Where Rivers Part (25 page)

She didn't wait for him to finish. “I am not only personally baffled, but I'm appalled that this happened.” Her eyes teared. “Unfortunately, the person I had assigned to identify and thwart any potential for our product to fall below the government standards
was struggling with her own serious health issues at the time. She assured me necessary precautions had been taken. I trusted her.”

Alexa rushed to add, “We had no reason to suspect—” She faltered. “I mean, there was no way for us to know until all this.” She lifted the glass and took another drink. Her voice choked with emotion. “If I could turn the clock back, I would. I can't.”

Mr. Paternoster rubbed between his brows. “That was a nice little speech, Ms. Carmichael. Now—”

Ignoring the fact opposing counsel was posing another question, she continued. “Currently, I have the future of nearly three hundred people who work for this company to consider. I have faithful employees nearing retirement, people sending children off to college.” Her chin quivered. “Many people fell ill, and some even died as a result of this unfortunate accident,” she said. “Even the tiny son of one of my own employees didn't make it.” Her eyes filled with determination. “No one at Larimar Springs
let
this happen. And now it's my job to make sure these victims have all their medical expenses paid, while keeping the company financially viable so the people employed by my company remain financially secure.”

Juliet frowned. The spiel sounded oddly familiar.

Attorneys sitting in the room with her furiously scribbled notes in their leather portfolios. One tapped out a text on his phone.

On the big monitor, Alexa tucked her hair behind her ear. And that was when Juliet's breath caught. She leaned forward and stared, heat surging through her body.

Hanging at Alexa's ear was a gold earring.

The same earrings she'd seen on Greer Latham's bathroom counter.

 38 

J
uliet's hand flew to her mouth. “No,” she muttered into her palm.

One of the insurance adjustors scowled. “Shhh.”

Shaking her head in disbelief, she scooped up her pen and notebook, grabbed her purse, and stood.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, making her way past the attorney sitting to her left. Another attorney sitting in the row behind threw up his hands. “Hey, sit down,” he scolded, not bothering to keep his voice lowered. “You're blocking the monitor.”

She gave him a vacant look and turned for the door, fully aware everyone in the room, including Greer, now watched.

Her hands pushed through the doors, and she quickly glanced up and down the empty hallway.

How could she have been so stupid?

She moved in the direction of the lobby, questions swirling inside her mind. But one topic parked itself front and center.

When exactly had Greer gotten romantically involved with Alexa?

A ball of anger slammed against the pit of Juliet's stomach. It was highly likely that snake with the gorgeous blue eyes had been playing her, maybe the entire time.

She marched to the elevator and punched the button, her mind rehearsing all the times she'd felt professional tension, knowing somehow that Greer never quite had her back when it came to their boss.

The elevator doors opened and Juliet moved inside, then leaned against the back wall.

And what about her boss? Alexa was considerably older, married—had a teenage son. Were all those happy faces in the frames in her office a pretense?

All the mentoring, the phony discussions, concerns, and promises. All suspect. Everything out of Alexa's mouth could have been a lie.

An arm suddenly burst through the closing doors. Startled, she looked up.

“Juliet? Where are you going?”

“Greer, I guarantee this isn't a good time.”

He scowled. Ignoring her warning, he moved into the elevator beside her, letting the doors close behind him.

Unable to keep the disdain from her voice, she squared her shoulders and repeated herself. “Perhaps you didn't hear me clearly. I believe I said this isn't a good time.”

In a remarkably stupid move, he touched her shoulder.

She flinched and pulled away. “Keep your hands off me.” Her eyes narrowed. “What kind of game are you playing?”

He laughed lightly, as if she was teasing him. “You're going to have to quit being so subtle, Juliet.” He took a deep breath, pulled at his cuffs. Then, as if speaking to a child, “You can continue to make me guess what this is all about.” He widened his eyes innocently. “Or you could just explain.”

“How dare you take that condescending attitude with me?” She couldn't help herself—her face flushed and she rushed on. “Did you ever stop to think I might find out about the two of you? About you and Alexa?”

His face turned to cement. Except for his jaw, which twitched wildly. “How—”

“Men are so stupid.”

Of course, Greer was instantly on that remark. “Oh, I see. You're going to act out the junk with your dad. But I'm not your father. Although it was never explicitly expressed, I believe we had an understanding.”

The elevator stopped and the doors opened to the lobby. “Is that what we had? An understanding?” She brushed past him and marched across the tiled floor. She pushed through the front doors, aware he followed close behind.

