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Let's stop here and point out that Harold Michael Harvey, Ongoing Legal Contributor, has provided a major research effort before that talks about Oil in both Venezuela and Africa... You may want to reread at this time!
WAR
Or Stayin' Alive!
My New Year's Prayer for America
Michael A. Smith
Historian | Author | Public Theologian January 1, 2026
God of heaven, whose we are and whom we serve. We did not make ourselves, and neither are we able to control the affairs of men. Nothing is hidden from you. You know all things and allow man the free will he uses to bring his own destruction. In 2025, we have seen the results of man's evil when he is left to his own devices. Unless you intervene this year, it will be even worse with more chaos, evil against the poor, the homeless, and the destitute. Wars and rumors of war will continue. Evil men now control all the levers of power, and solutions seem to be so far above our poor ability to influence. Will you not hear and help?
Yet we know you have not abandoned your creation, nor have you forgotten the cries of the afflicted. You who overthrow the plans of the wicked and bring princes to nothing—work now in ways we cannot see or imagine. Raise voices of truth in the wilderness of lies. Strengthen the hands that grow weak and steady the knees that tremble. Give courage to those who would stand for justice when standing costs everything.
And help us not be deceived by false gods, purveyors of religion that is not true. Protect us from those who wrap themselves in holy garments while serving unholy ends, who speak your name while pursuing their own power, who claim your authority while ignoring your commands to love the stranger, feed the hungry, and care for the least of these. Let us rediscover your words and walk in them—not the twisted interpretations of those who would make you in their own image, but the living truth that sets captives free and brings good news to the poor.
You remind us that in these days, evil men and seducers will grow worse and worse. That men will commit all manner of evil with abandon and will not be held accountable for their actions. That your patience will soon have an end, even so, in the face of gathering darkness, keep us faithful. When wickedness seems to triumph, and justice is nowhere to be found, let us not lose heart or abandon hope.
Would you return to us our ability to blush at such evil—to feel the shame and horror that should accompany wickedness, rather than the callousness that has hardened our hearts. Give us empathy for those to whom you show compassion, and command us to follow your example. Please help us to weep with those who mourn, to feel the suffering of the widow, the orphan, the refugee, the prisoner. Raise the standard of righteousness in a world full of false religion that offers little hope outside of thee.
Bring an end to every leader who calls evil good, and good evil. May the utter surprise of their fall stop the mouths of those who deny the problem. Give clearness of vision and break the hold of spiritual deception and the Deceiver. Open the eyes of those who have been blinded by lies dressed as truth, by hatred wrapped in patriotism, by cruelty cloaked in righteousness. Let scales fall from eyes, and let your people see clearly again.
Grant us wisdom to know what is ours to do in this hour, and the strength to do it without despair or retreat. Help us to be salt and light in a decaying and darkening world, to love mercy, do justice, and walk humbly, even when power mocks humility and cruelty parades as strength.
We do not ask that you spare us from struggle, but that you sustain us through it. Transform our helplessness into holy dependence, our fear into faithful action, our anger into righteous witness.
In this new year, whatever it may bring, anchor us in hope that does not disappoint—the assurance that your kingdom comes, your will shall be done, and every knee shall one day bow not to tyrants, but to the Prince of Peace.
In Christ's name we pray, Amen.
To my Friends Across the World! I had not planned to post today, but to give ourselves a day of rest... But, that is almost sad to even contemplate at this time in today's world... May all of you know in Venezuela, Columbia, Brazil and other South American Countries, that the majority of those who live in North America have no desire to create continued chaos, death, hunger and violence on any of our South American neighbors!
We speak also to those in Africa, Ukraine, and the people of Russia who are losing their loved ones on a fight that should never have been begun by one man... None of us want what those men who strive for riches and power... Yet, habitually they will arise and try to conquer the Freedom that was given to all of us by our Father Who Are in Heaven... We must stand strong with God in using our free will to speak out against those who would lie, cheat, steal, and kill for their own evil desires... It's wrong... And we know it is NOT of God's Love and Truth! May we continue to share across the world and speak through each other to God and His Plan for Our World! Not like the few men who are striving to break us in today's world!
“The minute you walked in the bar, I could tell you were there for me.” So much for my surveillance abilities...
I lit a cigarette and thought, “If there is a God... If he wanted to do us a favor he would have made raw carrots and bean sprouts as appealing as a fatty, fried sandwich and a Marlboro.”
