Page 20 of Small Sacrifices

Marisol frowns. "Is that how you would do it?"

It isn't.Reid isn't good at working aimlessly. But can he say that? He's supposed to behelpingher, not doing his own thing. Marisol rolls her eyes.

"Geeze. You really need to get a poker face sometime. Just research it the way you normally would and document it properly. Don't force yourself to work the way I do."

Well, that's a relief. "Is there a particular subject you want me to do that research on?"

Marisol considers this. "Well, I've been reading up on the project with the school. Maybe you can look into the lobbying in general?"

Reid nods. That's good. Hereallydoesn't want to risk discovering something and then have to lie to the parents about it—or even just have to keep it from them.

It takes until he's sat down at his desk and readied his notepad, highlighters, and sticky notes until he realizes what just went through his mind. That… no. Does he really believe that there is anything to find? That maybe Raymond Mackenzie had something to do with this horrible incident, is at all responsiblefor the negligent poisoning of elementary age children? No. He shakes his head to banish the thought. That's not the kind of person Governor Mackenzie is.

Clearly, he isn't perfect. The fact alone that Everett speaks about him how he does shows that his family life must be… suboptimal. But sometimes, things just fall by the wayside. Reid can imagine Mr. Mackenzie, first as senator and then as governor, focusing too much of his attention on keeping other people's children safe to pay his own the attention that they need. That could explain Everett. He seems like the type to absolutely crave attention.

Reid takes a breath and tells himself that he's worrying for nothing. He won't find anything bad. Neither will Marisol. The worst thing that could come to light is some sort of negligence. He's sure of it. Even that seems improbable.

With that in mind, he starts researching all legislation concerning agriculture, pesticides, and general environmental concerns that the governor has sponsored over the years. Most of what he finds is familiar. Old campaign leaflets, news clips, and such. Reid reads about the importance of engineering high-yield crops and about the deleterious effects of factory farms on their direct surroundings. He watches the then-senator explain the importance of wastewater treatment for both communities and factories and extol the virtues of controlling emissions.

None of it is extreme or even novel. Reid wishes politicians could make policy much more in favor of the environment without committing career suicide. But they can't, and so Governor Mackenzie likely sacrifices the loftier goals to reach the urgent ones. Such is the fate of a politician who aspires to be reelected. Reid's dad always says so.

The problem comes to light when Reid compares all of this to the "goals" sections in Agrifarm's quarterly reports. Early in 2008, they made it their goal to gain market shares fromtheir competitor Farmex. Later in the year, Senator Mackenzie sponsored legislation to ban several substances from use in agricultural operations, among them paraquat, one of the key components in Farmex's flagship pesticide Maxcrop—causing both Farmex's stock and market share to plummet. Similar incidents of suspiciously good luck for Agrifarm repeat all throughout Mackenzie's career.

Most importantly, after they closed down an old warehouse in 2012, and made it their goal to advertise their clean production processes and excellent waste treatment, Mackenzie proposed tightened regulations for chemical plants. And, fatefully, he oversaw the donation of this oh-so-clean, now unused parcel of land to the city of Chesterton and sponsored the construction of a brand-new elementary school.

It only takes a second for the chill to overtake Reid's entire body. No. This…no!He presses his thumbs into his tear ducts. This isn't what it looks like. It can't be. Right? The article in theTimeshad mentioned campaign contributions and Governor Mackenzie's active participation in theLacrimosaproject. But they didn't make him sound nearly this involved. Surely, if this was anything at all, theTimeswould have mentioned it?

There’s a possibility this is a coincidence. Perhaps Agrifarm donated to Mackenzie's campaigns, and he developed his policies independently. But no one will believe that. This doesn't just look bad; itisbad. It's so bad it makes Reid dizzy. If this one thing the press is saying is true, what about the other accusations?

Reid doesn't tell Marisol because he doesn't know what to say. It's probably not the best way to approach this, but it's the only way he thinks he can get through this right now. The notes he takes are meticulous—annotated, color coded, and worded as neutrally as possible. It's difficult because he's quite jittery. But he stays professional.

And then he goes home right on time, leaving his notes on Marisol's desk without comment. He tells himself it's her fault for choosing to go to the restroom at such an inopportune moment.

Chapter 9: A negative positive

When Reid steps into the big office the next day, it's overcrowded. People he didn't see at the strategy meeting yesterday are milling about, sipping coffee, leaning against desks that aren't theirs, and generally seeming bored—or maybe tired. It's hard to tell, especially since he's barely awake himself. It was a fight to get his breakfast down this morning. But if he doesn't eat a proper breakfast, he can't take his meds, and then he can kiss productivity goodbye for the day.

When Marisol spots him lingering by the door in apprehension, she narrows her eyes at him and crooks her finger to bid him to come over. He follows the order without even thinking about it. Soon, he finds himself sitting on the carpet next to her desk while she hisses at him.

"Seriously, Reid? You couldn't even talk to me about this? This is big! And you just dropped that shit on my desk and left without saying a word?"

"I didn't know what to say." He still doesn't know what to say, what to think. Nothing is not an option in this scenario.

"And you couldn't ask me? Have I ever given you the impression that you can't talk to me?" She looks annoyed, maybe even angry, with her eyebrows drawn together and her forehead all scrunched up, but she sounds almost vulnerable. Reid feels a twinge in his stomach. Did he hurt her? Is this a thing that can hurt people? He didn't even consider that yesterday.

"I'm sorry," he says. And then, to show that he's taking it seriously: "I was overwhelmed and just wanted to leave. I'll talk to you next time."

Her expression changes instantly to something much softer. "Please, yeah? I'd appreciate that."

He nods. "Absolutely. I'm really sorry."

"It's fine." Her sigh sounds slightly sinister. "That's quite something you found there. I'd only found hints so far—this is pretty definitive."

"Well, it could still be—"

"But it isn't," she hisses. "It fucking isn't. Don't tell me you looked at this and were genuinely convinced it was a coincidence for even one second. Neither one of us is stupid."

Before Reid can respond, someone claps their hands so loudly that he jumps. The uncushioned landing is quite unpleasant for his tailbone. When he looks up, trying to ignore the literal pain in his butt, he sees Mr. Wright. Because of course it's him. With hands that large, it's a wonder no one's eardrums burst.

---