A Taste of Tragedy (4 page)

Morgan downed her third cup of coffee, needing the caffeine to counteract the lack of sleep. It had been a very short weekend, and not at all as relaxing as she had envisioned. She didn’t reach Sedona until late on Friday night, and after reading the documents she found copied onto the hidden flash drive by her predecessor, it had taken her hours to clear her mind enough to sleep.

Saturday and Sunday flew by in a flurry of cleaning and conducting a few minor repairs. She changed a couple burnt out light bulbs, replaced a piece of screen some desert rodent chewed through, and unsuccessfully tried to get the Jeep running. Despite keeping busy, she was unable to rid her mind of the bothersome thoughts floating through her head.

Sunday night was basically nonexistent. Even though she had gone to bed early, the knowledge that she had to get up at 4:00 a.m. Monday morning in order to make it back to Phoenix in time for work and would need to meet with Preston Hoyle about the files kept her from truly sleeping.

Now, she sat at her office desk staring at the tiny device resting on her palm, listening as the building slowly came to life. After a few moments, she inserted the drive into her work computer. One-by-one, she pulled up the three files and printed them out.

The first was an e-mail to Stan Jacobson from Dexter Fowler, an analyst at Smith & Brown Consumer Analytics and Product Testing, dated six months earlier. The message stated that MFHG3, the new sweetener GCF had begun using nearly a year ago, seemed to stimulate the appetite rather than curb the appetite, which shouldn’t happen since GCF claimed the product contained hoodia
gordinii
. He noted that he had only been able to isolate trace amounts of
steroidal glycosides, indicating the amount of hoodia in the product was far less than claimed. He also detected an unknown synthetic with similar properties to the plant’s active ingredient, possibly being used as a non-natural substitute for hoodia
. Further testing was needed, but Dexter recommended GCF cease using the product until he obtained more conclusive data.

The second e-mail, dated five months ago, confirmed Dexter’s original findings and alluded to issues of much greater concern. He reiterated his earlier warning to quit using the product.

In the third e-mail, dated just over three months ago, Dexter stated that MFHG3, if used in sufficient quantity over an extended period of time, not only stimulated the appetite, but was also highly addictive. He also believed that the unusual synthetic he detected could possibly be carcinogenic, but absolute confirmation was beyond his level of expertise and the sample would need further testing from someone with more specialized experience. He stated he wouldn’t be able to meet with his supervisor for several weeks since the head of testing was currently at a conference and wouldn’t return until after Dexter got back from vacation. If his supervisor agreed with his initial assessment, they would have no choice but to report the findings to the appropriate government agencies.

Morgan wasn’t sure how to proceed. Stan must have kept this information to himself, since the sweetener was still in use. If he had gone to Preston Hoyle, the product would have been pulled. Smith & Brown apparently didn’t report the product’s issues or the sweetener would have been discontinued, and she would have heard about it. Bad news in the industry always traveled fast.

The only other scenario she could imagine, which she prayed had no merit, was that Stan had told Preston, and that’s why he was gone, along with all his work. She couldn’t ignore the e-mails, but she had a bad feeling her tenure with GCF was going to be very short, no matter how she handled the situation.

Taking a deep breath, Morgan pressed the button on her phone, calling Aaron.

“I need to talk to Mr. Hoyle as soon as possible. Rearrange my schedule to make it work if needed, it’s important.”

“What shall I tell his assistant this is concerning?”

Morgan thought for a moment, not sure how much she should divulge to Aaron, but knowing how diligent assistants were about vetting what was or wasn’t truly important before allowing meetings with their bosses.

“Some troubling communications Stan Jacobson left behind,” Morgan stated, hanging up before Aaron could press her for more.

It took several minutes before Aaron rang back. “I’m sorry, but the best I could do is 5:00 p.m. and he only has thirty minutes available. His in-laws are still in town. I told his assistant it was very important that you speak to Mr. Hoyle as soon as possible and asked her to call if anything changes throughout the day and a few minutes open up at an earlier time.”

“That will have to do. Thanks for trying.”

Not knowing what else she could do about her concerns at the moment, Morgan decided to head down to the factory and visit with Wiley Hartman. As long as she had a job, she would focus on her goals of increasing profits, which entailed learning as much as possible about the production process and trying to identify if there were any places to streamline operations.

Donning the lab-type coat required in the food processing area, she locked the printed exchange between Stan Jacobson and Dexter Fowler in her top desk drawer and locked her computer. Leaving the posh confines of her corporate office, she headed for the sterile environment of the manufacturing facility
.

“What are you smiling about?” Nick asked as Devyn approached his desk.

“When I told Conroy that
Sacramento
was the only one who couldn’t get the local investigator to cave, he called
Sacramento
’s SAC. Conroy explained to him that even though Smith & Brown is located in California, the incident happened in Utah, so anything involving the local investigation should now be ours, including rattling the investigator’s cage,” Devyn responded as she slid a hip onto Nick’s desk and picked up the mariachi-themed gnome with a guitar slung over its shoulder.