Outside, a white mist of clouds floated across the sky, obscuring an airplane that droned overhead. Despite the air growing sticky hot already, she felt a shudder run down her spine.

She'd shared too much. Let him in her head too far.

That creep knew her tender places—the ways she hurt inside.

She hurried and climbed inside her Jeep, tossing her bag and the notebook on the passenger seat. Weary, she rubbed her face, knowing Greer followed and stood near. “Look, just leave me alone.” She moved for the door to pull it closed.

Greer stepped in the way. He shook his head in disbelief. “You broke it off—remember?” Incredibly, he said it as if she had pushed him into a relationship with someone else. With Alexa.

Except the timing was a bit off.

Her fists balled in rage. “Do you think I'd still want to be with you after finding another woman's earrings on your bathroom counter? What—was I supposed to maybe wear them the next time we went out to dinner?” A self-satisfied smile played on her lips. She had him. “Better yet, to an office meeting so your boss would find out about
me
?”

Greer looked at her intently—and said nothing.

Juliet stared back at him, understanding dawning. “Oh,” she said, stripped of her dignity. So she
had
been played a fool the entire time.

She sensed Greer's mind at work, knew he was mentally calculating the damage done and how he would react. More importantly, how he would protect himself—even if it meant throwing her into jeopardy.

She too was estimating what all this meant to her personally—and professionally.

An argument could be made that she was the victim of an outrageous betrayal. Her career had been washed out at the hands of two conniving, disingenuous co-workers. One of them her own boss.

While she'd been maneuvering the outbreak, they'd likely been pulling up the sheets, laughing at her the whole time.

Her inclination would be to cling to the pretense that she'd held no part in any of this. She had every right to be angry and place the blame squarely on these others.

But in the back of her mind, she heard her mother's voice. “Oh, sweetheart, what empty place inside makes you keep trying so hard? You knew what you were doing was wrong. You even saw the signs and ignored them.”

It was true.

She'd so wanted her life and work to matter. But she'd somehow ended up nothing more than a tired cliché, an ambitious woman so focused on getting ahead she ended up losing herself along the way.

The implication of it all was so powerful, she felt like that tiny spider all over again—being swept away. So swept away she barely comprehended that the outcome of all her striving was as inevitable as the tide.

 39 

J
uliet was back at the office when the first text arrived. She walked through the lobby and pulled her iPhone from her bag, expecting to see Greer's name on the face. Instead, she was surprised that it was Alexa.

I'd like to meet for
dinner. Six o'clock at La Margarita in the Market
Square?

She hadn't even clicked off when a second message appeared, this time from Greer.

I know you're
angry, but we need to talk. Meet us at La
Margarita at six.

She didn't respond. Let them wonder whether she'd show up or not.

Lindsay glanced up from the receptionist counter. “Juliet, what are you doing back? I have you out all day attending Alexa's deposition.”

“They no longer needed me,” she said, walking past and down the hall to her office. The statement was true. She was no longer necessary to this company, not really. Even if they wanted her to stay, she couldn't work alongside people she didn't trust.

No doubt she'd learned a valuable lesson. Going forward, she'd be wary of every motive, every promise made. No longer would
she trust that people in charge always had her best interests, and those of the company, in mind when they made critical decisions.

Her father would have a heyday with this. Hopefully, as soon as the litigation wrapped up and these cases settled, she could resign and quietly move out of state. The less fuss the better.

Her career had been burned, and the acrid smell of smoke would follow her. But somehow she'd find a way to start over.

In her office, she tossed her purse and notebook on a chair and moved behind the desk. She flipped open her Mac and scrolled through her emails. There were two from Cyril, one thanking her for all she was doing to get Larimar Springs through the litigation, and the second simply one line.

Italy is beautiful in the spring
. Ready for a visit?

Strolling the Tuscan countryside with a gentleman like Cyril sounded appealing. Unfortunately, she'd learned her lesson. No more office romances. Period.

Without bothering to respond, she scrolled past and opened a communication from Dr. Breslin. He'd attached the CDC's final report summarizing the etiology of last fall's outbreak. Her eyes drifted to the morbidity factor, and she swallowed—hard.

All those years in school and internships, absorbing the necessary training so she could make a difference . . . Book knowledge proved worthless when common sense had failed her. No university course taught that you could be gullible and working in a den of thieves.

