Chapter 15
Oakridge Solutions rose from the edge of a hillside like a modern puzzle box with three stories of glass, polished steel, and black metal panels arranged in clean, sharp lines. The reflective windows were dark, designed to block out glare while preserving energy.
Laurel Snow drove her SUV along the paved road toward the main gate.
The asphalt was pristine, with no cracks or uneven patches.
Shrubs lined the drive, clipped with precision and spaced at even intervals.
Pine and fresh-cut grass mingled in the air, clean and sharp.
She reached a guard booth and rolled down her window.
The guard was young and clean-cut with an easy smile. “Good morning, ma’am. I’ll just check you in.” He had a slight Pacific Northwest accent that was clipped but friendly. He glanced at Walter and took his badge as well. “We’ve got you both on the schedule. Welcome to Oakridge Solutions.”
Laurel nodded. She’d asked Kate to call ahead with their information. “Thank you.” She handed over her ID, noting how quickly and smoothly the guard entered their information. Professional, but polite.
The guard double-checked their names, glanced at his screen, and returned their badges along with two visitor lanyards and a bright green parking pass. “Park in the structure and take the elevator to the main floor.”
“Thank you.” Laurel accepted the lanyards and passed one to Walter before driving forward.
The road curved through trimmed hedges and past fountains, water running over polished stones. The landscaping was deliberate, designed with symmetry and clear lines. The parking garage entrance was marked with illuminated signs, bright and clear.
The garage itself was cool and dim, the lights placed evenly without dark spots. Laurel followed the arrows to the guest section and parked. The air held a faint lemon scent, likely artificial and pushed through the ventilation system.
“This place is efficient,” Walter said, glancing around. His fingers tapped lightly against his thigh, a habit he didn’t always notice.
Laurel stepped out of the SUV and adjusted her lanyard over her head. “The setup is organized, maintained, and rather pretty.”
Walter nodded, his gaze already moving to the nearest exit. “They’ve put a lot of money into it.”
They walked toward the elevator, where Laurel stepped inside with Walter close behind her. The elevator doors closed with a soft hiss when she pushed the correct button. The walls were brushed steel, polished and clean.
The elevator moved smoothly, the air inside filtered and cool.
The doors opened onto a third-floor lobby painted in pale gray with glossy white trim.
The floor was polished stone, the pattern subtle but precise.
Modern art hung at regular intervals in bright, geometric pieces that likely cost a fortune.
A woman approached them, her heels striking the floor with measured steps.
“Hello,” she said with a polite, open smile.
“I’m Dr. Bertra Yannish, and please call me Bertra.
Welcome to Oakridge Solutions. We’ve been expecting you.
” She held out her hand, shaking both of theirs with a firm grip.
Her hand was cool, her shake quick and efficient.
She appeared to be in her mid to late forties, with sandy blond hair pulled into a smooth, low twist. She wore gold-rimmed glasses over brown eyes.
“I was Dr. Liu’s assistant,” she said. “Please, come this way.” She led them down a wide hallway past several glass-walled offices.
Each office contained a sleek desk, computer monitors, and chairs arranged with precision.
The surfaces were clear of clutter. No loose papers, cords, or personal items in sight.
Potted plants—broad-leafed, healthy, and real—stood at regular intervals along the hallway.
Bertra stopped at a corner office near the rear of the building, opened the door, and gestured for them to enter. “This was Miriam’s office.”
Laurel stepped inside. The office was large, with dark wood furniture and a polished desk.
A closed laptop sat at the center. Several framed certificates and degrees hung on the wall, their labels clean and legible.
Bookshelves lined one side of the room, filled with medical texts and neatly labeled binders.
The air here was slightly warmer than the hallway.
“What projects was she working on at the time of her death?” Laurel asked.
Bertra stood near the door, hands clasped in front of her. “Just one. We’re working on a clinical combination aimed at preventing Alzheimer’s and certain dementias, as well as potentially curing them. Dr. Liu was heavily involved in the project.”
Laurel walked over to the glass windows and looked out at the rolling hill leading to a mountain. “How many floors do you have in this building?”
“Three above ground. Four below.” Bertra remained by the doorway. “Most of our research and anything involving chemicals is documented and protected. Neither of you have clearance to enter the laboratories, but if you obtain it, I’d be happy to give you a tour.”
“Was Dr. Liu working exclusively on this trial?” Laurel asked, turning her attention back to Bertra.
