Silent Epidemic (Book 1 - Carol Freeman Series)

by Jill Province

  Carol held out the business card she had gotten from the reporter and dialed the number.  “He is out right now,” a voice explained.  “Do you want to leave a message?” 

  “Sure," Carol said.  “Could you please tell him that his contact person at the drug company is Jerry Owens at 555-2729?” 

  “Got it," the voice said. 

  “Oh, and also tell him that Sheila Montgomery might be another possible contact there." 

  “Okay, I’ll make sure he gets the message," the kind voice assured.

  The newest addition to the newsroom placed the receiver down and smiled.  How lucky could they get?  Only hours after being hired, they had already gotten some valuable information.  The new employee turned and checked to see if anyone had been observing the phone conversation.  No one was close by, and Jason Sample was busy typing away in his cubicle.  This was one message that was not going to get delivered.  The paper with the contact information was folded and tucked away for later.  People are way too trusting, the new member thought, and thank god for them.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

      

  Monday morning at Dominex was a little tense for everyone.  A few employees even called in sick.  The shooting had unnerved them and there was some concern about another attack.  The employees that had been brave enough to come in had been told to sign a sheet and go home.  “It’s a paid holiday," the Human Resources Manager told them.  “This will be national police investigation day."  A few smiled.  Others signed the sheet quickly and went out the door.

  Sheila waited outside the building for Jerry.  “Let’s get some breakfast," she said, linking her arm inside his when he returned from the sign in sheet.  They walked the few blocks to the Waffle House.  It was already after nine-thirty but the place was still fairly busy.  “Don’t these people have jobs?" she complained, while they waited for a table. 

  “Maybe they are all celebrating national police investigation day." 

   Finally, a table was cleared and the two grabbed the opportunity.  “Let’s do something fun today," Jerry suggested. 

  “Besides eating waffles?"  

  “Yeah," he continued.  “Ever been to the Atlanta Zoo?"  

  She just wrinkled her nose at him.  

  “Seriously," he maintained. 

  “Okay, Jerry, if you want to go to the zoo, what the hell.  It’s not like we had anything big planned today." 

  “The enthusiasm," Jerry remarked. “It’s overwhelming." 

  The waitress came over to fill coffee cups.  

  “Two waffles?" Jerry inquired in Sheila’s direction. 

  “Definitely," she confirmed.  “This is turning out to be a pretty good day," he said, reaching over the table for her hand.  

  In the booth on other side of the restaurant a young reporter was on the first day of the job.  The individual took note of the closeness between the two Dominex employees.  At a glance, one would just assume that two people who worked together would easily form a relationship, the reporter thought.  But isn’t the union between these particular employees interesting.  The reporter continued to sip coffee, until the couple left the restaurant.  A few dollars were plunked down on the counter, and the couple was followed out the door.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  When Carol arrived home from work she headed to the dining room table to the check mail.  Instead of mail she found a pile of monopoly money with a note on the top of the pile.  You have struck it rich.  You may now quit your job and pass go.  No need to collect two hundred dollars, you have plenty of cash.  Love, Josh

  “What does this mean?" Carol asked Josh after finding him in the storage shed.  He was putting up the last of the tools when he turned around. 

  “How much do you get paid at the nut house?" Josh questioned. 

  “Twenty six-five, and don’t call it a nut house." 

  “I meant your co-workers, not the patients," he added. 

  “Josh," Carol said with an added edge to her voice. “What does this mean?" 

  “Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together?" he joked, knowing he was pushing his luck to the end of her patience. 

  “J.F.," she announced. The cue of a final warning.

  “Okay, okay," Josh laughed.  Carol couldn’t help but smile herself.  There had been so little happiness lately. 

  Josh took her by the hand and led her back inside the house.  Sitting down at his computer he pulled up a screen and pointed.  “Okay, we got in here," indicating one place on the screen, “and we got out here," again pointing to a spot on the screen.  Carol just looked at him and shrugged her shoulders.

  “Again," she said, holding up the note, “What are you telling me?" 

  “I am telling you that we made over twenty-eight thousand dollars today."  

  Carol just looked at him with her mouth open. 

  “Are you serious?"  

  “Totally!"

  Carol got up and, despite her exhaustion, she grabbed Josh’s hand and pulled him up to dance with her.  “You seem disappointed," he said jokingly.  

  Carol continued to dance around the room until her energy gave out.  She sat back down breathlessly and said, “This is incredible!" 

  “Yes it is," he agreed, feeling very pleased with himself. 

  “This makes my decision to leave the nut house so much easier to live with." 

  “Don’t call it a nut house," Josh said. 

  “I meant my co-workers, not the patients." 

  “Consider this Dominex Pharmaceutical’s settlement fee." 

  “This was Dominex’s stock?" she asked in amazement. 

  “Yeah, that shooting incident scared a few people," he explained, “and I’m guessing there will be more where this came from." 

  “You mean the stock could do this again?" she questioned. 

  “If their precious drug doesn’t hit the shelf in six weeks, yeah, I think their stock will dive into the basement." 

  “How much would we make?" Carol asked excitedly. 

