by V. K. Powell
A makeshift cardboard nameplate beside the door indicated the office of Marilyn Carruthers and Stacey Chambers. Alex’s insides balked at the delicate handwriting she recognized as Stacey’s. It bothered her that newbies were often relegated to the least desirable accommodations even though their enthusiasm usually surpassed the veterans’. She knocked on the door and a quiet voice asked her to come in.
Marilyn Carruthers introduced herself and motioned Alex to a chair. The young woman was Stacey’s opposite, short and round, mousy-brown hair, unexpressive green eyes, and a voice that Alex had to strain to hear. The two of them had probably worked well together because they were so very different. Alex looked around the office trying to imagine Stacey working here.
The room was exactly as she expected: dated and dull. An old table served as a two-sided desk with straight-backed chairs on either side, scratched metal in-baskets at either end were piled high with files that threatened to topple over, and an institutional-green sofa against the wall sagged in the middle from years of use. The room spoke to the value placed on its occupants and their clients. Alex found it a sad commentary on the culture in general, and somehow insulting to the memory of a young woman she’d liked and respected.
“Your message said you had information for me.”
Marilyn Carruthers looked conspiratorially around the room before answering. “It could be nothing, but the press release said any details might be of value.” She waited for reassurance.
“That’s right. You never know what could be helpful in a case like this. So, please, tell me what you know and I’ll evaluate it.”
With a sigh of relief Marilyn said, “Stacey was counseling an African American woman in drug rehab. They’d only been working together for a few weeks, but Stacey liked her and thought she had the potential to start over and make a better life for herself and her child.” Marilyn stopped. She seemed reluctant to continue, as if embarrassed by revealing confidential information.
“Yes, and…?” Alex’s impatience was getting the better of her. She fought an urge to take the soft-spoken woman by the shoulders and shake the information from her in one quick motion.
“This client not only used drugs, she also slept with the dealer for quite a while. She was finding it hard to extricate herself from that connection. The last time they talked, she told Stacey she was willing to testify against him if she could get protection.”
Alex straightened in her chair. “Do you know when they had this conversation?”
“It would’ve been a few days before Stacey…” Marilyn’s voice trailed off as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.
“Stacey was a wonderful person,” Alex reassured Marilyn in hopes she would continue. “She’ll be missed by everyone who knew her.” She patted Marilyn’s hand and asked, “Did she say if she’d contacted anyone about this woman’s testimony or made any arrangements to seek protection for her?”
Marilyn swiped at a loose strand of lifeless hair that fell across her forehead. “She just said they were going to talk to a friend of hers in Vice/Narcotics and set everything up after the community watch meeting. But then…well, you know.”
Alex’s throat tightened and she felt a pang of guilt rip through her. “Yes, I know.”
It appeared a small light of recognition suddenly went off in Marilyn’s eyes. “You were the person she was going to talk to in Vice/Narcotics, weren’t you? I’ve just put it all together. She spoke of you often and with such high regard when she interned for you.”
“Yes.” Alex held back the surge of raw feelings that threatened to distract her from her purpose. “Marilyn, can you tell me this client’s name or the name of the dealer?”
The woman’s eyes lit up, “I can tell you both. She was Tiffany Brown. I’m not sure if that was her real name, but it’s the one she used here and it checked out. And the dealer was Sonny Davis. He’s supposed to be big time.”
Alex wanted to reach across the table and hug Marilyn Carruthers within an inch of her life. This was the break she’d been waiting for. Struggling to contain her enthusiasm, she willed her voice to remain calm. “Is there anything else you can remember?”
“Not that I can think of. Stacey was so excited about helping this young mother and her child start over. It was going to be her first success story. She really loved this job and she was excellent at it.”
“She was excellent at everything she did, from what I could see.” Alex stood, shook Marilyn’s hand, and started toward the door. “Thank you again for everything. Your information is important.”
