Where Rivers Part (31 page)

Her father turned his attention back to Oliver. “And at some point, your wife became concerned about some test results?”

“Gravely concerned. By that time, she'd attended some food safety conferences and had studied industry publications.” He looked to her father. “Some authored by you, Dr. Ryan.”

Normally, a compliment directed at her father would've sparked resentment on her part. But now she found herself feeling pride. Likely her father's notoriety had moved Oliver to meet with them. And she was grateful.

“My wife knew any food product held some risk, and that proper precautions had to be taken to keep the public safe.” He pushed his plate back, apparently no longer hungry. He looked at her dad, then back at her. “Granted, all this is fairly over my head, but I know what she told me.”

“Which is?” she urged.

“Malcolm warned her some tests were coming in with suspicious counts. Robin did some research and concluded there might be a problem where they were sourcing the water. She reported that concern to Alexa.”

Juliet laid down her fork. “I was told Robin experienced some issues with her pregnancy about that same time and often missed work.”

Oliver shook his head, looking disgusted. “I can assure you my wife missed very little time at work. In fact, I begged her to stay home and off her feet. I wanted her to follow her doctor's instructions.” His eyes filled with pain. “Instead, she stormed ahead and worked herself to the bone trying to get support for addressing what appeared to be a risky proposition. She wanted to halt production for several days, until she could invite someone more qualified to help her further assess the situation.”

Her father's eyebrows drew into a frown. “And?”

“And she met with unbelievable resistance. Two days later, she was terminated over the phone. She was never even allowed back in. The company packed her things and had them delivered to the house.”

The statement caused Juliet's breath to catch. This information was not what she wanted to hear.

Her fingers worked the skin at her throat. If the company sent everything home without giving Robin a chance to collect the important records, this meeting was for naught. She was in real trouble.

In the very near future, she expected to be called to testify at administrative hearings before the CDC officials. There would be prosecutors present, ready to pounce. Right now, all she had was testimony, hers and others. Without some proof to back up her innocence, she'd be paddling a treacherous current with bare hands.

Her father knew it too. “Robin didn't have a chance to stow away any proof to back up her allegations?”

Oliver leaned back, looking at both of them with eyes still somewhat wary. “Like, what kind of proof you talking about?”

Her dad pushed his plate back. He leaned his arms over the table and gave Oliver an earnest look. “Look, I'm not the kind of guy who likes to dance around issues. My girl here is in some real trouble. We need any of your wife's handwritten notes, any logs or emails . . . anything that would help back up our position and clear Juliet's name. And Robin's,” he skillfully added. “What we really need is information relating to the tests Robin was concerned about.”

Juliet pulled a copy of the analysis report from her bag and handed it across the table to him. “I audited the company records. Oddly, nothing was out of order. All the counts are within standard. How can that be, given what you are telling us?”

Oliver examined the analysis report, his face darkening. He handed the paper back and turned to her father. “So, what happens if you find proof?”

“We'll take them down—Alexa Carmichael and Greer Latham, and anyone else found to be a part of their neglect and greedy schemes.”

Juliet bit at the inside of her cheek. She prayed Cyril Montavan was not a part of any of this. She didn't think so, but then she'd severely miscalculated Greer Latham's character.

Her father drew a deep breath. “And we'll clear your wife's reputation in the process. No telling what lies they've spread, and to whom.” He leaned back, apparently hoping his last comment had sealed the deal.

Oliver's hand reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “Then I guess you'll be needing this.” He extracted a folded-up paper, opened it, and placed it on the table in front of her father.

Juliet saw a smile dawn on her dad's face. He nodded. “Yes, that's exactly what we need,” he said. Now grinning, he handed it to her.

The analysis report was shocking. The counts showed that the water was clearly adulterated with high levels of Shiga toxin–producing E. coli. Given the sanitary measures in place inside the company, the contamination likely came from the extraction site. Although rare, runoff from nearby land surfaces sometimes found its way into an underground spring, exposing the water to deadly pathogens originating in animal feces. Media around the country reported findings in underground springs located near zoos or running through cattle pastures.

At these high levels, no process could guarantee 100 percent elimination of the deadly pathogens. Which was why Larimar Springs should have pulled the product from distribution.

