A Nose for Mischief Read online
A Nose for Mischief
Riverbend K-9s: Book 1
K.T. Lee
Vertical Line Publishing, LLC
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Note From the Author
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright © 2021 by Vertical Line Publishing, LLC ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, sold, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission, except for statuary uses, the use of brief quotations in a book review, and other quotations with appropriate reference.
K.T. Lee
www.ktleeauthor.com
Publisher’s Note: This work of fiction is a product of the writer’s overactive imagination. It is not intended to be a factual representation of events, people, locales, businesses, government agencies, or materials engineering. Names are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, is completely coincidental. Resemblance to my dogs, past and present, however, is virtually guaranteed.
A Nose for Mischief/ K.T. Lee - 1st ed.
ISBN: 978-1-947870-15-4
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Cover Design by Rachel Lawston
For my family
Prologue
Zoey Butler tapped her pen against her palm and frowned at the battery on the lab bench. Future State’s flagship solid-state batteries had failed to hit the targets promised in all of the glossy Future State brochures by a mile. No matter how many times she ran the performance tests.
Zoey’s brain knew the answer, but her heart couldn’t quite believe it. Her tests were accurate. The only logical solution was that the batteries weren’t measuring up to Future State’s claims. Someone, somewhere, had made a huge mistake.
A rumble of voices and shouts coming from outside the lab snapped Zoey out of her panic for a moment. A group of men and women in navy FBI jackets rushed through the front door, shouting instructions. Suddenly, all of the data that didn’t add up fell into place. She only had time to feel a few seconds of crushing disappointment before a woman with a red Labrador retriever entered the lab and told Zoey to step away from the lab bench. Zoey placed her hands on her head while the dog searched the room, tail wagging despite stress and noise filling the air. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Everything she’d been working towards had been a lie.
Chapter 1
Dear Zoey,
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Thank you for applying to the Future Energy Laboratory. The FEL is always looking for enthusiastic and qualified applicants. However, we regret to inform you that you have not been selected for this position. We encourage you to apply for future positions through our website.
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Best Regards,
Tallulah Singh
Future Energy Laboratory Human Resources
Dear Ms.
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We regret to inform you that we are not moving further with your application at this time. We appreciate your interest in the Renewable Energy Innovations family, however, we had a large and competitive group of applicants for this position. We wish you all the best in your future endeavors.
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Cheers,
David Brandt
Employee Happiness Coordinator
Zoey sighed into her open laptop. Well, the email addressed to Ms.
When Zoey began her career as a materials science engineer for Future State Energy, they had been the newest and most impressive player in the energy storage industry. While her peers had taken jobs with automakers focused on designing stylish electric cars, Zoey was interested in less splashy, but equally impactful, work in the battery industry. Someone needed to create power management solutions for the wind turbines and solar panels that generally garnered more attention in the news. The company she now referred to as “the F-word” claimed their solid-state technology would leapfrog the work of the more well-known players in the battery industry by decades, revolutionizing renewable energy and improving the future of the planet. There was just one small problem with Future State’s technology—the exciting claims made by the charismatic head of development, Ophelia Wagner, were too good to be true.
Ophelia loved bragging that the talent at Future State was second to none. That, at least, was true. Zoey’s coworkers were incredibly talented scientists and engineers. Unfortunately for them all, Ophelia had made claims even they couldn’t materialize. Once Zoey was answering the FBI’s questions in a deserted conference room, it became clear that she’d been hired by Ophelia to buy time and make Ophelia’s exaggerations look believable, even to scientists and engineers within the company. She’d tried to stick it out and make it right, but after a few months of regular interviews with the FBI, uncomfortable conversations with possibly duplicitous coworkers, and a nearly constant feeling of humiliation, Zoey couldn’t take it anymore. Her last straw was when her boss, Marco Ortiz, had defended the quality of the lab’s work, getting into a not-so-subtle yelling match with the then-CEO, JJ Harris. Marco had been right, and JJ was demoted, but it did nothing to ease Zoey’s mind. She’d run the tests. She should have known. She found it increasingly hard to focus and couldn’t sleep. Zoey quit, sure she would receive more offers than when she had no experience at all. Instead, they regretted to inform her.
Zoey focused on her current surroundings to pull herself out of the bad memories. Her hand was resting on the rustic kitchen table she’d helped her sister, and roommate since college, paint a cheerful yellow. The smell of the morning’s coffee still hung in the air. Back in the present, she looked at her computer again. She wouldn’t stop being persistent, even if things got hard. Especially when things got hard. She looked down at her computer screen—a new email had arrived. She knew what it would say before she clicked on it, but she couldn’t help looking anyway. They, too, regretted to inform her.
