The Intern Diaries Bundle

by D. C. Gomez

  The goal was simple. Ten miles and get it done in eighty minutes. That would translate to an eight-minute mile. I eventually wanted to do my long run in seventy minutes. The good news with running, there was no rush. I had the rest of my life to achieve my goal. Unless somebody killed me first. And with my job, that was a huge possibility. I did a few stretches and took off. I had a road vest on since it was still pretty dark and I didn’t want to get run over by the commuters heading to the Army depot.

  It was almost seven-thirty by the time I made it back to Reapers. It took me longer than eighty minutes, but I found a new little trail past the railroad tracks that was a lot of fun. I made my way through the Reapers security system to find the practice area packed. I guessed I had missed the memo we were having a meeting this morning. Constantine was sitting on top of a bench. Bob was leaning against the weights. Poor Eugene was holding on to the inverted ab bench. I was pretty sure he had no clue what the bench was for. Eric was in as well, looking fabulous in his workout pants. He did have a very sexy butt. The only one missing was Bartholomew.

  “How was your run?” Constantine had a strange habit of never saying good morning. He just started talking.

  “Pretty good. Found a new route.” I spoke to him as I joined the group. Bob threw me a towel, and I started drying my face and hair. I knew I probably stunk, so I stayed a few feet away from the group. “What did I miss?”

  “Eric just finished telling us our dead friend in the lab has not been reported missing.” Constantine made it sound like we had a new visitor, not a corpse.

  “With all the new people in town it’s hard to say, but I don’t think he was local.” Eric sounded disturbed. I wondered if he had ever killed anyone or if this was his first one.

  “Eugene, did you have any luck with our guest?” Hey, I had no issues calling him a guest. It was better than “the dead guy.”

  “Constantine was right,” Eugene began, and I knew that was a bad way to start a sentence. Constantine’s ego would go through the roof. “I found traces of my virus. But that guy had so much other stuff in his system it was impossible to test properly. I tried all night, but couldn’t find a clean specimen.”

  That explained why Eugene looked like hell. Well, now that I noticed, he was wearing the same clothes he had on yesterday.

  “Have you slept, Eugene?” I felt guilty. I was feeling all refreshed, and everyone else looked like hell. OK, everyone except Eric and Constantine. Constantine didn’t count since he never seemed bad after an all-nighter. I wondered if he had other superpowers I didn’t know about. Eugene tried to cover a yawn.

  “Sorry. I thought it was going to be easy. Pull some blood, take a few hair samples—the usual. Nope, not even close. This was awful and disgusting. This is the reason I work with chemicals, not people. People are messy.” Eugene was rambling because he was tired.

  “What do you need?” Besides lots of sleep and a nice meal, that was what I wanted to ask him.

  “We need a live subject. Can you find us one?”

  I didn’t like it when everyone looked at me with expectation. Eugene was serious.

  “Hey, I keep running into them. I’ll grab you one next time.” It was pretty sad, but I meant that.

  “That’s a great plan. Isis, keep an eye out for the Z people.” Constantine was doing his Sphinx pose. “Unfortunately, Bartholomew had the same luck as Eugene. He checked all the available systems, but somehow our little accountant doesn’t have a digital footprint.”

  “What does that mean, boss?” Bob asked Constantine, a little worried.

  “Nothing good. Either she changed her identity or she has a partner. Either way, she’s covering her tracks well. Bartholomew did find the real address for her parents. The one on file was a fake. You will need to visit them, Isis.”

  I wasn’t sure how to feel after Constantine’s news. If she was that good, we were almost chasing a ghost. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the advantage of being able to see her.

  “I can do that right after I’ve showered.” I needed a shower now.

  “We have another lead we want you to follow before your date this morning. Bob knows a guy.” Constantine looked at Bob to continue the introduction.

  “You still want me to go on a date with everything that’s going on?” I asked him. Was this crazy cat serious?

  “Isis is going on a date?” Eric made that sentence sound so incredulous.

  “You’re meeting for lunch, so you can have a date and eat at the same time. That way at least you’re eating something.” Constantine was not helping.