More importantly, the date of the report matched the period of time Alexa was courting Cyril Montavan's capital infusion. The crafty owner of Larimar Springs had taken a chance, not wanting to risk even the slightest hint of a problem with their source water during critical negotiations with her financial benefactor.
She'd taken steps to eliminate Robin from the scene, cutting possible exposure of her decision to place her financial interests above consumer health.

Greer had discovered Juliet that day at the golf course and delivered her résumé to Alexa, who quickly extended an offer of employment. She'd wanted someone with high credentials to cover her tracks, leaving Montavan International and the public with the mistaken impression that the company placed product safety high in their company priorities.

Sadly, the pallets were stored in the warehouse, waiting for an opportune time to destroy the bottles of tainted water without anyone finding out. In the mayhem of increased production requirements for the expanded Water Circus account, the product was distributed.

Alexa's decision had set up the perfect storm. And in the aftermath of that hurricane, first Robin's and then Juliet's career was strewn and left in pieces. Lives of families were shattered. Including Tavina's.

And Oliver's.

She held the report in her shaking hand, knowing it also proved someone inside the company had created an altered version. She wasn't an attorney, but that would likely prove intent. Nothing about any of this was an accident.

“The original is in my safety deposit box.” Oliver slid his wallet back in his pocket. “I have something else I think you'll find interesting—and useful.” His voice seemed to choke with emotion.

She couldn't help it. Her hand slid over his.

“After you called the first time, I sat rocking Amy, who's nearly two now. Anyway, I got to thinking about the commercial deals, the industrial warehouses, and the office crews I'd been on early in my construction career. My head went over all the systems that are a part of those kinds of buildings. Then it hit me.”

“What hit you?” her father asked.

“Well, every outfit like Larimar Springs has an extensive security system. Especially when they're located in those out-of-the-way industrial areas.” His eyes narrowed. “So, thoughts started running through my mind that there must be tapes from the system at Larimar. I did a little research, pulled the building permits, and found the security company that installed that system.”

She lifted her head in surprise. Despite his worn cowboy look, this guy was no dummy. “And?”

“And I called them. Seems those boys keep records up to three years. So, I made a little trip into San Antonio and met with the owner of the company, who just so happened to be hoping to do a little residential work over here in this growing area.” He smiled. “In the safety deposit box, along with that original report, is a video showing Greer Latham in Robin's office. He opened her cabinet drawer, removed a file, and pulled out a piece of paper, then shoved another in its place.”

He leaned back, triumphant.

Her dad's finger tapped the paper on the table. “But that doesn't necessarily prove it was this report.”

Oliver grinned. “True. But that dumb jack pulled out his phone and called Alexa and told her what he'd done. Confirmed loud and clear that he'd accomplished just what she'd told him to do.”

Juliet's hand went to her mouth.

Her father shook his head, incredulous. “And you have the video?”

Oliver's face broke into a wide grin. “Yup, safe and sound. And the guy at the security place is willing to authenticate the document in court, if necessary.”

As they walked from the restaurant, Juliet stopped just outside the door. She turned to Oliver Ford, her eyes brimming with grateful tears. Throwing professional propriety aside, she stepped forward and hugged him. “How can I ever thank you?”

His eyes grew moist as well. “Take them down—and make sure everybody knows what Robin did to try to protect the public.”

She nodded. “I assure you, with God's help I will.”

On the way to the car, she slipped her arm into her father's. The physical contact felt foreign, yet strangely natural. “Thank you, Dad. Your support meant everything.”

His face drew into a satisfied smile. “Think nothing of it, Dr. Ryan. I'm here by your side because I love you.”

 49 

E
xhausted and exhilarated all at the same time, Juliet stepped off the elevator and moved briskly down the hall and toward her door, house keys in hand.

The meeting with Oliver Ford had been a stunning success. She now had everything needed to vindicate herself and her predecessor, who had been run out of the company for trying to keep the public safe. She would no longer face a ruined career or criminal charges.

There was still much to do ahead, but tonight she'd take a hot bath and slip into bed. With anxious thoughts no longer plaguing her mind, she'd finally get some long overdue sleep.

