Cold Storage

By Pete Bauer

FEAR CHILLS. PANIC KILLS.

 

It started with a simple decision. The right one, Katie thought. She still did.

 

As office manager, she was in charge of decorating for the annual Christmas party. It wasn't much. It never was, but she wanted to give her employees the holiday cheer they deserved. They were like family and Katie cared for them as she did her own little ones.

 

Which was why she made the choice. How could she have said no?

 

But, it had put into motion forces she didn't expect. Her simple act of kindness was devolving into a life of shame. She was supposed to be handing out snacks at her kids' games and smiles at the plant. Instead, she was lying to her police officer husband and betraying the ruthless man she called her boss.

 

Her small town was becoming a prison of her own making and any chance of escape was shrinking by the second. Stuck at a crossroad of fear and panic, Katie has to do something.

 

And quick.

 

Or her next secret may be her last.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pete Bauer
• Release date: Nov 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781946394712

Book preview

Chapter One

Christmas music played over the building’s intercom as the mix of blood, bleach, and freshly baked oatmeal cookies wafted through the air. Katie Cage slapped the wide hand reaching into her box of holiday goodies.

Harris, keep your hands to yourself, she said.

Dale Harris grunted, broke off a portion of a cookie, and tossed it into his mouth.

Didn’t your mother teach you manners? Katie asked.

She couldn’t teach what she didn’t know, he said, licking his fingers.

Then learn them from me. You ask before reaching. And you respect my response.

If I ask, you’ll say no.

I baked these cookies for everyone, not just you.

He snatched one more.

She twisted, shielding the box from his reach.

That is enough, she warned. Like I have time to bake cookies in the first place.

Fine, fine. He swallowed the last bite. Now are you ready?

I guess.

She lifted a handkerchief to her mouth, peering through the plexiglass window in front.

It’s big, I’ll give you that, she said.

Through the glass, in an expansive room with polished white tile, stood a pristine two-story metal structure.

A grin lifted Harris’ chubby cheeks.

You look like my kids on Christmas morning, she said.

This is better than Christmas. That there is going to make us a fortune.

You a fortune.

Do you want to see it run?

Do I have a choice?

Harris waved through the window, and a nearly invisible man in white protective gear stepped away from the white walls on the white floor. He returned Harris’ wave, then pressed a green button at the bottom of the metal behemoth.

The ground vibrated as the engine purred. Gears moved, metal clanged, and the complex mechanisms behind the stainless-steel exterior hummed to life.

Impressive, Katie said. Now can we go? Your employees are waiting.

Just a second.

He waved to the white-clad worker one more time, and the employee pressed a second button, a yellow one.

Red lights atop the machine spun.

The metal beast growled.

A conveyor belt chugged forward, originating from a room to the left and passing through an opening hung with clear plastic strips. The gutted cows and pigs vibrated on the conveyor belt as it pulled them toward the two-story mechanism, up an incline like a tongue extending from the machine’s mouth, and into the beast’s metal jaws.

The scent of meat and blood drifted into the air vents at Katie’s feet. She covered her nose with her hanky.

Is it always this loud? she asked.

It’s just getting warmed up.

She felt the floor shimmer, but Harris looked on without a care, his eyes wide with excitement.

At the bottom of the beast, the conveyor belt split like a forked tongue. One lane carried sections of meat, disentangled from the structure that once held it together, moving it toward the packaging department. The second lane transported the bones and other unwanted bits toward waste disposal. Both disappeared into the adjacent rooms through more pass-throughs shielded with plastic strips.

What do you think? he asked.

She eyed the two-story machine.

I think you’re compensating for something.

This can do the work of fifty, except it doesn’t sleep, ask for a raise, bolt to one of my competitors, or take a vacation.

If you’re about to tell me that you plan on firing some of my people, we’re going to have words, she said.

Your people?

Our small town of Tyler is finally making a comeback. You have a chance to lead that charge, help revitalize the local economy, and, if you play your cards right, get a park named after you. You start replacing people with machines, and the city council won’t take kindly to your expansion plans.

