Colton K-9 Cop

by Addison Fox

  She’d been kind, he remembered, and pretty in a way that wasn’t flashy, but that intrigued all the same. There was something solid there. Lasting, even. Which was silly, since he hadn’t spent more than a half hour in her company before heading out on a call.

  He’d thought to go in and ask about her a few times since, but training Alex had provided Donovan with a good excuse to stay out of his hometown; by the time he came back a year and a half later it had seemed lame—and far too late—to stop back in and ask about her.

  But he did think of her every now and again. The slender form that filled out a pair of jeans with curves that had made his fingers itch and just enough skin showing at the top of her blouse to shift his thoughts in interesting, heated directions.

  Dismissing the vague memory of pretty gray eyes and long, dark hair, he refocused on the pristine streets before him and the large ranch housed at the edge of town.

  He needed to go see his mother. If he was lucky, his father would be out for the afternoon and he could avoid the lecture about coming to visit more often. He found it odd—funny, even—that it was his father who was more determined to deliver that particular guilt trip than his mother.

  At the edge of the town square, Donovan looked at the large gazebo that dominated the space before putting on his blinker to head toward the Colton ranch. “Pretty as a picture.”

  At his comment, Alex’s ears perked again and he turned from the view out the passenger window, his head tilted slightly toward Donovan.

  “You don’t miss a trick, do you?”

  Donovan took his role as alpha in their relationship seriously, and that meant avoiding tension, anger or panic when speaking and working with Alex. Donovan had always innately understood an animal’s poor acceptance of those emotions, but his K-9 training had reinforced it. He needed to stay calm and firm in the face of his furry partner, never allowing random, spiking emotions a place in their partnership.

  Which meant the emotions that had the deepest of roots—established in the very foundation of his childhood—needed to be avoided at all costs. Especially if the prospect of visiting the Colton ranch was transmitted by his tone.

  Extending a hand, he ruffled Alex’s head and ears, scratching the spot he knew was particularly sensitive. A low, happy groan echoed from his partner when Donovan kneaded the small area behind Alex’s ears, effectively erasing whatever tension he’d pushed into his police-issued SUV.

  And on a resigned sigh, he made the turn that would carry him to the large ranch that sprawled for over a thousand acres deep in the heart of Texas Hill Country.

  Home.

  * * *

  BELLAMY FOUGHT THE steady swirl of nerves that coated her stomach, bumping and diving like waves roiling on a winter’s day as she walked the long corridor toward the human resources department. Lone Star Pharmaceutical had a sprawling campus and HR was three buildings away from her own, connected through a series of parking lots as well as overhead walkways for when the weather was poor or just too darn hot during a Texas summer.

  She’d thought to call ahead and share her concerns but for reasons she couldn’t quite explain to herself, ultimately decided on a surprise approach.

  Was she even supposed to have the email?

  The sender was veiled, but so was the distribution list. She didn’t even know why she’d been targeted for such information.

  Snatches of the email floated through her mind’s eye, each destructive word adding another pitch and roll to those waves.

  Limited quantities...throttled to highest bidder...quantity scarcity...

  No acceptance of annual contract prices.

  Was this the reason for the exceptionally strong year at LSP? Were they all celebrating extra time off and assured holiday bonuses at the expense of human lives?

  She’d worked in finance her entire life and monitoring the ebbs and flows of the business was a part of her day to day. She understood balance sheets and marketplace pricing. She understood profit and loss statements. And she understood what it took to run an ethical business that still remained profitable.

  And creating a scarcity in the market—deliberately—was not legal.

  But it could be very, very profitable.

  All the drugs LSP produced were essential for the individuals who needed them. They led the market on several fronts, with specialties in diabetes, heart disease and cholesterol reducing medicines. LSP had also done wonders with drugs designed to improve motor skills, several of which had been essential to her father’s well-being.

  But the flu vaccine was a whole different issue.

  For anyone suffering from an illness, access to proper care and medicine was essential, but the flu affected everyone. A bad season could kill a large number of people, especially those at highest risk.

  Just like her parents.

  Had her father forgone a flu vaccine for the last several years of his life, he’d surely have been at higher risk of dying from the virus. And the fewer people vaccinated, the higher the risk.

  Was it really possible LSP was attempting to profit from that?

  Technically, they were late in the season to get the vaccine, but even as late as the prior week she’d run the numbers and realized that immunizations were down versus the prior year.

  Was that because too many people felt they didn’t need protection?

  Or because there wasn’t any protection in the market?

  She tamped down on another wave of bile cresting in her stomach and knocked on the open door of the HR department. She’d been at LSP long enough to know several members of the HR team but wasn’t acquainted with the head of HR, Sally Borne.