  “Who is the date with?” Eric was not dropping this, even with Constantine ignoring him.

  “A very nice guy. Very respectful, single, no kids, stable job, pays his bills on time, great credit score.”

  I was so grateful I wasn’t the only one staring at Bob after that last comment. Eric and Eugene were also speechless.

  “How do you know all that?” Eugene was the first one to recover.

  “Simple, we ran a background check on him. We can’t have Isis going on a date with some psycho. What kind of family do you think we are?”

  Disconcertingly, I was touched by Bob’s sentiment and scared. With this process, I was never going to have a real date.

  “Is that legal?” It took Eugene a minute to recover before he could speak.

  “Not at all. So let’s pretend I didn’t hear that.” Eric’s cop-mode kicked in. Well, at least I had confirmation that Abuelita was right, and the boys had done their homework.

  “Ignoring the source of information, he sounds pretty normal. How did you guys meet?” Eugene sounded like he was on a dating show.

  “It’s a blind date. Isis hasn’t met him yet. He’s our mailman. He’s harmless.” Constantine had to add that part of the story.

  “Uh, those are awful. Good luck, Isis.” Eugene was genuinely concerned for me. He got tons of points in my book. “Make sure to take my number with you. If he turns out to be a freak, text me, and I’ll call you back. Give you a reason to leave early.”

  I liked that idea. This guy sounded too good to be true; there was something wrong with him.

  “Thanks, that’s a great idea.” I liked Eugene. He would make a great wingman.

  “Isis, please don’t kill him. He’s a civilian.”

  I rolled my eyes at Eric. His moral support was amazing.

  “Great meeting everyone. Eugene, go to bed before you fall on your face.” Constantine was back in his evil dictator mode.

  “Yes, sir,” Eugene replied as he tried to stand up straight. He stumbled a little and Bob quickly grabbed him. I shook my head in panic.

  “Let me help you out, Eugene. Just in case you see the floor coming and you forget to brace yourself.” Bob was guiding Eugene to his place, as Eugene gave him many thanks.

  “It’s a good thing he’s staying on the first floor. He wouldn’t make it upstairs on the stage,” I told Constantine as I watched Bob now dragging Eugene to his apartment.

  “If I remember correctly, Pestilence’s curfew is eight at night with lights out at nine. That poor child is not used to being up all night. He might die this week.” I feared Constantine was right. Eugene looked awful. Another reason I was glad I work for Death.

  “I’ll be running off. I’ll give you a call if I find anything. Isis, don’t kill your date.” Without waiting for a reply, Eric took off.

  “I’m not that bad.” I was pouting again and I didn’t care.

  “You’re not, but weird things do happen when you’re around,” Constantine said.

  “Thanks, Constantine. So who is this guy I’m meeting?” I was ready to focus on work now. My dating life, or lack of it, was not something I enjoyed talking about with everybody.

  “Glad you asked after Eric left,” Constantine quickly replied. I had no idea why Constantine was so happy Eric was gone for this conversation.

  “Eugene did find traces of drugs in the guy’s system. Based on how he was
dressed, Bob thinks he is probably well off. Bob believes this guy he knows might be the potential dealer,” Constantine told me very calmly. I was going to question a drug dealer? Was he kidding?

  “Our theory is the virus is in a drug?” I needed to process all this a little slower.

  “The accountant needs to distribute the virus somehow. Adding it to drugs wouldn’t be too hard. How else would she spread this stuff quickly? My money is on recreational drugs.” That was Constantine’s theory.

  “Makes sense in a horrible way.” The chemist was moving quickly up my list of most dangerous people.

  “Bob is going to text you his address and pertinent details. Hope you’ve rested, Isis. You’re up.” Constantine jumped off the bench and headed upstairs. I slowly followed Constantine. I needed a shower.