“So does this mean we’re taking a drive up into the canyon?” As he spoke, Nick took the figurine from her hand and returned it gently to his desk.

“What’s with the gnome, and what’s supposed to be in his empty extended hand?”

“Nothing. Stay on topic, Devyn.”

“You won’t even let me touch it. I heard that
Gardner
hid it once and sent you a ransom note as a joke. Rumor has it that he showed up at work with a black eye he claimed he got from a falling branch while trimming trees in his backyard, and the gnome was returned.”

“I’m sure the two events were in no way connected. He just had a change of heart and apparently, he’s not much of a handyman. So, who responded to the incident—the local marshal’s office or the County Unified Police Department Canyon Patrol?”

Devyn knew the gnome discussion was over, since it wasn’t the first time she had tried to find out what the creepy little guy’s significance was to Nick. She dropped the subject, for now.

“Both responded to what was reported as an accident, but an officer from the Unified Police filed the official report. I didn’t tell anyone we’re coming since people seem to disappear whenever we want to talk about the incidents. I did verify, though, that Officer Moody, who investigated the Dexter Fowler fatality, is on duty today. I requested a copy of the autopsy from the county medical examiner, which should be here by the time we get back. I also did a little digging into Moody’s bank accounts and looked for any recent large deposits or purchases. I didn’t find anything unusual. Maybe he’s just a little smarter and a lot more cautious than the others.”

“Let’s hope so. The investigator for the Kathleen Parker incident shook my confidence in law enforcement when he tried to put five grand in cash down on a car right after being questioned by the FBI,” Nick replied as he grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.

The drive to the precinct headquarters of the Unified Police, which had handled the report for the ski incident involving the Smith & Brown analyst, went quickly. Devyn and Nick didn’t bother to discuss their plan since it was becoming predictable. Nick would do most of the talking with the precinct commander. If they had to resort to the clichéd “good cop bad cop” routine when talking to the investigator, they both knew who would assume the bad cop role.

They entered the precinct building and Nick flashed his badge and a killer smile at the woman behind the glass. She smiled back and batted her eyes at Nick while ignoring Devyn. After Nick explained to the woman in his smooth deep voice why they had come and who they were looking for, she made a call and then ushered them to the commander’s office.

Devyn often wished she had the skills to charm people into cooperating, but she just didn’t have the patience. The trait was one of many that made Nick such a good partner. He oozed charisma. Sometimes, they needed to force the issue, and that was more her forte. They complemented each other.

“Special Agent Nick
Melonis
, and my partner, Special Agent Devyn Nash,” Nick stated with a nod in Devyn’s direction.

Devyn shook the commander’s hand and listened as Nick explained why they had come. He asked to speak to the officer who investigated the skiing fatality and to examine any physical evidence recovered from the scene.

“Next time I’d appreciate a call first. I could have made sure the investigator was in the office when you arrived. Fortunately, he’s not too far off. I’ll have someone escort you down to the evidence room and you can take a look at what we have while you’re waiting. I’m afraid there’s not much. I recall we boxed up any pieces of the skis we could locate, and that was about all there was to collect. A guy skiing way too fast in rugged and steep out-of-bounds terrain hits a tree and breaks his neck. It seems like a pretty clear cut accident, but I always believe in cooperation. If you want to rehash the incident, be my guests,” the commander stated in a matter-of-fact yet professional tone.

“As Agent
Melonis
stated, there have been a number of incidents tied to research and pharmaceutical companies that have turned out to be crimes and not accidents. We’re just following up to make sure all related incidents are truly accidents,” Devyn replied.

The commander shrugged his shoulders and then picked up the phone and issued several requests. Shortly after he hung up, a woman in uniform entered the room and asked Devyn and Nick to follow her.

“Thank you for your assistance,” Nick said as he and Devyn followed the officer from the room.

After going through several doors and down a couple hallways and a flight of stairs, they reached the evidence storage area. The first small room contained a large table and a smaller stand-up style desk with a computer. The wall separating the first room from the larger storage area had a wide window which allowed them to see inside the evidence room without going inside.

The officer who escorted them typed a few commands into the keyboard. She jotted down a number sequence and punched a security code into a pad next to the door leading into the storage room. She quickly retrieved several boxes labeled with the same string of numbers from the well-organized shelves lining the room and then placed them on the table in the outer room.

“Just push this button by the door if you need anything else or when you’re done,” she stated as she turned to leave.

“Not much of a bedside manner,” Devyn grumbled as the outer door shut behind the officer.

“What, you don’t find her pleasant? I thought she’d be a kindred spirit.”

Devyn scowled at Nick for a moment before pulling the lids off both cardboard boxes. Each contained pieces of skis ranging from a few inches to over a foot in length. A pair of ski boots poked through the debris in the bottom of one box, but there was little else.

“The commander wasn’t joking about there not being much to look at,” Devyn stated as she picked out one of the larger pieces and examined it. “You take that box.”

“Might as well. Even though I doubt there’s anything worthwhile in these boxes of scraps, we don’t have anything else to do while we wait for Moody.”