On Fridays and Saturdays, I have a part-time gig working security at a nightclub on Broadway called Paradise Isle. Even though some radio disc jockey declared disco dead by burning a bunch of records at Comiskey Park about two years back, you wouldn’t know it at Paradise Isle. The DJ is Miss Minerva Jones, the only drag queen I ever met who didn’t have some sort of joke name. I like that about her. You can only meet Anita Mann so many times before it gets
old. When it comes to disco, Miss Minerva is a purist. She plays Thelma Houston, Sylvester, Chic, and Sister Sledge. Sure, she also plays The Bee Gees, The Village
People, and Gloria Gaynor’s “I Will Survive,” but only if you tip her. The club is forty percent dance floor
I tipped for "I Will Survive!!!" LOL
and always full. The dance floor is made of thick Plexiglas and lit from beneath. The rest of the place holds a couple dozen tables, some booths against the wall, and a bar that runs the length of the club. The theme is tropical, and there are a couple of neon palm trees attached to the walls. The bartenders start the night in Hawaiian print shirts, but have lost them by the time I show up at nine. When I first started, the owner, Davey Edwards, tried to get me to wear a paper lei. I put my foot down. From ten to two I stand at the door with a flashlight and check IDs. Wearing a paper lei, Davey takes the cover charge. I could do the whole thing myself, but I’d have a bit of trouble balancing the cash drawer if a fight broke out. And they do break out every so often. Fortunately, most queens have to warm up with a couple rounds of catty remarks, so I’m usually there before anyone throws a punch. That Friday was busy but uneventful. Davey stops charging a cover at one, so I’m alone for the last hour. Mostly people are leaving by then, so I spend my time saying “good night” and telling people, especially the drunk ones, to “be careful.” After my shift, I usually head over to the bar for a couple of free drinks. That night was no different. Ross weaved his way over and asked what I wanted. Even though it was below zero outside, his well-defined, bare chest was slick with sweat. Ross is a sexy mix of boy and man. He’s got freckles across the bridge of his nose and a cowlick on the left side of his forehead. He’s also got biceps hovering around sixteen inches... After he brought me a beer, Ross offered me a Camel Light. I turned him down. “Willpower,” he said. “I hate that in a man.”
~~~~
Book 1 - Little Boy Found
Nick Nowak came alive for me in Hammer's voice, hope some of you remember him! LOL
Yeah, it was an old TV PI program, but I was a fan of mystery and suspense even back then... So having three Nick Nowak mysteries in one, for free, from BookBub, was a gift of memories... Of course, this PI had something to offer that I may not have been interested in--but other readers might... So I'll tell you about the stories, O.K.?
Nick has his PI license so works as much as he can on that job, but also spends time at a local club as what you might realize to be a bouncer, even if he's at the door when you first get to the club... But, then again, readers won't get too far into the club, before it is burnt down and out of business for a while... Most damaged was that Miss Minerva, the D.J. who had originals in cartons lost all of her music! Bummer, right?! I was enjoying her oldies just as much as you would!
Unlike most guys, I should know better...
That particular day there wasn’t anything on the radio except reporters droning on about the inauguration. It seemed a little odd that none of them complained that our country was now going to be run by a guy who once co-starred with a chimp. Not that I had anything against the Gipper. I just wasn’t convinced I wanted his finger on the button. I turned the radio down and picked up the phone.
But Nick has received a telephone call to find a lost boy. Even from the very first Nick was not quite sure that this was really a case because he couldn't get very much information out of the caller. Nevertheless, he started the job for his new client--“What’s your name?” “Walt...Paddington. Walt Paddington.” Ok, I was suspicious as Nick was when he had to figure out a name to be used... Then he refused to come into the office... But Nick needed the money and what could happen? Well... His job was to find Brian Peerson... who had been gone for almost a year, but, now, it was urgent to find him...
Nick learned enough to be able to begin the search and soon he found the retainer and some photos waiting for him. Now that would allow "expenses" to begin... He had been seen at another club, "The Closet." A Waiter there... But then Nowak went back to who had hired him--and who had recommended him to the guy. Decided that was just as important... So the search expanded...
It didn't take long to find Brian, but it got a little complicated when somebody else also was out to kill him... Even offered Nowak $10,000 to just walk away... Yeah, that wasn't gonna happen...
Little Boy Burned...
