by Maggie Wells
When five o’clock came, Dora stood outside the conference room door with her purse caught in the crook of her arm. She looked from Simon to Ben and back again. The tiny lines on her forehead bunched together into one deep crease of worry. “Do you want me to stay?”
Simon shook his head. “It would be better if you didn’t. We need to make everything seem normal when Coulter shows up.”
“You take care of yourself,” she ordered, wagging a finger at Simon. “Your grandfather will skin me alive if I let anything happen to you on my watch.”
Simon laughed, warmed by the thought of his efficient but acerbic assistant standing up to Coulter on his behalf. “We’re okay, Dora. Nothing’s going to happen. They’ll serve the warrant, he’ll open the box and we’ll deal with whatever we have to deal with. I’ll call you when I leave.”
“Please do,” she ordered. Then, darting a glance at Ben, she added, “You make sure he follows through.”
“Yes, ma’am,” they answered in unison.
Once Dora left, Ben got up to go check on Alicia, Hayes and the agents holed up in Simon’s office. Simon tipped his head back and closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm his agitation. The urge to text Lori and remind her to be careful roiled inside of him, but the notion was ridiculous. Of the two of them, she was far more capable of taking care of herself. He had one guy to face. She would be facing a group of hostile employees scrambling for what to do when presented with a search warrant.
The sound of the outer door opening jolted him from his thoughts. He rose from the conference room chair and stepped into the foyer to greet his client. Coulter looked cool and tousled. He wore a pair of dark pants cut loose and flowing. His shirt was unbuttoned. Simon couldn’t help thinking if the man were not handsome, the look would be retro ridiculous.
“Good afternoon,” he said, forcing a note of welcome into his voice. “How was the drive down from Atlanta?”
“Drive?” Coulter accepted Simon’s hand and gave it a perfunctory shake, offering his slippery smile. “I never said I drove. A friend of mine has a helicopter. I hitched a ride with him.”
“Flying beats driving any day.” Simon tried for a chuckle, but almost choked on it.
Ben stepped out of Simon’s office, followed closely by an officer from the Georgia Department of Natural Resources Law Enforcement Division. They crossed in front of Dora’s desk, and Coulter stiffened. He darted a glance at Simon, but otherwise kept his cool. “Sheriff Kinsella, what brings you here?”
Gesturing to the other man, he said, “This is Terrence Scroggins. He’s an officer with the Department of Natural Resources. They received information of a parcel being delivered to this address containing a live animal. Officer Scroggins needs to inspect the parcel.”
Coulter’s eyes narrowed and sharpened. “How did the Department of Natural Resources hear about this particular delivery?”
“We monitor all shipments under the Lacey Act,” Officer Scroggins provided helpfully. “We do random inspections when we see an increase in activity.”
Coulter did not look amused. “Two shipments is considered an increase in activity? I hope you’re not monitoring my Amazon account. You’d be completely overwhelmed.”
Scroggins chuckled at the joke. “No, we’re more than happy to leave your shopping to you. We’re only concerned about parcels containing creatures.”
The man smiled and rested his hands on his hips above his utility belt. Simon couldn’t help but notice the wildlife officer seemed to carry much the same equipment Ben and Lori did on theirs. He felt a wave of relief at being on the side of the two men in the room who were armed.
“The tracking is done by recipient, not by address,” Officer Scroggins informed him. “We track the number of parcels delivered to your own address, Mr. Coulter. I assure you it is simply a matter of numbers.”
Simon gestured to the conference room. “Well, shall we?” He waved an arm toward the door. “I’m not sure about the rest of y’all, but I want to get on with my evening. I’m assuming if this is a matter of routine, it shouldn’t take long.”
They moved into the conference room, and Officer Scroggins produced an impressive array of tools as he inspected the markings on the box carefully. “Of course, I’ll need to measure the specimen to make sure it’s within proper regulations.” He shot them an open, unassuming smile. “You wouldn’t believe the things people try to get away with shipping because they think nobody’s paying attention.”
