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I pulled their business cards from my purse and dialed the number for Gabriel Woodward, the person I’d been told to interface with at Knife Creek.
It went to voicemail. “You’ve reached Gabe’s phone. I’m probably busy with astronaut training. If this is an urgent matter, take two aspirin and call me in the morning. If you’re calling to solicit money, don’t bother leaving a message. My ex-wife took it all. Have a wonderful day.” At least he had a sense of humor.
I waited for the beep. “Gabe, this is Serena Benson from the EPA. We met earlier, and I was wondering when you’d be able to send over the testing-well data that was missing at our meeting. I’d like to give you guys a passing grade. You have my number and email. Don’t be shy.” There was no passing or failing grade for me to assign, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Benson, my office,” Powell bellowed, probably from his doorway. Far be it for him to actually walk the distance to my workspace and say what he had to say at a conversational volume.
Before going, I opened my wallet, pulling out my inspiration for this job—the faded photo of Carmen at age five. My eyes watered. A study partner from college, Marisol, had become Carmen’s mother as a young teenager. During our friendship, I’d learned a lot about grit and determination in the face of obstacles as Marisol navigated being a single mother and a college student at the same time.
Marisol’s grief when Carmen passed away from bladder cancer at age six had torn at me. Their water had come from a well next to a known toxic site. The company that owned the land had delayed cleaning it up for years. That tragic outcome had led me to join the EPA. I would do everything I could to prevent the death of another child or the suffering of another parent from the effects of contaminated drinking water.
“Benson,” Powell shouted again.
“Coming, Dr. Powell.” Spine stiffened by the photograph, I wiped my eyes with a tissue, returned the picture to its resting place, and rose. Time to face the music.
CHAPTER 11
Duke
Eventually,Serena called, and I headed over to pick her up after work. Waiting at the employee entrance, I was relieved when the door opened and I recognized her curls. I felt like the luckiest guy in town as Serena graced me with a beaming smile and passed out of the security gate alongside the woman from earlier and a man.
“See you tomorrow, Katelyn,” she said.
“How about a drink?” the guy next to her asked. “Jacques will be there.”
I growled and advanced. “Hey, Princess. You’re late.” I sent the guy a withering glare. “She’s busy.” She was absolutely not having a drink with this guy or any dipshit named Jacques.
Katelyn eyed me before continuing on. “Have fun, Serena.”
The guy gave me a wide berth. “See you tomorrow.” He followed Katelyn.
I faced Serena again. “I thought you government employees got off earlier?”
She shook her head. “According to my wonderful boss, arriving late means Iget tostay late. Hospital visits don’t count.” She took my hand and pulled me toward the sidewalk. “I’m famished, honey.”
Honey?She was taking this fake-boyfriend thing to a new level. I didn’t do relationships or girlfriends, not since?—
“How was your day?” she asked. The words were neutral, but the tone was all girlfriend-ish, if that was a thing.
Her hand in mine felt more natural than it should have. I considered dropping it, but Katelyn looked back at us. Instead, I stopped and pulled Serena close for a light hug, careful of the cut on her side. “I’ve been thinking of you all day, Princess,” I told her, just loud enough to be overheard by the woman. The odd part? It wasn’t a lie. I’d done my best to lock down my memories from years ago and stop myself from considering what could have been, but I’d failed.
Her only response was to wrap a hand behind my neck and pull herself up to my ear. “Me, too, honey.” She continued holding my hand as we walked to the cars.
“How did work go?” It was a lame line, but Serena had a way of taking me off my A-game.
“My boss sucks, but otherwise okay. They all bought the deer story, and as you suggested, I didn’t even tell my friend Katelyn what happened or that I had a bodyguard. She was the one who left with me.”
“Good work, baby. Who was the guy?”
“Remy.”
I watched him in the distance and growled.
She squeezed my hand. “For your information, Jacques is his husband.”
I turned to see Katelyn climb into a Maserati. “Your friend must be well paid.”
Serena dropped my hand and pivoted to look. “She has expensive tastes. Her fiancé died in a car accident not too long ago, and… He was rich, and well… She’s struggling. Grief and bills, a double hit.”