  A light “come in” echoed through the cavernous outer office. Bellamy understood why the voice sounded so far away when she saw only one person seated in what appeared to be a sea of about six desks. She headed for the woman, taking in the office along the way. Decorations celebrating the holiday season peppered the walls and filing cabinets, and a bright string of lights hung from the ceiling over a table that held a pretty menorah as well as a beautifully carved wooden kinara holding the seven candles of Kwanzaa.

  This holiday sentiment was matched throughout the five buildings of LSP and reflected Sutton Taylor’s stated goals of inclusion and celebration of diversity. It had been yet one more facet of life at LSP and one more reason she loved where she worked.

  Could someone who believed so deeply in humanity and culture and individuality be so soulless as to withhold essential drugs for the good of others?

  “Can I help you?” The lone woman smiled, her voice kind as she stood behind her desk, effectively welcoming Bellamy in.

  “I’d like to speak to Sally Borne.”

  “What’s this regarding?”

  “It’s a private matter.”

  There was the briefest flash of awareness in the woman’s bright blue eyes before she nodded. “Let me see if Sally has a few minutes in her schedule. I’ll be right back.”

  Pleasant smile for a watchdog, Bellamy thought.

  The idea struck swiftly and was at odds with the sense of inclusion that had welcomed her into the human resources department.

  The woman disappeared toward a wall of frosted windows that allowed in light but made it impossible to see through. The windows covered what appeared to be one large office that extended across the back of the space. While it was to be expected—Human Resources dealt with any number of private matters—something about the glass made her think of a prison.

  Which only reinforced just how far gone her thoughts had traveled since reading the email.

  This was Human Resources, for Pete’s sake. The department in all of Lone Star Pharmaceutical that was designed to help the employees.

  Bellamy had worked with HR during her flex time requests when she was
caring for her parents and they’d been kind and deeply understanding. They’d been in a different building then, only recently having moved into this space in the main building that housed the LSP executive staff.

  Sally Borne was new to the company, as well. She’d replaced their retiring HR lead in the fall and had already implemented several new hiring initiatives as well as a new employee training program that was rolling out department by department. The woman was a leader and, by all accounts, good for Lone Star Pharmaceutical. Painting her as some fire-breathing dragon behind a retaining wall wasn’t going to get Bellamy anywhere.

  Especially as those waves in her stomach continued to roil, harder and harder, as she waited for the meeting.

  The sensation was so at odds with her normal experience at work. She’d become accustomed to the frustration and fear that came from managing her father’s care, but LSP had always been a safe haven. She loved her job and her work and found solace in the routine and the sense of accomplishment. At LSP, she was in control.

  So why did she feel so out of control since opening that damn email?

  “Are you ready?” The lone HR worker reappeared from Sally’s office, her smile still firmly intact.

  “Thank you.”

  Bellamy ignored the sense of being watched, and headed for the inner domain, hidden along the back wall. There was neither a fire-breathing dragon nor anything to worry about. She’d been sent the suspicious email. Coming to HR was simply about doing her job.

  More, it was about being responsible to it.

  “Hello.” Sally Borne met her at the door, her hand extended and that same bright smile highlighting her face. “I’m Sally.”

  Bellamy introduced herself, then provided a sense of her role in the company. “I’m part of the financial team that manages the process of bringing new drugs to market.”

  “Andrew Lucas’s team?”

  “Yes, Andrew is my boss.”

  Sally nodded and pursed her lips before extending a hand toward her desk. Bellamy followed her, settling herself in a hard visitor’s chair while Sally took her position behind a large oak monstrosity that looked like it belonged in Sutton Taylor’s office.

  Sally scribbled something on a blank legal pad, her attention focused on the paper. “Is Andrew aware you’re here?”

  Bellamy forced a small smile, unwilling to have the woman think she was here to complain about her boss. “Andrew’s not the reason I’m here.”

  “But does he know you’re here?”

  “No.”

  “How can I help you then, Ms. Reeves?”

  The prospect of sharing the details of what she’d discovered had haunted Bellamy throughout the walk from her office to HR, but now that she was here, the reality of what she had to share became stifling. Whether she’d been the intended recipient or not, the information she held was damning in the extreme. Anyone within LSP who would make such a decision or declaration would surely be fired. Worse, the possibility of jail time had to be a distinct consideration. They might be a for-profit company, but they still worked for the public good.

  Was she really sure of what she’d come to discuss with HR?

  Even as she asked herself the question, the memory of what she had read in the email steeled her resolve.

  She was sitting on a problem and rationalizing it away at a personal moment of truth was unfair at best, flat out immoral at worst.

  “I received an odd email today and I felt it was important to discuss it with you directly.”

  “Odd?” Sally’s hands remained folded on top of her desk but the vapid smile that had ridden her features faded slightly.

  “There wasn’t a named sender, for starters.”

  “We have effective spam filters on our email but things can slip through. Do you think that was it?”

  “No, no, I don’t. The email just said ‘internal.’”