Zoey squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying with frustration. It wouldn’t do any good. She’d run that experiment several times in the last few months and her conclusions were utterly repeatable. No number of form-based platitudes ever made her feel better. She needed an actual job. A tear escaped and she gave in to the moment for a few seconds, then wiped it away. There was nothing wrong with crying. She was human and three rejections in one afternoon hurt. She let herself feel it for another minute, then rolled her eyes at the one remaining email, still sitting unread. She shook her head and clicked on it. A representative from human resources at Future State claimed they were back in the game. According to the email, the F-word had evolved into a paragon of ethical decision-making and behavior. And they wanted her back. Was she available
for a conversation? She deleted the message immediately. Why did they want her back so badly? They kept asking, even when she’d never responded to their emails.
For a brief moment, Zoey considered pulling the email from Future State out of her trash folder. A job was a job, after all. She closed her eyes to resist temptation. Nothing good could come from going back. She’d been lucky she hadn’t ended up in jail. She’d had so many meetings with the FBI, reviewing her meticulous notes, Zoey ended up on a first-name basis with Alexis, the special agent in charge of the raid. Under different circumstances, they might have even become friends, as much time as they spent together. And Zoey had spent a fair amount of time with Alexis’s Labrador retriever, Waffle, whose wagging tail made him friends with everyone, regardless of the circumstances. Without the conversations with Alexis, Zoey would have never realized the extent to which her work was a purposeful misdirect, intended to cover illegal activity and lies to investors. She’d left the company without looking back, keeping nothing from Future State except a free flash drive Marco had given her that he didn’t want. And only because she hadn’t realized she’d forgotten to take it out of her purse. She’d nearly chucked it in the trash when she found it, but she couldn’t bear to be wasteful. Zoey let out a breath. Her emergency fund was running out and she’d been painted into a metaphorical corner. She slammed her laptop lid shut and her sister, Elise, sitting nearby on the couch, jumped.
Elise closed the book she’d been reading and looked up at Zoey, giving her a half-hearted smile. “Still no leads, huh?”
“No. No leads.” Zoey rested her chin on her hand. She normally had the patience to find joy in even the most tedious and time-consuming experiments, but this experiment was testing even her.
“Listen, I can cover next month’s rent.”
Zoey waved a hand to cut her off. “No way. I’m not freeloading off of family. You do enough good for the world. You don’t need to add me to your list.”
“I can charge you interest and call it a loan if it makes you feel better.” Elise tossed her brown hair over her shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. While they had nearly the same dark blue eye color, Elise’s loose curls gave her an effortlessly beautiful, beach-ready look minutes after she rolled out of bed in the morning, as opposed to Zoey’s unruly strawberry blonde waves. As a result, Zoey usually didn’t bother with her hair. Like usual, she’d pulled her hair back into a tight twist. Elise’s eyes held a challenge, but it was gentle. Elise shared Zoey’s stubbornness but also had as big a heart as anyone Zoey had ever met.
“I appreciate it more than you know, but it’s not a long-term strategy.” Zoey rubbed her temples. “You know what the real garbage burger is?”
“There’s just one?” Elise placed her non-fiction book about the financial management of endangered species breeding programs on the coffee table and walked towards the kitchen. While they were both in the sciences, their interests had gone in wildly different directions. Zoey liked the ordered and repeatable nature of materials science engineering, and Elise had ultimately found her ideal job working for an animal conservation not-for-profit. Elise would do anything to help her sister get a leg up, but her employer was very selective and they weren’t exactly looking for engineers. Elise had distributed Zoey’s résumé on the narrow chance they’d find her a spot designing animal habitats, but they’d still regretted to inform her.
“Okay. It’s more than one. But this is more like the ketchup on the actual garbage burger. Or pickles. I’m not sure.”
Elise flicked a switch on the electric kettle and turned to face her. “Okay, hit me with your worst pickles.”
Zoey scrunched up her nose. “Nope, that feels like we’ve taken it a step too far. The real garbage burger—hold the pickles—is that one of the FBI agents had the nerve to tell me she was sorry.”
Elise dropped her mouth open in mock alarm. “You’re kidding. That is so rude. Just like that? Wow. I hope you let them know how upset you were. She didn’t thank you too, did she? That would have been awful.”