Simon watched the man place a pair of gloves, some calipers and a tape measure on the credenza beside the box. “Mr. Coulter, if you’d please open your parcel, I’ll inspect the specimen and we’ll all be on our way.”
Coulter hung back, his gaze traveling from the game warden to the sheriff, then to Simon. “What happens if I refuse?”
“Sir, I assure you it’s purely routine,” Scroggins interjected.
“I’m speaking to my lawyer,” Coulter snapped.
Moving slowly, the game warden stepped to the conference table, pulled his cell phone from his belt and held it up for Coulter to see. “A couple of measurements, a few photos, and we should be all good.”
Simon leaned in to talk to his client in a low voice. “Go ahead and open it. Get this over with.”
“In all my years of collecting snakes, I’ve never had an inspection take place after delivery,” Coulter said warily. “You’ll forgive me if I’m dubious, but my dealings with the Masters County Sheriff’s Department so far have not been what I would consider cordial.”
Ben pulled an envelope from his back pocket and handed it to Simon. “I will concede your client has a point. You’ll find the search warrant in there.”
Coulter snorted and cast a derisive look at the envelope. “A search warrant seems extreme for a routine inspection, doesn’t it, Sheriff?”
Ben shrugged. “You said it—our relationship hasn’t been particularly smooth up to this point. Officer Scroggins asked me if we would have any difficulty gaining your cooperation, and I advised him I had concerns.”
Coulter crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not opening it.”
Ben didn’t take his eyes off the man. “Simon, you might want to advise your client to comply.”
“Yes,” Simon said slowly. “It would be in your best interest to go along with what they’re asking.” He made a show of opening the envelope and withdrawing the search warrant. He could feel Coulter’s gaze creeping over him. He scanned the page, pretending to check every dot on the i’s and crossbar on the t’s. “This seems to be in order.”
There was a protracted silence. Then Coulter gestured to the box. “I didn’t sign for this parcel.”
The simple statement made Simon’s blood boil. “No, of course you didn’t.”
“I’m not opening anything I did not sign for.” Coulter placed a hand squarely in the center of Simon’s back and propelled him forward. Simon stared down at the box. The label affixed to the box said it all. Boa Constrictor. Adult Female.
“Mr. Wingate signed for this particular parcel. It was delivered to his address and he took receipt of it.”
“Again, we tracked the intended recipient,” Officer Scroggins said, keeping his tone genial. “It’s addressed to you in care of Mr. Wingate.”
“Mr. Wingate is my attorney,” Coulter snapped.
Harrison Hayes chose that moment to make his appearance. “Afternoon, Mr. Coulter.”
Simon glanced back to see Samuel Coulter sneer at the district attorney. A belligerent set to his jaw, Coulter shoved his hands into the pockets of his pleated pants and fixed them with a stubborn glare.
“Well, now it’s a party,” he drawled.
“I have an invitation.” Harry held up a folded piece of paper. “This is an affidavit signed and sworn before Judge Nichols saying Simon Wingate accepted this package on your behalf as y
ou requested.”
He moved to thrust the piece of paper at Coulter, but rather than taking it, the man pulled his hands from his pants pockets and grabbed Simon’s left arm in a viselike grip. “You set me up?”
In a flash, Coulter had Simon’s wrist twisted up behind his back. Simon bit back a yelp of pain as the man added a little extra torque to his hold on him. “What? They just want you to open the box.”
“I’ll have your license for this,” Coulter hissed.
Simon’s brain flashed to Lori. She was about to run onto Samuel Coulter’s property with a piece of paper, a firearm and her conviction that she’d been right about Coulter all along. He had to make sure this man was neutralized so she could complete her mission.
Simon saw Ben step closer. “Seriously, Coulter, assaulting your attorney isn’t going to help the situation.”