“Private investigator? You mean like Magnum, PI?” She asked. Her voice was crisp and sharp. “I’m not sure what that is, ma’am.” “You’re not sure? Why, it’s a TV show. It’s on Thursday nights at eight o’clock. Don’t you watch TV?” Her tone suggested she considered television viewing as necessary as breathing. “I don’t have a television,” I explained. It had moved out with Daniel, and I’d never bothered to replace it. “What on earth do you do without a TV?” “I do a lot of things. Can you tell me if you happened to see or hear anything unusual last night? Between five and five-thirty?” “Why don’t you come in,” she invited me, and then hobbled away from the front door. It was a studio apartment. In one corner sat a nicely made double bed, in another a recliner with a television balanced on a small table a few feet in front of it. I followed the woman over to a small dining table in front of the window. She sat and looked out. She had an excellent view of Paradise Isle. “Hawaii,” she said abruptly. My stomach sank. I worried she might be half crazy. “What about Hawaii, ma’am?” “That’s where Magnum, PI lives. It looks pretty on TV, but I could never leave Chicago. I’ve been here seventy-four years.” “Did you happen to see anything this morning?” She nodded. “I have the insomnia.” “So you’re up at night a lot of the time.” “Oh, it’s terrible. If I get two good hours of sleep, well, I consider myself lucky. Very lucky.” I took a seat across from her. “And this morning you were sitting right here looking out the window.” “Yes, I was.” “What did you see?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know that’s where the fancy boys go, don’t you?” “Yes, ma’am.” I knew she’d tell me eventually; I just wasn’t sure I had the patience to wait. “He ran out of there around five-thirty.” “Who did?” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know any fancy boys.” “Tell me what he looked like.” “He wasn’t fat. And he wasn’t short.” Ruthie would exasperate the police when they showed up. The thought made me want to giggle. “Was he white? Or black?” She thought about it. “White. I’m pretty sure. He was wearing a hat. And one of those balloon coats.” “A down coat,” I suggested. “A what?” “A coat full of feathers. Like a pillow.” “It sure looked like a pillow.” “Was he young or old?” She thought about it. “Couldn’t have been old. He was running. I haven’t run like that in forty years.” “Did you see where he went?” She nodded solemnly. I waited. “He came into The Shore.” I looked out the window. It faced Broadway. The entrance to The Shore was on Surf. There wasn’t any way she could have seen him enter the building. I decided not to contradict her. The rest of the information seemed good, what there was of it.
~~~~
This is the story where Paradise Isle is set on fire... Nick is called to hurry over and help deal with the crisis, and soon gets involved with tracking down who set the fire... All I'm going to say about this one is that Nick should have paid more attention to the lady he first talked to... And finally got around to solving the case... LOL
Little Boy Fallen
I found I didn’t much like being a secretary; it was hours of boredom punctuated by brief periods of humiliation.
A second later I lay on the strip, the wheels of the train still moving inches from my face.
“You think he’s gay?” he asked me. “Guys like that, I think it’s more about manipulation than sex.”
“Helen Borlock.” I sat down at my desk and lit a cigarette while she talked. “He told me to come. He said you’d help. You can help, can’t you?” “I don’t know if I can help,” I said honestly. “I don’t know why you’re here.” She gave me a confused look, as though I should know why she was there. “Bobby told me to come. He said you’d help.” “Bobby who?” “Bobby Martin.” I was pretty sure I didn’t know a Bobby Martin and said so. “Bobby was my son’s roommate. One of them, I mean. There were four of them living there. Sweet boys, always laughing. The apartment is on Clark and Fullerton. They did it up nice. Every room a different color.” I still hadn’t a clue who she was talking about. Abruptly, she held out the photo album. “This is my Lenny.” To be polite, I took the album. “I never wanted to name him Leonard. My husband insisted. He’d had a friend, in the Marines. Wanted to name his son Leonard, after his friend. The friend died, you see.” I flipped the album open. There was Helen with an infant. I was right. In her day, Helen had been a looker. I flipped a few pages and Lenny began to grow up. Looked like he was on his way to being a looker, too. “What is it Bobby thought I could help you with?” She glanced out the window like she suddenly needed to check the weather. It was overcast and threatening to rain or, worse, throw in one last snowstorm for the winter. After a little sigh, she said, “Three weeks ago, my son was murdered.” “Mrs. Borlock, I’m a private investigator. I don’t investigate murders. The police do that.” “They don’t care. Lenny is just another pervert to them.” I waited a few moments, considering. I was telling her the truth. It wasn’t the kind of thing I did. Or at least tried not to do. Mainly I did background checks, skip traces, once in a while a little surveillance. That was it. Murder was different. Yes, I used to be a policeman, but I’d only worked a beat. I’d never been a detective. In the nearly six years I spent on the job, when it came to murder I’d never done much more than secure a crime scene and make sure witnesses stayed put. “Can you afford a private investigator?” “Yes. I always put a little aside for Lenny. Ever since he was a little boy.” She stared at her hands, which seemed particularly empty now that I was flipping through the photo album. “I used to think I’d give him the money on his wedding. He was sixteen when I figured out that was never going to happen, so for a while I thought I’d give him the money to