“No. It can wait.”
Her department did all the quality assurance testing for all pharmaceuticals produced on site including liquids, gases and solid tablets.
Paige stowed her lunch in the mini fridge and her purse beneath her desk. It wasn’t like Ed to just not show up.
“Maybe I’ll call Lou.” She already had the handset to her ear. Lou confirmed that Ed had logged in at 5:37 a.m. and left at 6:00 a.m. to do his run. But he had not checked back in before Lou arrived at eight, and Lou had not seen him since arriving. She lowered the phone. “That’s odd.”
Paige relayed Lou’s information.
“Call Ursula?” Jeremy suggested, referring to Ed’s wife.
“Maybe.” Paige retrieved her mobile phone and considered her options. She didn’t want to worry Ursula unnecessarily. “I’ll try his cell.” She did and got his voice mail. “It’s Paige. Call me back when you have a chance.”
Something didn’t sit right. It was dark out when Ed ran and there was no shoulder on most of the county roads. He could be lying in a ditch right now. Then she thought of what Lou had told her just this morning and sucked in a breath.
“Does he run on the cutoff on Turax Hollow Road?”
Lou Reber showed up at the lab just before lunch wearing a long face and rubbing the back of his neck. There was no clearer indicator that he was the bearer of bad news.
“What’s happened?” asked Jeremy, meeting Lou halfway across the room.
Paige instantly thought something had happened to his wife, Miriam. The woman was so changed since that ski accident, distracted, disheveled and unfocused.
But then she realized as the pit of her stomach dropped like a broken elevator, the bad news was about Ed, her boss.
“We found Dr. Sullivan,” he said. “Constable Lynch drove his jogging route after we couldn’t find him. He’s…gone…dead. Looks like a hit-and-run.”
Paige sank to her seat on the high black stool beside the tall lab table, samples abandoned as she absorbed the blow.
“He’s got kids,” said Paige, her voice trembling as the shock of having this man so suddenly torn from her life met with denial. As if having kids somehow exempted him from premature death. Hadn’t her father’s fatal auto accident taught her that no one was immune from tragedy?
Jeremy picked up where she had dropped off. “His son’s team… He coaches for the Lions Club and Boy Scouts.” Jeremy’s head sank and he covered his face with both hands.
“Everyone… The whole village will be devastated,” said Paige as the denial gave way to grief.
“That’s certain,” said Lou. “Anyway. That’s all I know. Lynch is out there. He’s with the game warden who was in the area because of the moose. They’re waiting for the state police and the county coroner.”
“Does his wife know yet?” asked Jeremy.
“Logan’s been to the Sullivans’ home and told Ursula. She is headed to the school to pick up her son and daughter.”
“Logan’s sure it’s Ed?” asked Jeremy. His voice was soft, as if he couldn’t believe what was happening. Neither could Paige.
“Listen, that boy might not be all there but he sure knows every family who lives in Hornbeck and a fair number that don’t.”
“He was always good with names,” said Paige and both men stared at her. She realized then that she’d spoken of Logan in the past tense as if he were the one who had died. Sometimes she felt like he had. Part of him, anyway, the part that loved her.
“Did he die right away?” asked Jeremy.
Lou shook his head. “Doesn’t look that way.”
Paige gasped. Could Edward have been saved if the driver had stopped or if help had reached him? If they had reached him, she thought, taking personal responsibility.
“I should have noticed that he was late,” said Jeremy, shouldering the guilt.
“I didn’t notice he had not checked back in,” said Lou.
Jeremy’s head hung and his gaze fixed on the floor. “But I did.”
“It’s not your fault, either of you,” said Paige. But she wondered if one of them could have saved him. If she, or either man, had noticed soon enough, called, checked and found Dr. Sullivan before the minutes of his life ticked away and he died, abandoned, on a lonely road.
IT WAS HARD not to notice when the village’s new EMS vehicle, carrying her boss’s body, made its way past the manufacturing plant. Paige’s lab was on the second floor and though the plant was three blocks off the main street and down the hill, she saw the flashing lights of the procession of the state police cruisers and EMS truck. The bright red and blue lights blinked in the twilight. Paige realized, grimly, that the ghastly parade would pass directly before Ed Sullivan’s home. Would his wife and two children be there to watch?
Her phone blipped, relaying a text. She had been getting texts and phone messages all day. She glanced at her mobile’s lock screen and saw that it was three in the afternoon and that she had received an incoming text.
She stared at the message as icy fingers danced up and down her spine. Dr. Sullivan wouldn’t have taken his phone on his run, but he’d have his smart watch. With no cell service, the text could not be sent until the watch returned to the area where internet service was available. Here, at the company, their Wi-Fi cast a net all the way past the volunteer fire department. So if the watch was still with his body, the message from him was being sent now. She shivered.
Paige watched the EMS truck, imagining Ed’s bloody corpse and the watch, still sending her his message.
She unlocked her phone and checked the message, which was a series of emojis. Easier to send than typing out words, even with phone prompts. Had he been injured, dying, when he wrote this or was this before his accident? She hoped, prayed, it was before as she stared at the three emojis and one typed word.
The message was composed in the following order: a green box with a white check-mark emoji, the word MY written in capital letters, the computer emoji and finally, the face with a zipper for a mouth.
That message was crystal clear. Ed wanted her to check his office computer and keep quiet about it.
For what?
The possibility that Edward’s death was no accident flashed in her mind as her skin stippled in fear. Each tiny hair on her arms lifted like a warning flag. They would check his watch. They would see the message. They would know she received it.
Paige dropped her phone as if she suddenly discovered a ticking time bomb in her palm, because she had. Ed had just died. He’d sent a message about something on his computer. Part of that message was to keep whatever she found quiet. She began to feel that text was as dangerous as any toxin they kept in the lab.
Ed had shown her that the watch did not lock until removed from his wrist, his corpse. If it were stolen, the watch would remain locked. But Ursula might know his passcode. The police would check his messages, at the very least. Would his killers?
She tried to calm herself. She was making a big leap here—from a possible hit-and-run to outright murder. And over what? Something on his computer?