“There are no coincidences. You know that.” Nick turned for the door. “Send over the reports when you get the chance, would you?”
“Sure. Just as soon as I fill out the Smyther’s death certificate to mark it as a homicide,” Bay said wearily.
I glanced at Nick as we walked out of the room and ditched the plastic shoe covers. How terrible it must’ve been for Cheryl to die that way. “I don’t believe in coincidences either, Nick. It’s time you told me the full truth.”
He nodded. “All right, but it’s gonna be over pancakes. I have been promising you breakfast.”
I nodded, keeping my composure. He meant that as a working breakfast. Right?
Chapter 24
When you wanted milkshakes in Timber City, you went to Pete’s. When you wanted burgers, you went to Ralph’s Burgers. And when you wanted pancakes, you went to Smiley’s Diner. I’d like to say that my sister wasn’t delighted to see me accompanied by Nick as we seated ourselves at a booth near the windows, but I’d be lying. She all but danced our way with menus.
I started to introduce them when I remembered they probably knew each other from high school, even though Nick was Donna’s age, which was two years older than Tess.
“How’s it hangin’, Basanelli?” She grinned and handed over a menu.
“Pretty good since I’m finally home.” His return smile held a boatload of charm.
She pushed her reddish-blonde hair away from her stunning face. “My sister tells me you might have contacts good enough to find Jareth Davey. That true?”
Of course, she’d go right there. Family. I mean. Just…family. I sighed.
“I’m sure going to try.” He sobered, handing back the menus. “I’ve already reached out but haven’t heard anything.”
“Good enough. I take it you both want pancakes?” She reclaimed the menu.
“What else?” he asked.
Giving me a wink, she turned and headed back to the kitchen, her jean-clad butt swaying. I rolled my eyes. “She’s single, you know.”
“No kidding.” He shrugged out of his blazer, revealing a nice white button-down shirt. When he rolled up the sleeves to reveal strong forearms, my hardly dormant libido flared awake.
I shoved it away. Between Aiden and Nick, I just needed to stay single. “Tell me about the drugs,” I said.
Nick waited until Tess had delivered cups of coffee and sweating water glasses before he cleared his throat. “Okay. You know how opioids and prescription drugs are the new problem on the streets?”
I nodded. “Yep.” Everyone who watched the news was aware of the epidemic.
“Well, apparently somebody finally figured out how to cheaply mass produce opioids that are twice as strong as hydrocodone. It hasn’t been a problem up to now because of the difficulty in doing so.” He took a big drink of his coffee. “It’s called Beast as kind of a joke. Baking and yeast.”
I frowned. “I don’t get it.”
“There’s a new drug on the street called Beast. A lab in Portland was able to synthesize opioids from yeast cultures grown in a lab instead of using poppy flowers. It’s like when all of a sudden everyone could cook meth in baby bottles in microwaves. It’s a disaster.” He shook his head. “The yeast had to be engineered as well. They have a hell of a lab somewhere.”
I blinked. “Portland?” Why was that significant? Something hinted at my consciousness.
“Yeah. Where the Diablo Riders were located before being patched over by the Lordes,” Nick said.
Ah, crap. Aiden again. “Okay?”
Nick sighed. “The DEA shut down the Portland lab and arrested two scientists, but a lot of product had already been produced, and we believe there’s a brand-new lab somewhere around here. The Riders, and now the Lordes, are the key component in the distribution, we think, along with Scot Peterson, your former boss.”
“Melvin Whitaker is a chemist,” I said slowly. “You think he’s making more of the drug?”
Frustration drew down Nick’s brows. “Whitaker has the pedigree to do so, but the only reason we’re even looking at him is because of his location—that the Lordes are here. And we’ve been through his entire lab on the border, while the cops have been keeping an eye on him. He might just be dealing pot to the Lordes as a side job. I’m not sure.”
I took a drink of my coffee. “You think Cheryl was killed with this Beast drug.”
Nick nodded. “The DEA and the state police are working together, and I was brought in from Boise to coordinate trial strategy—pending arrests. The DEA can take down the manufacturers, and we get the distributors and dealers, so everybody has a piece of the pie.”
