Page 29 of Tell Me the Truth

“Great. I’ll forward you the details along with your retainer. Per usual, be discreet and quick.”

“When am I never?” My P.I. answers. And that is enough for me. I text him basic details of what I am looking for, knowing that he will find something if there is something to be found. I know it in my gut.

I take a deep breath as I glance out the window. The sky is transitioning from orange to blue, as the sun is rising from the horizon. The side of my mouth curves into a smile as I remember Alexandra in her doorway last night, asking me to join her inside. I head to the kitchen to put a pod in the coffeemaker.

As the machine brews coffee into my mug, I think about the night we just spent together—the smell of alcohol on her breath, the taste of her mouth, the sounds of her moans. I catch myself gripping the edge of the counter just thinking about her. My throat is starting to get dry again. Alexandra was wilder than I expected last night.

Just thinking about her is enough to make blood start rushing to my groin. The coffee machine stops whirring and I yank myself back to reality.

I need to get back to the office. See if there’s anything I can find out there.Grabbing everything I need for the day, I head out to my car and drive to the Brent-Sigma office.

“Can I get a note card and envelope?” I ask my secretary when I walk up to my office.

She hands them to me, and I find a pen on her desk to write in the card.

Alexandra, thank you for talking with me last night. I’m giving you all the space you need, but just know that I’m sorry for hurting you.

Love, Ellis

As I writeLove, Ellis, it crosses my mind that she could think that “Love” is a presumptuous word. But I go ahead and write it, in place of “From”, as it is more sincere and conveys my true feelings. I’m hopeful that she might not think of me as an enemy any longer.

I place the notecard in the envelope and seal it. Asking my secretary, “Please order the kind of flowers that say, ‘I’m sorry’, and send them to Alexandra Seth. Thank you, Cynthia.”

Then, I head into my office.

Sitting at my desk, I type in a search for Seth BioTech personnel, specifically the team that works closely with Alexandra. A dozen names come up, from members of her board to the CEO she had installed two years ago, presumably because she wanted to focus on work in the laboratory. After reading through all the bios of those closest to Alexandra, I can’t find anything suspicious.

My cell phone rings and a glance at the screen gives me a jump. It is my Private Investigator. I answer the call.

“That was fast,” is my greeting.

My P.I. tells me how it wasn’t hard to find interesting connections between someone close to Alexandra and my company. He says, “I’ll keep looking for more and will get back to you if I find anything, but for now just check your email for details.”

When I open up my email, as soon as I see the report I can tell that I have everything I need.

The message shows the security footage and data from Seth BioTech from the night of the fire. It has the log revealing that Tracey Devina’s card was used to access the part of the building where the sprinklers could be manually turned off. Security cameras also recorded her in the security guard’s booth while he was away from his post.

I lean forward in my reclining chair with renewed interest in all of the information. There has to be more damning evidence than some video and ID card swipes.

“Tracey Devina,” I mutter to myself as I switch tabs in my Internet program back to the Seth BioTech personnel page that I was looking at when my P.I. called.

Tracey is Alexandra’s lab assistant, I notice, looking at her employee headshot on my screen.

She was hired about four years ago and according to the reports by the fire master, she was the last person in the lab before the fire started.

The information in the report then reveals exactly what I need to present to Alexandra. Tracey’s mother’s name is Caroline Wells. She was a pharmaceutical rep at Brent-Sigma for 16 years until just under five years ago when she went on medical leave.

I minimize the Internet program and switched to the Brent-Sigma database of employees. In her personnel file, I was only able to find that Caroline Wells left on medical leave. The notes show that after claiming all of her available benefits, she resigned for medical reasons.

Continuing with the report, I read that Caroline participated in Seth BioTech clinical trials for a cancer therapy and she is still alive today. In addition, there were suspicious payments made to completely cover all of Caroline Wells’ medical bills, exactly one week before Tracey Devina started working at Seth BioTech. In the email message, my P.I. mentions that he is positive that he can track the money trail, but that I have enough evidence to show that Tracey Devina took money to pay for her mother’s medical bills in exchange for being an insider at Seth BioTech.

I return to Tracey’s profile and study the look on her face. There is something about her and her story that stilldoesn’t sit well with me. However, I have enough information to pass on to Alexandra.

I have to call her, I think to myself, picking up my cell phone.

When Alexandra picks up, I can tell that she is upset. “Hey.” My voice tentative, unsure of what to expect. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“It was Tracey.” She cries. “She sabotaged the lab. How did I not see this?”

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