Where Rivers Part (28 page)

 44 

A
fter the service, the crowd spilled into the church foyer. Ahead of her, two men in suits shook hands and a young mother tried to corral a little boy with a yellow marshmallow chick in his fist, while another mother posed for a photo with her daughters, all of them in matching pastel dresses. Juliet overheard plans to meet for brunch and comments that the sermon had really been spot-on.

Juliet looked around at this place her mother had loved. The welcome desk with racks of brochures promoting Bible studies and midweek classes. The bookstore to the right of the front door, with Bibles and inspirational art displayed in the glass window. On the other side of the front foyer, a wall of glass overlooked an outdoor courtyard that featured a large cross surrounded by a bed of pink and white cyclamen.

Talavera Community Church had been her mother's second home, and she now regretted the times she'd declined her mom's invitations to attend. It would have made her so happy.

Sandy's hand went to her back, as if she knew what Juliet was thinking. “I feel her too when I'm here.”

Outside, she lifted her face to the sun, letting the warmth hit her skin. On this Easter morning, Juliet wanted to resurrect her life, to move past the ugliness she'd encountered at Larimar Springs.
Her mother had been right to suggest she had a hole inside that could never be filled with career aspirations.

“Are you ready?” Sandy asked.

Juliet nodded. Together they walked to the shuttle that would take them back to where the car was parked.

Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it from her purse. A text—from Malcolm.

Have you
seen the news?

Before she could tap out a response, a woman in a light pink dress approached. “Dr. Ryan?” she asked. “Aren't you that woman from the bottled water company?”

Not sure what this was about, she slowly nodded. “Yes, what can I—”

“How could you do that?” she demanded. “My grandmother spent two weeks in the hospital.”

A man with light brown hair and glasses quickly stepped forward, placing his arms around the angry woman's shoulders. “Judy, not now. This isn't the time or place.” He gave them an apologetic look. “I'm sorry,” he said, and guided her away.

Sandy's hand went to her chest. “Wow, what was all that?”

Feeling a bit disconcerted, Juliet shrugged. “I—I'm not sure.”

Her phone buzzed again. This time it was Alva.

You need to
get to a television. Alexa and Greer gave a press
conference, and it's been airing all morning.

At home, Juliet pointed the remote at the television and clicked. Holding her breath, she moved through the channels until the screen filled with two bright red words—B
REAKING
N
EWS
.

The news anchor appeared, solemn faced. “In a stunning new development, top executives at Larimar Springs Corporation, the bottled water company that distributed water tainted with the deadly E. coli pathogen that made several dozen ill and caused four
deaths last fall, have revealed that their director of water quality knew of the suspect product prior to the outbreak and failed to notify them.”

The screen changed to Alexa and Greer standing in front of the Larimar Springs building. Ellen Shaffer, dressed in a bright red sheath dress with lips to match, stood by their side.

Juliet's hand flew to her mouth.

Alexa spoke into the microphones first. “I recently learned that Dr. Juliet Ryan—our director of water quality who was charged with the responsibility of overseeing the company's comprehensive food safety program, including monitoring the microbiology programs established for contamination prevention—was not only aware of a suspicious test report but failed to report her findings to company officials and the proper authorities in a timely manner.”

Ellen leaned into a microphone. “As the news release indicates, copies of the report have been given to Dr. Breslin at the CDC, and copies are now being handed out to each of you here today.” She stepped back.

Reporters holding cameras and microphones bulleted questions at the three of them. Greer cleared his throat. “I think I can shed some light on that. Company security records show Dr. Ryan entered this building late one night while no one was here. She spent several hours inside, accessing company records.” He pulled at his cuffs. “More recently, video from our lobby shows her carrying boxes out. All this was done outside of office hours, when no one was there to see her.”

Alexa continued. “This suspicious activity, coupled with the report that she withheld, has led the company to terminate her. We've directed legal counsel to investigate further, and they are authorized to take whatever legal action might be appropriate. This is outside whatever criminal action might be instigated by health authorities.”

