Little Lamb Lost

by Margaret Fenton

  In the hallway after the interview, I saw a uniformed officer escorting Ashley to the room I’d just left. She stopped next to me and rested her head briefly on my shoulder. It was the closest thing to a hug she could give me, considering the fact that her wrists were handcuffed in front of her. I waited until she finished talking to Brighton.

  While I waited, Zander arrived. He looked miserable. Pale. Ill. I wondered if he was detoxing. He went in after Ashley and gave his statement. Afterward, the three of us met in the hall.

  “Are you okay?” Ashley asked me.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I tried to warn you.”

  “I know. Let’s not talk about whose fault it was. I should have listened to you. Told the police. Backed off.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. Now they got them, and they can’t hurt no one else.”

  “Why did Michael die?”

  “I went to work Friday night, to clean BaxMed. I finished the lobby and went down the hall to do Trey’s office. I knew Trey, see. He and Zander were friends. When I was usin’, we all used to hang out together. Anyway, that night I heard Trey arguing with his father. They’re fighting, so I go into the office across the hall to clean instead. I tried not to listen, but I could still hear them. Trey’s daddy said something about the money not covering it all, and Trey said well, what do you want me to do, Dad? I’m doing the best I can. Then his dad said they needed to step it up. That’s what he said, step it up. Trey said the new nightclub would help. They’d be able to distribute more G and X that way.

  “Trey said he would bring in more money, and to give him time. His daddy left, and I guess after that Trey heard me cleaning in the other room. He asked me how much I overheard, between him and his dad. I said I didn’t hear nothin’. He said I better not have and if I didn’t want to die I’d keep my mouth shut. I wasn’t going to say nothin’ to nobody. I knew he meant it. But then, Tuesday, my son died. I was supposed to die too. They didn’t want no one knowin’ where the money to support their company was comin’ from.”

  I said, “So Trey Baxter was manufacturing GHB and Ecstasy in BaxMed’s lab?”

  She nodded. I looked at Zander. He added, “I knew Trey was dealing. Lucas sold the stuff for him at Kaleidoscope, and some of Donovan’s other bartenders did the same at his other places. Donovan didn’t know about it, but I think he suspected something. Then Trey used the profits from his dealing to boost BaxMed. He funneled the money through a company called Global Holdings of Birmingham. Get it? GHB. He used to brag about that. He thought it was funny.”

  I asked, “You knew he killed Michael?”

  “Trey came over to my house on Monday. He had some G and some vodka with him. We had a few drinks, I did the G, then he waited until I passed out. I think he took my keys, and my car, to Ashley’s and put the GHB in the juice.”

  “Zander, why didn’t you tell someone?”

  He pressed his lips together. “Trey gave me shit for free. I needed — I wanted the drugs. Ashley was clean. They couldn’t control her like they were controlling me. She would have turned them in, too, if they hadn’t threatened her, right?”

  Ashley nodded again.

  I had lots of questions. “Why’d they need the money from illegal drug dealing? Why couldn’t BaxMed just find a sponsor? An investor? A large drug company to help with costs?”

  Zander said, “No drug company would’ve picked them up. The trials of the ADHD medicine weren’t going well. Not that it harmed anyone or anything, it just wasn’t any better than what’s already out there. Trey knew it, but he wanted to keep BaxMed going. His dad had already sunk his life savings into the company. And I think Trey wanted to be legitimate, eventually. Produce a drug that really could help people.”

  I asked Ashley, “I don’t get what Jimmy had to with any of this. Why was he threatening me? Why’d he slash my tires?”

  “He didn’t. I think that was Flash. He’d been callin’ me again, trying to get back with me. He hates you. He blames you for breakin’ us up. It’s stupid, ’cause you saved my life. I wanted to save yours. I made Jimmy promise to protect you. I knew you were gonna be stubborn and not give up. Jimmy was supposed to keep you from getting hurt.”

  “And you let me believe he was out to kill me. Ashley —”

  “I wanted you to be scared. I wanted you to quit. Now, I’m glad you didn’t. Now my baby has justice.”

  I studied Michael’s parents, seeing them together for the first time. I realized that Michael had been a perfect blend of the two. He’d had his father’s hair and eyes, and his mother’s cheekbones and fair skin.

  Zander buried his head in his hands. “He killed my son. I was his best friend, and he killed my son. I should have stopped him.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that, except, “I’m sorry.”

  Kirk got his story. Several, actually, in the weeks after we were interviewed by Brighton. I secretly filled in the blanks, on occasion, in exchange for his not using my name. He kept his word. He wrote about the systematic dismantling of BaxMed and the FDA investigation. He covered the investigations and indictments of Trey Baxter, Dr. Walter Baxter, and Lucas Grayson. The long list of charges against them included murder and attempted murder. Attempted murder of me. I could barely get my head around that.

  I met with Mac and Dr. Pope on my first day back at work and related the whole story. I assume that Dr. Pope had a word with the state office, who quietly had a word with the attorney general. That’s what I guess, anyway, because nobody ever told me anything. The only clue I had that the official investigation was over was when I got an e-mail from Mac that said to close the Hennessy file and send it to the file room. Business as usual. I was grateful to still have my job.

  Ashley got out of jail and she and Jimmy sent me a wedding invitation a week after her release. I went, huge gift in hand, and thanked Jimmy in person for saving my life. Al and Dee were at the wedding, all smiles. Al couldn’t take his eyes off the decorated box set out to collect cards and cash for the newlyweds. I never found out if the box made it home with Ashley and Jimmy. I suspect not.

  A week and a day after I nearly died, Grant and I went on the dinner-and-a-movie date we’d planned forever. He stayed the night, but not in the guest room.

  The evening after that, Kirk called me ahead of press time and read the next day’s headline to me over the phone. SON OF PROMINENT LOCAL BUSINESSMAN FOUND DEAD OF OVERDOSE, it said. Kirk said the paramedics found a crack pipe lying next to Zander’s body, along with an empty bottle of stolen pills.

  Dad and I went to Zander’s funeral, along with Jimmy and Ashley and hundreds of others, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church. Karen and Alexander Madison both shook our hands like robots as we arrived. The only member of the family who showed a hint of emotion was Zander’s little sister, Kaylin. She cried throughout the whole service.

  As the priest eulogized Zander, it gave me some comfort to picture him with his son in some sort of heavenly afterlife. In a green meadow, perhaps. With a pond. Feeding the ducks like Mikey loved to do. Holding hands and playing together. Neither of them lost any longer.