As she walked toward her car, Alex considered Marilyn’s statement. She wondered what Davis’s friends would think of him sleeping with an African American woman. His racist roots seemed pretty deep, except in the bedroom. If Tiffany had been sleeping with Sonny Davis, she’d probably have information about his contacts, his business schedule, how he replenished his stash, and maybe even where he kept the drugs. If he had realized that Tiffany wanted out and was talking to Stacey, he must have wanted to shut her up. Had he arranged for Stacey to be eliminated before she could go to the police with what she knew? A crack addict was easy enough to discredit, but a board-certified therapist, and a councilman’s daughter to boot, wouldn’t be so easily dismissed.
But if Davis had Stacey killed to keep her quiet, why didn’t he kill Tiffany as well? Or did he? The first order of business was to have the team track down Tiffany Brown. If she was still alive, she could be the key to this whole case, of that Alex was sure.
*
Keri hated the waiting—waiting for Davis to call for another meet, waiting to see Alex again, waiting for a chance to talk to her. Hurry up and wait. For the past few days the team had tailed Davis from bars and strip clubs to flophouses and back without learning anything significant, and no one could locate Tiffany Brown. Keri did her job, tried to keep the guys psyched, and pumped Beth for information about Alex. What else could she do but wait?
Her waiting came to an abrupt halt when Alex strolled into the lineup area. Everyone immediately straightened in their seats and the room seemed to crackle with excitement and anticipation. Keri never understood how Alex had such an effect on her troops, but it happened every time.
Keri’s senses also sharpened but she was looking for something else, for some sign that Alex at least remembered their kiss. But there was no such indication. Alex avoided eye contact just as she’d avoided talking to her since that night, leaving Keri to think maybe she had just imagined it all, maybe she’d just wanted something magical to happen and her mind had played tricks on her.
“Sergeant Price briefed me on your progress,” Alex said. “You’ve all done an outstanding job gathering information on Davis. I know it’s been boring. Nobody likes grunt work, but I have a feeling that’s about to change.” She sat down at the head of the small conference table and continued. “Who has the intel on his associates?”
Paige Hunter, the shy DEA intelligence officer, shuffled some papers and said, “Yes, ma’am. Two have criminal records, two don’t. James Fletcher, AKA Fletch, is Davis’s right-hand man and they’re childhood friends. He appears to be clean. Charles Randolph, nickname Dolph, has no record, but he’s a suspect in three substantial fraud cases the Bureau is working. The victims in all three cases have either refused to cooperate or have disappeared.”
Her partner, Rick Jones, spoke up with his country-boy charm. “And we all know what that means.”
Paige grinned. “Now comes the hard stuff. Henry Watkins, AKA Hunk, is a former high school football star. He started using meth and ecstasy right after he graduated, and apparently supported his habit by committing armed robberies. He served three years at Crayton Maximum Security Prison.”
“So we can assume quite a few criminal connections,” Alex said pensively. “And Cappy?”
“Freddy Capanelli is also an ex-con. He served two years for assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill, inflicting serious injury, and another y
ear for attempted rape. The assault was on his then-girlfriend. He’s a real nice piece of work. That’s pretty much it.”
Alex looked up from her notes. “What was Cappy’s weapon of choice in the assault case?”
Paige flipped back through the file. “A 9mm Glock, which was never located, but three bullets were recovered from the victim and shell casings were found at the scene.”
“Thanks, Paige, good work. Questions from anyone?” Alex waited, and when no one spoke, she continued. “We now have a pretty clear picture of Davis. His history, habits, associates, places he frequents, and where he might try to hide from us. How about Tiffany Brown? Does anyone have information on her yet? Do we know where she is?”
Keri tried unsuccessfully to meet Alex’s eyes. “I spoke with my CI again last night and he provided a few names. People she knows and places she hangs out.”
Alex nodded. “Follow up every possibility. We’ve got to find this girl before she turns up dead.”
“Is there anything new on Stacey Chambers?” Beth asked.