Coulter urged Simon to take another step toward the box. “I can buy and sell you all six times over. By the time I’m done with you, you won’t be able to get a job sweeping floors in any police department, Sheriff.” He drew a ragged breath. “And you...” He jerked on Simon’s arm again. “You’re finished before you even begin. Any thoughts you had of a career beyond this Podunk town are over. I’ll have your law license. I’m gonna—”
“Take the damn box,” Simon ordered. “Take it and get out of here. We’re done.”
Coulter let out a hard bark of laughter. “How stupid do you think I am? My fingerprints aren’t on the box, but yours are. I bet you have pictures of it too. I can’t help it if people put my name on a mailing label. This isn’t my address. I’m not the one who’s into this up to his neck.”
A shot rang out and they all jumped.
Coulter’s grip loosened, and seeing his opening, Simon broke his client’s hold on him, grasped the other man’s wrist and twisted until he heard a crack. The sound both sickened and energized him. Coulter cried out and dropped to one knee, and the sheriff moved in.
“Hold it right there, Coulter.” Simon looked up to find Ben standing over them, his service weapon drawn and trained on Coulter.
“You wanna talk assault,” Coulter ground out from between clenched teeth. “I’m pressing charges. I think he broke my wrist.”
“We’ll see who’s pressing charges against who after we open this box,” Ben said, signaling for the officer from the state department of natural resources to step forward. “Officer Scroggins, if you wouldn’t mind?” he said, tilting his head toward the box.
Officer Scroggins stepped around Coulter, his service weapon trained on the man. “I do believe this is the first opportunity I’ve had to fire my weapon in almost twenty-two years of service. Well, fire it around humans, I mean,” he amended. “Had to put down some animals,” he explained as he holstered his sidearm. “Sorry I took a chunk out of your side table here.”
Dazed, Simon looked over to see a fresh chunk of wood splintered out of the credenza just beneath where the box sat.
Simon shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, uh, no worries.” He pushed himself up onto all fours, then rose shakily, gripping the side of the conference table to get his balance. Then he flopped into the nearest chair, feeling almost boneless in the wake of the adrenaline rush. When his gaze met the concerned gaze of the DA, he attempted a smile. He was fairly sure it fell short. “I guess all those tae kwon do classes my parents popped for finally paid off.”
Hayes’s mouth thinned into a line. He watched Coulter grasping his wrist and gritting his teeth. The man gave up on trying to stand, pain and fury etched into every line on his face. No one made any attempt to help the man, and he finally gave up, twisting around to sit on the floor, grumbling threats and cradling his injured hand. “They certainly did.”
Special Agent Simmons and a gentleman from the US Department of the Interior skidded to a halt in the foyer. They peered around Hayes, trying to get a handle on the scene.
“What the hell is going on here?” Simmons demanded.
Feeling light-headed, Simon dropped into the nearest chair and blew out a huff of breath. “He didn’t want to open the box.” He shifted his gaze to the man on the floor. The second their eyes met, he said, “I resign. In light of this...situation, I can no longer be your attorney.”
“I’ll ruin you,” Coulter ground out between clenched teeth.
Simon remembered the confidence his father and grandfather had in his ability to decide what was best for him. And for them all. “Go ahead. Do whatever you think you can do.”
“Mr. Coulter refused to open the parcel. Officer Scroggins has agreed to do so for us,” Ben informed the newcomers.
Officer Scroggins unfolded a multipurpose tool and slit the tape securing the package with brisk efficiency. Simon held his breath as the man lifted the lid and removed foam insulation. A moment later, he reached in and pulled out a loosely coiled snake Simon figured might stretch as long as the conference table. Everyone but Coulter jumped back when he placed the snake on the table.
“Don’t worry—she’s dead,” Scroggins pronounced flatly.
“She might be hibernating,” the man from the US Department of the Interior offered.
Officer Scroggins turned a piercing gaze toward Coulter. “But she isn’t hibernating, is she, Mr. Coulter.”
