Chapter Nineteen
Vince’s call shattered the intimacy between Mike and her.
“I should go to the hospital.”
“There’s nothing you can do here. Horace will be in surgery or the recovery room for the rest of the night. I’m on my way to Northland now to work with the evidence crew.”
“Then Mike and I will meet you there, Vince.” If she couldn’t help Horace at the hospital, she could help evaluate what might have happened to put him there. She watched Mike get dressed.
“No. You stay put. At least for the next few hours. You can’t do anything at this point but be in the way and possibly mess up the evidence.”
Her lips thinned and her jaw jutted outward. Vince couldn’t see her action, so she hardened her words. “Heaven forbid, that should happen,” she answered, fully aware of her sarcasm but not caring. Nerves, exhaustion and sexual frustration—the latter she refused to consider at the moment—filtered through her response.
“Here’s something you can do. Think about alternatives for a temporary infirmary while you’re at home. We’ll have to seal the place off for a few days during which time your staff can’t use it,” Vince ordered, his tone indicated her sarcasm was lost on him. He wouldn’t allow her to get in his way or in harm’s way. Not if he could help it.
“I guess that makes sense.” She handed the phone to Mike, who was motioning he wanted to talk with Vince. After slipping into her sweats, she headed for the kitchen to make coffee where Rachel was already at the task.
“What’s happened?” Rachel set out three mugs.
“Horace was attacked and beaten at work. In the infirmary. He was a man doing his job and because of that, he could die.”
“That’s my Catie Rose...always going for the worst scenario.” Rachel put her arms around Caitlin. “I’m being your friend here, not your employee.”
“You’re always my friend, Rach. And you’re right. I’m jumping the gun. He’s tough.”
“He is. Where’s Mike?”
“Right here.” He joined them, the worry written across his face, surely a match for hers. He pulled both of them into him. “We need a group hug right now. And a planning session.”
Mike was right. Their earlier closeness had taken a detour; compassion replaced passion. Duty required they have a plan ready for the coming day. Over coffee, they discussed options, mapping a strategy for business as usual in unusual circumstances. Caffeine fueled them.
At three-thirty in the morning, Mike peered across the table at her. “The circles under your eyes have grown additions.”
“Thanks, you look exhausted, too.” The florescent kitchen lights showed no favoritism.
“Didn’t you two get any sleep?” Rachel asked, peering over her mug. It hid what Caitlin felt sure was a smirk.
“Ah, no. We cleared up some personal business.” Mike’s voice got all growly and sexy, matching his smoldering eyes.
“I see...well, I think I’ll head back to my room. See you two in a few hours.” Rachel headed for the door, turned back, and shot a grin at them still sitting at the table. “I’d suggest you both catch an hour or so of sleep.” She sashayed up the stairs, leaving them staring first at the doorway and then at each other.
“She’s right. We should try to get some sleep.” Caitlin emptied the coffee pot.
“Between the caffeine and my memory of what almost happened? You think I’ll sleep?” He handed her the mugs.
She caught his gaze, recognized the longing it contained, and slid back to professional mode. “So we have our tasks mapped out for tomorrow. Well, actually today, but on our way to work, let’s stop at the hospital to check on Horace. If his wife has left, the staff could tell him we were there when he wakes. They need to know we’re concerned.”
“We can do that, Cait. I’m sure, though, that both of them know we’re all concerned.” He shifted away from her gaze.
Not soon enough. She spotted the dark circles under his eyes, neither twinkling nor smoldering now. Strain and exhaustion carved deep lines in his round Irish face. His salt and pepper hair was mussed. He looked solid and concerned. And after tonight’s earlier romp—he was hers.
She liked that. Was she slipping toward...what, love? That errant thought barely flustered her at all. Was that a good sign? Or an expression of sheer exhaustion? Was her decision making ability controlled by events which shouldn’t be factored in?
“You look exhausted,” she whispered, moving closer to him.
“Geez, I was thinking you never looked more beautiful.”
“I was thinking you looked wonderful, solid, lovable.”