Alex opened her case file and pulled out the autopsy results and toxicology report from the state lab. “I just got the reports back today. Stacey Chambers’s COD was acute irreversible cardiovascular damage caused by a drug overdose. The tox report confirms it’s the same as the ones found in the other victims and in the drugs we’ve purchased from Davis’s dealers on the street—they’re selling it as ecstasy, but the primary ingredient is PMA, not MDMA. It appears she probably ingested the substance in something she ate or drank at that meeting.”
“I might be able to help with the how, Lieu,” Steve Alston offered. “Our lab did a fingerprint analysis on the prints recovered at the scene. The drinking glass found next to Stacey’s body had two sets of prints. One was hers and the other belonged to our missing witness, Tiffany Brown.”
Alex considered this new information. It didn’t make sense that Tiffany would intentionally give a spiked drink to Stacey. “Well, one thing is for sure, whoever this drink was intended for was intended to die. The dosage was so high there could be no other outcome. Were there any other prints of interest recovered, Steve?”
Alston scanned the report again before answering, “No, ma’am.”
“Not exactly a smoking gun,” Beth said.
Keri’s undercover cell phone jingled to life as if on cue. She grabbed it off her waistband and placed it carefully on the table. There could only be a few possible callers, and Sonny Davis was the one she’d been expecting. “Everybody clear the area,” Beth said. “Steve, hook up the recorder. If it’s him, we want to be ready.”
On Beth’s cue, Keri took a deep breath and hoped she wouldn’t sound as anxious as she felt. “Yes?”
“Yo, is this lovely Lynn who likes variety?” Davis’s too-charming voice was unmistakable.
“Who is this?” Keri gave Beth a thumbs-up.
“It’s your main man, Sonny. We met at Shelly’s a while back.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember now. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you and that hot little redheaded friend of yours were free on Saturday night. I’m arranging something special at the Gentlemen’s Club and I sure could use some new scenery. Why don’t you drop by?”
“Well…” Keri glanced toward Beth for the go-ahead, intercepting a sharp “ain’t no way in hell” look from Alex. “I’m not sure if Kathy can make it, but I’ll be there.”
“Talk her into it. I’m partial to redheads. See you there.” Then the line went dead.
Keri cringed at Davis’s reference to Alex. She knew exactly what he meant, and it made her nauseous.
Steve pumped the air with his fist. “Yeah, now we’ve got a game.”
“All right, guys, huddle up,” Beth called to the group in the hallway.
Before the planning could begin, Alex got to her feet and asked Beth for a few minutes in her office. The sergeant didn’t look at all surprised at the request.
“Steve, get a drawing of the location,” Beth said. “Make coverage assignments and assess our vehicle situation. I’ll be back in a second for the briefing.”
Alex simmered with annoyance as they walked to her office. “You promised the last time was a one-shot deal,” she said as soon as they were in private.
“At the time, I didn’t know this was going to happen.”
Alex presented the rational argument. “It’s not appropriate for me to be a principal in an ongoing investigation. You know it as well as I do. I can’t maintain objective oversight of the operation if I’m involved in it.”
“Under normal circumstances I’d agree, but these aren’t normal circumstances and Davis isn’t an ordinary bad guy.”
“I understand, but that doesn’t help my dilemma.”
Beth’s stare was intent. “I think we both know your dilemma is more complicated than you want to accept.”
Alex should have known Beth would call her on her feelings for Keri. The thought of spending time alone with her again, especially in the kind of scenario that weakened her will, tantalized and tormented her. She would never forgive herself if she blew this case because she couldn’t be totally professional.
“We’ve got to be willing to bend the rules a little to catch Davis,” Beth said. “Can you do that or should we just scrap the operation now and tell everybody to go home?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I want to catch Sonny Davis. That’s why I have to say no to this.” She sighed. “You’re right. It’s complicated.”