“I have no idea what’s wrong with that snake. I ordered it from a catalog—”
“You ordered it from your friend Ramon Calderon, in Miami,” Alicia interjected.
“And your friend Ramon didn’t do a very good job with packing her,” Scroggins said grimly.
Simon watched in dazed horror as the wildlife officer turned the limp snake over to show a pattern of irregular lumps and bumps pressing against the scaly skin, and a long, sloppily sewed incision mark. Before Simon could get a closer look, Scroggins used the same tool to reopen the incision, and a handful of tied-off condoms filled with powder spilled out onto the table.
Alicia Simmons didn’t miss a beat. “Samuel Coulter, I’m Special Agent Alicia Simmons of the Drug Enforcement Administration. You are under arrest...”
Her words faded in and out. Simon couldn’t help staring at the gaping wound in the snake. He’d never been one to embrace God’s more slippery creatures, but his stomach twisted at the sight of the poor creature split open. Who came up with this madness? What kind of sociopath—
“Mr. Wingate?” the DEA agent called out to him.
“Huh?” Simon jerked his gaze from the snake and forced himself to refocus. “I’m sorry?”
“You no longer represent Mr. Coulter—is that correct?”
“That’s correct,” he and Coulter replied, nearly in unison. Finally, they agreed on one thing.
“I called for an ambulance,” the officer from the US Department of the Interior announced, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Two of your guys are on their way over to escort Mr. Coulter to the regional medical center for an X-ray.”
Ben shoved his weapon back into its holster, then produced a zip tie. “Cuffs might be hard on a crunchy wrist.” He offered the long strip of heavy-duty plastic to Alicia. “He doesn’t strike me as the type to fight through the pain, but if you want me to secure his good hand to something until the ambulance arrives, I’m sure Simon won’t mind.”
Alicia nodded. “Good. Thank you.” Turning back to Coulter, she smiled as Ben pulled Coulter’s good hand from his lap and lashed it to the arm of one of the massive leather boardroom chairs. “Mr. Coulter, at this moment federal agents are serving a warrant to search your property located on Highway 19. We expect to add additional charges pending the search and seizure there.”
At the mention of Coulter’s compound, Simon shot from his chair and stepped over Coulter’s outstretched arm to get to the door. Harrison caught his arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Lori—” He swung around and stared imploringly at Ben. “I have
to get out there.”
“Listen, I know. I’m worried too, but there’s an operation underway. We can’t go running into the middle of it all. She has a job to do, and she won’t thank you for getting in the way.”
“I’m not going to get in the way, but I have to be there.”
Ben looked over at Alicia, and the agent gave him a shrug and a small smile. “Go on. I’m sure I can keep this slippery guy in my sights until our transport arrives. I’ll meet you out there.”
* * *
THE SHERIFF’S SUV flew down Highway 19 headed away from Pine Bluff and toward Lori. Toward whatever trouble she was facing at Samuel Coulter’s godforsaken Reptile Rendezvous. Simon clung to the handle above the door, not because he wanted Ben to slow down, but more because he needed to feel tethered to something.
They were more than halfway there when the sheriff spoke up. “I’m not gonna be all paternal and ask what your intentions are.”
When he paused to draw breath, Simon jumped in. “Good.”
“Her father is gone,” Ben said, holding up a finger to forestall any of Simon’s protests. “So I have to ask...am I gonna have to kick your ass for hurting her?”
“Not if I can help it,” Simon said gruffly.
It was the truth. He would do anything he could to keep from hurting her. He couldn’t think about his own motivations now. All he could focus on was the possibility of someone hurting her while they had a heart-to-heart in the car.
“Can you go any faster?”
Ben gave a grim shake of his head. “I’m already doing thirty over.”
Simon sighed. He knew Ben was right to be careful. There wasn’t a lot of traffic on the highway, but it was late afternoon, and people who lived in the outlying areas of the county were heading home from work. Each and every car they’d come upon had yielded to the blue lights and sirens, but they could encounter somebody who didn’t see or hear them coming.
