male and a short, muscular female. They watched as a lone woman cleaned out her desk, their expressions bored. The woman, scowling as she worked, avoided making eye contact with anyone in the room, passive-aggressively slamming doors and ripping drawers open.
“What’s going on here?” Susan asked.
“That’s none of your concern. Please move along,” the small female guard said with an attitude Susan found unnecessary. She was an FBI agent, and she never treated the public that way. She took great pleasure in seeing the woman become flustered once she flashed her badge. “Sorry about giving you grief. We’ve just had a lot of pests come by asking questions, and we’re not allowed to talk about what’s happening with employees.”
“And what is happening?” Susan asked.
“We were instructed to keep an eye on Ms. Jenkins here while she packs up her things,” the lanky guard explained.
“Instructed by whom?”
“Department of Homeland Security,” the female answered, and then she turned her attention back to the angry woman.
“Is Ms. Jenkins head of HR?” Susan asked, and both guards nodded. “Then I’ll need to have a word with her. Alone.” When they hesitated, she added, “Don’t worry—I won’t leave, and I’ll be in here at all times.”
The two guards left without any argument, probably happy to have an excuse to go and grab a quick cup of coffee. She couldn’t imagine that watching an infuriated dam employee clearing out her office could be all that entertaining or comfortable, especially with all the noise she was making. The woman she’d come to know as Ms. Jenkins turned to her, and for the first time Susan could see that her anger was nothing more than bravado. The eyes don’t lie, and hers were saying that she was fearful. She placed a hand on her hip and glared at Susan. “So, what, now I’m in trouble with the FBI too?”
Susan shook her head. “I’m only here to ask you a few questions about Dov.”
“I already told those other guys I don’t know where he is.”
Susan frowned. “Why would you know where he is, Ms. Jenkins? You’re not expected to know where all the employees are at all times, are you?”
“Of course not.”
“Okay, let’s start at the beginning,” Susan said. “Why are you clearing out your desk?”
The woman seemed confused. “Because I lied about Dov,” she said slowly, as if Susan might not be all there mentally.
Now Susan was starting to understand. Seems the Department of Homeland Security had scooped her. Again. “You mean about his criminal background?”
“That’s right.”
“So, you also must have known that he was using drugs on the job. Help me understand why you’d do something like that—hire Dov. I can see you’ve already lost your job, but do you understand the legal repercussions you’ll now be facing because of what you did? You must be aware that you committed a very serious offense, Ms. Jenkins.”
“I wasn’t trying to do anything illegal! And what do you mean, using drugs on the job?” she asked, as if she’d never heard anything so ridiculous. She clamped her lips shut, lobbed a potted plant into a cardboard box, and then let out a long breath to get herself under control.
Susan saw that she was wearing a diamond-encrusted David Yurman watch that had set her back about $6,000. This, Susan knew with certainty, as Denton Howell had asked her opinion on the same piece as an anniversary present for his wife. The memory of the event had always stuck with her, given the rarity of her boss ever discussing personal topics. Seemed like kind of an expensive watch for someone who worked in HR to be wearing. She noted that Ms. Jenkins did not have on a wedding ring—rich lover, maybe? The massive dried-out bouquet of flowers on the edge of her desk indicated that it was a possibility.
Slam, bang! More objects lobbed into the box. “And could you please stop calling me Ms. Jenkins, like I’m forty years old? It’s Cindy.” Forty years old, like it was akin to being an old maid. Cindy appeared to be around twenty-eight, so she’d probably be singing a different tune in a few years. Oh, the arrogance of youth, Susan mused, though she wasn’t much older than Cindy herself. “Look, what do you want me to say? He’s family.”
This, Susan had not known—of course she would have known if the Department of Homeland Security had touched base with her. Then again, she hadn’t touched base with them either, and she was always free to do her own background searches. She tried to keep her voice neutral, so as not to betray her chagrin. “Right, he’s . . .”
Cindy shook her head, exasperated. Susan wasn’t fooling anyone. “You people really need to get on the same page.”
Susan assumed “you people” signified anyone from a government security agency who’d taken umbrage with her lying. Susan agreed about the same-page thing, though she wasn’t going to share this now.
“How is he related to you?” She hated having to ask, but she needed to know. And since she didn’t want to spend all day at the dam, going directly to the source would be the fastest way to get information.
“Anne, Dov’s wife, is my stepsister. But we grew up together, so we might as well be related.”
“So, Dov is connected to you through marriage? Risking your job and getting into legal trouble for somebody else’s husband seems—”
“What? Stupid? Crazy? Well, I can see that now,” Cindy snapped. “But at the time Dov had come to me for a job, he was doing really well and had been clean for a long time. He and Anne were struggling hard for money, and they knew I was in charge of hiring here at the dam. Dov, you know, he’s never been involved in any violent crimes—all the bad things he’s ever done have always been when he was out of his head on drugs. He was willing to do almost anything for work—he said he’d even mop floors and clean toilets—but the only position we had open was for a security guard.”
Susan already knew the end of the story. “So, you fudged his work experience, concealed his criminal background, and then gave him a high-security federal job, where he was required to carry a gun. And now he’s wanted for the murder of a coworker.” She shook her head. It never ceased to astound her, the asinine things people did for family. “What were you thinking?”
“It sounds worse when you say it like that!” Cindy threw up her hands. “I was thinking I could help out my sister in her time of need.”
Susan was inclined to believe her, not finding any alternative motive that would explain why she’d lie. Still, she planned to run a background check on her later. The woman exuded shadiness.
“Were you really not aware that Dov was using again? Word around the dam was that he was sometimes high on the job.”
Cindy hesitated. “Okay, I don’t know about that. I tried to avoid him around here as much as possible, you know, since it would look strange if it seemed I had a personal relationship with Dov outside of work.”
“But surely a few employees must have come to you about his poor job
performance? It must have scared people, suspecting that he was on drugs and walking around with a loaded gun.”
“Doesn’t that sort of prove my point? If Dov was this big killer, like everyone seems to believe, then wouldn’t he have shot someone around here when he was high?” Cindy probed, like she was a defense attorney nailing her closing argument.
Was the woman nuts or what? Susan wondered. “But Dov didn’t have a problem with just anyone; he had a problem with Chung. And Chung is dead.”
Cindy flapped a hand. “Regardless, I refuse to believe that Dov could kill anyone. He may have had his problems with drugs, but he’s not a bad guy. You should have seen how excited he was about Anne’s pregnancy. It’s all he’s been talking about for months. There has to be some other explanation . . . do you think I’ll go to jail for this?” she asked abruptly, as if the thought had just occurred to her.
“I honestly don’t know. But I can tell you that you’ll probably receive more than a slap on the wrist.” Susan called the two security guards back in. Now that she had her answer about how Dov had gotten his job, she wanted to move on to other areas of the dam.
She asked the two guards if they’d ever worked with Dov, and if she could ask a few questions while she searched his work space. “He worked with him most,” the female said, gesturing to the lanky guard, who she discovered was named Howey.
Howey led Susan to the area where the guards kept their personal items while they worked. “We don’t really hang out much back here, since we’re always walking around during our shift. It’s more like a locker room, except it’s coed and nobody takes their clothes off,” Howey explained with a perfectly straight face.