“Should we focus our efforts there?”
“I got it. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
Hank slouched back in his chair. “Man, I hate working the phones. The last guy I talked to kept me on the phone for twenty minutes telling me about how Buprenorphine and other drugs are distributed across the country. Would you like to hear how it gets from point A to point B?”
I took a sip of coffee and smiled. “Enlighten me.”
He read from his notes as though he was giving a presentation. “There are two pharmaceutical companies that produce Buprenorphine in the United States, neither of which is in Florida. From the manufacturers, it travels to one of a few main distributors. The main distributors, again not in Florida, sell the drugs to the big hospitals and clinics. Then there is the secondary wholesalers, also called the gray market. They buy the drugs in bulk from the distributors. The secondary places supply the smaller clinics that don’t have enough purchasing power to get medications from the big distributors. The gray market, while still legal, seems to do a lot of shady things with the drugs. They price gouge small hospitals. They repackage it and trade it back and forth between themselves. All that happens before it ever lands in a patient’s hands. Legal drug trade 101.”
“Sounds similar to the illegal drug trade.”
Hank nodded.
I stood and grabbed my coffee and soda from his desk. “All right, keep dialing. Couple hours left.”
He picked up his phone.
I headed back to my office to continue making calls. I thought back to what the profiler had said about this guy being an opportunist. Getting the drugs from the veterinary field made the most sense. The two drugs weren’t found together in any other profession. Plus, the vets used the injectable version. I had fifteen vets still left on my list. The red light on my phone was flashing—I’d missed two calls while out. I hit the button for the messages. The first was Rick telling me that none of the local hospitals had reported a knife wound. I hit the button to erase the message. The second message started. My sister’s voice came through the speaker giving me the third degree because I hadn’t called her the day before, as I’d promised. I hit Erase in the middle of her rant. I didn’t remember promising her that I’d call. Her message did remind me that I wanted to call my father.
I rubbed my eyes and found some resolve to power through the last few calls to the vets. I hammered five out quickly—no leads. The next name on the list was familiar. It was the vet that I took Butch to. I dialed them up.
“Tampa Paws. How can I help you?”
“Hi, this is Lieutenant Kane. Is Doctor Reynolds in?”
“Is there a problem with Butch?”
“No. Butch is good. This is police related.”
“Oh. Okay, I’ll transfer you to the back and let him know you’re on the line.”
“Thanks.”
“Tell Butch we miss him. Hold on.”
I sat on hold, waiting for Doctor Reynolds, wondering if the receptionist was being sarcastic. We hadn’t had a good experience the last time I brought Butch in for his checkup. I put him on his leash and walked him toward the front door. He pranced across the parking lot just as a dog would. I scooped him up when I walked through the door and let them know we were there for his appointment. We were going to have to wait a couple minutes, so I sat down with Butch on my lap. He was being good. He was looking around but just sitting there on my lap. I let his leash drop to the floor and patted him on the head. I had never seen him so civilized, that was, until someone opened the front door. He leapt from my lap before I could get his leash and made a run for daylight. A woman walked through the door with a German shepherd in tow. She stopped in the doorway to try to catch the escaping cat. She should have just let him through. The German shepherd clogged the other side. Butch went for the dog. A flurry of cheetah-spotted fur circled the dog’s face. Butch hissed and gave the dog an onslaught of right and left swats as he stood on his back legs. When he finished his boxing, he started with the biting. Anything that was soft, he sank into. The German shepherd let out a high-pitched yelp when Butch pierced his left ear with his teeth. The dog tried to backpedal out the door while its owner fought to pull him back inside.
It all happened in a matter of seconds. I ran over and pried my hissing, swatting, devil cat from her dog’s face and apologized. She gave me the speech about having him in a crate. I offered to cover her vet bill for the day, but she refused. She was fine with just shaking her head at me every time I made eye contact with her.
Doctor Reynolds came to the phone. “Lieutenant Kane. How are we doing today?”
“Fine. I just wanted to ask you a few things.”
“Sure. Debbie told me this is police related?”
“Yes.”
“Well, anything I can do to help. What do you need?”
“Do you use Xylazine or Buprenorphine there?”
“We use a generic form of Xylazine as an anesthetic on horses. Don’t have the Buprenorphine though.”
“Is all the tranquilizer accounted for?”
“I don’t know why it wouldn’t be. It’s just me and Doctor Ferrin back here, plus Debbie up front. Sometimes my son comes in and helps out after school. He’s here today. We didn’t have any break-ins or anything like that.”
“Is it possible for you to just check for me while I have you on the line?”
“Yeah, I guess. Give me one minute.”
I waited on the line for him to come back. I heard the honk of a truck horn through the earpiece, followed by Doctor Reynolds yelling for someone to get the delivery from the driver. It reminded me of something Hank had said earlier. Doctor Reynolds came back to the phone a minute or two later.
“All accounted for.”
“Okay, good. I have another couple questions for you if that’s all right.”
“No problem.”
“How do vets get their medications for the animals?”