  CHAPTER 14

  BE careful what you wish for because you just might get it. I knew exactly the meaning of those words. For the last two days, I felt useless and without a purpose. Now that I had a mission, I realized I had the worst part of the job. The boys’ jobs were the behind-the-scenes stuff. I got face-to-face with all the crazy people of the world. I wasn’t sure how I felt having to interview one of the resident drug dealers in town. This was not the time for whining. On the plus side, maybe this would take a long time and I would miss my date. I prayed for a silver lining.

  According to Bob, the guy he knew lived in the Links. I had never been to the Links. When I first moved to town, the Links were entirely out of my price range. According to their marketing campaign, the Links were luxury apartments on a nine-hole, executive golf course. At the time that meant nothing to me. The complex, a better description of the place, had a swimming pool as well as basketball and tennis courts for its residents to enjoy. Now that I was playing golf, I wouldn’t mind paying the money to live next to a golf course.

  Fortunately the Links was right off I-30 on the Arkansas side and next to the new water park. Besides the location, all I knew about my mystery man was that he drove a red Jeep. Was Bob serious about that? What kind of description was that? I was pretty sure he wasn’t the only person driving a red Jeep in town. For the love of God, we had a Jeep dealership in town. I took a few deep breaths before I really got mad. I hated being lost and in my book, driving around in circles qualified as being lost.

  Thank you, God! I didn’t have to drive around the complex too long before I found a red Jeep. The Jeep was in front of the apartments on the right-hand side of the reception building. If you had children, that side was perfect since they were closer to the water park. I hadn’t noticed but the water park was attached to the new Holiday Inn. Abuelita had told me that in the last five years Texarkana had seen an explosion of hotels on both the Texas and Arkansas side. Some believed it was due to the Army depot employing lots of civilians. I had no clue, but one thing was true—Texarkana had an insane number of hotels and two convention centers.

  I pulled Ladybug into the space next to the red Jeep. I had never been on a stakeout, but I’d learned that the easiest way to blend in was to act normal. Act as if you belong there and nobody ever notices. Driving around in circles and asking for directions was the first sign of being an outsider. I got out of Ladybug and quickly looked around. From the outside, the Links looked like any of the other apartment complexes in town. The main difference—the golf course in between the apartment buildings.

  Apartments here were not like the ones up north. I was used to tall, boxy, run-down buildings—nothing impressive to look at. In Texarkana, the apartments were two-story houses with porches on both floors and usually two to four apartments in each house. Most complexes had a pool, laundry center, playground, and great landscaping. Even the low-end ones were in better condition than most of the apartments in New York City. They were also much bigger. I had cheaper rent and more space in my old apartment in Texarkana than I’d had growing up.

  If this was a luxury complex, I wasn’t sure I was ready to go inside. I was finally getting comfortable at Reapers. Bob said I had to be at the Links at least by nine since his boy started his rounds around nine thirty. He played a round of golf every morning before leaving unless he was playing with a client. I walked around the Jeep and looked inside. The Jeep was immaculate both inside and out. He took care of his vehicle, if this was indeed his. A golf bag sat in the trunk space. Maybe this was the right guy. Granted, I was next to a golf course. Those could belong to anyone.

  My stomach made a rumbling noise. I forgot I had missed breakfast. Bob had left me a lunch bag on the kitchen island and I’d never had time to inspect it. Between Bartholomew and Bob, they made sure to pack my lunches. I was always moved by those small gestures; most people were too busy with their own problems to remember those around them. I grabbed the bag I had thrown in the back seat and opened it up. I was amused. After a lunch fiasco one day, where everyone had grabbed the wrong bag, Bob had decided to take action. He’d brought us all monogrammed lunch bags in our favorite colors. Mine was midnight blue.

  I pulled a veggie burrito with extra cheese from my bag. Bob was extremely obsessive-compulsive when it came to food. He’d started labeling everything, including heating instructions, if he left the meal for the house. We all thought it was pretty funny. He had added grapes, string cheese, chocolate milk, and an oatmeal cookie. My lunch date was scheduled for noon. This was more food than I needed to hold me over for three hours. I took the burrito and milk and leaned on Ladybug, facing the Jeep.

  “Are you lost, miss?”