He chuckled, the sound coming from a happy place inside him. “Remind me to stay this way if that’s what it takes to get you to admit it. Want to talk about that “L” word? Since you brought the subject up. Or maybe about what almost happened?”
She sighed, anxious to push down the flutters feeding off the caffeine sloshing in her system. Instead she reached to him, putting her hand against his heart. It thrummed a heavy metal beat against his ribcage. “Not tonight. We’re exhausted, but I know I can’t really sleep.” Her voice wavered. Emotion, fatigue, both?
“How about this idea?” Mike took her hand in his. “Let’s try to catnap. We can snuggle downstairs on that sleeping sofa. Purely platonic. No talk of love yet. I’m just happy you’re in a thinking mode.”
Not sure that was a smart idea, she offered an alternative. “You need some sleep—a few hours are better than nothing.”
“I’ll sleep better with you snuggled against me. How about it? I promise, nothing else. My spirit might be willing, but age and exhaustion have zapped my…uhm…drive?” He grinned, a lopsided, tired quirk of lips.
She rose, snapped off the kitchen lights, and pulled him with her toward the lower level stairs. “I’m thinking I could sleep better snuggled up, too. And remember my drive is older than yours.”
****
Three hours later, Caitlin and Mike stopped at the hospital on their way to work. Horace still lay unconscious in intensive care. His wife appeared numbed by the events, but pleased they cared enough to stop by. Before leaving, Caitlin gave the woman Rachel’s work number. “Please call, as you can, with updates on his condition. In the meantime, our thoughts and prayers are with both of you and if you need anything, please let us know.”
Shortly after seven, they entered the Northland building.
“Somehow, it looks menacing today.” Caitlin peered from the car window as Mike parked.
“It’s not the building, Cait, but what happened inside.”
They went immediately to the infirmary area, cordoned off with yellow evidence tape. She introduced herself to the deputy and asked to look at the inside. He agreed but went with her. “Don’t touch or disturb anything.”
Standing just inside the doorway, she gasped at the chaos. Chalk outlined the floor where Horace had lain. Several large pools of dark blood, still congealing, slashed the white tile floor. She swallowed the acid rising in her throat and looked away. The file cabinets with two drawers still askew caught her eye. Mike noticed them, too.
“The intruder was after those files I have at home. I’m sure of it. Debbie would never leave file drawers open or anything out of place before she left.” She turned to the deputy. “Everything here is exactly as you found it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Mike, do you think your office might have been ransacked, too? Maybe there’s a connection with that information we pulled together last night.” Excitement pitched her voice higher, her cadence faster.
“I’ll certainly check and you should check with Debbie. She might have had some reason to leave things disorganized last night.”
“Never happen, but I’ll verify it to cover all our bases.” Leaving the room, she spoke to the guard, telling him Debbie would be coming in to check over the infirmary.
Back in her office, Caitlin called Debbie who confirmed she left the infirmary in perfect condition. “I’ll come in now to help the day shift get set up.”
“Rachel has commandeered the empty room just beyond her office. Before you go there, Debbie, introduce yourself to the officer at the infirmary. You check out how things look to you. Let me know what you think the guy was after. Even though the drug cabinet was damaged, I don’t think that was the reason.”
Next, she called Maxine and asked for Keith’s number at his vacation hide-away.
“I can’t give you that. He swore me to secrecy. He and Marcy were adamant about this being a hassle-free, no-consideration-about-work week. I intend to honor their wishes,” Maxine pontificated—Keith’s guardian angel no matter what the crisis.
“You’ve heard what happened to Horace and the infirmary. Keith would want to know. Give me the damn number.” Maxine now ranked second on her shit list.
“I don’t follow your orders, Caitlin, just Keith’s. When, and if he calls, I’ll tell him about Horace and let him know you want to talk to him. He can decide if it’s important and return your call if he sees fit.”
“This has nothing to do with my importance or lack of it.” Resisting an urge to grind her teeth, preferably into Maxine’s ear piece, Caitlin drummed her fingers on her desktop. She hated playing games, but Maxine thrived on them.
“It’s about time you recognize your place,” Maxine snapped. Caitlin heard a quick intake of breath. Did the woman realize she’d overstepped?
