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Jenna parked next to Paris, and then they went inside. “Let’s sit at the bar,” Paris suggested. They’d have a better chance of overhearing conversations that way.
“If you don’t mind, I’m kind of tired. How about a booth? Besides, it’s easier for us to talk.”
Paris rarely could say no to Jenna. Having only one real friend meant Paris would never jeopardize losing her. She and Jenna never discussed any conspiracy theories at work, because Paris suspected the place was bugged. “Sure.”
They picked a booth near the bar as a compromise. Country music was playing in the background, but it was soft enough to enable Paris to hear other conversations. Like all werewolves—or part werewolves—she possessed good hearing and excellent eyesight. As for being able to shift, only males could do that.
Peanut shells on the floor crunched under their feet as they walked to the booth. Paris never understood why any establishment would encourage their patrons to toss the shells on the floor, but she suspected it was to disguise any dirt that was tracked in.
As soon as they sat down, Jenna’s phone rang. She lifted it out of her purse. “It’s my cousin. Mind if I take this? Mark rarely calls.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
Paris didn't mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to listen to the anguish pouring over the phone.
“Did you see him take the drugs?” Jenna whispered. Her friend looked up at Paris, anger and sorrow crossing her face. “Did the police come? Did they find anything or anyone?”
The conversation didn’t last long, but it was enough to upset Jenna. When she disconnected, she faced Paris. “I’m sure you heard, but one of the guys on my cousin’s team in the men’s soccer league died of an overdose last night.”
“That's terrible. Does he know what happened?” she asked, even though Paris had pieced together most of it.
“Mark and about ten of the players went to some party after their game. There were women, booze, and drugs, though Mark said he didn’t see any cocaine.”
Paris shook her head. “I am so sorry. Was he close to this teammate?”
“I can’t say they were best friends, but I’d heard Mark mention him before. Don’t people know that drugs can kill?”
Before Paris could answer, their server came over to the table. “Do you want to eat, have a drink, or leave?” Paris asked Jenna. Her friend might want to go over to Mark’s house and console him.
“Let’s have something. As for the drink, that’s a definite yes.”
They’d been there enough to know what they wanted, so they ordered.
All overdoses saddened, frustrated, and basically pissed off Paris. “Did your cousin have any idea where the drugs came from?”
“No.”
“Since Mark lives over in Chesterfield, I’m assuming that’s where this happened?” Chesterfield was one town over from Ames.
“I assume so.”
Paris leaned in closer. “This has to stop.”
Jenna shook her head. “You can’t take down Harrison Industries by yourself. Besides, you don’t know for sure they are the ones making the drugs.”
“Who else is supplying them? Harrison Industries is the only pharmaceutical company around for miles.”
Jenna tilted her head. “They aren’t the only ones in the country, you know. Besides, who’s to say someone isn’t making the stuff in his garage? Or has it shipped in from the States or even Mexico?”
Jenna’s logic was sound, but Paris wanted that scum, Richard Delancey, to be guilty. “Three days ago I found more inconsistencies in the number of drugs produced versus the number shipped.” That didn’t mean they were shipping something illegal, although it could mean that. At the very least, their record keeping was faulty.
“You’ve found those issues before, and Doug Peterson explained that it was merely an oversight,” Jenna said.
“I know. I believed him the first two or three times, but now I’m convinced he’s lying.”
Jenna pressed a finger to her lips and then pointed it at Paris. “You might be right. This afternoon, when I went into the break room for some coffee, I overheard two men grumbling that they had to return to work at four this morning to drive a shipment somewhere,” Jenna said. “I wonder if they were called in to deliver something illegal?”
“It could be, but do we even know when our company normally ships the goods?” Both of them worked the day shift. “Most trucks tend to drive at night.”