That made for a good election strategy, now didn’t it? “You were working on this case in Boise?”
“No.” He took another drink of coffee. “I’ve had a couple high-profile drug convictions and was brought in the loop right before the DEA arrested Scot Peterson. It didn’t hurt that I have connections in the area, as do you.”
“All right.” I played with my napkin. “Here it is. Say Melvin Whitaker is somehow and somewhere manufacturing more, ah, Beast.” What a stupid name for a drug. “And the Lordes are distributing it along the drug pipeline. How are they doing it?”
“Dunno.” Nick sat back. “Both the DEA and the state police are investigating, and so far, we’ve got nothing. There’s a definite puzzle piece missing.”
Tessa brought our pancakes, and I snorted at seeing a smiley face drawn with huckleberry syrup on mine. She was the best. After she’d flounced away, and after I’d taken two big bites, I mulled over the case again. “When the Lorde’s apartment building was raided, I assume you found Beast?”
“Yep. Not a lot, but enough.” Nick shuddered in pleasure at his first taste of huckleberry pancake. “God, I missed these. Serving in DC and then Boise, I really missed these.”
Yeah. To think most of the world thought a huckleberry and a blueberry were the same thing. Sad. Truly sad. “Why arrest Aiden? There have to be many members of the Lordes. Why him?”
Nick flushed and focused on his rapidly dwindling pancakes.
I chewed thoughtfully, and as the reason hit me, I choked. Nick gingerly nudged my water glass toward me, and I grabbed for it, sucking down half the liquid. Then I set it down and wiped my eyes. “No. Come on. Because of me?” How was that even possible?
Nick winced. “Did you honestly think it was a coincidence you were in court for his arraignment?”
Yes. I shook my head, pinpricks of awareness springing up along my arms. “You did that?”
He rolled his neck, not quite meeting my eyes. “Yes. I was part of the investigation before the police raided the Lorde’s complex, and I suggested they bring in Aiden.” Nick held up a hand. “Saving you on that one day is the only good thing he’s done in his entire life.”
My mouth gaped open. Aiden had said almost those exact words to me. “Nick,” I breathed. What could I say?
He met my gaze evenly now, his serious. “I need every advantage I can get in the case, and if you being a part of it throws Devlin off his game, I have to take it. In fact, I already took it.”
I lost my appetite and pushed my plate away. Heck. It was nearly cleaned off, anyway. “I haven’t talked to Aiden Devlin for twelve years. If he has been living a life of crime, it’s ridiculous to even think he’d stop for me. Or because of me.”
Nick shrugged. “Every guy wants to be a hero, and on a day in June years ago, he was yours. There’s something to manipulate there, even if I can’t articulate it.”
My stomach rolled, and I stood.
“Where are you going?” Nick asked, no give on his face.
“I don’t like you right now,” I said, turning to head for the door.
“I get that a lot,” he said quietly behind me.
Yeah. I’d just bet he did.
I’d parked my car and almost made it to the office when a thought hit me, and I veered right, walking across the park, past campus, and
down to the water where Pauley was throwing crackers to the ducks. There were a couple of people down the beach having a picnic, but as usual in early June, the place was mostly deserted. That would change soon enough as summer roared in. For today, clouds blanketed the sky, turning the day a deep gray, but there was no wind. So, hey. Life didn’t totally suck.
Pauley sat on one of the wooden tables, and Wanda Versaccio, my new shrink, sat on the sand a short distance away, looking at the water.
I paused. “Are you guys having a session?” If so, I’d get out of there. Plus, if Pauley was gathering himself for class, he wouldn’t want a lot of people around, and to him, two could be a lot.
“No.” Pauley tossed a cracker toward a bored looking duck who ambled over and sniffed at it. “Distant cousin Wanda the shrink is just visiting.”
Wanda looked over her shoulder and gave me a nod.
I stepped on the worn bench and sat on the far end of the table from Pauley. “I think that’s how shrinks have sessions.”