“What I meant was Keith trusts you and Mr. Rafferty to handle any situations while he’s gone. You know he’s worked like a Trojan for too long. He and Marcy need this time.”
“No one understands that more than I do, but I also know that when he comes back, he will be furious about not being informed about this situation.”
“Then we’ll have to deal with that then, won’t we? What could he possibly do from where he is that you and Mr. Rafferty can’t accomplish much better here?”
Caitlin gave Maxine credit for some logic. “Absolutely nothing, except he’ll know what is happening.”
“And that will bother him and detract from his vacation. Sorry, Caitlin. If he calls, I’ll tell him you want to speak with him. He can decide what to do.”
“Right.” Caitlin cut the connection, furious with the misguided loyalty of the front office gorgon. Circumstances like this had earned Maxine the title.
The rest of the morning passed faster than snow melted on a warm spring day. Rachel walked around with a controlled smirk as she brought mail to Caitlin. When she returned with the second draft of the new contract language proposal and the union’s negotiating team list, Caitlin could stand it no longer.
“Just what are you smirking about?”
“You didn’t come to bed last night, Caitie Rose. I hope you weren’t working all that time.”
Her first response was to cut Rachel to ribbons, but she valued the friendship that underlay Rach’s comment. “No, I didn’t work all night, just most of it. By three-thirty, going to bed seemed ridiculous, so Mike and I catnapped in front of the fire.”
“Oh...” Rachel’s smirk disappeared along with her expectations.
“After getting the call about Horace, Mike and I knew we had to be prepared to handle today. We did that without the usual office confusion. We work well together.”
“Guess that’s better than nothing.” Rachel shrugged her shoulders and prepared to leave. “Those insurance quotes came in and you were on your phone when the broker called. I’ve put them in that last pile and put his number with the quotes. He thought you might have questions.”
“Got it.” She nodded her understanding to a departing Rachel and attacked the papers.
Tom Jaspers popped in when she was halfway through. “Everything still a go for tomorrow? I thought you might want to postpone after what happened to Horace last night.”
“Everything’s still on, Tom, but if anything changes, I’ll contact you. Can I have your cell and home number?” Tom wrote it down, handed the number to her. “If I need to postpone, how will your group take it?”
“Not a problem. I see you put Rafferty on your team. With both of you gone tomorrow, no one with full authority will be left in the plant. That could be as good a reason as any to postpone, but only for a few days.”
“I don’t expect that to be a problem. I can delegate for the day and people can reach me or Rafferty. Rachel has the numbers. Plan on tomorrow, Tom. We need to maintain a semblance of life as usual at this point.”
“Sure thing, Caitlin. See you tomorrow.” With a friendly wave, Tom disappeared as the lunch break buzzer sounded.
Mike showed up a few minutes later, carrying two salads and two coffees from Caitlin’s Cafeteria as the staff had dubbed the temporary lunchroom.
“I talked with Vince. He’ll be out here this afternoon.” Mike popped a grape tomato into his mouth.
“Horace’s wife called; nothing’s changed there.”
“Dan Hall’s coming in early. I’ll go over some of the issues we found last night. See what he thinks.”
She looked up from her salad. “I’m sure that attacker was looking for those files. Your office wasn’t bothered at all?”
“Not that I could tell. You really think this lettuce is good for me, huh?” He looked askance at the alfalfa sprouts as he forked up a cucumber slice.
“Make you live longer.”
“If you’re part of my life, that’s a worthwhile goal.”
“Even if I’m not around, you’ve got your twins to live for, Mike.” She speared a tomato and plopped it into her mouth. “Remember, we’re at work. Right here, life is business.” She winked at him and described her conversation with Maxine.
“Good secretary for Keith, but not this time. You did what you could, Cait.” He hesitated. “Want me to try?”
She glared green-eyed death upon him, the look her brothers knew to watch out for. “Over my dead body.”
“I remember your not-so-dead body...last night.” He winged a sexy smirk her way. “Alive’s much more interesting.”
“Mike, work…remember?” But the flush rising to her cheeks must be giving her away.