“We order through a wholesaler or distributer on some of the more common items. The wholesaler makes it easier for something we just need a small supply of. I’d say that’s pretty typical of most veterinary clinics.”
“Are the places local?”
“Big one no, small one yes. The distributer we go through is called D&Z, out of Atlanta. They are the main place for most of the vets on the east coast. The place we go to for everything else is right here in Tampa. That place is called Pet Med Plus.”
I wrote down the names. “Are there other smaller wholesalers for pet supplies in the area?”
“There is one more, but their prices are a little higher, and they don’t deliver. They are about a half hour south of the city.”
“Can I get the name of that one too?”
“Wholesale Pharm and Supply.”
It got copied into my notepad.
“Thanks for the help.”
“Sure.”
I hung up and looked up the numbers for the wholesalers.
Chapter 23
He awoke from his nap ready for a long night. He went into the bedroom where he was holding Anna Smith. She was awake. He went to her side, his hand on a kitchen knife tucked into the back of his waistline. There wouldn’t be a repeat of the incident with the last woman.
“How do you feel?”
She stared at the ceiling. He shook her head and stuck his finger in her mouth. If she was with it, she would try to bite him. She didn’t.
He untied her one strap at a time. She didn’t try to move. He sat her up and waited. She did nothing. He got her to her feet.
She walked herself out to the living room as he limped along, keeping her steady. He helped her sit down on the couch and took a seat across from her in the recliner. He watched her. She didn’t react. Her mouth hung open, her eyes rolled toward the top of her head. Every few seconds, her eyes would move around the room and float back up. She didn’t speak, yet she didn’t do much of anything. She just sat there with a blank look on her face. He had her dr
essed in the familiar green lingerie, the same his ex-wife had worn. They were twins.
He’d give her another few hours before he made his decision for the evening. He had just the thing to kill some time—a little bit of reconnaissance on the lieutenant. If his time spent in the military had taught him anything, it was to know your adversaries. He locked Anna back up in the bedroom and left the house.
Chapter 24
It was a little after five thirty when I called the wholesalers. I got voicemail for both, which included their hours. Both places closed at five, but one opened at eight, the other at nine. I’d have to wait until morning to get in touch with them.
I heard a tap at my door, and Hank walked into my office. “Hear the news?”
I glanced up from my desk. “What news?”
“Just got the red-light camera footage brought by. The guys down in tech are going over it.”
“Good. Let’s hope they get something. How about you?”
He shook his head. “Everyone I talked to said everything is accounted for. I’m not a hundred percent sure that I’m buying it, though.”
I stretched my back in my chair. “Why is that?”
Hank sat on my couch at the back of the room and crossed his leg over his knee. “Think about it. What clinic or hospital wants to be associated with having missing drugs? It makes them look bad. My guess is there were quite a few that were missing things. I’m sure they just fired whatever employee took something and called it a day.”
I took in a deep breath and tried stretching again. My body ached, probably from sitting all day and talking on the phone—if that was possible. “You could be right. We have to weed through them either way.”
“Yeah, I know. What about you? Leads?”
“Could be something, could be nothing, but I can’t follow up on it until morning. I’m going to look into the wholesalers of the pet meds in the area. So far, all the vets I called told me the same thing—nothing missing. Looks like most of the places are starting to close up. I’m going to see if they got anything from the red-light cams and then head home. Maybe grab a beer at Lefty’s.”
“You’re starting to be a regular over there, huh?”
“They have decent food, and the place is close enough to my house. I wouldn’t call myself a regular, though.”
“And here I thought you went over there to see your little girlfriend.” He smiled, pleased with his jab.
“She’s not my girlfriend. You have anything going on? Want to head over there with me and grab a beer?”
Hank shrugged. “Sure. Tonight is Karen’s poker night with her friends, anyway.”
“Poker night? Don’t women go to book clubs or scrapbook? I’ve never heard of a women’s poker night.”
“She plays with a bunch of DEA people from work.”
“So she dresses you, packs your lunch, and then tells you she’s staying out late to play poker with a bunch of the DEA guys?”
He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Do you have to bust my balls now? I’m not in the mood, Kane.”
A smile crept across my face. “I wouldn’t be, either.” With a wave of my hand, I motioned for him to get out of my office. “I’m going to lock up and go check on the tech guys. We can take off when I get back. Go finish up whatever you’re working on.”
“Sounds good.”
I took the elevator two floors down and walked the length of the hall to the tech department. I walked in and found Keller sitting at a desk, staring at a video screen. “You looking at the red-light camera video?”
He nodded his head.
“Just you here?”
“Yeah, Murphy already checked out for the night. They gave us everything from nine o’clock at night until six in the morning. I have it going at three-times speed, and I’m pausing it at each car. This is going to take a while. When I’m done, I have another camera view from up the street. I’m planning on staying late.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Technically, I’m here late now. I’ll put in another couple hours and have to resume tomorrow. I’ve been here since eight a.m.”