Pauley thought it over, his profile steady. “Maybe. We didn’t talk about my feelings or deep childhood trauma, so I do not believe it is a session.”
Wanda stiffened and partially turned to face him from her perch on the sand. “You have deep childhood trauma?”
Pauley’s lips twitched, and he tossed another cracker. “I stand corrected.”
I glanced at him, delight bubbling through me. A joke from Pauley was one of the most precious gifts in this entire life, and even though my head was still reeling from Nick’s revelations, I took a moment to bask. “You are so funny sometimes.”
“I am funny all the times.” Pauley rocked back and forth. “You just do not always understand.”
That was probably true. I took in his striped shirt, dark jeans, and blue shoes. “I like the new tennis shoes.”
“They have good arches.” Pauley folded up his now empty paper bag into precise squares, his gaze watching his hands work. “Your voice is higher than normal. Are you angry or upset?”
“Both,” I admitted. “And kind of confused.”
He stood. “It is good that cousin Wanda the shrink is here. I have class.” He’d walked up the sand to the tree line before he paused. “It was nice to see you. Have a good day.” With the niceties properly given, he straightened his shoulders and climbed the stairs toward the college.
“I like him, a lot,” Wanda said, standing and wiping sand off her jeans.
“Me too,” I murmured, lifting my face to the wind as it blew back my hair. “Were you having a session with him?”
“No. If I were, I would’ve told him,” she said, walking forward and claiming Pauley’s seat on the tabletop. “I was walking by the beach and saw him, and he knew who I was instantly, so I sat, and we chatted. He doesn’t seem to need therapy.”
“Unlike me?”
“Oh, you definitely need therapy,” Wanda said, her eyes sparkling. “Rumor has it the anniversary card from Jareth Davey this year came to your home address and not the post office box.”
I blew out air. Why couldn’t there be one secret in my life? “Yeah. Which means he knows where I live.” I held up a hand before she could talk. “Yes, that scares me. And yet? It also fills me with a sense of anticipation. I’ve been waiting for him to make a move for too many years. Isn’t it about time?”
“I’m not sure about that.” She leaned to the side to study me.
“I am so tired of just reacting to whatever some man is doing in my life,” I muttered. Every year I waited for that blasted card. Now I was trying to fight Aiden on saving himself, and apparently, I’d been expertly manipulated to do just that by Nick Basanelli. “I really have to stop kissing men I shouldn’t. No matter how sexy they are.”
Wanda turned all the way and crossed her legs beneath her on the table. “Now that sounds more interesting. Let’s talk.”
The shrink fit right in with my family, and I kind of liked her. Well, I totally liked her. For now, I needed to handle my own problems. My spine straightened. “No. It’s time to stop talking.” I jumped off the table. I had to figure out the Lorde’s involvement in the Beast trade, and there was only one place for me to go for that—Melvin’s. But first, reconnaissance with Thelma and Georgina to get some more background information and maybe brownies or muffins. “This has been good. You’re a decent shrink, Cousin Wanda, and I think this counts for our meeting today, so please cancel my afternoon appointment. I’ll see you later.”
Yeah. I was done waiting.
Chapter 25
I listened to a hard rock station on the way to the retirement community, trying to pump myself up. Melvin Whitaker hadn’t exactly asked for a lawyer the other day, so I could talk with him unless he said he was represented by counsel. If I got any answers from him, I would track down Aiden next. Rain splashed down as if in disagreement.
Thank goodness I’d left the top of my car attached.
For now, I wondered if Thelma had any more of those chocolate chip muffins as I parked in the driveway and walked to their door to get a little more information before I confronted Melvin. The area was quiet, and no sounds came from the attached duplex. Was Melvin even home? I rang Thelma’s doorbell, peering around the calm community. Peace and quiet thrummed through the neighborhood. No answer. Darn it. My stomach growled, even though I’d eaten plenty of pancakes earlier. Well, I might as well try Melvin’s place. Maybe he’d talk to me. Wondering if I should call Nick with an update, even though he was an ass, I walked past the bright flowers to the driveway.