“Sometimes those two parts of us will mesh—like last night. Don’t fight it. Enjoy it. We work well together. You said so. And we’re behaving—”
“Stop it. We need to be serious here.”
“Oh, I am serious.” He leaned closer to her. “I seriously still feel your breast in my hand.”
“And?” She shot him a smile, one she hoped looked like business, not pleasure.
He chuckled at her smile. “And I remember everything.” Her phone buzzed interrupting him. “Damn! I really hate phones these days.”
She reached over to her desk and depressed the speaker option. “Caitlin Donnelly.”
A second of loud noises preceded a gravelly, familiar, guttural voice. “If the guard dies, his death’s on you, bitch. You’re next. Maybe Rafferty after that.” The phone died.
Mike’s face paled, probably a twin to hers. The call obliterated their camaraderie and lunch.
“Won’t be traceable, Cait. Didn’t last long enough.”
“I know. Damn it.” They shoved the remains of their salads away.
“It came from somewhere inside the plant, don’t you think?” she finally asked.
Mike nodded. “Yep. Those background noises sounded familiar.”
“No extension number on the readout.”
“Payphone,” they concluded and bolted for the corridor. Only two pay phones were in the building: one at the main employee entrance; the other in the hall outside the lunchroom. Mike went one direction; Caitlin the other.
Near the phone in the empty hall at the employee entrance, Caitlin’s nostrils prickled. An offensive, somewhat familiar smell assaulted her nose.
Where had she smelled that before? Like a ton of bricks, memory flooded her.
Her ears rang and her head buzzed. Dizziness gripped her. She clung to the wall railing where Mike found her and caught her. A security guard hustled toward them from the other direction. Despite her dizziness, she spotted the video camera at the entrance and the large round mirror reflecting the corridor into the security office.
“Did you see anybody here? Just a few minutes ago? Making a phone call?” she asked the guard.
“No, Ms. Donnelly. Just you…and Ivan who went into the credit union.”
“No one made a phone call from here?” Mike reiterated Caitlin’s question. “Could you have been distracted and not seen?”
“Could have, but that video camera would have it. I’ll run it back for you.” The guard headed for his cubby-hole office.
“We’ll be there in a minute.” Mike gripped her arm. “What upset you, Cait?”
“The smell. Can’t you smell it? Awful. Evil. He was here. I know it.”
“Cait, I don’t smell anything. What about the phone. Did you see anybody?”
She shook her head and turned with Mike toward the security office. “That smell was the same as the guy on Saturday night, Mike…all the memories flooded back.” They entered the guard’s office.
“All set up, folks. Nothing but Ivan like I said. He didn’t make a phone call, just went into the credit union, did his business, and left.” The replay confirmed the guard’s information.
“Keep that tape, Jack. Detective Bertoli may ask for it.” Mike thanked him and they left.
“I looked like a drunken fool in that hallway, but the smell…it bowled me over.” She shrank into herself at the memory.
“Wait here just a sec, Cait.” Mike ducked back to the guard’s office but returned in a few seconds. “Let’s take a stroll down to shipping. Ever been there?”
“Not for a long time. We went through this last night. Does this Ivan work there?”
“Yup, but second shift. We won’t stay long.” He never let go of her arm as they hurried toward the shipping department. Opening the glass doors, he held them for her to enter first.
Silence and stagnant air. And something else. Faint at first, then stronger. The scent beckoned her as if mesmerized. Perspiration glistened across the bridge of her nose, her forehead, and into her hair. Her breathing turned ragged.
Mike urged her deeper into the department, into the darkened alleys between high rows of boxed stock and shelves of inventory. Like a questing knight, she followed a smell—one that worsened steadily. Finally, she stopped before a floor-to-ceiling vat. The birthplace of the noxious odor.
“This is the smell. It’s awful. Get me out of here.” Stuffing down a gag, she strode from the spot, down the eerie alleys of inventory, out the glass doors. To open air, clean air, air smelling only of hydraulic oil, machining wastes, hot metal, and human sweat.