“Yes. We have contracts with several pharmaceutical companies, private investors, and government agencies.”
Footsteps sounded from the hallway, and a man entered without knocking. He appeared to be in his early fifties, with brown hair streaked with silver. His eyes were brown, and he wore a dark suit with no tie over a lean body.
“Matteo,” Bertra said. “These are the agents from the FBI.”
The man nodded once, his gaze clear behind wire-rimmed glasses. “Dr. Matteo Sandoval. Chief of Operations. Bertra, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I had another call.” His voice was smooth and even. He stepped into the office, reaching out a hand. “I worked closely with Dr. Liu.”
He shook Laurel’s hand first in a firm grip. Then Walter’s. Afterward, he moved around the polished desk and settled into the high-backed leather chair.
Bertra shifted her feet, her lips pressing together.
Walter lifted an eyebrow, his expression sharpening in that way it always did when he noticed something off. “I take it you got the new office.”
Dr. Sandoval nodded. “Yes. This has a better view than my previous one, and since Dr. Liu and I shared resources, the files are already here.” He gestured toward the two leather chairs facing the desk. “Please, have a seat.”
Laurel sat. The chair was firm but comfortable. Walter lowered himself into the other chair, his shoulders loose but his gaze steady.
Bertra remained standing, her skin noticeably paler than when they’d entered the building.
“Dr. Yannish, I’d like to speak with you alone after this interview, if you don’t mind,” Laurel said.
“Again, please call me Bertra, and of course I’ll speak with you.” The woman looked directly at Dr. Sandoval. “I’ll go move my belongings into your former office, Matteo.” She turned on her high heels and strode gracefully from the room.
Walter cocked his head, his eyes on Dr. Sandoval. “She’s pissed. You’re taking over her boss’s office.”
Dr. Sandoval leaned back in his chair, folding his hands on the desk. “She’s not mad at me. She’s mad at the world. They were close, and Miriam’s death is a tragedy. I heard she might have been drinking again after being sober for over a decade. Do you have the autopsy results yet?”
“No,” Laurel said, noting a slight tension in his posture.
Dr. Sandoval pushed his glasses up his nose, the silver frames catching the light.
The wooden desk in front of him was sleek and minimalist, with clean lines and no drawers.
A matching credenza behind him appeared to be the only storage unit, its doors closed and precisely aligned.
“We’re shocked about Miriam’s death. Just shocked. ”
Laurel observed the tidy efficiency of the office. Everything in place. Everything controlled. “Is there any chance her death wasn’t an accident?”
Dr. Sandoval adjusted his glasses again. Was that a nervous habit? “Of course not. She was a nice woman who worked on cures for the elderly. I can’t imagine anybody wanting to harm her.”
Walter cocked his head to the side. What had he noticed? Laurel couldn’t see it.
She cleared her throat. “What about Larry Scott?”
Dr. Sandoval sat back. “Scott? That poor kid? He killed himself.”
So the doctor had heard of him. “Did you know him?”
“Not at all,” Dr. Sandoval said. “But when one of the young techs dies, we all hear about it. What a tragedy.”
Laurel couldn’t read him. “Isn’t that odd? That there have been two deaths of your employees?”
Dr. Sandoval slowly nodded. “I suppose so, but hundreds of people work here. So maybe not? I truly don’t know.”
Laurel switched tactics. “What was Dr. Liu doing driving erratically in Tempest County? This facility is in King County. That’s over sixty miles away.”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Sandoval said. “I believe she may have had a cabin somewhere, or perhaps she rented a place. Dr. Liu enjoyed taking time away from the city to work or relax. We knew each other professionally, but not personally.”
Walter leaned forward. “Have there been any other recent deaths? Of your many employees, I mean.”
Dr. Sandoval paled. He cleared his throat.
Laurel measured his breathing and blink rate. Both had increased. “Doctor?”
“Yes.” Dr. Sandoval swallowed. “A young financial analyst named Melissa Palmtree died a few days ago. She was efficient and detail oriented, and she handled our budgets and funding streams.”
“How did she die?” Walter asked slowly.
The doctor shuddered. “She died falling down stairs at a bar in Seattle. Such a damn tragedy.”
Laurel tried to click the three deaths into a pattern, but didn’t see it based on causation. “You’ve had three deaths in six weeks—in a facility that contracts with the defense department. You know, Walter? I think we do have jurisdiction here.”
“Same here, boss,” Walter drawled.