A Taste of Tragedy

By Kim McMahill

Morgan Hunter sacrificed everything for her career. She had yet to encounter anything she wasn't willing to do to succeed...until now.

When she uncovers evidence that the healthy foods she's been hired to promote may be dangerous, she must reevaluate her priorities. As questions mount and the body count rises, she finds herself caught in the cross-hairs of an organization that will stop at nothing to hide its secrets and protect its profits.

With no one else to trust, Morgan is forced to seek help from the man she drove away, but whom she never stopped loving...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prism CW
• Release date: Apr 8, 2016
• ISBN: 9781943104451

Kim McMahill

Kim McMahill started out writing nonfiction, but her passion for adventure, stories of survival against the odds, and speculating about the future of humanity and our planet, soon turned her attention towards fiction. She has published eleven novels, over eighty travel and human-interest articles, and contributed to a travel story anthology. Growing up in a beautiful mountain west community, traveling the world, and enjoying a twenty-year career with the National Park Service, has given her the opportunity to live in amazing places, experience incredible adventures, and witness many changes in our world, all of which have helped shape her stories.To learn more about Kim and her writing, visit https://KimMcMahill.blogspot.com, or follow her on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/KimMcMahillAuthor/, on twitter at https://twitter.com/kimmcmahll, or on Instagram at https://www.instagram.com/kimmcmahill/.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The newly fallen powder fanned out behind Dexter Fowler in a high arch as his skis slammed down at the bottom of each well-formed mogul. His knees bent to absorb the impact from the motion, and he kept his body low over the slope.

He loved the speed he could achieve while careening down the steep grade. The challenge of conquering the most intimidating mountains made him feel alive. The allure of a greater thrill always pushed him further, to the brink of his physical limits, testing the laws of physics.

Mornings like this transported him back to his glory days. He wouldn’t trade a moment of his lost childhood, the grueling training regime he had followed for so many years, the adrenaline rush of competition, more broken bones than he cared to count, or the exhilaration he felt over each victory in his career, for anything in the world. His only regret was missing the Olympics by one hundredth of a second, an eternity in the racing world.

He had given his quest for gold everything he had, mentally and physically, but it hadn’t been enough. Sometimes, things didn’t work out the way a person planned no matter how much effort was expended. The true test of a person’s character came from being able to move on, which he did. He focused on his post-graduate degrees, excelling in academics as much as he had in athletics. He then secured a challenging job as an analyst and researcher, which earned him more than enough to get him out on the best slopes in the country at every possible opportunity.

The morning was especially cold, which he loved. The wind biting at his cheeks made him feel alive, and the slopes were still empty except for the hardiest skiers. The recreationists would gradually start arriving as the day warmed, but for now, he had the area to himself.

He hadn’t seen a single ski patrol yet, not that there were enough to cover this massive mountain anyway. Dexter was truly in his element, and he loved this place. Alta had challenging terrain, including steeps—slopes with vertical angles that pushed the limit of snow to resist the forces of gravity—and intense tree skiing. The area’s ban on snowboarders was an extra bonus. The sport had its place, but, thankfully, it wasn’t on this mountain on this morning.

Tomorrow, he would board a plane in Salt Lake City in the valley below and head back to his job in Sacramento. California had its positive points, like beautiful beaches, gorgeous women, and surfing, but he knew he’d start itching for snow before his plane even took off. So, he was determined to make the most of his last day on the slopes in Utah.

Glancing around and seeing no one, Dexter veered off the black-diamond trail, worn down by countless skiers to form aggressive moguls, and entered the trees where the powder was deep and pristine. Skiing out-of-bounds on ungroomed routes added an extra rush. Weaving in and out of trees on the narrow, precipitous chute required split-second reaction timing and a unique skill set few possessed.

He had gone off course in the area every day this week, so he knew every nuance of the terrain and treated it like a giant slalom course. The grade steepened, and there were several significant natural jumps. The trees got closer together aways down, which would eventually force him to return to the main run.

The feeling of weightlessness overcame him as he took air over the last jump. When he hit the ground, his knees took the brunt of the impact. Keeping low, his speed increased. Concentrating on the terrain, he shifted his weight, and using his strength, forced a turn just in time to avoid a tree in his path.