go to college. But he was never book smart. Last couple of years, I’ve been waiting to see, did he maybe want to start a business or get a nice beau and buy a house.” Her voice turned bitter. “I should have given it to him. Should have let him spend on whatever he wanted.” She looked like she might break down, but fortunately she didn’t. I took the final drag off my cigarette and stubbed it out. Against my better judgment, I said, “Tell me what happened to Lenny.” “Someone pushed him off the seventh floor of the atrium at Water Tower.” That seemed pretty cut and dried. “Were there witnesses?” “It was a little after ten in the morning.” “No one saw him being pushed?” She shook her head. “So, how do you know he was pushed?” Mrs. Borlock pursed her lips. Tears popped into her eyes and threatened to spill over onto her cheeks. “You’re going to tell me my boy killed himself, just like the police.” “Right now, I’m not telling you anything. Right now, I’m asking questions. How do you know he was pushed?” “I just know,” she spat. “I know Lenny. And he wouldn’t kill himself.” “Why wouldn’t Lenny kill himself?” I was expecting a lame answer, like she’d raised him as a good Catholic, and, since it was against God’s law, he wouldn’t do it. But she didn’t say that. She said something completely different. “Lenny was the happiest person I ever met.”
~~~~
As you might have guessed, Nowak took the case... We all know that it was a dumb thing to do... Somebody was murdered--it meant that the guilty person would be that individual who killed somebody! I think it was the fact that his mother saw her son as the happiest person she ever met... What can you say to that? So he took it, and nearly found himself, also killed! And it all started when Nick found a deposit in Lenny's account!
Halfway down the page, there was a circled deposit for three thousand, five hundred, and sixty-four dollars.
The four roommates had been temp's for a company and were given various assignments. Nick soon realized that the only way to track the money was to go undercover... And being a secretary wasn't something he would ever choose to be! Yet, here he was... Because of course, everybody knows that the secretaries are the ones who get "hit on" by the bosses... right?
I thoroughly enjoyed the light mysteries and know you will too! Covering multiple books within one review is not easy to do, but I've tried to give you a sense of the various storylines... The book is for fun reading. Nick Nowak is a macho man living in Chicago in the early 80s who easily and quickly sets out to solve the problems he has agreed to handle. The fact that he gets sidetracked often will also possibly be of interest to those who read this series...
What can we say on the first day of a new year, when we have had, at least for me, the worst year of our lives? It seems senseless to even realize that a year where we have seen corruption at the highest level of our country, including more violence caused by one man, within our borders, than could ever have been imagined in the United States of America! We have built a country full of diversity, growth, and caring... But we discovered that many people here hated, feared, or just didn't understand that God had created all people and that we were asked to love each one...
How do we have a year where our President of four years full of major accomplishments, especially in Infrastructure which most leaders choose to ignore during their tenure, causing problems for ALL Americans throughout our land... A man who closed each presentation with "God Bless Our Troops..." I could go on, but the heartbreaking part that much of what was accomplished was immediately stopped or prevented in one way or another, and the destruction of our government began based upon Project 2025, which was written by--not the Congress--but by a group of men most of whom none of us even know...and certainly didn't vote for... Yet, Trump declared it his mandate and proceeded without any type of review process as required by law and/or the Constitution... It has been as if a cloud of black thunder/rain has poured out into the streets and countries across our land and blanketed us with hate, violence, and, yes, murder, without control! Like the Journalist above, who speaks out, how can we explain how this has happened? And, how can it continue for nearly a year without much done to stop it?! For me, I'd arrived at the conclusion that Michael Smith recently posted on LinkedIn... The thing is, how can a new year begin...with...madness? Surely, there is hope somewhere... Listen!
Abnormal...
In psychology, "abnormal" describes behaviors, thoughts, or emotions that significantly deviate from typical or culturally accepted norms, often causing personal distress, dysfunction, or harm to self/others, and are studied in abnormal psychology (or psychopathology) to understand, diagnose, and treat mental disorders, though the definition is complex and context-dependent. Key criteria include statistical rarity, violating social norms, maladaptiveness, and personal suffering. Key aspects of abnormality: Statistical Infrequency: Behavior that is rare or far from the average (e.g., extremely low IQ). Violation of Social Norms: Actions that go against the unwritten rules of a society or culture. Maladaptiveness: Behavior that hinders daily functioning, goal achievement, or adaptation to life's demands. Personal Distress: Significant psychological suffering, anguish, or discomfort experienced by the individual. Observer Discomfort: Behavior that causes significant unease or concern for others. The field of study: Abnormal Psychology: The branch of psychology dedicated to studying these unusual patterns to understand, predict, explain, and treat mental disorders. Psychopathology: A less stigmatizing term for the scientific study of psychological disorders, focusing on mental illness.