  “I couldn’t even venture a guess," Josh stated.  Carol continued to look at him. 

  “Enough to retire," he said, finally. 

  “That would be the ultimate irony."

  * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Sheila and Jerry strolled hand-in-hand through the zoo grounds.  It was a perfect Georgia spring day.  Everything was blooming and the animals were especially active with spring in the air.  They had been on stage ever since the couple had arrived.  Sheila was surprised at what a good time she was having.  She had gotten so caught up in the atmosphere, she had completely forgotten about all the problems waiting for her.

  “Want to get an ice cream cone?" Jerry offered. 

  “That would be perfect," she said.  “You know after today’s calorie intake, I won’t be able to eat for a week." 

  “I hope you’re kidding," Jerry said, handing the man two dollars. 

  “How else do you think I stay so thin?" she joked, pushing him slightly as they walked away. 

  “Let’s sit," he directed, and found the nearest bench.  The two sat in silence watching the passersby. 

  “This is the most fun I have had in a long time," Sheila conceded. 

  “See, I told you," he said.  “Let’s never go back to Dominex again.  We can get jobs here at the zoo." 

  “Doing what?" she laughed.  “Cleaning poop out of cages?" 

  “Well, I had something more glamorous in mind, like maybe lion tamer." 

  “I think it’s safer at Dominex," she retorted, “but only marginally." 

  They continued to stroll the grounds, joking and laughing, until they had seen everything there was to see.   It was getting close to evening and the temperature was beginning to drop.  Jerry suggested they go to a pizza place.  “
I have a better idea," she announced.  “There is a great take out place just down the street from my complex.  We can kick off our shoes and curl up with some really stupid sitcoms.” 

  “That sounds perfect." 

  Since they had taken public transportation to the zoo they had to resort to the same to get home.  MARTA was packed solid, due to the time of day.  “We might have planned our departure a little better," Jerry said. 

  “I actually forgot it was a work day," Sheila laughed.    

     

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

   

  Donovan was seeing the last patient of the day while Sally placed the last of the Dominex patients’ files back in their respective places.  She had not been happy about the recent spotlight and told Donovan that this was the last time they would help the drug company put the pieces of their study back together.  This recent cleanup had not been out the goodness of her heart.  They had to clean up their own mess and subsequent connection to the Dominex fiasco, regardless of whether or not they continued doing business with them.  But since the only thing required of them now was pretty much straightforward treatment, she did not put the brakes on.  It would have been far worse from a perception standpoint to pull out now, anyway.

  The back line began to ring and Sally grabbed it.  The office staff was already gone and the phone lines had been forwarded to the answering service.  Only a few people had the “back door,” number.  

  “Hey, Sally," a familiar voice greeted. 

  “Hey, Jeff," she said, not hiding her irritation. 

  “Listen, you guys did a great job," he continued.  “The police have been all over this place today and the detective told me that Sanders’s chart appeared complete, so there won’t be any further investigation.” 

  “Thank God for that," she said letting out a long breath. 

  “The other thing I’m calling about," Jeff added, “is that we are having one last ‘damage control,’ meeting in the morning.  The police are all finished here, so tomorrow will be business as usual." 

  “What time?" Sally asked flatly. 

  “Say, eight."  

  “The doctor will be there," Sally said, “but I will have to open up the office." 

  “Great," Jeff concluded.  “And Sally… Thanks again for all your hard work.  We will make it up to you." 

  “I’m counting on it," she countered humorlessly, and hung up.

  “Who was that on the phone?" Donovan said after ushering the last patient out the door. 

  “Your partner in crime."  

  “What do they want us to do now, sprout wings and fly?" Donovan laughed. 

  “Don’t get me started," Sally warned.  “I’m tired and cranky." 

  “Right," he said, losing the smile.  

  Sally recapped the phone conversation and filled him in on the meeting time in the morning. 

  “I’ll be there," he said. 

  “Somehow, I knew you would be." 

     

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

    

  Tuesday morning, Jerry arrived back at work alone.  He had returned home late the previous evening.  They were taking things slowly, although it was getting more difficult to leave Sheila’s apartment at the end of the day. 

  All the yellow tape had been removed.  As he walked through the building on his way to his office, everything appeared normal.  There was no indication of any recent drama.  Still, he had a strange feeling about the place.

  When he opened his office door, he knew why.  The entire room had been ransacked.  All his drawers and files had been emptied out on the floor.  His coat closet had been opened and all its contents were in a pile on the floor.  Someone had even removed the loose floorboard in the closet that he had been after maintenance to fix.  “Wow," Jerry said, looking around the entire room.  They had been very thorough.  When Sheila said they didn’t have much time, she was right on target.  Shit, Sheila.  Jerry turned quickly and went down the hall to Sheila’s office.  He wanted to run but realized the need for some discretion.

  He found Sheila sitting at her desk, looking at the piles of papers and files thrown everywhere.  The condition of her office was identical to his, minus the removed floorboard.  She looked up when Jerry opened her door.  “This is incredible," she said.  “I called Sam, but his secretary said he was in an important meeting.  How the hell can they explain this?" 

