A Taste of Tragedy (9 page)

Nick shrugged out of his jacket and sat down at his desk. He’d had a productive day. Reaching out to the CIA, as much as he hated to, had paid off. They now had a positive ID on Frank. He was surprised that Frank was his real name, and now they knew his last—Soto.

According to the sheet he got on Frank, he was born in
Puerto Rico
to a single mother, Silvia Soto. The woman worked two jobs to send her son to the
University
of Puerto Rico. He was an only child and his father wasn’t listed on his birth certificate.

While investigating shipments of illegal synthetic drugs coming into the
U.S.
mainland from
Puerto Rico
, the CIA had traced the origin of the manufactured drugs back to a group of university students Frank was associated with. They busted the ringleader, a chemistry student, and several others, but before all the players could be rounded up, Frank had disappeared. He hadn’t surfaced until now. His mother died shortly after learning of her son’s involvement in illegal drug manufacturing and distributing activities.

Picking up the old photo of a young Frank, Nick had no doubt he was one in the same. Since Frank had never been arrested, Nick gambled that he might have used his real name for legitimate activities like banking. Nick made a few calls and, before long, was able to track down an account in the Caymans. There were multiple large deposits into the account, all dated shortly before each pharmaceutical company incident.

Nick decided the next step was to try and trace where the money came from. A task not as easy as it sounded, which was why the ultra-rich and big-time criminals chose the Caymans for their banking needs. But, all in all, it was a good day. He knew Devyn would be thrilled when he filled her in when she returned from the hearing in
Wyoming
.

As he checked his messages, his excitement with finally getting a break in the case ebbed, and visions of his ex-wife crowded into his mind. He should have known better than to fall in love with a woman like her, but he couldn’t help himself. Not only was she the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on, she exuded everything he had dreamed of while growing up in a barely middle-class household, his father always struggling to keep them from slipping down a rung on the economic ladder. She was pure class, in her mannerisms and her looks. Everything about her was just the right amount—tall not towering, slim with just enough curves in the right places, fair complexioned without looking ghostly, smart without seeming pompous, and her hair style, makeup, and clothes were always glamorous and flattering without being ostentatious.

Her family was well respected in
Atlanta
’s social circles. When she wanted reservations at an exclusive restaurant, she used her maiden name, and that had bothered him. She had come from a long line of money, but she wasn’t spoiled. Her family had earned everything they had and she was no different. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, but she was afraid of breaking the family tradition of success.

Even though he made a good living, an FBI agent’s salary was never enough. He tried to come up with compromises to avoid losing her. She had expected him to follow her career, clearly used to getting everything she set her sights on and worked for. His pride wouldn’t allow her to win.

Nick picked up the sticky note with the name of the man she was looking for. A quick search on the computer, and he found the obituary she mentioned. He pulled up a number for the
Phoenix
police and was quickly able to ascertain this was her Stan.

According to the police report, the man had died of a drug overdose, and there was no evidence of foul play. He had no family, and had recently been fired from a six-figure job at Giant Cactus Foods. Open and shut case. Nick mulled over the information and knew she wouldn’t be pleased or satisfied with the news. When something bothered her or she wanted something, she could be frighteningly persistent.

Nick had a feeling there was much more to the story than she had relayed during their earlier conversation. He glanced at the clock and noted his shift was about over. There wasn’t a lot of privacy with a dozen agents scattered around one large room. It was often noisy, even though he and Devyn had staked their claim on the furthest corner from the main flow of traffic.

Not wanting to make a personal call from work, he decided to wait until he got home for the evening. He craved hearing her voice, but it also brought back a longing he had yet to conquer.

“Any word from Mr. Hoyle?” Morgan asked as she stopped at Aaron’s desk.

“No. I would have tracked you down as requested.”

“See if you can reach him. I need to speak to him.”

Morgan entered her office and walked to the expanse of windows overlooking the city. She gazed at the snarl of cars below. Rush hour was just heating up as multiple lanes of interstate traffic clogged up every artery leaving the city. The workday was about over, and she didn’t want to leave without answers.

She pulled out her cell phone and could see that her ex-husband hadn’t tried to call her. It had been more than twenty-four hours, barely, since her meeting with Preston, and nothing from him either. All the waiting was driving her crazy, making her feel helpless and only increasing her sense that something was very wrong.

The phone on her desk buzzed. She pressed the blinking button. “Yes, Aaron?”

“Mr. Hoyle’s assistant said he has left the building for the evening for an important meeting, and he’s not expected back tonight. She will leave him a message to call you first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you,” she replied, trying to keep her voice level and calm despite the overwhelming frustration consuming her.

If she didn’t think
Preston
would fire her, she would call Dr. Chen and check the status of the analysis. She hadn’t been introduced to anyone else in Research and Development, and she and Dr. Chen had definitely not hit it off. She was given the impression that she shouldn’t interact with him or anyone else in R & D without going through
Preston
. She assumed that would be particularly true in this instance.

Morgan checked her calendar, and she had no more appointments or meetings scheduled for the rest of the day. A quick perusal through her e-mail confirmed nothing new had shown up that couldn’t wait until morning. There was nothing more she could do to get the answers she needed, so she logged off her computer and locked her desk.

She shook her head at the futile act. Even without the flimsy key, she knew Aaron would have no problem violating her privacy if the order came from
Preston
.
What have I gotten myself into?