“You’re worried about making the wrong move because Keri impairs your judgment?” Beth asked directly.
“Of course.” There was no point pretending. Beth knew her too well.
“The wrong move is the one you’re making right now,” Beth said softly. “We have an opportunity, mostly thanks to you. How is it going to look if Keri shows up alone? More importantly, do you really think she can pull this off by herself? Is that a chance you’re willing to take?”
Alex thought about Keri’s impulsiveness and risk taking. This was a dangerous undercover operation. Davis and his thugs weren’t stupid. One tiny misstep and Keri could not only blow it but place herself in serious danger.
“No,” Alex said. “I can’t take that chance.”
“So, let’s do this.”
Alex nodded. “I just need to stay focused on the big picture.”
“Thank you.” Beth opened the door. Before she walked away, she said, “Everything will work out.”
Alex didn’t answer. Even if they managed to convict Davis and she got her promotion, she still wouldn’t feel things had really “worked out” because she would be left wondering how to deal with Keri Morgan. If there was a successful conclusion to the Davis case, Keri would expect to join Vice/Narcotics permanently, and the chief would probably insist upon it. Alex would be stuck working with her indefinitely. How would she preserve her professional distance then?
She leaned against her closed door and cursed beneath her breath. As if that wasn’t enough to unsettle her thinking, she now had to leave for a supervisor’s meeting in Bedford, chief’s orders. She knew who she could thank for that. Helen Callahan would expect her to stay overnight, since it was a five-hour drive, but Alex had no plans to be stuck in a hotel with her manipulative ex. Helen could go fuck herself, and Alex wouldn’t be there to help.
Chapter Eleven
Alex claimed a seat at the mahogany bar in the Bedford Marriott lounge and idly cruised the new arrivals for a potential hookup. It had been too long since she’d allowed anyone to touch her body just for pleasure. Now she ached for it. Yet despite her cravings, nothing sparked. Her customary interest was absent. Her nerves already sizzled with fragility. Five hours on the road had failed to banish her fantasies of Keri. Instead she thought nonstop about the excruciatingly pleasurable dance at Shelly’s bar and that unforgettable kiss.
Being away from home always made her melancholy for the things she’d left behind. This time, one of those
things was Keri Morgan. She remained like a watermark in Alex’s subconscious. Why was she so drawn to this woman that she couldn’t get her out of her mind? Keri wasn’t the first warm, honest woman she’d met, but none of the others had ever captivated her so completely. Alex wondered if she was simply needier now because of the changes in her life, or if those events had somehow changed what she wanted.
Other than her aberration with Helen, she’d always looked for brief, uncomplicated liaisons with women. Keri would never be one of those. Alex already knew that from just one kiss. Keri wanted more and if Alex were honest with herself, so did she. But the timing couldn’t be worse. She wasn’t ready for this, and maybe she never would be. Alex wasn’t even sure if she was cut out for a long-term relationship with one woman.
She jerked the idea from her mind and placed her order for Stoli vodka and tonic. The handsome Latino bartender returned with her favorite cocktail a few minutes later and Alex knocked back a mouthful. As warmth from the alcohol flooded her chest, she drove her thoughts to the other personal matter she was trying to ignore, her parents’ house and the Trojan Horse.
Alex had reviewed the documents Norman had given her and was overwhelmed by the magnitude of her parents’ estate. The stock shares themselves would be worth millions if she sold them outright. And the vacation homes were valued at several million. It seemed unfathomable that she could be the sole heir to such a fortune. What would she do with all that money—ever? But Alex had no specific feelings about being wealthy, beyond the numbing enormity of it all. She just couldn’t grasp it yet. Her main concerns at the moment were expelling Keri Morgan from her thoughts before she became a greater problem and getting back to the case that would define her future.
Two task force members greeted her, looking tired and unhappy, obviously having made long drives themselves. Helen Callahan was conspicuously absent.
The DEA supervisor said, “Where’s Callahan?”
