allowed for flexible scheduling when she’d needed it and hadn’t asked her to curtail the care and attention her parents needed.
She’d met enough people in waiting rooms at the hospital to know that flexibility was a gift beyond measure. The fact she’d also had an opportunity to still be considered for and receive promotions had cemented her sense of loyalty to LSP that was impossible to shake.
The company was a good one, with a focus on making life better for its consumers, its employees and even the community where it made its home—Whisperwood, Texas. Their CEO, Sutton Taylor, was a longtime resident and had stated on many occasions how important it was to him that his company have the same deep roots as he did.
Deep Texas roots, he usually clarified with a wink and a smile.
She couldn’t hold back a faint smile of her own at the image of Sutton Taylor, standing tall in his suit and cowboy boots, proudly telling the employees how strong their year-end numbers looked. It wouldn’t bring her parents back, but she could at least take some small joy in knowing she’d worked hard and contributed to a job well-done.
Satisfied she might leave the office on a glimmer of a bright note, Bellamy returned to her email, determined to tackle the last one before leaving for the afternoon.
The missive still bold because it was unread, Bellamy scanned the subject line, registering the odd description. RE: Vaccine Normalization.
Normalization of what?
The sender said INTERNAL, a company address she didn’t immediately recognize, but she clicked anyway. A quick scan of the header information didn’t show a named sender, either, nor was there anyone in the “To” list. Intrigued, Bellamy leaned forward, searching for anything that resembled usable details to describe what she was looking at.
Was it a virus?
That subject never failed to make her smile, the fact they had a department that battled real viruses housed in the same location as one who battled the digital kind. The humor quickly gave way to the sobering details that filled the content of the note.
Bellamy caught the subject in snatches, the words practically blurring as she processed the odd, bulleted sentences.
LSP’s virus vaccine, AntiFlu, will be distributed in limited quantities, with release schedule held in the strictest confidence.
Quantities are throttled to highest bidder, with market pricing increased to match quantity scarcity.
Management of egg supply has been secured.
If those points weren’t bad enough, the closing lines of the email left no question as to what she was reading.
Lone Star Pharma has a zero-tolerance policy for discounted distribution of AntiFlu for the annual flu season. There will be no acceptance of annual contract prices with existing accounts.
Bellamy reread the email once, then again, the various details spiking her thoughts in different directions.
Throttled availability? Controlled pricing? Fixed scarcity?
And the fact there was mention of the egg supply—the incubation engine for production of the vaccine—was shocking.
What was this?
She read the note once more before scrolling back up to review the header details. The sender was veiled, but it did originate from an LSP email address.
Who would send this to her? And worse, why would anyone possibly want to keep the very product they created for the public’s good out of that same public’s hands? She knew for a fact they had more than enough flu vaccine for the season. She also knew the scientific team had followed the CDC’s guidelines for which strains of flu needed to be included.
She scrolled through the details once more, daring the words to change and prove her interpretation incorrect. But one more reread, or one hundred more, wasn’t going to change the information housed in the email.
If this email was to be believed, the company she loved and believed in had turned to some dark and illegal practices.
* * *
“WELCOME BACK TO WHISPERWOOD, Alex. Quintessential small town Texas, from the tippy top of the big white gazebo smack in the middle of the town square, to the string of shops on Main Street.”
Donovan Colton glanced over at his companion as he passed the gazebo and turned from Maple onto Main, unsurprised when he didn’t receive a pithy response or even acknowledgment of his comment. As a matter of course, he’d have been more concerned if he had received a response.
His large black Lab possessed many talents, but a speaking voice wasn’t one of them.
What Alex—short for Alexander the Great—did have was a nose that could sniff out explosive materials and he knew exactly how to translate that knowledge back to Donovan so he could in turn secure help. The fact Alex had several hundred million scent receptors in his nose—and had been trained almost since birth to use them in support of police work—meant Donovan had a powerful partner in their work to capture the bad guys.
It also helped he got along far better with his canine partner than he ever would have with a real live human one.
Donovan had been an animal lover since he was small. His various chores around the Colton ranch never seemed like chores if an animal was involved. Whether it was horse duty, mucking stalls or collecting eggs from the coops, he hadn’t cared or seen any of it as work, so long as he got to spend time with the furry and the feathered Coltons who shared space on the large ranch that sprawled at the far west end of Whisperwood.
That love ran ever deeper to any number of mutts who had called the Colton ranch home.
Just like me, Donovan added to himself, the thought a familiar one.
Shaking it off, he focused on the gorgeous dog next to him. Donovan had loved each and every canine that had graced his life, but Alex was something extra special. Alex had been trained since puppyhood for life on a K-9 team; the two of them had bonded quickly, one an extension of the other. Alex looked to him for security, order, discipline and the clear role as alpha of their pack. In return, Donovan stroked, praised, and directed the animal into any number of search and rescue situations, confident his companion could handle the work.
And Alex always did.
From bombs to missing persons, Alex did his job with dedication, focus and—more often than not—a rapid wag of his tail.
Yep. Donovan would take a four-footed partner over one with two feet any day.
Not that he could technically complain about any of the fine men and women he’d worked with in the past, but something just fit with Alex. They had a bond and a way of working that was far easier than talking to someone.
Their trip to Whisperwood had been unusually quiet, he and Alex dispatched to an old warehouse site to confirm the Austin PD hadn’t missed any drugs on a raid the prior week. The cache they had discovered had been worth millions and Donovan’s captain wanted to ensure they hadn’t overlooked anything.
Donovan’s thorough site review hadn’t revealed any missed stashes but it was Alex’s attention to the crime scene that reinforced
