Now Augustus had his people looking at how to incorporate beets, carrots, sweet potatoes, and even spinach into some of their other products. Mixing in the tiniest trace amount would allow them to claim a full serving of vegetables with every bag or box sold. Then they could call the product healthy and part of a balanced meal. He could see the money piling up.
And finally there was dessert. From cookies to ice cream and candy and cakes. Modern industrial food had the average consumer’s entire food intake locked down. Those slow food movement people hadn’t gotten very far, and the fruit and vegetable lobbyists didn’t have the clout to compete, not to mention the funding.
Every time they tried to get the government to subsidize fruits and vegetables, Augustus and the others in the industry, including the suppliers of the magic, came together and crushed their efforts. As far as he was concerned, the average consumer would never have fruits and vegetables in their homes. It was all fine and good to send the kid off with an apple or couple of carrot sticks, as long as there was peanut butter or something else equally delicious to dip the fruit and vegetables into.
Gier Foods and others had spent a great deal of money to ensure they didn’t have to list actual amounts of ingredients on their packaging. The ingredients only had to be listed in the order of relative amounts, with the largest first.
As the meeting progressed, the food scientists left and the marketing people came in. His son joined them by phone. He wanted to hire additional social media managers and increase the marketing budget for the next year to expand the ads on the games kids were downloading and playing. Many of the apps were free, and kids quickly became addicted to the games. Ads would pop up intermittently and kids either had to watch them for a certain amount of time or go to the ad before they could continue with the game. They would tie their products into the games and then could say they were cutting advertising to children. It was genius.
Finally it was only the department heads left. Each VP was expected to update Augustus on their challenges.
“Each department will have a performance center challenge for the next quarter. We want to cut extraneous costs, spend as little as possible to get this shit out the door.” He needed to cover the payoff he’d made and additional monies to fund the experimental research study he’d found in Austria.
He turned his attention to acquisitions.
“Where do we stand on the soda issue?”
“I’ve had several discussions, and due to the current debt load, Jenny’s Soda is open to being acquired. As you know, their fruit-flavored soda failed spectacularly this year, and given the amount of money they sunk into the venture, we’ll be able to acquire them for less than we initially projected.”
The meeting wound down. He was pleased with the status of the projects. It had been a good day. Augustus checked his phone and saw that his wife had called. She was feeling better today. Smiling, he turned out the light and went to sleep, his conscience clear.
CHAPTER 21
WILL AND HIS FRIENDS WERE supposed to be at the bar again on Friday night. My plan was to follow them home, kill them while they slept. I had four days to prepare, so the first stop was the sporting goods store. I’d already done all the paperwork weeks ago, so I was just going to pick up my gun. The same man was working, and he smiled, his voice deep and strong when he called out across the store.
“Well hello, little lady. You still having trouble with coyotes?”
“I saw one awfully close to the house the other day, I’m afraid he’ll get Midnight, my cat.” I twisted my hands together, a fretful look plastered on my face.
He placed the Smith & Wesson .22 LR pistol on the counter.
“You better give me three or four boxes of bullets so I can practice. Gosh, I don’t know if I can even hit anything. Is it awfully loud?”
My ex-boyfriend, Jackson, had grown up hunting and I’d almost made a fatal mistake with him. He’d smelled the smoke from the gun on me one night. Someone more suspicious might have figured out what I’d been doing all those nights I wasn’t home. So now, I wanted a gun so word would get around in town—a good thing about small towns, the gossip chain. That way if anyone ever smelled that distinctive scent on me, they’d just think I’d been out target shooting or hunting varmints, as they called them, on my property.
The man held the gun up. “If you can point, you can hit what you’re aiming for. The scope makes it easy as can be for you to hit those vermin. Though it might take a gal like you a bit of practice to hit them when they’re running. This gun’s a good utility weapon, not just for coyotes but any other pests you might come across while you’re jogging.”
See what I mean? Small town, everyone knew I liked to jog, and soon enough they’d hear through the grapevine I’d been to the store, so I’d have to go back to work soon.
My manager would understand me having to run out for a few things. Since I was all alone, there was no one else to go. Still…I’d have to make sure I coughed and looked appropriately pale to make my fake illness believable. On the way home, I’d stop and buy a light foundation. Between it and artfully applied dark circles, it should buy me enough time.
“You need anything else?” He added a few paper targets to my ammo, and when he’d rung up my purchases, he even carried the gun and bullets out to the car for me.
“Now, you feel better. Don’t worry about varmints; you just rest and you’ll be on the mend quick enough.”
“I know I shouldn’t be out, but I couldn’t lose my cat. Don’t worry, I’m going home and going to bed. Sally Ann sent over enough food to feed me for a week if only I could keep anything down.” I coughed and shut the door of the vehicle.
Guessed I better drive to a big-box store a few towns over or everyone would know I was healed. Thirty minutes, I walked through the electric doors, the cold air making me wish I’d brought a sweater. It was hot outside and freezing in the stores. No wonder people got summer colds.
I perused the aisles, but couldn’t find the plastic sheeting.