His adrenaline flowed, sending fire through his veins as he wove in and out of the tall pines like gates on a race course. He knew he was getting close to the end of his illegal detour and would have to slow his speed soon to safely reenter the official route. For a minute more, though, he tuned everything else out of his mind except navigating through the trees at the highest rate of speed he could control.

As the marked run came into focus off to his left, he spied another skier ahead on the main route. He wasn’t concerned. Even if the person decided to report him, he’d be long gone by the time anyone with authority could respond.

He came alongside the other skier and glanced over. Dexter was still off course. He and the other skier both wore tinted goggles, but it felt as if for an instant, their eyes locked, and the sensation sent a chill down his spine. Dexter noticed the lack of a glove on one hand. It was too cold to have bare skin exposed for long, but that wasn’t his problem.

Dexter quickly pulled his attention back to the slope. He was going too fast and not yet out of the trees, so losing focus could be deadly. Just as the thought entered his mind, a loud pop reached his ears, and searing pain raced up his legs. His boots detached from his skis and his body flew through the air like a bullet. With no time to react, he knew a collision with a tree was imminent.

He tried to raise his arms to shield his body, but it was too late.

CHAPTER TWO

Three Months Later

Morgan Hunter gazed out her tenth-floor office window at the city lights twinkling to life in the desert below. The view alone should have confirmed she had achieved the success she had worked so hard and sacrificed so much for, but after only a week on the job, she feared she had made a huge mistake.

The vibe in the corporate headquarters and the factory had already put her on edge, and she couldn’t help but wonder what happened to her predecessor, Stan Jacobson. No one talked about the man who, up until a month or so ago, occupied this coveted office. Where did he go? Why did he leave? And, even more curious, where was his stuff? Not so much as a stray paperclip littered the desk drawers, and no one had offered a shred of information on the man.

Ms. Hunter, is there anything else I can do for you before I leave? The smooth voice of her unusual assistant broke through her thoughts. Aaron Truscott was the first male assistant she’d had in her decade as a top executive. Male executive assistants weren’t that uncommon, but his qualifications piqued her curiosity.

In her briefing packet, she had received reams of material to familiarize herself with Giant Cactus Foods, Inc. or GCF as everyone called it, her new position as one of three vice presidents and the head of the Healthy and Delicious Foods division, and Aaron’s resume. Just a few years shy of thirty years old, he held a degree in accounting along with a MBA from an Ivy League University. He had worked for a prestigious non-profit lobbying foundation in Washington, D.C. and a major pharmaceutical company before that.

So what is he doing typing my letters and keeping my calendar? She’d have to add that to her growing list of oddities accompanying her latest career change.

I really appreciate the thorough cleaning job you did prior to my arrival, but I was wondering what happened to Mr. Jacobson’s files. It would really help to familiarize me with the position, and I always hate reinventing the wheel, so to speak. If he implemented a strategy that wasn’t successful, I most certainly don’t want to attempt the same failed practice or program.

Mr. Hoyle ordered me to shred everything, get you a new computer, and make sure you had a clean slate to work with. He wanted you to feel free to run operations your way and not be concerned about the way things used to be handled. As you know, the Healthy and Delicious Foods division hasn’t been performing to Mr. Hoyle’s high expectation for the past quarter, so Mr. Hoyle wants a fresh approach.

Morgan studied Aaron for a moment. He seemed so certain of his rationale, and he clearly followed directions without question. Despite never having walked into a new office without a single scrap of paper from the previous occupant, she decided to drop the subject for now.

Very well, then. Enjoy your weekend.

You too, Aaron replied as he turned and strode out of the office.

Morgan sank into her chair. She was exhausted. Getting her feet on the ground had proven to be a daunting task. Every night, she poured over spreadsheets until nearly midnight, preventing her from unpacking all the moving boxes stacked in her new duplex apartment.

She spent a good portion of each morning in the factory, watching the production process and picking the brain of her production manager, Wiley Hartman. She enjoyed the manufacturing process, but unfortunately, afternoons were consumed with various staff and board meetings.

Wiley seemed competent and very knowledgeable about the company, having worked his way up through canned, frozen, and snack foods before taking over as the production manager for the Healthy and Delicious Foods division processing facility three years ago. She had taken an instant liking to the man, and decided that if anyone might turn out to be an ally here, it would be him.