I made it past my car and was half-way up Melvin’s walkway when the door caught my eye. It had been smashed open.
Just then, a huge guy with pocked skin walked out.
I froze, staring at him. Oh God. I knew him. He was one of the shooters from the brown van the other day. I hadn’t been able to describe him, but now facing him…there he was. He’d been shooting at either Randy or Aiden. Probably Randy, considering he was dead. The guy’s eyes widened as he stilled, too.
His buddy came out behind him.
There wasn’t time to get in my car and start it. Totally going on instinct, I pivoted, ran around my car, and barreled up to Thelma’s door to frantically twist the knob. Shockingly, the door opened. They hadn’t locked it? Gasping, my head reeling, I lunged inside to slam and lock the door. Running boots echoed their way up the driveway. I yanked my phone from my back pocket and called 911. “Um, I think I’m in trouble,” I whispered as the operator answered.
“Your name and what trouble?” the very calm woman asked.
“Well, these two guys shot at me the other day, and now they’re trying to get into this house.” I gave the address, my heart beating so hard it hurt. “Tell Detective Pierce that it’s Anna Albertini, the deputy prosecutor.”
“Sending assistance now. Can you get to a safe place?” the woman asked.
One of the men banged against the door. My breath panted out in short gasps. Holy crap. A buzzing started in my ears. They were coming for me. They knocked on the door, and something heavy slammed against it. The door wouldn’t hold for long.
“I have to run,” I said, shoving the phone back into my pocket. This couldn’t be happening. But it was. I dashed straight to the sliding glass door and out to a tiny back yard. A furious pounding erupted from the front of the house. I slid across the wet grass to a tall wooden fence that had shards of rough wood scattering along its face. The forest land spread out behind it with glorious hiding places. I sucked in air and clambered up the boards. Slivers ripped into my pants and skin. I perched on the top, scanning the dark trees for safety until the world tilted. I yelped, plunging to the marshy grass on the other side.
Mud caked my clothes and hands. I struggled to my feet, barreling for the forest. Behind me, someone’s ragged breathing cut through the humidity like a buzz saw. One shoe ripped from my foot, stuck in the mud. I darted between mature pine trees and through prickly bushes. These guys had probably killed Randy. Why wer
e they in Melvin’s house? My lungs seized and I almost threw up.
The rain drizzled between the branches. Someone cleared the fence behind me, and heavy feet splashed in puddles. “She went north,” a hard, male voice hissed.
I needed to get back to my car. Shuddering, I searched for the right tree. It was directly ahead of me. An older pine with sturdy branches and plenty of needles. I leapt for the lowest branch, grabbing on with both hands. Thick bark dug into my palms. My feet swung, caught purchase, and I pulled myself into a seated position. Muffling a sob, I reached for the next branch and scrambled to stand.
Then I scampered up into the dark depths of my haven. My remaining sandal scraped and slipped against sharp bark. My fingernails shredded with each foot I climbed, pain lanced through my fingertips, and growling noises came from my throat. Finally, I pulled myself onto a thick branch, about thirty feet off the ground.
I prayed they hadn’t expected me to climb a tree. The rain pelted harder, frizzing my hair around my face. I wiped my running nose with the back of a muddy hand. I wanted to cry but was too scared to make a sound. Where were the police? My heart galloped as the adrenaline continued to pump through my system. My hands screamed in pain.
Footsteps echoed below me.
“I saw her head this way.” It was the same voice. I leaned a bit, peering down at him. A large bald spot showed through sparse brown hair. He glanced around. His round face showcased a nose that had been flattened by something strong. Thick shoulders in a blue slicker led to wide hips in black Levi’s, and one dark, hairy hand pointed with a silver handgun.
“Who is she?” The other man was a slim blonde. Probably in his late twenties. I glimpsed pocked skin and a thick goatee. The muted black of his gun contrasted with his pale fingers.
“She was Taylor’s lawyer. Who knows what he told her.”
No, I wasn’t. Geez. I had been on the opposite side of Randy. Sometimes I wondered about our school system.
Disorderly Conduct (The Anna Albertini Files Book 1) Page 17