Gathering her light jacket and purse, she left her office, giving Aaron a brief and professional goodbye before entering the elevator. As the elevator descended, it stopped at several floors. Employees entered whom she didn’t recognize. No one spoke to anyone else on the slow descent. Everyone except her exited at the main floor lobby, and after several seconds the elevator continued down.

The parking garage was located below ground level. True to form, it was darker than prudent and not a place she wanted to hang out in for long. She quickly scanned the garage before stepping out of the elevator. Morgan knew this would do little to spot someone crouched down behind a car, but it was habit she had practiced since her college years.

She strode briskly to her car, punching the button on the fob she clutched in her hand to unlock the doors before she reached the vehicle. Slipping into the driver’s seat, she locked the doors and tossed her purse on the passenger’s seat with a little more force than necessary, sending it tumbling to the floor.

Leaning over, Morgan reached for her handbag and her fingers brushed over a hard plastic item. She knew what it was even before seeing it. She was torn between relief and panic. She had searched the floors and under the seats of her car thoroughly the night before. The garage door opener was not there, she was certain.

Morgan couldn’t explain it, so she stuck the small device back on the visor and drove out of the garage. She had to have missed it in her panic the night before. There was no other explanation that didn’t send chills racing down her spine.

Sofia
left the office and walked across the street to the park. Spring was rapidly approaching, and the cherry blossoms where starting to appear, making the city seem like a lovely place to live rather than a hotbed for deceit and self-serving careers. She chuckled. Yes, she had landed in the right place.

Pulling out her burner phone, she punched in a number she had memorized from years of repeated used. “What’s the status on the merger, Senator?” she asked.

“I didn’t see how I could block it without generating suspicion, but I managed to get one of my issues prioritized above the presentation and consideration of the merger. This will delay any discussion on the matter for at least six months.”

“Not good enough. I wanted this to go away. Permanently.”

“Why do you care if two medium-sized weight-loss chains merge to create a company large enough to compete with the couple of giants at the top? You don’t have any stock in the top-tier companies. I checked.”

Sofia
felt heat creeping into her cheeks. She was furious. She couldn’t believe he had looked into her personal financial portfolio. In his situation, she would have done the same, but she would have never been stupid enough to admit it. She filed the piece of information away for later.

He would have to pay for prying, not that he could unearth anything that really mattered. On the surface, she looked like a successful business woman. Few people had the skills to peel back enough layers to discover her true wealth or its source. And the secrets she harbored to keep him in line were hers alone to divulge.

“My motives are none of your business. You are to do exactly as I say and your secrets are safe.”

“I’m getting tired of doing your dirty work. And newsflash, sweetheart, extra-marital affairs have been going on with D.C. politicians for decades and will likely continue for many more to come. Besides, Dad is getting old and forgetful. If any of his old
mistresses
surface, he can feign forgetfulness. He might just say he doesn’t care what people think, and any story that pops up will die quickly if he doesn’t fight back. I don’t want to hurt my mother, but she’s tough and she’s not stupid or naïve. I’m sure she was well aware of Dad’s activities back then.”

Sofia
didn’t like the turn the conversation was taking. The senator had always been a good, obedient sheep, not wanting to soil the family image, but he sounded different today.

“Listen closely. Your old man wasn’t just a philanderer. You do not want to cross me or the truth will destroy your family.”

There was a moment of silence. She doubted it was the words that stunned him, but more her delivery. She was good at conveying more than she spoke, which was one of the many traits that had made her so successful in the underbelly of politics.

“I’ll figure something out by the time the merger reaches committee,” he replied and disconnected.

The last few days were starting to fill
Sofia
with a sense of foreboding. She and her colleagues had operated under the radar for years. A few market manipulations here and there, along with some blackmail, small bribes, and controlling certain research breakthroughs, and they had all gotten very rich.

Sofia enjoyed the wealth, but most importantly, she had felt in total control of her destiny. There was nothing she feared and detested more than being at another person’s mercy. But, ever since the debacle with Uinta Vitamin, she sensed the authorities closing in, she no longer felt she had the option of telling J.R. no, and now her useful senator was prying into her personal life and challenging her dominance.

She didn’t want to show her hand to the senator since it would mean having to relive a part of her life she had successfully buried deep down inside. If he continued to become emboldened, she feared the truth would have to be told in order to maintain his unquestioned obedience.

Stowing her phone at the bottom of her purse,
Sofia
strolled past a dozen food trucks until she reached her favorite. She ordered a falafel sandwich and waited in the shade until her number was called.

She ate her falafel as she made her way back to the office. She had a couple more meetings left before calling it a day, one with a potential donor and one with a new client who wanted her organization to lobby for looser regulations on telemarketing.

Whatever the client wants, as long as they pay, she thought, though she wasn’t sure how much looser the
regs
could get. Companies already accessed so much personal information on individuals in order to conduct targeted marketing that it would make the average citizen shudder if they truly knew how much of their private information was on the open market for anyone to use. And the “Do Not Call” list was a joke riddled with loopholes and basically unenforceable.

She finished her sandwich, crunched up the wrapper, and tossed it in the nearest can. By the time she reached her office, she was ready to schmooze for money and act interested in a group of parasites’ desire to harass citizens in their homes. She didn’t care about their issues, just their money. As long as they ponied up, her firm would lobby until they effected change, good or bad.