A noise caught her attention. Startled, she looked up—and stopped walking. What she saw at the door made her heart skip a beat.

Cyril Montavan.

“Hey,” he said, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “That was timed nicely.”

A tiny part of her thrilled at seeing him again, but inside a yellow light flashed, and she told herself to proceed with extreme caution. “This is a huge surprise. What are you doing here?”

He stood in a pair of khaki slacks and an open-collared shirt, a jacket folded over his arm. “I wanted to talk to you—in person.”

“And so you got on your jet and flew on over to San Antonio?” She unlocked the door, hating the edge in her voice. The guy could've just returned her emails.

“I wished you'd been able to reach me,” he said, as if reading her mind. “I'm afraid I was in Africa, in a fairly remote area where communication is sometimes a little dicey.”

She invited him in, recalling his philanthropic efforts in Angola and South Sudan. Her eyes went to her slippers on the floor, the unappetizing bowl of half-eaten cold cereal floating in a quarter inch of thickened milk. She quickly scooped up the bowl and moved to the kitchen. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting company. Uh, would you like some tea or something?”

He placed his jacket on the arm of her sofa. “Sure, that'd be nice.”

She moved to the kitchen and grabbed the teapot. “So, I'm dying to hear what you flew thousands of miles to talk to me about.” She held her breath.

On the surface, and from everything she'd discovered through her internet research, the guy was not cut from the same bolt of cloth as Alexa and that slimy Greer Latham. But if she'd learned anything over these past months, she now knew people could be the exact opposite of what they seemed.

She turned on the burner and faced him, leaning against the counter. “When you didn't answer my emails, I figured you'd heard.”

Cyril joined her in the kitchen, smiling as if trying to put her at ease. “Yes, Alexa called me. Nothing I knew of you matched with the woman she described.” He chanced placing a hand on her forearm. “Juliet, we've not known each other long—or all that well, for that matter—but in the small amount of time we spent together, I knew you would never purposely endanger consumers. You were torn up inside over your assistant and her little boy.”

She took a deep breath and considered what he said. Could it
be possible Cyril Montavan's interest in her was genuine—that she could count on his friendship? “What did you say?”

His eyes twinkled. “Nothing much, really. Instead, I sent Alexa Carmichael a little gift.”

She raised her eyebrows. “A gift? I don't understand.”

He slid against the counter next to her and folded his arms. “I sent her a box of bugies with a note describing the Italian pastry's history—and a warning that liars always leave a trail.”

“You didn't!”

He nodded, grinning. “Yes, I most certainly did. And right after, I had arrangements made to fly directly here. I would've called you first, but I assumed you might not take the call, mistakenly thinking I might be in on Alexa's plans to destroy you. I figured if I could talk to you in person, I could make you believe otherwise.”

Juliet didn't have words for this. “Cyril, let's sit down. I have a lot to tell you.”

After filling him in on the meeting with Oliver Ford and what she'd learned, she considered the implications and her mind filled with questions. “So, where do you go from here? You know what's ahead for Alexa and Greer, and what that means for the company. Seems to me Larimar Springs is sadly going down.”

She hated the thought of Larimar Springs closing its doors and all those people unemployed. Good people. Like Malcolm Stanford and the staff in the lab. And Alva Jacobs, who'd taken a considerable risk to clue her in to the true nature of the people in charge at Larimar Springs.

And even Dale Frissom and Fred Macklin, members of the executive team who had been as clueless as she about what was going on behind the scenes. Disingenuous at times, but clueless just the same.

“What's ahead?” His eyes warmed, and he gave a casual lift of his shoulders. “Well, I'll let all this play out with the food safety officials, then I'll invoke the clause in the contract allowing me to
buy out any shareholder found guilty of fraudulent acts of turpitude against the company. My legal team will be instructed to handle the restructuring.”

“Restructuring?” She shot him a funny look.

His face filled with reassurance. Again Cyril seemed to know her thoughts. “I'll continue with Alexa's plans to take the company international. The bottled water market is thriving, and I stand behind the wisdom of my investment.” He took her hand, and she felt the last vestiges of concern fade away.

“And one more thing,” he said.

She wrinkled her face, puzzled. “What's that?”

“I'm naming you president.”