Page 2 of Desperate Creed

“The breakfast bars aren’t the only things. I gave Deke samples from some of their other products. My little brother eats these cereals every morning. Sometimes a bowl after school. Regulations call for employees handling glyphosate to wear gloves, so they don’t get it on their skin, but Carson Foods has no problem with it being on our food. And the worst part, the executives at the top not only know it’s showing up in their food, but that the levels are too high. They’re manipulating the data.”

Frankie held back another eye roll. She appreciated Tyler’s enthusiasm and the way he threw himself into their assignments. Everything was new and exciting to him. Fresh out of college, he really believed he could change the world. She vaguely remembered that feeling. But sometimes, being around him was simply exhausting.

“So why isn’t anybody suing them?”

She watched as he held the phone up closer as if he didn’t want the empty streets to hear what he was about to share. Even his voice was now just above a whisper.

“There is a lawsuit pending. But just a few days ago the guy got hit by a car.”

He paused like he was waiting for his revelation to sink in, but Frankie shook her head. “Tyler—”

“Last week, Deke and I hacked into their CEO’s emails. He’s talking to a senator about some huge global deal for their products. I’ve got copies downloaded on my laptop. I sent you a copy. Listen to me, Frankie, they know. They know this stuff is bad. They’re hiding it, and they’re doing everything they can to keep it from coming out.”

“Hacked?” She banged her coffee mug down on the counter before she spilled it. “Are you crazy? You could get arrested. And don’t get me involved by sending me anything.”

“Actually, I offered to show the emails to a police detective, and he told me to forget about it.”

“Tyler, he’s right.”

“I know the cops aren’t interested. We need to go higher to the federal level. You told me you know someone at the FBI.”

“I told you I know someone who knows someone at the FBI. You really do need to forget about this.”

“This is serious stuff, Frankie.”

“Maybe we should talk to Mr. McGavin about reassigning you to a different campaign.”

“I already talked to him. But not about being reassigned. I told him about the levels of glyphosate and that maybe we shouldn’t be marketing this stuff.”

“You what? And when did you do this?”

“On Monday.”

Frankie had taken the week off to move. One week! Why the hell hadn’t he told her first? They were supposed to be a team. But instead of asking any of that, she wanted to know, “What did he say?”

“He told me he’d look into it. But I could tell he wasn’t going to.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Just the way he said it. Hold on, there’s a couple of guys here. They look lost.”

Tyler dropped his hand to his side giving Frankie a view of the sidewalk and a slice of Tyler’s legs. Beyond him she could see someone else from the knees down. Nice shiny, polished shoes unlike Tyler’s scuffed and dusty tennis shoes. She kept telling him how much shoes defined a person, especially in their business. If a marketing account rep didn’t pay attention to his own appearance, how could he convince a CEO that he could be entrusted with an entire company’s image?

“What’s up?” she heard Tyler ask, his voice muffled but calm.

She picked up her coffee mug waiting for him while she processed how much trouble he’d caused. She wondered if Mr. McGavin thought she was in lock step with Tyler. She’d put a lot of time and energy into this project. She didn’t want to get thrown off. What kind of reputation would this get her?

She could barely hear the other men, but Tyler’s tone suddenly changed from calm to guarded. The phone bobbed up, and she caught a glance at the two men. Both of them were white. One huge, one average. Jogging suits.

The discussion started to get heated, but their words were muffled.

Tyler’s pitch rose. Something was wrong. He raised his hand with the phone as if he were bracing for a blow.

“Tyler, what’s going on?”

She heard a pop-pop, like a car backfiring. But it wasn’t a car. The street was empty. Tyler sea-sawed in and out of her view. She got a glance at his face. His eyes were wide.

Was that blood on his forehead?