“Help you find something?”
“I’ve got a couple pieces of furniture I want to refinish, so I need plastic to put down and stuff like that.”
He took me to the aisle and I loaded up on plastic sheeting, plastic trash bags, and a box of plastic gloves. After all, it was always good to be prepared.
There was a grocery store in the same shopping center, and as I waited to check out I heard the cashier talking to the women in front of me.
“Connie, did you hear? That fella who caused so much trouble at Harry’s farm died.”
The other woman frowned. “He was trying to break into old Harry’s offices? Billy, the foreman, called the police and they chased him. The guy tried to beat the train…he lost. Killed instantly, I heard.”
“I don’t understand these hippies, trying to ruin folks’ livelihoods. It’s hard enough for Harry and others like him to make a living. How do these people expect there to be food in the stores if the farms don’t provide the food?” Connie pulled a face at her friend.
The woman with the black Crocs said, “Earl says sometimes you have to get a little rough with the cows and the hogs, get them going. These kids today, so entitled.”
“A bunch of bleeding hearts,” Connie said. “I’d like to see any of them work a farm day in and day out. It’s back-breaking work. They ought to be praising us, not trying to ruin our livelihoods.”
I paid for my food and hightailed it home before some well-meaning person from town came to see how I was doing.
Sam showed me where I could shoot, and promised to keep an eye out for the coyote I’d seen. I really hoped there wasn’t a coyote around. I’d hate for it to get shot because of me. After target practice, I ate lunch did a bit more research. I found out E. coli had the ability to survive in manure, and when the cows stood in their own feces, it got in their hooves. E. coli could also contaminate vegetables, and it could get in the water, sickening people who went swimming. And the
re was a strain of antibiotic-resistant E. coli implicated in several states for causing urinary tract infections. The article went on to say it started in people, moved to pigs, where it became resistant to all the antibiotics used on the animals, and then started to infect humans again.
As I curled up on the sofa, Midnight purring by my legs, I wondered why the government hadn’t done more to protect the consumer. But I kept coming back to money. Instead of coming up with a better system of oversight, many states passed the ag gag laws, as animal rights activists called them.
The law said any undercover video had to be turned over immediately to the authorities. The governor of Kansas signed a bill like this into law back in 1990, and it was apparently the granddaddy of them all. He said he did it to prevent the activists from causing harm to the businesses, yet it seemed to me this was one of the most effective ways for activists to reveal abuse.
Wouldn’t consumers want to know grocery stores were selling bad meat, poultry, seafood, and rat-chewed cheese? Not to mention old processed food? But these laws made that a crime.
I would want to know what went on with my food, but many people obviously didn’t care as long as the food was cheap and plentiful, otherwise the law wouldn’t exist.
CHAPTER 22
IT WAS FRIDAY AND I was ready, my bag and supplies stowed in the car, the guns in a bag hidden under the seat. I’d put on extra makeup and teased my hair to better fit in. And I’d called Caleb, told my manager I was feeling better and was ready to come back to work. He’d already done the shifts for the next week, so I didn’t have to go back until then.
I’d visited Maddy in the hospital. She’d pulled through and was on the mend. Thank goodness for the resilience of kids. The kind nurse let me sneak Midnight in for a visit, and Maddy said it was better than Santa. When I left, I promised to bring the cat next time, along with a few of her favorite snacks.
It was hopping in the bar, the band getting people to dance as the heat seemed to shimmer in the air above everyone. Ted wasn’t working tonight, so there was another bartender on duty, someone I didn’t know. I had already forgotten his name.
“Another beer?”
He slid the icy-cold bottle down to me with a smile.
“Have we met?”
It was Will and he obviously didn’t remember me almost getting blood on him, the drunk. I looked around and spotted all three of his buddies playing pool. The thing within me wanted to kill all of them here and now, witnesses be damned.
“I don’t think so.”
He was already slurring his words, and it wasn’t even eleven yet. With a nod to the bartender, two more beers appeared in front of me, and Will moved into my personal space while I forced myself not to cringe.
“I think you’re the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time.”
“Don’t you say the nicest things?”
He leaned against the bar, his arm touching mine as his eyes tracked every woman in the place. “What is it you do?”
I told him about the store.
“My cleaning lady does the grocery shopping.”
“Must be nice.”
He took my hand in his, stroking my palm as I tried not to snatch my hand away.
“A lady as pretty as yourself, a rare and luminous pearl among women, shouldn’t have such rough hands. You need a man who knows how to take care of you.” He eyed me up and down. “How about we get out of here?”
I pulled my hand away. “Appreciate the drink, but think I’ll pass. Recently ended a relationship and I’m not ready to start anything up yet.”
“Who said anything about a relationship? I was just thinking about a nice way to spend the night.”
“I don’t think so.”
He shrugged good-naturedly and ambled away, a pitcher of beer in each hand.
The bartender scowled at Will’s back.
“Some kind of stuck-up college kid with some long, fancy name. Heard he was doing community service at Blesser. That fancy Audi in the parking lot is his. Rich parents.”
