Page 8 of Reclaiming Chaos
Chapter 4
Melony’s phone rang, and she was quiet as she stepped away and answered. I slide my hands into my pockets and returned the stare of the people in the board room, taking in everyone in attendance. Were the people in that room deciding which little girls would live or die?
Melony returned, turning her back to the people in the conference room. She leaned in and whispered, “We have a lead on where she purchased the phone. There was a receipt in her trashcan.”
“Go run that down. I can handle things here.”
“Copy that, boss,” Melony said before speaking into the phone and hanging up. She dug the SUV keys out of her jacket pocket and handed them to me. “Reyes is going to pick me up in the lobby. I’ll check in when I’ve got something to report.”
“Keep me posted on anything you find. Carlee is going to mess up, and we’re going to catch her.”
Melony’s look turned serious as she patted my arm. “Play nice with the cult leaders.”
I chuckled before meeting the receptionist's disapproving frown.
Melony was on the elevator and the doors slid closed before Mr. Russell and Mrs. Briar stepped out of the meeting.
Russell was dressed in an expensive business suit. His hair was combed back and held with gel. His tan face suggested he wasn’t a typical workaholic unless that work took him outdoors a lot. He held out his hand as he approached. “Special Agent Bennett, I’ve heard great things about you.”
That was news. I’d never met the man before now, and I was almost 100 percent positive that Mrs. Briar wouldn’t have a kind word in her arsenal. “Really? Who told you these great things?”
My question caught him off guard but only momentarily. His eye twitched. His pregnant pause was only long enough for me to know that Mr. Russell had secrets hidden behind his clouded gray eyes. “Your superiors, of course. Mrs. Briar tells me that you’d like more information on Carlee Tate.”
“Yes. I think it imperative so that we can calculate her next moves.”
“Right,” he said, leading the way to the conference room, where the others had just exited. He held the door open for me to pass.
“Can Veronica get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m fine,” I answered.
“Please bring me a coffee,” Mr. Russell called out before Mrs. Briar closed the door. He took a seat at the head of the table. “I’m afraid you came all this way for nothing.”
“Why is that?” I asked with a raised brow.
“All of our work is classified for proprietary reasons. If information was leaked, it could ruin future funding.”
I clasped my hands on the table. “If I don’t know what she stole, it hinders my ability to find her. If it’s something she can sell, I’ll need a general direction of where to find her buyers. I’m sure you understand the predicament you’re putting us in.”
“And I’m sure you can understand ours.”
I rose from my seat and paced the glass enclosure. “If you can’t prove she stole something from you, then there is no crime.”
He sighed. “She stole company secrets. That’s all I’m at liberty to say.”
“Okay, well, that’s something. Was it a piece of equipment? Was it a formula for the fruit? You’ve got to give me just a bit more. You can start by telling me what division or group she was working in.”
“Fine.” His sigh was accompanied by a prodigious frown. “If you’ll follow me…” Mr. Russell rose from his seat. He pulled the door open and led me down the hall toward the elevators. “What I’m about to show you might not make any sense to you. But it does to us, and it’s highly classified. I’m trusting your discretion.”
The elevator door swept open and we stepped inside. The trip down was as uncomfortably silent as the one that took me to the top floor. Level two was nothing like the other two. Where the top was executive, and the bottom was more like a college campus, this was set up like a science lab. Men and women dressed in white coats were stationed around the room—some discussing things in groups, others looking through microscopes. None were even remotely interested in a stranger or the big boss arriving on their floor.
“This is our testing facility. Ms. Tate worked on this floor.”
“So, was she an analyst or a lab rat?” I asked.
“She started as a test subject before I moved her to full-time staff.”
“Test subject for what?” I asked, unable to rip my gaze from the rooms we strode past. Red neon signs flashed that testing was in progress. Doors with windows showed patients hooked up to medical equipment and what looked like IV bags.
