Jenna Kernan - Dangerous Conditions

“Tell him? Nothing.”

“That’s good. Just upset him.”

While she appreciated his concern for his little brother, Connor was the one who seemed upset. His face was red and he kept dragging his fingers through the hair on the top of his head. Connor looked much like Logan with just a little thickening at his waist and hair that was lighter and noticeably thinner. His skin was ruddy, and tiny burst blood vessels in his cheeks pointed to a drinking problem. Too many meals alone at the pub and too many evenings alone in his big, empty house, he had once told her. If that was supposed to make her feel guilty, it didn’t. No one told him to buy that B and B.

“How did you hear about Dr. Sullivan?” Connor asked.

“Lou told us.”

“Lou Reber?”

She nodded.

“I heard from Freda. We were going over the agenda for the board meeting when Ursula called.”

Freda Kubr was Ursula Sullivan’s sister, a village councilor and the administrative assistant to Principal Unger.

“And Lou told you how he died?” he asked.

“Hit-and-run.”

“Did you see Dr. Sullivan today?” he asked.

“Not today.”

This began to feel like an interrogation, as if Connor was constable, and it made her uneasy. Why was he so interested in these details?

“I’m sure the state police will want to speak to you. They told me they’ll be interviewing all his coworkers.”

“Why? Wasn’t it an accident?” she asked. She had her suspicions, but she wanted to see his reaction.

“That hasn’t been determined yet.”

How did he know that?

He swiped a hand over his mouth and then returned his hand to the wheel. She’d never seen him this jumpy.

“Did he say anything to you or was he behaving strangely?”

“Not as strangely as you’re behaving.” She twisted in her seat to face him. “What is this about, Connor?”

“We’ve never had a case of manslaughter in Hornbeck before. It is going to be in the papers. Most people who live in this county don’t even know we exist, and the village likes it that way. I know Rathburn-Bramley does. It’s why they picked us for the plant.”

It was true, Paige knew, that even people living in the same county didn’t know that this little turn in the highway was a village. Both the railroads and the major highways had left them behind years ago. This was an advantage to a company who produced controlled substances. Hiding in among the farms and hills made perfect sense.

Connor banged his hand on the steering wheel. “They’ll mention where he works.”

“No secret where he works. Is there?”

“Your company prefers a very low profile. Can’t see it from the road, so the tourists and visitors certainly don’t know it’s here. Draw the wrong people, it gets out what you all are cookin’ down there.” He glanced at her. “You know exactly what they produce.”

“I should. I test every product on every run.”

“Well, then you also know that opiates are a target. They don’t want to be on the map.”

Her company also produced fentanyl and a variety of intravenous drugs and gases used by anesthesiologists. Most had a high black-market value and were favorites of some addicts. Ironically, they also produced innocuous medical supplies like aerosol disinfectant spray and gel hand sanitizer.

“Well, they can’t just pretend he wasn’t killed,” said Paige, addressing Connor’s concerns with sarcasm.

“Your employer is requesting he be listed as unemployed. His widow has agreed.”

“That’s sick.” And a shock. She could understand the company’s desire for a low profile, but this seemed to take it too far.

“They offered her money. A lot of it, above and beyond what she’d get with the company’s life insurance.”

“But they think this was an accident? Right?”

“Maybe. But his ID tags are missing.”

Her eyes widened. Had he been killed for his access key?

“But they can’t get to the manufacturing area with that and they can’t get past security. They check our photo against the tag.”

“What about after hours?”

“Tag is time sensitive. Six a.m. to six p.m. Plus, you need a special card to access the finished goods area. After hours you need an escort. One of the security team. They’ll deactivate his access. I’m sure they already have done so.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She shouldn’t be revealing security measures, even to Logan’s brother.

“Sheriff and the state police are looking for his tags and the vehicle that hit him. Anyone you know want to hurt Dr. Sullivan?”

“No! Of course not. Everybody loved him.” She felt a jab in her belly as she recognized that she was already referring to her friend in the past tense.

Connor made a face.

“What?”

“I overheard Lou speaking to Dale Owens at the funeral home. Lou told him that your firm was investigating Sullivan. Something out at the plant was going missing. They were getting ready to fire him.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She again peered at Connor. He seemed to have done a fair amount of nosing around already. Why was he so interested in this? Was it just because he was concerned for the town’s reputation?

“They were onto him.”

“He’d never steal from his employer.”

“Maybe it was intellectual property. Like a process or formula. Could he have known they were onto him?”

“Are you suggesting he stepped in front of a vehicle and then stole his own ID tag as a cover-up?”

“Of course not.” His hand raked his hair again. “It’s just, we’ve never had a thing like this happen here. I helped bring that plant here, Paige, and I feel responsible for it and any trouble that comes because of this sort of industry. Could have been a bad drug deal or something.”

“Nonsense.”

“We are a peaceful village, Paige. Cows, cornfields and…”

“Opiates,” she finished.

Paige got home to find her mother cooking dinner, which was unusual. Her mom had made it very clear when Paige moved back in with her that she was going to raise her own daughter and that meant housework, errands and making her child’s meals. Her only concession had been picking up Lori after school because Hornbeck Central School did not have an after-hours keeper program.

“Where’s Lori?” asked Paige.

Her mother continued stirring white sauce on the stovetop as she half turned to speak to Paige.

“She’s out back making a leaf pile and then jumping into it. Malory is watching her from the porch.”

Paige did not think that Malory, her mother’s long-haired cat, was an adequate babysitter, but a glance out the side window showed her daughter tunneling through dry leaves in the spotlight of the backyard floodlight.

Paige set her satchel on a chair at the breakfast table and removed her coat and scarf. Then she folded into the adjoining chair. Her mother brought her a bottle of scotch and a small juice glass and set it before her.

She gaped and then met her mother’s serious gaze.

“You heard?”

“Whole village heard. That ogre of a company let you go a few minutes early today?”

Paige lifted the glass. The strong, distinctive aroma reached her before she took a sip and grimaced. The liquid burned all the way down.

“I took some personal time.”

“You should take tomorrow. Those pills can wait a day.”

“I don’t make pills.” She set the scotch aside and wiped her watering eyes.

“I know what you do. I paid for some of that fancy education, remember?”

It was impossible to forget.

“Though I expect our constable will have the culprit arrested in no time. That is if he doesn’t mistake the church bell for the fire truck again.”