She glanced at her white lab coat hanging on the back of her office door. With her position here, she'd been poised to bring all that training to bear and maintain the trust the public placed in Larimar Springs products. Maybe even prove to her father that this time he was wrong. Her state-of-the-art quality assurance program would see to it that no unsafe product ever got in the hands of a consumer.

How could she have known the cards had been dealt before she'd
ever been invited to the table, and that those seated across from her had already gambled it all? She'd been destined to fold before she even got a chance to wager her skills.

She'd like to call Alexa and Greer's bluff—provide deposition testimony that would establish her father had been right. This company had tightened her budget when it most counted, had focused on profits and mergers and neglected leadership when Malcolm Stanford brought Alexa his concerns.

Of course, Lucier would consider her a loose cannon and would now settle before ever allowing her in a deposition chair.

She scowled, lost in thought.

Suddenly, she closed the lid on her Mac. Her QA supervisor did have concerns, and he'd timely communicated those issues to the head of the company, who seemed to have simply brushed them off.

Yes, Alexa Carmichael had been immersed in courting international investors and, ultimately, in her negotiations with Montavan International. Juliet had taken Alexa at her word when she'd been told her boss had no actual knowledge of product tainted with deadly pathogens.

She'd believed her boss, while at the same time Alexa had looked her straight in the eye and promised to make her president, bypassing the man who had handed her Larimar Springs' single largest customer—the same man she was secretly sleeping with.

That same man had locked Juliet out of the building and lied about the reason.

Juliet was a fool if she believed Alexa was trustworthy and had told the entire truth about these events. Or if she trusted that Greer did not know more than he let on.

A lot of good people worked for this company, and a lot of good people had been hurt in the outbreak. She didn't have a lot to go on at this point, but at a minimum before moving on she needed to investigate and find out the truth. For everyone concerned.

With a sense of determination, she grabbed her lab coat and headed out the door. “I'll be in the QA lab,” she told Alva, who looked up from her Selectric typewriter and nodded as Juliet hurried by.

In the lab, she found Malcolm backflushing the reagent dispenser. “Could I talk with you for a few minutes?” she asked.

Giving her a wary look, he turned off the switch. “Sure, Dr. Ryan. What's up?”

She pointed outside. “Let's talk in private.”

They sat at a table in the courtyard, often used by employees on their smoke breaks. Something Juliet could find pleasure in right now, given her heightened nerves.

Malcolm seemed nervous as well.

“Let me quickly put your mind at ease,” Juliet began. “This isn't about you or any problem with the lab. You are doing a fine job. The company is lucky to have someone with your integrity aboard.”

The man sitting across the table visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Dr. Ryan. I appreciate that.” Behind his black-framed glasses, his eyes turned earnest. “Over these past months, I've grown to respect your diligence. Especially given the difficulties this company has faced.”

“Thank you,” she said, knowing Malcolm Stanford's respect was not easily granted. She thought back to Tavina in the hospital room and seeing the flowers he'd sent. He'd also braved conveying concerns to the highest level in the company, likely done with a lot of forethought. She believed she could trust him.

“Malcolm, I want to be candid here. Did you place an envelope on my car window?” She watched for his reaction.

He lowered his head and stared. “A what?”

“Months back, in the middle of the outbreak, someone taped an envelope to my car window while I was parked in the hospital lot.” She'd never told anyone about the envelope. She swallowed, hoping she'd not made a tactical error disclosing the information now.

Malcolm shook his head. “No, I don't know anything about an envelope. What was in it?”

Her hand moved inside her purse, and she withdrew the analysis report and slid it across the table.

He examined the test and frowned. “What's this all about?”

She rubbed her chin. “I was never able to figure it out.” She pointed to the line reading
Total Coliform Units—MCL
. Then she pointed out that the date was in the same time frame as the outdated pallet found in the warehouse. “Look, I haven't shared this with anyone. But obviously, there's something going on with this report. Someone wanted me to see it.” She leaned back and sighed. “I spent one whole night at the office, without anyone knowing, scouring lab records. I found nothing out of line. Everything in our system confirmed that the MCL counts on the test report left in that envelope matched up.”

“And you checked to see if the right coefficient values were utilized in the calculations?”

She nodded. “Everything checked out. I even audited tests conducted well before the date on the pallet.” She folded the test and slipped it back inside her bag. “Alexa let it slip that you came to her with some concerns about the same time my predecessor resigned.”

Malcolm frowned. “Resigned?” He let out a nervous laugh. “Who told you that? Robin Ford was terminated.”