  “With proven grace," Jerry answered.  He was beginning to feel his anger kick in. 

  “And if they think I’m cleaning this up, they’re nuts!" 

  Jerry walked in and sat in the chair facing her.  “If ours are the only offices that have been torn up, then they know," he speculated. 

  “It wasn’t that hard to figure out," Sheila interjected.  “We know for a fact that they were on to me.  Why else would they have sent me to Newark?" 

  “Yeah, and they already knew I had received a call from one of the volunteers," Jerry added. 

  “The information you got in that phone call was pretty explicit," Sheila said.  Jerry chewed on the problem for a minute.

  “But this," he said, indicating the mess, “implies that they think we have been aggressively pursuing it." 

  “Yeah," Sheila, agreed.  “This is not good."  She began putting things back in her drawer. 

  “What are you doing?" Jerry asked. 

  “Cleaning up after a robbery," she said casually.  “And you should probably not be camped out in here.  We will be shocked and appalled.   Anything else implies guilt." 

  “You’re pretty good at this," Jerry said, heading for the door. 

  “You have no idea."  

  “Oh, Sheila," he added before opening the door.  “I don’t want you going home alone tonight." 

  “Right," she conceded.  “I’ll meet you at the Wendy’s down the street at five-thirty, okay?" 

  “Good girl," he said and was out the door.

    

  Down the hall from Sheila’s office, Sam was deep in debate with attorney Paul Pratt, Jeff Edwards, George Donovan, and a visitor from the Atlanta Journal Constitution.  Also present was Charles Roman, by his own insistence. 

  “There can’t be one more moment of investigation.  Do you understand me?" Sam directed.  

  The AJC plant nodded in agreement. 

  “I can’t be everywhere all the time, the reporter stated, “but I’m already pretty connected with the two that are working on your story." 

  “How did you manage that?" Paul inquired. 

  “I’m young and eager.  They are mentoring me." 

  “Good," Sam concluded.  “This must die quietly.  On top of everything else that is going on right now, the FDA has demanded that we submit whatever test results we have so far.” 

  “Can they do that?" Jeff asked. 

  “They can pretty much do whatever they want," Sam said bitterly. 

  “Well, almost anything," the attorney chimed in.  “We will be insisting on due process when the time comes.” 

  “In English," Charles interjected. 

  “It means that they can’t require anything of us that has not been required of past or current research studies done by other companies.” 

  “Thank God for the legal system," Sam concluded.  “Jeff and I will take care of sending off the current data this week.  Now, what are we going to do about Sheila and her side kick?" he asked, laying copies of both employees IDs out on the conference table.  He then turned and gave Charles a hard stare. 

  “She is a good Marketing Director," Charles said, defensively. 

  “She’s also a pain in the ass," Jeff interjected. 

  “How much can they possibly know?" Charles countered. 

  “They know that a lot of the volunteers had to drop out," Jeff began by holding up one finger.  “They know that the r
eally sick ones were shuffled off to the doctor," he added, showing fingers indicating two.  “And three, they know that the treatment those people received was a scam.  How much more do they need to know before we consider them a huge liability?" 

  “Jeff, take a breath," Sam directed.  “We didn’t find anything in their offices." 

  “That doesn’t mean much," Paul interjected.  “If someone had wanted to keep close tabs on those people, they could have done a lot of damage."  The room became silent. 

  “If we fire them it will look damn suspicious," Sam stated. 

  “Well, we know they have been traveling around together," Donovan interjected examining copies of their employee IDs.    Everyone turned to look at the doctor. 

  “How do we know that?" Jeff inquired. 

  “Because I practically ran over them at the French Onion Friday night."    

  “I didn’t see them there," Jeff said. 

  “They were leaving as Sally and I were coming in.  They were gone before you got there." 

  “And you had no idea who they were until you saw the IDs," Jeff added. 

  “I have been tailing them as well," the AJC reporter agreed.  “They have been joined at the hip since she got back from Newark." 

  “Fine," Charles said, noticeably red in the face, “but that still doesn’t prove anything." 

  “Two separate accidents would be a hell of a coincidence," Sam began. “But only one, involving two people…” 

  “Oh come on," Charles argued.  “I can’t even think about something like that." 

  “Listen man,” Sam said.  “If she were fat, ugly, and not one of your previous girlfriends, you wouldn’t think twice about it."  The gloves were off.  He didn’t have time to coddle this man. 

  Everyone sat staring at the Charles Roman, wondering how he was going to respond to such a direct statement.  “Tell you what," Charles said, standing for effect.  “I am still the CEO of this company.  I sign your paychecks," he stated, pointing to everyone in the room.  “Including yours," he added, indicating the AJC plant.  “No one is going to be murdered on my watch." 

  “Fine," Sam conceded, a little taken back by this return to his previous assertiveness.  “We’re open for suggestions."  

  Everyone remained quiet, not wanting to get in the middle of the newly developed power struggle. 

  “Right now," Charles directed, “you will do nothing.  As far as further action, you will have my decision by the end of the day.  Are we all clear?"