“That’s fine. I’d look over the hours of midnight until four a.m. It would be the smallest number of people on the streets that could have witnessed the guy. I think we’ll have our best shot there.” I turned toward the door. “Give me a buzz on my cell phone if you spot anything of interest.”
“Will do, Lieutenant.”
Hank had cleared his desk by the time I got back upstairs. We left the station around six. He followed me to my condo. I dropped off my car and rode over to the bar with him. I planned to take a cab home since Hank never stayed out very long.
When Hank and I walked in, we made a beeline for the bar. A middle-aged couple had control of the pool table. The man was eyeing his next shot while the woman fed singles into the jukebox. From her clothing, I guessed we’d be listening to country music. Aside from them and an old man sitting at the far end of the bar, the place was empty. Callie served the old man a beer and looked over at us with a smile.
Hank nudged me with his elbow. “Hey, what do you know? Your girlfriend is working.”
She walked over to where we sat. “Hey, Kane. Can’t get enough of me, huh?”
I smiled at her. “Never.”
“Rough day, hon? You look spent.”
“You could say that,” I said.
“Yeah, I saw you on the news yesterday. Catch the guy yet?”
I shook my head. “Nah, still looking.”
“You get any sleep last night?”
“A little.”
“You need to start taking better care of yourself.” She motioned to Hank, sitting next to me, and leaned in. She spoke in a whisper. “It’s Hank, right?”
I nodded.
“What’s with all the whispering?” Hank asked.
“I’m telling him a secret.” She looked at Hank.
Hank offered his hand. “Hank Rawlings. We’ve met once or twice.”
She shook it. “Sergeant, right?”
Hank nodded.
“Callie Green. Nice to meet you again. What can I get you?”
“Gin and tonic.”
“Sure, coming right up. What about you Kane? The usual?”
“Yup.”
She leaned across the bar. Her feet came off the ground. “You want anything else?”
I put on my innocent face. “Like?”
She shook her head and smiled. “Are you guys eating too?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Need a menu?”
“Please,” Hank said.
Callie bounced back down from leaning on the bar, reached beneath it, and brought out a menu, which she handed to Hank. “I have to run into the back to grab another bottle. Be right back.”
As soon as she disappeared, Hank mimicked, “Can’t get enough of me? Nah, never, babe.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said.
“You need to take better care of yourself, hon. You want anything else?” He smiled as he flipped open the menu to browse through it. “What’s good to eat?”
“I get the steak sandwich. It’s pretty good. I’ve had the burger a handful of times, too.”
Callie walked over with a glass and set it on a coaster in front of Hank. “Need a lime, Sarge?”
“Please.”
She grabbed a slice of lime from her tray and propped it on the edge of Hank’s glass. He flicked it in and took a sip.
She grabbed a mug from the freezer, topped it off with beer, and placed it in front of me. “Shot?”
I shrugged. “Might as well.”
Callie grabbed two shot glasses from below the bar. “You want one too, Hank?”
“What are you drinking?”
She smiled. “Jägermeister.”
Hank waved his hand. “No way. Thanks, but no thanks.”
Callie poured two shots, picked one up, and slid the other one to me. We touched glasses before knocking them back.
Callie
wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at Hank. “Decide on something to eat?”
“I hear the steak sandwich is good. I’ll try it.”
“No problem. Same for you, Kane?”
I nodded.
“I’ll go put it in. Should be fifteen minutes or so.” She winked and walked into the back.
Hank shook his head. “I don’t know how you drink that stuff.”
“I usually only have one,” I said.
Hank took a sip of his drink from its tiny red straw. “Well, I think one shot of that is too much. The smell makes me gag.”
The couple playing pool replaced the cues on the wall and left. The front door clanged as it closed behind them. Though they’d left, the country music continued. From the amount of money I’d seen her stuff into the jukebox, I was guessing we’d be listening to country for some time.
“Pool?” I asked.
Hank took another sip from his drink. “Sure, why not.”
I walked over to the change machine and pulled out my wallet. A ten was the smallest I had. “Hank, you got a couple of singles or a five?”
He popped open his wallet. “Nope. Eighty bucks in twenties.”
I pulled the ten from my wallet and stuck it into the change machine. The machine rumbled then spat quarters at me as if I’d hit the jackpot. I jammed my hand into the slot to catch the change before it spilled onto the floor.
“What the hell did you stick in that thing?” Hank asked.
“A ten. I know exactly where most of these quarters are going, though. I have to play something else in this jukebox if I want to keep my sanity.”
“Not a country fan?” Hank asked.
“I know every word to every country song ever written. The ex-wife was a fan. Thus, I am not.” I handed Hank a handful of change and plugged eight quarters into the jukebox.
Hank pushed the change into the table and racked the balls. “What are we playing for?”
“Bar tab?”
“Two out of three or three out of five?”
I took into account the weight of change still in my pocket and answered, “Three out of five is good.”
I’d grown up playing pool in bars with my father every weekend. He would take money matches with the various bikers and patrons.
Malevolent (Lieutenant Kane series Book 1) Page 11