She gulped in deep breaths, expelling those horrid fumes. A shower and a change of clothes would be perfect as that noxious odor enveloped her. Owned her. Like her attacker had. Or tried to.
She turned to Mike, who reached for her hand. “Buddy Stein worked in shipping, right? Did he smell this way?” he asked when he pulled her close.
“I don’t think so. What was that?”
“A new piece of equipment. One we’re beginning to use regularly. It sprays a foam-like substance around some of our more fragile pieces of equipment. That prepares them for safe shipping. According to the records I looked over last night, we got it about three months ago. Probably after Stein left. Many workers in the shipping crew have been vocal about it. They hate the smell.”
“I can understand why. It’s god awful and must damage a person’s lungs.” She was already thinking of potential health claims. OSHA. Worker’s comp.
“That’s not the reason why the workers were upset. With that machine, the department doesn’t need so many crew members. One of your grievances concerns that issue, remember?”
She did, but hadn’t connected the pieces to this machine or that nasty smell. Keith might have been wrong to have Kirby oversee problems in this department. She’d never have let this continue. “Well, since Kirby handles this department, why isn’t he getting threatened?”
“Because he’s not upsetting the routine,” Mike answered.
Back in her office, she fell into her chair still gasping for breath, trying to calm down.
Watching her, Mike waited a few moments. “I think you’ve found the connection, if not the villain in the case, Cait. If that last call did come from inside, which is logical, the guy would have been on lunch break. He could have entered any empty office and called you from a cell phone. We should let Vince know. See when he plans on getting out here.”
“You do that, Mike. I’ll run a list of all employees in that department for both shifts. I’ll cross-reference to see who reported for work these past few days.” Caitlin punched the data requests into her computer terminal and in spit out answers in seconds. “Now I’ll cross check these to see who’s physically small and who’s big.”
“Don’t think you’ll get much there. Everyone in that department looks like they’ve been gulping steroids.”
At his comment, she remembered Tom Jaspers’ mention of brawn. “Well, maybe some of them have police records. Vince could check that. And maybe some are bigger than others or smell worse. I wish I could send my nose down there, all by itself.” Breaking the tension, they chuckled at the image of her disembodied nose, inching its way over the massive hulks in shipping. A true cartoon caper.
“What’s so funny?” Rachel stood at the doorway. Fury screamed from every pore of her face. “You won’t be laughing at this news.”
Caitlin’s heart clutched. “Not Horace…”
“Thank God, no. Still holding his own. Kirby—”
Caitlin braced herself. “What about him?” With some sixth sense, she knew Rachel’s news would infuriate her.
“He left a note on my desk about the time I saw you running out of your office. I was on my way back from the cafeteria and saw you both. His note said he’d finished the report and was leaving for a meeting with his doctor—no name given. I checked his record. He’s listed no doctors.” Rachel plopped Kirby’s report and the post-it note attached onto Caitlin’s desk.
She picked up a slim pen, wishing it were heavy enough to smash something. Calm down and think. “Write up the particulars, Rach, time and date. I’ll sign it. Then file it. Send him a memo that I expect to see him at seven-thirty-five, Thursday morning. No excuses.” While Caitlin spoke, Rachel jotted everything down.
“I need a walk. Think I’ll check Kirby’s office and see what I can find down there.” Cait decided she had cause to poke a bit in her assistant’s office.
“I’ll join you before I head back to work, Cait,” Mike declared. “You need substantiation for whatever you might see or find.”
What struck Caitlin when she entered Kirby’s locked office, using Rachel’s master key, was the dominating, mingled smells of cigarettes and his overpowering cologne. Not as offensive as the shipping room smell, but bad enough. Then her nose wrinkled again. Something else was in the air.
Mike watched her. “Your nose’s wrinkled.”
She sat in the guest chair. That other smell, the nasty one, was there. Not strong. But there. She looked at the cigarettes in the ashtray. Could they be similar to those found at the country club after her attack? “I smell that fume from the shipping room. Faint. But here.”
Mike inhaled. “You’re right.” He touched her shoulder, letting her know he had her back. “That’s one educated nose you have.”