He fidgeted with a gold necklace that had a meat-cleaver charm, the chain wet from his sweaty neck. We’ll see about that.

Trying not to grimace, Katie held open her box of cookies. People are your future, not two-story meat grinders, she said.

Meat grinder and deboner, he clarified.

She shook the box.

Shrugging, he took another cookie.

Fine, he said. But come next year, when we break ground on phase two, don’t expect the human-to-machine ratio to stay the same. Progress is progress.

We’ll have that discussion in time. Now, let’s get to the Christmas party before all I have to offer is a box of crumbs.

They stepped out of the observation area and started down a long hall, its walls covered in wood paneling, its floors with matted dark green carpet. This was the original structure, the foundation of the plant, the floors Katie walked when she first started there.

This old part of the building felt like home.

Can’t wait to see how you decorated the cafeteria, he said.

Close your eyes and think back to last year and you won’t be disappointed.

Then I’ll know just where to find you under the mistletoe.

Her stomach churned.

Thank you, no. I’m a happily married woman.

Oh, I know you’re married. You’ve just never looked too happy about it.

He chuckled, his bulky frame jiggling with each laugh.

That’s none of your business, she said.

She’d spent years deflecting Harris’ unwanted flirtations to the point where she barely recognized them as offensive anymore. It’d become part of her employment, like filing and bookkeeping.

Speaking of business, Harris said. What did the health inspector say?

Our drains need snaking again.

Harris clenched his fists.

Georgie has been a thorn in our side since I took over this plant, looking for any reason to shut me down.

He’s just doing his job, she said.

I have a mind to drop him into the deboner and see if he’s actually got a spine in that measly little body of his. I need to teach him a lesson.

No, you need to teach the new workers in the Prep Room the rights and wrongs. I’ve been telling you for months that our new workers need better training. They’re letting all sorts of bits get washed into the system.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll get to it. In the meantime, put Dennis on snaking the drains. Anything else?

Yes. She eyed her box of cookies, wondering if she’d made enough to broach the next subject. Just one more thing.

Well, make it quick. I can smell the barbecue from here.

Katie stopped, holding open the box of cookies.

DeAndrea, she said.

Harris paused, slouched his shoulders, and turned back to her with familiar ire.

We’re not talking about this again, he said. This is the reason that machine back there makes so much sense to me. They don’t have kids with cancer.

She just needs a little more help. Some paid time off.

She’s already used up her PTO.

That’s why I need you to approve more.

Harris’ face flushed, and his nostrils flared.

Before you blow a gasket and ruin our Christmas party, just hear me out. Look, I know you don’t have any kids, but I’ve got two little ones and I don’t know what I’d do if anything like that happened to one of them. DeAndrea can’t treat her son’s illness like it’s the flu. She needs to be with him, Harris. She won’t be able to think of anything else. Don’t put her out of house and home too. She reached forward to gently grab his thick forearm. Harris, you have a chance to do something special here. Show your employees you’re more than the signature on their paychecks. That you have a heart in there somewhere.

Exceptions become the rule, you know that, he said. The rules are the same for everyone or there are no rules.

Her boy is seven. He’s not going to make it to eight.

Harris stared at her as if she’d yet to speak.

Your business is booming, she continued. Hell, a year of her salary is less than what you use in petty cash.

He stepped forward, his wide finger pointed at her chest.

"Now you wait just a damn minute. That is my money, and what I do with it is my business, not yours. Besides, she’s got family."

A father dead three years and a mom in a nursing home.

I’m done talking. There are many charities out there to help DeAndrea. Harris Meats ain’t one.

Katie’s head drooped, and she stared at the ugly green carpet.

You can be so cold sometimes.

He motioned to a heavy metal door labeled Cold Storage.

Comes with the business.

Harris continued toward the plant cafeteria while Katie remained, her box of cookies in hand, desperate to find just one ounce of humanity in her boss’ hardened heart.

Chapter Two

Katie stepped into the plant cafeteria, accepting her name tag from one of the office staff. Pressing the tag against her chest, she looked around the room and admired her work. Christmas lights dipped from ceiling tiles, the tree was decorated with ornaments and envelopes with each employees’ name, while an instrumental version of Silent Night crackled over the intercom.