Important considerations: There's no single, universal definition; what's abnormal varies by culture, time, and context. The goal isn't just to label, but to identify behaviors that may indicate a need for clinical intervention
If the behavior of Donald Trump had been the behavior of one of us, we would have been institutionalized long ago before we hurt ourselves or someone else.
“Don’t blame yourself for having a suboptimal run-in with an egomaniac. They’re hard to beat if you don’t have practice with them. They’re even hard to beat if you do. But you managed to do it anyway.”
“Alex, I think we are all playing checkers and you are playing 3-D laser chess.”
Dear Ms. <firstname> Butler, 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. Cheers, David Brandt Employee Happiness Coordinator
Zoey sighed into her open laptop. Well, the email addressed to Ms. <firstname> Butler was a new low. It was impressive, really, that her job search had gotten even worse. While Zoey suspected she’d only been receiving form rejections these past several months, it turned her stomach to have it so obviously confirmed. Only a few years earlier, she’d had her choice of extremely competitive offers before even graduating from college. She’d had the luxury of thinking hard about each offer before choosing the opportunity she believed would change her life. Unfortunately, it had.
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 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.”
~~~~
What a cool book! And a wonderful beginning to a new series by K. T. Lee... Starting with a twist, when a dog who had just been pulled back for possible K-9 use, was given a second-chance, with an individual who knew nothing about K-9 activity, but had been personally selected by the dog! More later!
Zoey had worked for Future State Energy as an engineer until an investigation began and determined that they'd committed fraud against their customers. Zoey was a part of the FBI investigation, but had been found not guilty of being part of the scheme... Still she was out of a job and had been trying ever since to find another job in materials engineering. But she had been tainted by the scandal, even though she had been proven not guilty...and could not even get an interview.
Finally in frustration, she wrote to the Special Agent with whom she had been involved and explained what was happening and, more or less, indicated that FBI owed her a job! Quite a gutsy move--and smart too! Indeed, she was called in for an interview and when she arrived was shown into the K-9 Training facility. Zoey knew absolutely nothing about this type of activity, and had never worked with animals...but an interesting thing happened when they all asked her to try it out... But it soon proved to be more than that!
“Morning, Agent Graham. Sorry, I had to say hi to Tank first.” “Just Liam is fine.” He shrugged. “And I can’t blame you. Tank is easy to like. He’s not working, so pet him as long as you like.” He made eye contact and she, once again, noticed the intelligence behind them. There was also a hint of concern. Her breath caught a little, and a feeling strong enough to overwhelm her stress made itself known. Oh no. She did not need this right now. For all she knew, Agent Charming was taken. The dog. The dog was charming. Not the agent. The not-charming agent could be taken. Not that it mattered to her. She had questions to answer. She froze. Liam could be the one with questions. The inconvenient feeling evaporated, replaced entirely with suspicion. Zoey eyed Liam. “Alexis said the FBI might have some questions for me about Future State. You know anything about that?” “Yeah.” Liam jerked his head towards the conference rooms. “A couple of folks from the Chicago office wanted to ask you some follow-up questions. Want to hang out with me and Tank until they’re ready to bring you in?” Zoey winced. “Do you have to say it like that? Bring me in?” She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. “Not your fault. Bad memories.” Liam took a step closer, and Tank pushed his head into her palm. “I’m sorry. You just seem so confident—I shouldn’t assume you’re alright. Are you okay?” “Oh yeah. Water under the bridge.” Zoey gave Tank a quick pet and shook out her shoulders. “It just took me by surprise, that’s all.” Liam studied her. “Do you normally mind surprises?” Zoey plucked her purse off the conveyor belt and hefted it on her shoulder. “Depends on what kind of surprise it is. I mean, a cupcake is great. I love a surprise cup of coffee. Both at the same time? Amazing. Potentially getting investigated for the second time in exchange for accepting a new job…not my favorite at all. I’m feeling a little like I walked into a trap. And honestly, I don’t have any emotional bandwidth to defend myself right now.” Liam grinned. “How about a bribe?” “Is this some kind of test?” Zoey pinched the bridge of her nose. “I didn’t do it, you know. I was working in the part of the business meant to look legitimate, and no one bothered to tell me that the company was breaking the law. Had they, I would have run fast and far away from them. What’s a girl got to do to shake that? I’ve cooperated with the FBI—” Liam raised his index finger and she waved it away. “—I’m not finished—moved halfway across the country, and have offered to scoop as much dog poop as it takes to repair the totally undeserved hit to my reputation.” Tank nudged his nose into her hand, and she looked down. Obviously, he could tell she was agitated. And she had every right to be.