“One of those big brutes from shipping was in here for just a second. I saw him when I left for lunch.” Mike and Caitlin looked at Rachel who had followed them.
“Rach, go to your office and call the guard’s office. Have him set up that tape again. Ask him to check if that Ivan character went only to the credit union.”
“Done, Caitlin. You’ll lock this door?”
“You bet, and no one comes in here. Understand?” Rachel nodded. “Mike, if that call to me was made here...” Her mind spun with possibilities.
“Don’t touch a thing and don’t jump to conclusions. Something might be in here that can lead Vince to a couple of solid suspects. We call him now. In the meantime, we get out of here and post security at the door.”
“Right.” She couldn’t shake a sense of evil descending in on her, falling faster and faster.
Vince arrived within an hour and cordoned off Kirby’s office, confiscated the guard’s tape, and to Caitlin’s relief, didn’t laugh at her sense of smell. He and Mike headed off to the shipping department to follow the path she had taken earlier. Today’s events had spiraled out of her control. She even agreed with Rachel that Kirby’s absence that afternoon was lucky. Had he stayed at work, they never would have entered his office.
Shortly before second shift began, Caitlin responded to a cautious knock on her door. Hank Stokes stood framed in the window. The private detective glanced at the yellow evidence tape barring Kirby’s office as she waved him in.
“Things sure are popping around here all of a sudden. I heard about the guard.” He settled his bulk into a visitor’s chair and listened while she filled him in on everything, including her attack. He told her of his encounter with the giant in the shipping room.
“Would his name have been Ivan?”
“Could be. When I asked, he said his name was John Smith but you don’t have an employee by that name. Strange things are going on there, Ms. Donnelly. You’re right to pursue it. This place has drugs and dealers. I’m too new to be trusted with names, but they’re both feared and needed. You also have a pretty well-organized gambling ring going on. Did you know that?”
At Hank’s news, she sighed. More troubles. “No. Is it worse than the usual betting on the Super Bowl and stuff?”
“You betcha. Well-run, probably mob-connected. Daily bets for horses, dogs, all sports. You name it. My hunch is the head honcho for that gig’s no factory worker.”
Kirby popped into her mind. Despite lack of facts, her intuition said he was involved in some way. That whole set up would feed his lifestyle.
Hank pulled himself up from his seat. “I better get going. Don’t want to spend too much time with you. Can’t blow my cover. Check that mailbox on Friday. Watch your back, Ms. Donnelly, I don’t want to see you hurt. Like I said, mighty strange stuff’s going down here.”
She handed Hank some insurance forms. “If you carry these out, no one will question why you were in here. You watch your back also. I mean that.”
Hank took the forms. “As I said, you’re one smart gal, Ms. Donnelly. Be smart about yourself, too.” He left the office with those words. She chewed on them. She’d heard that phrase too often from too many different people.
Her phone rang. She didn’t want to answer it, but thought of Horace. “Caitlin Donnelly.”
Keith spoke so loudly she jumped. “What the hell’s going on?”
She filled him in on all that had happened.
“Think I should come back?”
“No, Mike and I have things under control, but you should know what’s happening.”
“Part of me says hightail it back home, but Marcy made me promise her this week. No business.”
“Honor that, Keith. I’d tell you if we were in over our heads. Mike’s a good complement to me.” In more ways than just work, she added to herself.
“After watching you two at the wedding, possibly more than just at work?”
Did he have ESP? “Could be. Would that hurt us here at Northland?”
“Hell no, Cait. Are you sure you weren’t hurt badly in that attack?”
“I look far worse than I was hurt. Trust me on that. Horace is our worry now. Oh, Keith? I’m taking over Kirby’s shipping department responsibilities. I’ve found several issues where he’s been derelict. That might be part of our problem there.”
“Don’t like that idea, Cait.”
“Why? Because I’m a woman and you think I can’t handle it?” Even to herself she sounded feisty and ready to settle into a serious snit.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it. I can handle it. Procedures must be tightened in that department and Mike will help me do that. Everything else in the plant is under control. You can’t protect me forever, although I do appreciate the thought. Also, Keith, I’m firing Kirby, probably before you get back.”