Jiggling the mouse, Morgan brought her sleeping computer screen to life. A quick check of her e-mail verified there was nothing new that couldn’t wait until Monday. She opened her calendar for the next week and nearly groaned. Her second week on the job, and she had the Food Safety and Inspection Services (FSIS) coming in for routine inspections, and a meeting with the sales and marketing team. On top of that, her new boss and president of the company, Preston Hoyle, wanted a report by week’s end on her observations and initial plan of attack for increasing profits and returning the line to its highest level of sales.

You’re here late.

Speak of the devil. Morgan looked up at Preston and smiled. I’m just wrapping up a few things and wanted to take one last peek at next week’s schedule to make sure Aaron didn’t add anything new since the last time I checked.

He’ll definitely keep you organized, and don’t hesitate to utilize his skills. He’s a sharp young man.

Morgan stood, feeling small and somewhat intimidated by the tall, handsome man towering over her. Even with heels on, she couldn’t quite look him in his pale blue eyes and had to tilt her chin up. He was closer than she had realized, invading her personal space. His gaze seemed fixed on her lips, so she took a quick step back and reached for Aaron’s resume to insert some distance without seeming too obvious.

I gathered that from his resume, and I can’t help but wonder how long I’ll have him with his education and experience. He seems a bit overqualified for the job.

Don’t worry about Aaron. He isn’t going anywhere, but you should. It’s Friday night. You’re new on the job and new in town, and you’ve put in more hours than I expect, especially during your first week. I feel a little guilty about the lack of assistance with your transition, but hopefully, Aaron has ensured you have everything you need. If my in-laws weren’t in town, I’d love to take you to dinner and show you what our fine city has to offer.

The only way Morgan could describe the smile that followed his last statement was lecherous, and warning bells resounded in her head.

I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Hoyle, but it has been a long week, and as soon as I can close up here, I’m heading up to Sedona to our family vacation home. I plan to relax with a glass of wine and one of the Healthy and Delicious Foods entrees I haven’t tried yet before I tackle a year’s worth of dust and cobwebs tomorrow.

Now that’s dedication, but don’t get too carried away with these products. Your figure is just fine the way it is, he said, letting his eyes linger too long on her breasts. And please, call me Preston. I’m sure we’ll be working very closely together, including plenty of late nights, so no need to be so formal.

Morgan didn’t know how to respond to his last comment so returned her focus to an innocuous topic. According to the promotional material supplied by the advertising team, the Healthy and Delicious Foods line isn’t just for weight loss. I must admit, I’m very impressed with the data on GCF’s revolutionary natural sweetener, MFHG3, derived primarily from the monk fruit and hoodia gordonii. Not only does it sweeten foods, but the steroidal glycosides found in the Hoodia plant are reported to curb the appetite. It sounds almost too good to be true.

Yes, MFHG3 took this company from a small local manufacturer to a national powerhouse, catering to the thin-obsessed and health-crazed society. MFHG3 has changed the playing field and has all the other companies scrambling to catch up, but enough shoptalk. You need to get out of here, and if I miss my dinner reservation, my mother-in-law will yap about it all weekend. I would like to hear more about this place in Sedona soon. Sounds like a perfect weekend getaway from the heat, the city, and the stress of the job. Maybe you’ll even give me a tour one of these days.

Not in this lifetime. She bit her lip and didn’t respond.

The smile he flashed at Morgan as he departed her office made her shudder. He seemed perfectly professional during the interview process. She hadn’t been alone with him in the same room all week, but this brief exchange warned her to avoid one-on-one time with her boss as much as possible, especially after hours in an empty and dark building.

Morgan dropped into her desk chair, powered down her computer, and stowed the lightweight laptop in her briefcase along with several files she had procured from accounting. Grasping the knob on the lower side drawer of her desk to retrieve her purse, she was reminded of one more thing she had forgotten to do this week.

She had intended to have Aaron submit a work order to have someone fix the drawer. Since it didn’t completely close, she wasn’t able to lock up her purse when she was down in the ground floor factory—not that anyone could get into her office with the tenacious Aaron sitting just outside her door. Mostly, it was simply annoying. The drawer shut enough that she didn’t catch a shin, so she forgot about it until she was stowing or retrieving her purse.