Out of the corner of her eye, Zoey saw a puff of a dog about half Tank’s size coming towards them at a dead sprint. If she didn’t know better, she’d think the dog was whooping with glee and smiling as it scampered down the hallway. She crouched down to greet the dog on instinct, and the dog ran straight into her. She fell over laughing, and the dog wiggled, waving its fluffy tail in the air and sneaking a lick on her nose. Liam looked over the fluffball at Zoey. He picked up the loose end of the newcomer’s leash. The dog sat perfectly, as if she hadn’t just bolted down the hallway at warp speed. “Sorry, Zoey. Bribe was a figure of speech. This is Tasha. Tasha, this is my new buddy, Zoey.” Heat flooded Zoey’s cheeks and she rose, brushing dust off her pants. She reached down to pet Tasha from an upright position. The medium-sized dog kept sneaking glances at the black lab sitting at Liam’s side. She was a mix of colors but mostly white with a sprinkling of tan and black spots around her eyebrows, giving her what would be a serious expression if her mouth wasn’t open in a doggy smile. If Zoey didn’t know better, she’d think the dog was more than a little bit mischievous. “Well, hello, Miss Tasha. That was quite the greeting.” Alexis jogged over with Waffle in tow. “Sorry about that. I was juggling treats, two leashes, and we had an unexpected bump in the hallway with one of the new puppies. When Tasha spotted you, she was off like a shot.” She looked down at Tasha. “We’re still working on our focus, aren’t we?” She put her hands on her hips, but one hand held a stuffed toy in the shape of a cow that had one ear chewed off. Tasha swished her tail. “If you promise you’ll be good, you can have your cow back.” Tasha lay on the floor and looked up at Alexis, her brown eyes projecting a silent promise to never run off to greet people ever again unless it was really, truly worth it. Alexis threw her the cow with a chuckle, and Tasha snagged it out of the air and began to chew on it. Liam smiled the easy smile that had probably sent Tasha in a beeline his direction. “So, you agree, then?” Alexis looked Zoey up and down. “After yesterday, no question.” Tasha, for her part, loudly squeaked her well-loved cow. “Wait, what does yesterday have to do with Tasha? And me?” Zoey eyed them both. Tasha stopped squeaking the toy at the sound of her name, looking up and swishing her luxuriously fluffy tail against the ground.
Alexis clapped a hand on Zoey’s back. “I knew I liked you. Smart and observant.” “Okay, all this flattery is upgrading my concern to suspicion.” Zoey squatted to scratch Tasha behind one ear and was rewarded with another tiny lick to her hand. Tasha got up to sniff Zoey’s pants more thoroughly, then moved onto her shoes, all without dropping the cow from her mouth. Alexis pulled a treat from her bag and got Tasha into a perfect, focused sit. The cow tumbled from her mouth. Tasha’s back legs quivered a little with the effort, but she earned her reward, catching it easily as it flew through the air. “Tasha was assigned to a trainer who is no longer able to work with us. It’s left us with an extra puppy and no agent to help.” Alexis exchanged a look with Liam. “Full disclosure, Tasha and her trainer didn’t connect.” Zoey narrowed her eyes. “Didn’t connect?” Liam cleared his throat. “We had a dirty agent. He was working with a drug runner and was removed from the program before he ever really got started.” Liam looked at Tasha with pride. “Tasha never quite clicked with him, did you, girl? And he flunked Scarlett’s test.” “What a smart girl!” Zoey smiled at Tasha, whose pointy white ears perked up at the praise. Alexis nodded. “Exactly. So, since we’re an agent short, we don’t have room for her in the program. She has potential. She came in through a dog rescue and I don’t want to send her back. It’s just that I lost the funding when I lost the agent.” “I just got here. I don’t know if I’m qualified for that. I mean, what happens if I say no?” Alexis studied Zoey. “Are you really going to say no to the dog everyone else gave up on? All she needs is a second chance. And we’ll help you out.” Tasha looked up at Zoey as if waiting for her fate, her cow forgotten. Zoey’s face flushed. We regret to inform you…She ran a hand over the soft fur on Tasha’s head and was rewarded with another tail swish. “What kind of dog is she?” Alexis shrugged. “Some Samoyed, maybe a little border collie? Her tail doesn’t curve over her back like a Samoyed’s would, so she’s definitely a mix. It’s hard to say, honestly. She sheds like it’s her job, but she’s energetic and curious. A real go-getter.” “You can tell if a dog is a go-getter?” Zoey eyed Alexis. “You bet. And, trust me, you want the ones with a big personality and energy for this job.” Waffle’s tail began to thump against the ground. Zoey rubbed the back of her neck. “And what would this involve?” Alexis pulled a tennis ball out of a pouch on her waist. Waffle gently took it out of her hand and lay on the ground to start squeaking