“You have enough documentation?”
“You bet.”
“Give ’em hell, Cait. It’s all yours and let the chips fall where they may. Maybe that will deflect some of your anger against Maxine.” She heard his chuckle.
“She told you about this morning?”
“Yes. Don’t be too rough on her. Just remember how protective you are with your phone number. And your privacy.”
“Different reasons and purposes. Speaking of that, you never gave anyone my number, did you?”
“Not a chance, Cait. I’ll check in late tomorrow night. Use your good judgment about the negotiating session. If things are tense at work, either cancel it or leave Mike at the plant and be one short on your team. Nothing gets accomplished the first day anyway.”
“That was my plan.”
“Good girl, worthy of my tutelage. And trust.”
“Give my best to Marcy. And don’t worry about us. Well, not too much. We’ll manage.” A smile flickered across her face. He always worried, more so now that he wouldn’t be here to direct things. At least he knew what was going on now.
“I’ll stay in touch.” Keith cut the connection, never giving her a hint of his whereabouts.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of activity, intensified by the evidence technicians scouring Kirby’s office and the infirmary, with the latest high tech CSI devices, looking for trace evidence. Vince talked with employees. Every time she spotted him, he had his notebook in hand. First shift ended and the second began. No phone call. She didn’t know what to make of that. Had the person been stopped? Or gone on to do something worse?
Rachel popped in at four to say she was leaving and getting a few groceries for dinner. Caitlin again volunteered to stay away, giving her and Vince some private time. “Not on your life. I’ll just send you to a different level. You’ve got three.”
Caitlin laughed, remembering last night with Mike while Rachel slept on a different level. “Could be a good idea. Oh, Rach, Mike and I might stop at the hospital for a few minutes.”
“Dinner at seven-thirty then. Cocktails before, unless you miss them.” Rachel left as Caitlin’s phone rang.
She glanced at her watch, four-ten. This day would never end.
“We have a problem in the factory. The second shift workers in shipping have walked out after a fight of some sort. Tom Jaspers is there now. I’m in the infirmary with Debbie and I think you should meet me here.” Mike hung up.
Caitlin rushed from her office, hearing different noises now, more confusion, a less organized rhythm. A wildcat strike? Over what? Why? She headed for the temporary infirmary just inside the factory doors.
****
The shipping crew had walked because a fight erupted as first shift ended and second began. No one could identify who started the brawl or why. However, the workers were furious with Pete Maze because he did nothing to stop the flying fists. He didn’t even call security.
One worker had a deep gash above his eye, another a badly bruised shin and cracked rib. The rest were unhurt or had minor cuts and bruises. During the whole brouhaha, Maze never left his office. Instead he locked himself in and refused to come out for anyone.
Mike finally had security open the door and found the man cowering in a corner, hallucinating about giant toads coming after him. Debbie diagnosed a drug trip gone wrong and called a rescue squad. The man proved useless for information because he convulsed into seizures. If he lived, he would suffer severe physical consequences.
Mike and Caitlin decided the best way to deal with the problem was to let the walkout continue. For today. Tom Jaspers offered no objection. Once that was decided, Mike walked to the shipping dock. He noticed a lone worker there, hauling recently unloaded stock into the building. He was the guy on the video tape. Ivan somebody.
“Why aren’t you out front with the others? Why didn’t you walk?”
“Work needs to get done. Even a suit guy like you can see that. Didn’t start the fight. Didn’t get involved. Not a union member. They can stay out. I’ll get this done tonight without any help. Then I’ll sneak out this way. No one’s gotta know. ’Ceptin’ you could slip word to security so they don’t hassle me none.”
Mike shoved aside his reservations. If the man wasn’t afraid to work, and by his size he should fear no one, Mike was inclined to let him finish the stocking. At least they would know where he was.
“Go ahead. Everyone’s punched out. You finish the job. See me tomorrow. I appreciate your loyalty.” Mike shook the guy’s hand, wrinkled his nose at his offensive smell. No doubt Caitlin’s nose would be doing a dance right now.