  I barely had taken a bite of my burrito when I heard the voice. I swallowed quickly.

  “Depends who’s asking,” I replied with a smile on my face. I wanted to come across as harmless.

  “Considering you are staring at my Jeep with a murderous look, I just want to make sure if I should be worried.”

  Well, I’d failed at the harmless look. He unlocked his Jeep with his keys and walked over toward his passenger door. If he was the drug dealer, he was nothing like I expected. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but this tall, sandy-blond-haired, very well-dressed man was not it. He was handsome with blue eyes and dressed in khakis and a polo. Put him in a suit and change the backpack for a briefcase and he could be in the corporate world easily. He looked American apple-pie wholesome.

  “OK, you’re giving me that look now. Can I help you?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m probably at the wrong place.” I was going to kill Bob, sending me on this crazy mission.

  “What are you looking for?” He even had a great voice—strong, confident, and very masculine.

  “Hard to explain. I was looking to buy some stuff.”

  His whole demeanor changed at my words. His face became guarded and hard.

  “Sorry, miss, this is an apartment complex, not Walmart. Good luck with that.” He turned around to walk away. Could he be the drug dealer?

  “James, my man, what’s going on?” I recognized that voice immediately without having to turn around. My favorite informant and Bob’s best friend, Shorty, strolled next to me. “Boss lady, what are you doing here?” He gave me the most surprised look in the world. Shorty’s nickname fit him perfectly. He was a tiny man, around five-four, and maybe 120 pounds fully clothed. When I first met him, he had a crazy look to him. Those witches’ arrivals last fall changed everyone, including Shorty. He was still a little off, but now he looked healthy and a bit more sober.

  “Bob sent me on an errand, but I think he gave me the wrong address.” I was ready to leave. I was feeling foolish here.

  “Shorty, you know her?” James was eyeing us suspiciously from his side of the Jeep.

  “Of course, this is Miss Isis. Big Bob works for her,” Shorty said.

  “Bob doesn’t work for me. He works with me. We have the same employer, remember?” I wanted to clarify.

  “Whatever you say, boss lady. So what are you looking for?” Shorty did not believe me, but I didn’t feel like explaining that in front of Mr. James.

  “Nothi
ng. I was trying to find a supplier.” I was embarrassed to say dealer and supplier sounded a little better, but not by much.

  “Well, you’re in the right place.” Shorty stopped and looked at me carefully, up and down. “I didn’t think you were into that stuff, boss lady.” He was looking very disappointed.

  “I work for Constantine. Do you honestly think he would let me?” I glared back at Shorty.

  “You do have a point.” Shorty broke into a huge smile. If I didn’t know any better, I would have thought Shorty was concerned for my well-being. “What are you looking for?”

  “I need information. I need to know if anyone has been trying to sell any new kind of drugs around town.” That was probably the safest way to explain our dilemma.

  “James, my man, hook her up. She is good people, I promise.” I was staring at Shorty and James. Shorty was my connection to the underground whenever Bob was missing. He was still living on the streets, but at least now he didn’t look like he was dying. Shorty was still shady, so the fact that he and Constantine were my constant references didn’t say much for my character. Maybe I needed new friends. James looked at us for a while.

  “OK, if Shorty says you’re good, I’ll believe him. What exactly are you looking for?” He was still looking at me suspiciously, but at least he was talking.

  “Has anyone come to you offering you a new product or anything like that?” I wasn’t sure what I needed.

  “I have a very exclusive clientele and distribution network. I only meet with appointments and from very respected referrals. I’m not trying to get any of my clients killed. Just help them cope with their daily hell. I don’t do anything stronger than weed.”

  Was James trying to convince himself or me that he was a respectable businessman? I had fairly easy facial expressions to read and I was sure I was giving him a suspicious look because he kept talking. “Don’t get me wrong now; I’m not a good guy. Don’t let the clothes fool you. But I’m a businessman. So, no I haven’t seen or heard of anyone new trying to cut into my market.”

  He waited for my answer. I believed him. Great, he wasn’t it.