it. Tasha watched with interest for a moment before pouncing on Waffle’s head. There was a brief scuffle while Alexis coaxed Tasha back into a sit and rewarded her with a ball of her own. She squeaked it twice, dropped it on the floor, then scampered after it when it rolled away. Waffle resumed squeaking his own toy with one eye on the ornery fluffball. “Well, if you agree, we’ll train you for a few days. Then, you can bring her back home with you. You’ll be with her twenty-four seven and train with the agents already in the program. It’s not easy work. She’ll need walked, played with, let out, and trained when you are tired, sick, or it’s inconvenient. And you’ll have to spend more time here than most. We don’t normally throw dogs at untrained people. I just want Tasha to have a chance.” Zoey sighed. Sometimes, you just had to jump in. “Okay. I’ll take Miss Mischievous High Potential home. I can’t say no to that face. You must be really desperate.” Liam smiled. “Or you gave us the chance to take on one more dog. Every dog we train is another nose out there looking for trouble. You’ll have to work closely with Alexis and me. That okay?” Before Zoey could answer, Scarlett popped her head into the hallway from one of the conference rooms. Just the sight of Scarlett sent Zoey’s heart thundering, suddenly remembering that before she was tackled by the bulldozer of fluff, Alexis had some questions about Future State. “Alex, you ready?” “Yep. Let me get Tasha’s crate and then we’ll all join you. She’s not quite ready to lay down and be still around the other dogs yet. We’re still practicing. Liam, why don’t you come in with us? I’d like your thoughts.”
Soon, Tank and Waffle were settled on the floor of the conference room while Tasha sat in her crate, paws crossed and ears perked, as if listening to the humans carefully. The humans sat in chairs and Scarlett delivered a folder to each of them. Zoey eyed Scarlett and Liam shifted in his seat. Well, at least he probably wasn’t in on it, if the TED Talk she saw on body language was telling the truth. With all the secrets around here, she might have to spring for the author’s book. Zoey swallowed. “Am I in trouble?” Alexis shook her head. “The opposite, actually. I’m wondering if you’d be willing to help with a slightly different job than the one you had planned.” Zoey’s face fell. “I don’t get to work with the dogs? That doesn’t make any sense. What about Tasha?” Tasha lowered her head to rest it on her stuffed cow, ears still alert. Alexis held up a staying hand. “No, we’d still like you to do that. We’re just looking for your insight. If things don’t quiet down, we’d like to have you connect with Scarlett’s team every week or so.” “I honestly don’t know what more I can tell you at this point.” Scarlett gestured at the folder and Zoey opened it. A summary of potential threats included familiar names. People she used to consider friends. She closed the folder. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel right about helping you chase down people you’ve already cleared. For obvious reasons.” “I understand that. Let me explain, and you can still back out if you don’t agree, okay?” Zoey crossed her arms. “Okay.” Scarlett looked at Alexis. “We haven’t officially closed the Future State case.” Zoey’s eyebrows shot up. “They’re involved in a major government contract to build energy storage facilities throughout the country. We assumed there wasn’t anything else to find, but last week, someone anonymously called their ethics hotline, worried that the research lab was doing some unauthorized work with flammable electrolytes. Our team has sniffed around the edges, but we’ve found no evidence. There are a few folks that were always pretty high on our suspect list that we had initially crossed off. We’re revisiting that. If you aren’t worried about them, that’s still valuable information.” Zoey ran a hand through her hair. “Okay.” She opened the folder and pointed to a picture of Kendra Pappas, a marketing employee with a big personality and drive to spare. Zoey sighed. “What did Kendra do?” Scarlett tapped her manila folder. “She’s just very well connected to those who committed the crime.” Zoey snorted. “Kendra is well connected to everyone. She’s in marketing and knows everyone and everything worth knowing.” Zoey pictured Kendra in her mind’s eye, whipping out her business card at the end of any interaction with someone new. After one conversation with a new acquaintance, Kendra knew enough to guess at least three of their security questions on any given website. “Kendra can get anyone talking. Although, come to think of it, I don’t know much about her personally.” Scarlett wrote something down. “What about your old boss, the director of the research lab? Marco Ortiz has been responsible for development and testing. Lately, he’s been working on the government project.” “No. I’m sorry. Marco is literally the best person in the labs. He was as clueless as I was.” Zoey pushed the paper away. She directed her eyes to the