I can’t believe this little gap is bugging me so much. I must be turning into my ex, Morgan huffed as she sat down on the floor and scooted under her desk with the small flashlight from her key chain, hoping her boss didn’t return and catch her with her skirt hiked up.

She ran her fingers along the track and felt something at the very back. Wriggling even further under the desk, she shined the small light in the area where she detected the obstruction. The item was affixed with tape, but it took little effort to pry it free.

Crawling back out into the light, Morgan examined the small item. No larger than a paperclip, its identity was clear. She held a tiny flash drive between her fingers.

Hmm, curious place to keep data. She pondered the matter while looking closely at her find. Wish I wouldn’t have already powered down my computer, Morgan muttered as she dropped the small device into her purse, flipped off the lights, and headed for the elevator.

CHAPTER THREE

What do we have? FBI Special Agent Devyn Nash asked as she paced in front of a wall-sized digital whiteboard.

Her partner, Nick Melonis, and her boss, Special Agent in Charge (SAC), Gerald Conroy, studied the elaborate diagram she had created. The rest of the group, SACs from three other FBI field offices and their designated agents, watched in various states of disinterest.

A bunch of accidents, one of the men in the back mumbled.

Devyn glared at Richard Smith, an agent from the Sacramento field office. Apparently, he didn’t realize he was already on her list for ratting on her for requesting information on a case she was supposed to stay away from. She must be slipping. Being on her list used to be a very bad place to be, but the man didn’t seem terribly concerned as he continued to try her limited patience.

Taking a deep breath, she counted to ten, something Nick had been encouraging her to do before responding to any comments she deemed stupid. She glanced at her partner and he nodded his approval of her restraint.

That used to be the predominant theory, Gerald Conroy interjected, but there was nothing accidental about what happened in Wyoming. The hired assassins were professionals. The man in charge indicated before he died that there is a tie to three other incidents, which were originally deemed accidents by local law enforcement and therefore were not officially investigated by the FBI. Those incidents occurred in, or are connected to, companies in your jurisdictions, which is why you’re all here. I’ve spoken to the other SACs, and since the most recent and clearly verifiable crime happened in our district, we’ll take the lead, but we need to all work together to find out what’s going on. Cooperation is key. It’s essential to keep information flowing so nothing slips through the cracks again. Devyn, brief everyone on what we know for sure.

Devyn appreciated Gerald Conroy putting the group in their place. He had been with the Bureau for a long time and was well respected across the country. With his preamble, she now had everyone’s undivided attention. Devyn was so thrilled to finally have a shot at these cases that she hardly knew where to begin.

Standing and facing the group, she tucked several errant strands of her long blonde hair behind her ear. She forced a professional tone into her voice to cover her excitement.

Within the past five years, there’s been an explosion at GenTech Medical and Pharmaceutical Research Laboratories which killed two scientists and wiped out a decade’s worth of data. The head researcher at Polk Genetic Research allegedly committed suicide. An experienced analyst and researcher for Smith & Brown Consumer Analytics died of injuries sustained in a fatal skiing accident. Most recently, three people were murdered over a product, potentially worth billions, being developed by Uinta Vitamin and Nutrition or UVN.

Devyn nodded to Nick, and he stood up and passed out thin briefing packets.

Most of what you see in here is from the UVN case, since that’s the one which verified my and Nick’s theory that all these incidents were not accidents and are connected. Also enclosed is the official accident report from the local investigator on one of the murders related to this case.

For several minutes, the sound of rustling paper was all that could be heard in the conference room. Devyn doubted anyone could still deny that something very bad and dangerous lurked on the fringes of the pharmaceutical research and nutritional supplement world. Most importantly, though, the FBI had officially opened a case file, and she and Nick were designated as the leads.