“Daddy probably got him off.”
The bartender grinned. “I heard he hit a school bus, drunk as a skunk. Doesn’t look like it helped much.”
Will left without picking anyone up; instead he and his three buddies left together. They got in the pickup and he followed in the Audi. I’d already seen the trailer, had driven by it twice, so I stayed back. The guys lived in the middle of nowhere, a mobile home all alone in a field, a tornado’s wet dream.
I turned off the headlights and came to a stop in the middle of the road. Just in case, I left it idling, though I hadn’t seen a single car for over ten minutes. I put down all the windows. The guy’s voices carried across the open field. The lights went on in the mobile home, the front door left open so the breeze could blow through the screen. The sound of music and a video game sounded deafening as it broke the quiet of the night.
While I waited, I changed out of my tight jeans, low-cut shirt, and wedge heels, and into my uniform. Black t-shirt, leggings, and a pair of running shoes with 360 miles on them. A half-hour passed. I kept the headlights off and drove closer, making sure to park far enough away that I wouldn’t be seen.
This was the time I wished I was in a big city. I would have felt a whole lot better wearing a disguise and not worrying the entire town could identify me. The plastic on the seats crinkled under my thighs as I shifted in the seat.
I was close enough to smell the beer and pot, heard them yelling over the sound of the video game, and the sound of guns filled the air as each one swore he was the better shot. The video game guns sounded like the real thing.
I woke with a start. I must have fallen asleep. It was quiet, though the lights were still on, the Audi and pickup still parked. Talk about stupid. My assassin never would have made such an amateur mistake.
The car door sounded loud to my ears. I looked around and took a few more steps until I was at the corner of the trailer. The darkness shielded me from view, though I hadn’t seen a single car since I arrived.
Through the screen door I saw two of the guys passed out in recliners, oversized pieces of furniture covered in a brown velour. Will and the other guy were on the brown plaid sofa; one held a video controller in his hand, mouth open and snoring, while Will had a beer bottle between his legs, his chin rested on his chest. They were all asleep. I didn’t know what it was, but there was something about this trailer that reminded me of my first time. Skipper from Wilmington. The beautiful black dog with the warm eyes. I remembered how my body vibrated when I pulled the trigger, like a violinist drawing a bow across the strings. You never forgot your first time.
The first time I pulled the trigger, it was like trying to swim through concrete. But you know, it’s true what they say…practice does make perfect.
And like the shooter on the muted game, I raised my gun, the one with the purple dot, and aimed.
CHAPTER 23
WE ALWAYS THINK WE’RE SAFE. Until we’re not.
I knew the first shot would wake them. All of them were guilty, but the rich kid would get off if he got away. It wasn’t like the first time, back in North Carolina. This time my aim was steady, my breathing calm as the bullet tore through his forehead. There was a puff of red mist and the others startled awake, disoriented. Before the two guys in the recliner knew what was happening, I’d taken out the guy next to Will on the couch. Across from me, one of the guys made it halfway out of the recliner before I put two in his chest.
The last guy, the one I saw laughing when they jumped on the cows, made it outside and down the steps. He was almost to his truck when I shot him in the back. Dispassionately, I watched him struggle to get up as I reloaded and put another bullet in his head. That was the trade-off with a revolver: no shell casings left behind, but fewer shots. I had the other gun in a holster at the back of my leggings, but I wanted to avoid using both guns if at all possible. After all, I might have use of the coral-colored gun.
The darkness
within me roared with pleasure, wanting to rip them to shreds and bathe in the blood of our enemies. My ears were ringing and I heard a whooshing sound. I swore it was the sound of my blood pumping through my veins as I climbed into the car. I’d passed a small pond on the way to the trailer. Where was it? I saw it ahead on the right, stopped the car, and walked through the damp grass to throw the shell casings out into the middle of the water. Avoiding town, I got on the highway and drove until I found an exit with a bunch of food and lodging options. There was a lower-end motel chain, and I pulled into the parking lot, way down at the end, in shadow.
I’d always thought criminals who bragged about the things they had done or took the time to tell their victims why they were going to harm them—they were the dummies who ended up in jail. Not me. I shot and left; no sense telling them why. They already knew death was coming for them, and it was just a matter of when. Those men were evil. I should know; in embracing the darkness, I had become highly sensitive to the wrongness in others.
The dumpster afforded me privacy as I stripped and threw everything into a black trash bag, dousing the contents with bleach and making my eyes water from the smell. Using wipes, I cleaned the red spatter from my face and arms and tossed them as well. The last thing to go in the bag was the plastic sheeting protecting the car and the gloves I’d worn.
The sound of someone coughing made me freeze. But when I peeked around the dumpster, it was a guy smoking by the door. When he finished and went back in his room, I quickly dressed and drove away, my heart beating double time.
Before I got back on the highway, I spied one of those car washes attached to a gas station. I vacuumed out the car, then drove through, washing away any dirt or mud I might have gotten on the Hyundai.
When She Was Bad Page 10