ceiling. “Look, I get why he’d be on your radar. He’s gruff and a little cynical, and sure, he gets in arguments with management sometimes, but he’s the first person to offer help if you’re in trouble. He’s just a little too blunt. There was one time in the research lab, a manager came in and started trying to operate equipment without reading an instruction manual, and he was so mad—” Zoey looked up at Scarlett taking notes and stopped short, giving her a warning look. “That does NOT implicate him in some kind of crime. You know what, then he forgave them, and it was all okay. They even hugged. They’re besties now.” “And Lynn Sosa? The new CEO? What have you heard about her?” Scarlett looked up from scribbling notes. Zoey frowned. “I don’t know. She came after the raid, and I’d never heard of her before. Apparently, she came through the lab during her interview, but I didn’t see her. We overlapped a bit, but she was busy cleaning up Ophelia’s mess and making sure the old CEO didn’t walk out the door and take all of his knowledge with him. And honestly, I was distracted with my own problems then.” “What do your old friends from Future State say about her?” Scarlett tapped her pen against her open notebook. “I don’t really talk to them anymore. I…I didn’t know who I could trust. Which is fine. It’s absolutely fine.” Zoey cleared her throat. “Lynn replaced the old CEO, JJ Harris. He was demoted after not realizing what was going on right under his nose. I mean, he was upset and trying to find someone to blame, but he got over it. Rumor had it, he was telling people he didn’t really mind getting back to the nuts and bolts of the business. I mean, it’s great he even wanted to stay on. And I understand not wanting to be in charge. I don’t have any desire to run a company either.” Zoey looked up at the three FBI agents listening attentively. She flipped the paper in the folder over, but there was nothing on the back or behind it. “Is that all?” Alexis nodded. “For now. With any luck, the ethics hotline thing was a one-off, but if we need more help to wrap it up, we may ask you, if that’s okay.” “Yeah. Honestly, I was worried something else awful had happened.” Scarlett gave her a gentle smile. “Worrying about Future State is Alexis’s and my job. If I know who I’m dealing with, it’s easier to get them to work with me. I’ll add this to my notes, but I’m glad to hear you don’t think this crew is trouble right off the bat.” Scarlett flipped her notebook closed.
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It wasn't a surprise that the FBI was still monitoring Future State. They continued to have the original contract, but much more was now involved. There was a new staff and things were progressing, but they had not been able to determine exactly who was involved in the original criminal activities years ago. A new leader had been hired and things were progressing, even to the point that they had begun to advertise more staff for their new project. It was arranged that Liam would go in as undercover while Zoey would be returning as a former employee...
And in order to cover all bases, Liam and Zoey were to be introduced as "involved" and that was why they came in to work together in the same company. As you might have guessed, both Liam and Zoey were quite willing to "pretend..." Especially since Tank and Tisha got along so well! Everything seemed to be going fine, until...it...wasn't...
An accident occurred, and tighter watch was required. Once again, it was Zoey that identified the problem. But this time, Liam was there to support her. Would it be enough, especially if they got separated on the job, with each reporting to a different boss? Because the problem was on the actual construction site and only an expert would be able to determine what the problem was...
With great characters, including the addition of multiple K-9 players, readers will be enjoying the off-duty play time for the dogs, as well as their involvement when "working..." with their trainers! A delightful blend of mystery and mirth, with a bigger touch of romance coming at the end... Enjoy this one!
Key criteria include statistical rarity, violating social norms, maladaptiveness, and personal suffering.
Key aspects of abnormality:
Statistical Infrequency: Behavior that is rare or far from the average (e.g., extremely low IQ).
Violation of Social Norms: Actions that go against the unwritten rules of a society or culture.
Maladaptiveness: Behavior that hinders daily functioning, goal achievement, or adaptation to life's demands.
Personal Distress: Significant psychological suffering, anguish, or discomfort experienced by the individual.
Observer Discomfort: Behavior that causes significant unease or concern for others.
The field of study:
Abnormal Psychology: The branch of psychology dedicated to studying these unusual patterns to understand, predict, explain, and treat mental disorders.
Psychopathology: A less stigmatizing term for the scientific study of psychological disorders, focusing on mental illness.