Not bad for an hour of overtime.

Harris had gone before her, but he hadn’t arrived. If he left the plant before making an appearance, Katie was going to kill him.

In the nearly full room, the employees clumped about the hall, separated by their colored uniforms. The delivery drivers in their dark blue polos and matching ball caps stood near the bar in the far corner. Next to them were the warehouse workers in their yellow t-shirts. The butchers with their bloodstained tan aprons mingled next to the decorated fake ten-foot pine tree, their backs to the packagers in their white protective coveralls.

She chuckled. It appeared nothing had changed since high school. Many of her former Tyler High classmates had become fellow employees who had exchanged their cheerleader outfits, sports apparel, and academic credentials for one of the Harris Meats’ colorful uniforms.

Their colors bonded them together. She understood it. Everyone wanted to feel like they belonged, even at work.

But, unlike the others, Katie was a member of a clique of two—her and Harris.

It wasn’t by choice; it came with the position. Katie interacted with all the cliques, but was close to none. She was the intermediary between the worker and the boss, the human touch for a man who had little.

She liked it that way. Brought out her motherly instincts while offering her a small sense of control.

She walked to the center of the room and down the extensive line of tables covered with white paper tablecloths, eyeing the trays of barbecue and dishes of finger foods, paper plates and plastic wear, straightening what was out of place as she passed.

The party wasn’t a grand gesture by Harris. More perfunctory than anything else. Still, there was no reason it couldn’t look nice.

Katie felt a hot breath against the nape of her neck.

Harris, if that’s you holding a mistletoe above my head, I’m going to kick you in the crotch and give your people an office party to remember.

She spun around, her leg flexed and ready.

Beck, a rugged young man wearing a blue Harris Meats’ delivery uniform, stood over her short stature, her gaze on his wide shoulders and muscular chest. She looked up, disarmed by his mischievous grin.

I’m not a major fan of crotch kicking, he said. But I like the mistletoe idea.

Beck, she said, catching her breath.

Hey, Kate.

Katie, she corrected.

I like Kate better.

If we’re making up names, then I guess I’ll call you Dick.

He leaned in, then whispered in her ear. You can call me anything you want.

A pleasurable chill ran up her neck.

Well, Dick, what can I do for you?

He scanned the room. You alone tonight?

She held up her finger with her wedding ring as if she were flipping him off.

With this on, I’m never alone, she said with a smile.

Doesn’t mean you’re not lonely.

You’re a flirt. I get it. But you’re young and handsome. I’ve never lost my baby weight, so get to the point. What do you want?

You’re too hard on yourself,’ Beck said. You’re more beautiful than you think."

Turn off the charm and ask your question.

His charm dimmed, but not by much.

Okay, he said. Being this is the Christmas season and all, how much of my spiked egg nog do you think it’ll take to get Harris to give me a raise?

Not enough nog in Tyler to make that happen.

Are you kidding me? I’ve been here three years, but I’m only making a dollar twenty-five more an hour than when I started.

You’re welcome.

He shifted his stance and squinted.

Tyler is coming back she continued. Young folks moving in. College grads. The place will be something special in a few years. No doubt there’ll be plenty of opportunity for someone with your skills by then.

I’m not that patient. Okay, how about this? He’s a businessman. He’ll appreciate leverage. I got an offer down in Leto at Blake Meats and Seafood to deliver for nearly twice the pay. I don’t want to leave Tyler. I like it here. And the people I work with, he said with a wink. But I wouldn’t mind getting a larger chunk in my paycheck. So, how should I go about it?

Move to Leto.

Seriously?

Money and loyalty. Those are the two things Harris loves almost as much as himself. You’re proposing to challenge him with both. Move to Leto.

He sported a winning grin. But he hasn’t witnessed my charisma.

It may work on a married mother of two, but it won’t work on him.

His eyebrows raised. Really? He nudged his shoulder against hers. So, it worked on you, huh?

A rush of heat crossed her chest. No comment.

As she dared to look into his eyes, Harris entered the room, his boisterous voice booming like a jet breaking the sound barrier.