In going over the four incidents, we think we’ve found the tie, Devyn continued. Gen Tech was working on a surgical procedure which would reprogram the brain to tell the body what it should consume and how much. The research would have changed the lives of diabetics and those with eating disorders. The explosion and loss of data and the scientists involved set the program back years. The researcher who allegedly committed suicide at Polk was apparently close to isolating a gene which could more accurately identify those individuals prone to genetic obesity. This breakthrough would have enabled doctors to take a proactive approach with those possessing a strong likelihood of becoming obese. Smith & Brown conducts tests on thousands of products for companies seeking a third-party unbiased confirmation of its claims. Its analyst, who was killed in a ski accident, had worked on testing for five different diet and nutrition products in the past three years, so we don’t know which, if any, of the products is involved. And most recently, UVN thought they had successfully modified an enzyme to create a supplement that would allow people to eat whatever they want in any quantity and still lose weight. So the common denominator appears to be weight management.

Are we looking for someone who is trying to steal the products and procedures and eventually introduce them to the market as their own? Or do we think someone wants to keep the products out of production and off the market? one of the other agents asked.

We’re not sure. Either way, someone is apparently trying to manipulate the forty to one hundred billion dollar-a-year diet product industry in the U.S., which would obviously impact other developed countries around the world as well.

Devyn returned to her chair and took a long gulp of coffee. She scanned the room and could see she had everyone’s attention. Not only had they verified crimes had been committed, rather than just a series of unfortunate accidents, she had given them the link binding the crimes and companies together.

So, all we have to do is find out who wants to make America skinny or keep it fat, and who’s willing to kill for the honor. No problem, Sacramento sneered.

It’s more than we’ve had. At least we’re investigating now, and we will be working together and cooperating fully with each other—Dick, is it?

I go by Richard.

A kick in the shin under the table from Nick warned Devyn not to pursue the exchange. Their boss had ordered her to play nice with the other agents, or else. She ground her teeth together and shrugged her shoulders, silently counting to ten for the second time in the last half an hour.

That’s all we have so far. Until very recently, no one agreed with me that the best and brightest in the scientific world weren’t just a bunch of accident-prone, bumbling oafs and that something far more deadly was at work.

Gerald Conroy stood and cleared his throat. We won’t take up any more of your time, and probably won’t need to meet again unless we have a major break in the case. We don’t have any solid leads to follow up on except to try and locate Janice Green. She was apparently calling the shots at UVN and had been employed at the other companies under different aliases and in different capacities. She has managed to disappear in all these instances. Her photo is in your packet as well as in the electronic case file which has been established on the bureau-wide server. When we put surveillance on a local investigating officer for one of the UVN murders, we caught him on a spending spree. After some serious pressure, he confessed to falsifying the accident report. So revisiting the local investigating officers in your jurisdictions is a good place to start. That’ll be all, Gerald Conroy stated.

As the group filed out of the room, the special agents in charge stopped to exchange pleasantries with Gerald. Devyn and Nick hung back until the room cleared and waited for their specific instructions.

Once all the outside agents left, Gerald rejoined Devyn and Nick.

Until we catch a break, there’s not a lot we can do, so I want you to get up to speed on the interagency drug case we’ve been working on. I want you two to take the lead on a surveillance operation Gordo and Fitz have organized. They’ve prepared a briefing for you on the specifics. I’m sure you know the gist, so get to know the facts. There’s also some follow-up needed with the Wyoming Sheriff on the UVN case as well, Gerald said as he plopped Gordo and Fitz’s briefing paper on the table in front of them.

Devyn scanned the briefing quickly with Nick reading over her shoulder. Their assignment was a small piece of a large ongoing investigation being conducted in cooperation with local authorities. The FBI had received a tip on a location and date when a known drug dealer would be picking up his next supply. They could have brought him in for selling drugs months ago but realized he might be the break they needed to find out how the drugs where getting into the city and to identify the main distributor.

The job would be accomplished by tracking texts, intercepting cell phone calls, and placing some listening devices in strategic locations in an effort to nab a dealer willing to talk. Since the tech guys would handle most of the actual work, Devyn didn’t think it would take up too much of their time. A few stakeouts and hopefully, bringing in a dealer without tipping their hand to the main supplier would likely be her and Nick’s primary role.

She appreciated that their boss had clearly left them open to pursue Operation Risky Research, as it had been unofficially dubbed. By handing them a piece of the drug-eradication operation that could easily be turned over to other agents if needed, she and Nick had the freedom to investigate a case that had been haunting her for