Colton K-9 Cop

Limited quantities...throttled to highest bidder...quantity scarcity...

No acceptance of annual contract prices.

Was this the reason for the exceptionally strong year at LSP? Were they all celebrating extra time off and assured holiday bonuses at the expense of human lives?

She’d worked in finance her entire life and monitoring the ebbs and flows of the business was a part of her day to day. She understood balance sheets and marketplace pricing. She understood profit and loss statements. And she understood what it took to run an ethical business that still remained profitable.

And creating a scarcity in the market—deliberately—was not legal.

But it could be very, very profitable.

All the drugs LSP produced were essential for the individuals who needed them. They led the market on several fronts, with specialties in diabetes, heart disease and cholesterol reducing medicines. LSP had also done wonders with drugs designed to improve motor skills, several of which had been essential to her father’s well-being.

But the flu vaccine was a whole different issue.

For anyone suffering from an illness, access to proper care and medicine was essential, but the flu affected everyone. A bad season could kill a large number of people, especially those at highest risk.

Just like her parents.

Had her father forgone a flu vaccine for the last several years of his life, he’d surely have been at higher risk of dying from the virus. And the fewer people vaccinated, the higher the risk.

Was it really possible LSP was attempting to profit from that?

Technically, they were late in the season to get the vaccine, but even as late as the prior week she’d run the numbers and realized that immunizations were down versus the prior year.

Was that because too many people felt they didn’t need protection?

Or because there wasn’t any protection in the market?

She tamped down on another wave of bile cresting in her stomach and knocked on the open door of the HR department. She’d been at LSP long enough to know several members of the HR team but wasn’t acquainted with the head of HR, Sally Borne.

A light “come in” echoed through the cavernous outer office. Bellamy understood why the voice sounded so far away when she saw only one person seated in what appeared to be a sea of about six desks. She headed for the woman, taking in the office along the way. Decorations celebrating the holiday season peppered the walls and filing cabinets, and a bright string of lights hung from the ceiling over a table that held a pretty menorah as well as a beautifully carved wooden kinara holding the seven candles of Kwanzaa.

This holiday sentiment was matched throughout the five buildings of LSP and reflected Sutton Taylor’s stated goals of inclusion and celebration of diversity. It had been yet one more facet of life at LSP and one more reason she loved where she worked.

Could someone who believed so deeply in humanity and culture and individuality be so soulless as to withhold essential drugs for the good of others?

“Can I help you?” The lone woman smiled, her voice kind as she stood behind her desk, effectively welcoming Bellamy in.

“I’d like to speak to Sally Borne.”

“What’s this regarding?”

“It’s a private matter.”

There was the briefest flash of awareness in the woman’s bright blue eyes before she nodded. “Let me see if Sally has a few minutes in her schedule. I’ll be right back.”

Pleasant smile for a watchdog, Bellamy thought.

The idea struck swiftly and was at odds with the sense of inclusion that had welcomed her into the human resources department.

The woman disappeared toward a wall of frosted windows that allowed in light but made it impossible to see through. The windows covered what appeared to be one large office that extended across the back of the space. While it was to be expected—Human Resources dealt with any number of private matters—something about the glass made her think of a prison.

Which only reinforced just how far gone her thoughts had traveled since reading the email.

This was Human Resources, for Pete’s sake. The department in all of Lone Star Pharmaceutical that was designed to help the employees.

Bellamy had worked with HR during her flex time requests when she was caring for her parents and they’d been kind and deeply understanding. They’d been in a different building then, only recently having moved into this space in the main building that housed the LSP executive staff.

Sally Borne was new to the company, as well. She’d replaced their retiring HR lead in the fall and had already implemented several new hiring initiatives as well as a new employee training program that was rolling out department by department. The woman was a leader and, by all accounts, good for Lone Star Pharmaceutical. Painting her as some fire-breathing dragon behind a retaining wall wasn’t going to get Bellamy anywhere.

Especially as those waves in her stomach continued to roil, harder and harder, as she waited for the meeting.

The sensation was so at odds with her normal experience at work. She’d become accustomed to the frustration and fear that came from managing her father’s care, but LSP had always been a safe haven. She loved her job and her work and found solace in the routine and the sense of accomplishment. At LSP, she was in control.

So why did she feel so out of control since opening that damn email?

“Are you ready?” The lone HR worker reappeared from Sally’s office, her smile still firmly intact.

“Thank you.”

Bellamy ignored the sense of being watched, and headed for the inner domain, hidden along the back wall. There was neither a fire-breathing dragon nor anything to worry about. She’d been sent the suspicious email. Coming to HR was simply about doing her job.

More, it was about being responsible to it.

“Hello.” Sally Borne met her at the door, her hand extended and that same bright smile highlighting her face. “I’m Sally.”

Bellamy introduced herself, then provided a sense of her role in the company. “I’m part of the financial team that manages the process of bringing new drugs to market.”

“Andrew Lucas’s team?”

“Yes, Andrew is my boss.”

Sally nodded and pursed her lips before extending a hand toward her desk. Bellamy followed her, settling herself in a hard visitor’s chair while Sally took her position behind a large oak monstrosity that looked like it belonged in Sutton Taylor’s office.

Sally scribbled something on a blank legal pad, her attention focused on the paper. “Is Andrew aware you’re here?”

Bellamy forced a small smile, unwilling to have the woman think she was here to complain about her boss. “Andrew’s not the reason I’m here.”

“But does he know you’re here?”

“No.”

“How can I help you then, Ms. Reeves?”

The prospect of sharing the details of what she’d discovered had haunted Bellamy throughout the walk from her office to HR, but now that she was here, the reality of what she had to share became stifling. Whether she’d been the intended recipient or not, the information she held was damning in the extreme. Anyone within LSP who would make such a decision or declaration would surely be fired. Worse, the possibility of jail time had to be a distinct consideration. They might be a for-profit company, but they still worked for the public good.

Was she really sure of what she’d come to discuss with HR?