Beck straightened, and Katie took a step back.

Move to Leto, Katie whispered.

And miss seeing you every day, Kate? Beck murmured. That would be too much to bear.

Harris passed by them, and Beck stepped into his wake.

The name is Katie, she added.

Moving from one group to the next, Harris tried to mingle, offering crude jokes instead of wit, and the employees laughed on cue. No matter the smiles and shoulder slaps, Harris’ employees held their gaze on him like impatient students waiting for detention to end.

As Katie watched Beck follow in Harris’ shadow, she spotted DeAndrea standing in the hall by the cafeteria door. She held her boy in her arms. They looked tired. The young mother had the lines of worry etched into her youthful skin, and darkened bags shaded her eyes. Mal, her son, leaned his head against her shoulder.

Katie stepped into the hall, hugging them.

Merry Christmas, she said, then squeezed the boy’s hand. You too, Mal.

Thank you, DeAndrea said.

You two coming inside? Harris got the butchers to throw together some BBQ.

Harris doesn’t like kids at his office parties.

He won’t mind this once.

No thank you, DeAndrea said. I’m just here hoping he was handing out Christmas bonuses.

Katie averted her eyes. She knew what was waiting for DeAndrea in her envelope on the tree. A twenty-dollar gift certificate to the new national coffee chain in town. Katie bought the gift cards herself. There was no magic waiting in DeAndrea’s envelope, no mystery donor who was going to alleviate her struggles.

I’ll see if I can find yours, Katie said. She slipped back into the cafeteria, squeezing by the butchers in front of the Christmas tree.

DeAndrea’s envelope was near the top, just below a white angel.

She pulled it from the branches. Holding it in her hands, she felt the weight of disappointment inside of it. Three overpriced lattes weren’t going to help DeAndrea. She needed more. Much more.

Her fingers tightened around the envelope.

Katie’d grown observant over the years. From her desk, she’d watched Harris dip into the petty-cash drawer before slipping out of the office at midday. Once, she followed him to a local strip bar, where he entered with bulging pockets and a horny grin, only to exit two hours later with flat jeans and bloodshot eyes.

Each month, Katie had to replenish the money with another ten thousand in cash from the bank. Double that during the holidays. Harris claimed it was for business lunches and off-the-book donations to the local zoning board members to get his expansion plans passed through without correction. That was partly true. But most went into the G-strings of strippers and a drinking habit that would eventually damage his liver.

He was enjoying the fruits of his labor, indulging in new and expensive excesses. It was his to spend. He’d earned it.

Still, as Katie looked back to the hall and the depth of sadness within DeAndrea’s eyes, she knew she had to do something.

After all, her boy was dying.

This would be his last Christmas.

Chapter Three

Katie slipped through the cafeteria kitchen and headed toward her office, the sight of Mal in DeAndrea’s arms propelling her feet forward. Her mind, too, was racing. There was more money on hand than just the petty cash. There was the rainy-day fund Harris kept in his office safe. The reinvestment account for plant upgrades. The political donation slush fund to buy favors. Katie had helped set each up. Distribution networks for his cash flow to move through the system, setting the company up for the future, while avoiding as many taxes as possible.

DeAndrea didn’t need a lot. Not in Tyler. A couple of thousand a month would be enough to get her through. Maybe a little extra for her upcoming funeral expenses. Twenty-five thousand total. That should do it.

Katie’s mind sifted through deposit schedules and quarterly audit sessions. She organized each of Harris’ business accounts in her mind, listing them by liquidity and visibility. Those with money flowing through the fastest wouldn’t notice a few missing grand here and there. It could be offset by the slush fund, which no one was supposed to know existed. She could pay that back from the rainy-day fund, which wouldn’t get audited until spring.

The dominos started to line up in her head, ways to seamlessly move the money from one account to another, not unlike the way she paid her own bills. Open up a new credit card with zero percent interest for a year, then move her existing balances over, close out the old accounts, and repeat the process when the new card started charging interest.