Ellen raised a document and stepped forward again. “I have a
statement from Dr. Breslin at the CDC, the official who headed up the original outbreak investigation team. Here's what it says:

“While it is premature to comment on the allegations concerning Dr. Juliet Ryan, the Centers for Disease Control is committed to public food safety.

“In 1938 Congress passed the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act in reaction to growing public safety demands. Chapter III of the Act addresses prohibited acts, subjecting violators to both civil and criminal liability. Provisions for criminal sanctions are clear. Felony violations include adulterating or misbranding a food, drug, or device, and putting an adulterated or misbranded food, drug, or device into interstate commerce. Any person who commits a prohibited act violates the FDCA. A person committing a prohibited act ‘with the intent to defraud or mislead' is guilty of a felony punishable by not more than three years or fined not more than $10,000 or both.

“As mandated, our agency will fully investigate and take any appropriate action.”

Ellen thanked the reporters for coming, and the news anchor soon reappeared on-screen. “In a related story, the mayor of San Antonio says these allegations are serious, and he is deeply saddened to know the outbreak might have been prevented.”

Stunned, Juliet clicked off the television.

“They—they lied,” she said out loud. She tossed the remote on the cushion and stood, pacing her living room with her hand at her mouth.

What was she going to do? They'd turned everything around and made her actions appear sinister. Alexa and Greer had wanted to discredit her, and they'd taken proactive, if not deceitful, steps to eliminate any possibility she could follow through on her threats.

She'd been so stupid to believe she could handle this. How foolish to have met with them privately, with no witness to what she'd revealed and why.

Feeling panicked, she sank to the sofa. She could face criminal
action and had no way to prove she wasn't culpable for the things they'd misrepresented and accused her of.

No wonder Cyril wasn't answering her emails. Likely they'd poisoned his mind against her as well.

Shaking uncontrollably, she wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and rocked back and forth, trying to make sense of this. Her breaths came in large gulps, and sweat beaded her brow.

She'd foolishly believed things couldn't get worse, that she had the upper hand. She now knew that reasoning was severely flawed.

The situation had definitely taken a turn for the worse. Alexa and Greer had stopped at nothing to neutralize her, to take her down. They might as well have physically kicked her in the gut. She could barely breathe.

She was in serious trouble here.

And sadly, she had nowhere to turn.

 45 

J
uliet's fingers moved to the handle on her car door. After taking a deep breath, she unlatched the door, grabbed her bag, and moved to get out, placing her running shoes squarely on the pavement.

With her bag flung onto her shoulder, she gently closed the door and surveyed the arthritic-limbed oaks lining the street, the manicured lawns and carefully tended flower beds. The mounds circled in decorative stone were filled with oxblood lilies with their spiky red blooms, and large yellow-to-orange African marigolds that measured nearly five inches across, a favorite of San Antonian gardeners.

The warm air carried a slight aura of mown grass, and the sky overhead was dappled with lavender. A graceful prelude to morning.

She followed the cement pathway that wound to the steps leading to the brick landing, wishing she could stand there for hours, absorbing the peace of it all, but her chest was too tight to truly absorb such beauty.

Before her stood a large arched wooden door, surrounded by coping made of southwestern tiles decorated with a blue and white design. To the right was a small adobe banco, its mission-styled bench seat trimmed with similar tiles.

With a deep breath, she considered perhaps it wasn't too late to turn around, to just return to her car and drive away.

She fingered the open zipper on her running jacket, knowing she really had no choice.

Unable to steady her trembling hand, she placed her finger on the doorbell. She pressed . . . and waited.

Her heart thumped in her chest. After several long seconds of standing there fidgeting, she considered pressing the bell again when she heard noise on the other side. Suddenly, the door opened.

She saw him then, standing there in pajamas and a robe. He inventoried her rumpled clothes and hapless ponytail, her sleep-deprived face with no cosmetics, and frowned.

She swallowed and forced herself to look him in the eye.

“Dad, I need your help.”