  “And no one signed it?”

  “No.”

  Something small yet insistent began to buzz at the base of Bellamy’s spine. Unlike the concern and panic that had flooded her system upon realizing what the email held, this was a different sort of discomfort. Like how animals in the forest scented a fire long before it arrived.

  A distinct sense of danger began to beat beneath her skin.

  “Here. Look at this.” Bellamy pulled the printout she’d made out of the folder she’d slipped it into, passing it across the desk. “If you look at the top, you can see it came from the LSP domain.”

  Sally stared at the note, reading through the contents. Her expression never changed, but neither did that vague sense of menace Bellamy couldn’t shake. One that grew darker when Sally laid the paper on her desk, pushing it beneath her keyboard.

  “This is a poor joke, Ms. Reeves.”

  “A joke?”

  “You come in here and suggest someone’s sending you inappropriate messaging, then you hand me a note that’s something out of a paranoid fantasy. What sort of sabotage are you intending to perpetrate against LSP?”

  “I’m trying to prevent it.”

  “By forging a note and tossing it around like you’re some affronted party?”

  Affronted party? Forgery? The damn thing had popped into her inbox a half hour ago.

  “This was sent to me.”

  Even as Bellamy’s temperature hit a slow boil, Sally Borne sat across from her as if she were the injured party. “Are you sure about that? It would be easy enough to make a few changes in a photo alteration program and muster this up. Or perhaps you’re even more skilled and able to hack into our email servers.”

  “You can’t be serious. I received this email. Pull up the server files yourself if you’re so convinced they’ve been tampered with.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary.”

  Bellamy sat back, her ire subsiding in the face of an even more unbelievable truth. The director of Human Resources didn’t believe her. “You do understand the implications of something like this?”

  “I most certainly do.”

  Although this wasn’t the same as losing her parents, Bellamy couldn’t fully shake the sadness and, worse, the acute sense of loss at Sally Borne’s callous disregard for her word. Her truth. With one last push, she tried to steer the conversation back to steady ground.

  “Who could possibly be sending messages like this? What are they trying to accomplish? And who else might have received something like this?”

  “You tell me.” Sally waved an idle hand in the direction of the email now lodged beneath her keyboard. “You’re the one in possession of the mysterious email. No one else has called me or sent me any others to review.” Sally’s gaze never wavered as she stared back from her side of the large desk, her words landing like shards of ice as they were volleyed across that imposing expanse.

  “Which I’m trying to get your help with. Could you imagine if this were really true?” Bellamy asked, willing the woman to understand the gravity of the situation. “We’d be putting millions of lives at risk.”

  Only when Sally only stared at her, gaze determinedly blank, did the pieces begin to click into place.

  “So it’s true, then? LSP is tampering with vaccines.” The words came out on a strangled whisper.

  “What’s true is that you’re a financial leader at this company determined to spread lies and disruption,” Sally snapped back.

  “I’m not—”

  A brisk knock at the door had Bellamy breaking off and turning to see the same woman from the outer office. “Ms. Borne. Here are the details you asked for.”

  A large file was passed over the desk and Bellamy saw her name emblazoned on the tab of the thick folder.

  Her employment file?

  “Thank you, Marie.” Sally took the folder as the helpful, efficie
nt Marie rushed back out of the office.

  It was only when the file was laid down that Bellamy saw a note on top. The writing was neat and precise and easily visible across the desk.

  10+ year employee.

  Steadfast, determined, orderly.

  Both parents died in past year.

  She was under evaluation here? And what would her parents’ deaths have to do with anything?

  Sally tapped the top before opening the manila file. Thirteen years of performance reviews and salary documentation spilled from the edges, but it was that note on top that seemed to echo the truth of her circumstances.

  For all her efforts to make a horrible situation right, something had gone terribly wrong.

  “Is there a reason you felt the need to pull my personnel file?”

  “A matter of routine.”

  “Oh? What sort of routine?”

  “When an employee is behaving in a suspicious manner, I like to understand what I’m dealing with.”

  “Then you’ll quickly understand you’re dealing with a highly competent employee who has always received stellar reviews and professional accolades.”

  Sally flipped back to the cover, her gaze floating once more over the attached note. “I also see a woman who’s suffered a terrible loss.”

  While she’d obviously registered the note about her parents when the file was dropped off, nothing managed to stick when she tried to understand where Sally was going with the information. “I lost my parents earlier this year.”

  “Both of them.”

  “Yes.”

  “Were they in an accident?”

  “My father has been ill for many years, the repercussions of a serious accident. My mother’s health, unfortunately, deteriorated along with his.”

  “It’s sad.” Sally traced the edge of the damn note again, the motion drawing attention to the seemingly random action. “Illness like that takes a toll.”

  A toll? Obviously. “Dying is a difficult thing. Nothing like the slow fading we see on TV.”