Zoey dropped her head in her hands for a moment, then looked back up into the concerned eyes of her sister. “What good is it to be sorry when I’m unemployed? After years of work, all those late nights studying, I may have to switch careers, Elise. I just paid off my student loans. I can’t afford to live here on unemployment, and you can’t afford to have a freeloading renter forever.”
Elise lowered a teabag into a big white mug, poured hot water over the top of it, then brought the mug to Zoey. “Sis, neither of us have ever been good at wallowing and you’ve been doing it for the last half hour. So, what are you going to do?” She let out a snort. “Besides go complain to the rude FBI agent, of course.”
Zoey smacked her hand on the table. “Yes. That’s exactly what I should do.”
“Zoey, please don’t get yourself arrested.” Elise’s own mug of tea was frozen in the air, halfway to her mouth. “Or me. I don’t want to get arrested either. This might make me an accomplice. I’m not sure. I could search the internet. Wait. Would that make it premeditated? That’s worse, right?”
Zoey took a sip from the cup of tea, flipped open the lid of her aging laptop with her free hand, and waited for it to hum to life. “I won’t get arrested.” She tapped her fingernails rapidly against the ceramic mug until she felt Elise’s hand on her back.
“Zoey, what are you doing?” Her voice was cautious, as if she was approaching one of the endangered animals her organization saved. One of the dangerous ones. “I like this apartment and don’t need a SWAT team to break down the door. I just got finished repainting it last weekend. It’s the light purple you picked out. If you promise that you won’t do anything to make them destroy it, I’ll concede that you were right and it’s the perfect color.”
Zoey set down her cup of tea. “Hear me out. The details of what happened at Future State can’t be shared publicly, according to about a billion pieces of paperwork that I signed. But there is one place that knows what actually happened. The only potential employer who has the evidence that I’m honest, hardworking, and ethical is the FBI. Maybe they have something.”
Elise looked down at Zoey’s still-full mug of tea. “Do you need something stronger? Maybe we could take a break and get a glass of wine instead?”
“I’m good, actually. Thank you. I know it sounds like desperation talking. But I’m desperate.”
“Let me get this straight. You would like to quit searching for a job in materials engineering…to go work for the FBI?” Elise grimaced.
“Like is a strong word.” Zoey frowned. “I like to eat. I like to drive a car and have a roof over my head. Admittedly, I don’t have all the details ironed out. But it can’t be worse than…”
“We regret to inform you?” Elise winced.
“Exactly.” She clicked over to her email. Alexis had given her a business card. She’d seemed sincere. Only time would tell if the agent was as sincere as she’d seemed.
A few minutes later, Zoey looked up and found Elise staring at her with concern, her eyes only darting back to the newly painted front door once. “Is this a good idea?”
Zoey shut the lid of her laptop. “I mean, even if it isn’t, I sent it. Now we wait.”
“Well, if they do break down the door, at least I kept the paint can.”
Chapter 2
FBI Special Agent Alexis Thompson approached her office at Riverbend K-9 Academy with her loyal partner, Waffle, on her heels. His tag jingled cheerfully, but they were both walking slower than usual after a busy day of working with the newest recruits and their energetic puppies. It was a cool spring day and the warmth inside the old airplane hangar turned administrative offices was welcome. The FBI had managed to purchase a disused regional airport at a steep discount for their newest canine training facility, and it had included a hanger that had been built in a time when wood was more plentiful and cost-effective. They’d kept most of the old wood on the interior and the result was almost cozy,
particularly when compared to Alexis’s former desk at the downtown Chicago FBI office building. The quality of the building had withstood the test of time, but the county had built a bigger, more modern airport closer to nearby Indiana Polytechnic to accommodate larger private planes and a small flight school. The result had been a large, open space at a cost even the FBI couldn’t turn down. It hadn’t taken much to modify the facility and add offices in the airplane hangar for the administrative staff at the Academy. The FBI had done some work around the perimeter to tighten up security, and they had room to grow as big as Alexis could imagine. As the Academy’s director, she’d been offered a larger office but had instead taken a smaller office in the corner with a large window facing the training yard.
Alexis walked through her open office door and Waffle brushed her leg to walk in front of her. His ears perked up and his tail began to wag as he sniffed around the cardboard box on her desk. It hadn’t been there this morning. Alexis peeked at the return address and grinned. She placed her tote bag on the floor to pull the box off the desk for a better look. Considering that she was surrounded by the best noses in the business, and it had already been opened as part of a security screen, she didn’t share her canine partner’s concern about its contents.
Calculated Entrapment
Calculated Contagion
Calculated Extortion