Nick pulled out several small pieces of what were only vaguely recognizable as part of a ski. He shook his head in disbelief. “I can’t imagine how fast this guy must have been going to hit a tree with such velocity that it nearly shattered his skis. I can see how impact with a tree could break bones, including his neck, but the body would take the brunt of the force, not the skis. If the fronts rammed the tree, they’d snap, but multiple breaks behind the bindings don’t make a lot of sense.”

“Unless it wasn’t the force of the impact that busted up the skis,” Devyn replied. “Here, look at this.”

She turned one of the boots upside down and pointed with the tip of her pen at a dark substance embedded in the grooves on the bottom of the boot. Lifting the other boot, she noticed the same substance in the indentations.

“It could be just mud or dirty gum.”

“Could be, but what do you want to bet that no one had it tested to be sure?” Devyn replied as she dug through the box and retrieved the pieces with the bindings. A similar dark substance remained embedded in the crevices. “Since the gunk is in both boots and bindings, I doubt it is gum.”

Before Nick could reply, the door opened.

“Officer Moody—the commander said you wanted to see me concerning the skiing fatality we had this past ski season. I got a call from a Sacramento FBI agent several days ago and I told him all I know. I’m not sure what else I can add.”

Devyn studied the man. He didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by a visit from the FBI. He looked fit, still had all his hair, and wore a wedding band. She pegged his age to be late-forties.

“I’m not sure how much that agent told you, but there have been a lot of accidents and fatalities afflicting employees in the research and pharmaceutical industries. Upon further review, the deaths turned out to be murder.”

“He didn’t mention there were other cases, but that doesn’t change the fact that this was just a skiing accident. We see our share every winter, so I’ve got a lot of experience in this area.”

“Did you have this substance tested?” Devyn asked as she flipped one of the ski boots over and pointed to the dark gunk embedded in the grooves.

Moody studied the goo for a moment. “Probably just mud.”

“So I’ll take that as a no?”

“Look, lady, we responded to a joint emergency call with the local marshal’s office, which we often do. We both arrived on scene about the same time. The ski area’s EMTs were already there. By the time I arrived, the man had been pronounced dead. I took pictures, took the report, and then we just boxed up all this stuff, and here it is. I had no reason to analyze anything. It was just an accident. We see it all the time. Joe Racer can’t let go of his youth and tries to take a run that maybe he could have done fifteen years ago, but he’s aged. There’s a reason the area he was skiing is off-limits. It’s dangerous terrain.”

Nick nudged Devyn aside, doubting she was pleased by the “look, lady” comment and the condescending tone of Moody’s voice. He didn’t particularly want to witness her response.

“Were there any witnesses?” Nick interjected.

“Nope, it was very cold, early morning, and he was out of bounds. Only the die-hards were out and none saw the accident happen.”

Devyn forced her way around Nick. “Listen, Moody, in those other cases we mentioned, it turned out all the investigating officers had been paid off to file sloppy, incomplete, or bogus reports. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what kind of trouble those officers are in. You’re the last hold-out that we’re aware of, so you can either fess up now, or you and every family member, friend, and casual acquaintance is going to be under twenty-four-seven surveillance. If one unaccounted for dime is spent, we’ll be all over you. And if you try to launder your ill-gotten gains through family or friends, I may go after them as accessory after the fact.”

Moody’s face turned red and Nick was afraid Devyn had pushed the officer too far. He knew it was time to step in and play his role.

“We know that most of the officers’ families were threatened if they didn’t play ball. Though not defensible, we do understand. I can see you’re married. You got any kids?”

Nick’s softer, reasonable tone seemed to calm Moody. “Two daughters and a son. My oldest starts college next year, and then we’ve got another heading off every two years after that.”

“We also know that none of the officers sought out the situation, all had squeaky-clean service records, and all were targeted, likely because of circumstance similar to yours—families to threaten, legit personal financial concerns, and respected in their departments. Bypassing a thorough investigation for what likely could have been just an accident probably seemed pretty harmless at the time.”

Nick amazed Devyn at times like this. As he talked to Moody, his concern and understanding seemed so real. She could visibly see the fight drain from Moody’s body, so she held back and watched her partner work.

“If your family was threatened, we can help. The FBI has a lot of resources, but your family isn’t going to be the last one in danger if we can’t stop whoever is behind some pretty horrific crimes. I feel confident you wouldn’t compromise yourself for money, but I have no doubt you would do whatever it took to protect your family. I also sympathize with college expenses. It took me years to pay off my mountain of student loans. Unfortunately, I’m afraid if we haven’t wrapped this up by tuition time, those payments will be scrutinized and you’ll have to disclose where the money came from.”

Moody sat down at the table and placed his head in his hands. After several moments, he looked up, and the pain in his eyes reached Devyn’s heart.

“I’m so sorry about all of this, Officer Moody,” Devyn stated. “We didn’t come here on a witch-hunt. We’re just trying to locate some very dangerous people.”

He nodded and picked up the phone sitting on the table. “Commander, there’s something I need to say and I want you to hear it.”