It was a shell game, and she’d gotten fairly good at it. It helped keep a roof over her family’s head on her and her husband’s small salaries. Fed their two kids. And she was confident that having to juggle their income wouldn’t last forever. Katie would move up in Harris’ company, and her husband would do the same at his job.

Shifting the money around to stay afloat was just temporary.

Like DeAndrea’s situation.

Katie entered her office and closed it, locking the door behind her. She didn’t turn on the lights. What she had to do needed to be done in the dark.

As Jingle Bells crackled over the hall speaker, Katie smiled.

She was going to make DeAndrea’s Christmas one to remember.

Chapter Four

Katie had brought her red-and-green party dress to the office to slip into once the Christmas gathering had begun. She even bought matching ornament earrings that dangled and flashed like the lights in the cafeteria.

But they would have to wait.

The company envelope stuffed with cash would have been impossible to hide in her favorite Christmas dress. She’d gained twenty pounds since last year, and it had been skintight then. She sported plenty of cleavage, but even her large bosom couldn’t hide twenty-five thousand dollars. So, she kept her work clothes on, stuffing the envelope into her pocket. It looked like she was carrying a six-inch piece of two-by-four, so she hid the bulge by carrying her work clipboard, covering it.

Everyone should have been in the cafeteria by now. For all the grumbling her employees did about their hours on the floor, she couldn’t imagine they’d miss a chance to get paid while eating free food. The coast should be clear.

She slipped into the hall, quietly closing her office door behind her.

Turning, she yelped, startled to find Dennis waiting for her.

Shit, she said, pressing the clipboard against her thigh. You startled me.

I can see that, he said. I seem to have that effect on women.

Dennis was a lanky man. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, but his thin frame gave the allusion he was taller. It must have been why he could slice through the air unnoticed, appearing behind her like a ghost.

Harris said you needed to speak to me.

H-he did? she stuttered.

Something about health inspectors.

Right. Right.

You okay?

Katie laughed nervously.

Just so much to do. Haven’t even had a chance to change into my favorite Christmas dress.

Dennis leaned in, his thin eyes examining her face. His breath reeked of smoke and Fritos.

Hmm… he mumbled.

What… she started. What are you doing?

I have a talent, he said. A gift. You see, I can read people. See ‘em for what they are, not what they pretend to be.

She forced a chuckle.

Really?

It’s like a daydream, except I’m still awake.

She scrunched her nose.

You only have daydreams when you’re awake, she said.

Exactly.

No, see, that’s the definition of a daydream. A dream while you’re awake. During the day.

And I have them. I’m having one about you, right now.

Is this dream an HR violation? Because I’d hate to fire you for inappropriate advances just before Christmas.

Oh, it’s nothing like that. No, I see beyond the real into the surreal.

Katie laughed.

You see the surreal? she asked.

Like crystal.

And what is the surreal telling you?

You’ve got secrets.

Everyone has secrets.

You’ve got new ones. Fresh, like cantaloupe. I can see it on your face.

My real face or my surreal one?

Both.

Katie sighed, her patience waning.

Interesting, but I have work to do before I’m off the clock, so unless your cantaloupe instincts are leading somewhere fast, I have to go.

She stepped by him to start down the hall.

They’ll know, he warned. You need my help.

She heard a clicking sound like a broken baby rattle. Curious, she turned and found Dennis shaking a small prescription bottle with a few white pills clacking inside.

One of these will hide your secrets, and it’ll get you in the Christmas spirit in no time.

I’m the mother of two with a police officer husband. I don’t take illegal drugs.

They’re legal. They’re just not made out to you.

Still.

Ignore my gifts at your own peril. Harris can smell fear, and you got hand-in-the-cookie-jar written all over you.

That’s sweet of you and all, using your special skills to try to help me, but I don’t have time for it just now. I’m running late, and there’s some spiked egg nog with my name on it. So, before the health inspector comes back next week, Harris wants you to snake the drains in the Prep Room again. And before you hem and holler, I already told him what he should do, but, like always, he’s taking the cheapest route.

Shrugging, Dennis shook his head.

Fine, he said. I don’t know how you work for him. I bet he doesn’t even notice you.

"He notices enough