The Widow (Federal Hellions Book 1)

by Gray Gardner

  “Liar,” they all grinned.

  “I’m really beginning to redefine the necessity of friends, you know,” George grumbled, totally embarrassed.

  “Just don’t rule him out. That’s all we’re saying,” Darby said with finality, mercifully ending the conversation about Conrad Thomas.

  Epiphanies and Panthers

  The following week George immersed herself in her work. She just wanted to find who was supplying the school and get out of there. After admitting to herself how she felt about Dr. Thomas, she really didn’t think she could be around him anymore. The whole situation was just uncomfortable. Work and pleasure shouldn’t mix. Period.

  She’d read James Clancy’s transcribed phone calls, not coming up with much, but she still persisted since he was her only lead. She became his partner in her art class and found excuses to run into him between classes. She even sat with him at lunch, trying to find ways to get to him to talk to her and trust her.

  And he did. They even lit up in his car a couple of times. She always found excuses to leave when he tried to make a move on her, but she knew she had his trust. They were friends.

  “What’s with the cornbread?” she asked on Friday, running her spoon through the soupy chunks that were accompanying her chicken.

  “The cooking staff ran out of starch,” James replied, drinking his coke. He was in trouble all of the time, so as part of his punishment he always had kitchen duty. The kids at this school had to work off their bad behavior, George was finding out.

  George frowned and pushed the mush aside on her white plate. She glanced up and found Dr. Thomas chatting with another professor. Then his eyes turned towards her. She quickly ducked her head and bit into her drumstick. She liked it better when she didn’t know how good looking he was. Or how she felt about him.

  Someone walked by and set a little tube of nose drops next to James. He looked at it, placed it in his pocket, and continued eating. She watched him for a second.

  Then suddenly leapt to her feet.

  “Oh, I gotta go,” she told James.

  “Later,” he mumbled, dipping his chicken in the corn bread sauce.

  George ran out of the refectory, through the buildings, around to the back of the dorms, and scaled the brick wall of James’s dorm. She was hoping that she was just making wishful connections in her head, but she was afraid that she was right. She was going to wait until James invited her to his room to try and find his contraband, but if what she suspected was right, there was no time to waste. It was the nose drops that tipped her off.

  The room was already a disaster, so she tore through his drawers and stacks of papers and clothes, growing frustrated as the bell rang in the distance and she was not any closer to finding what she wanted. She was on her knees feeling around the base boards of the closet; she was pulling out socket covers and shining the little flashlight on her keys around the dark cavities; she even rolled around on the mattress, looking ridiculous as she felt around for any unusual lumps. Nothing. She dropped her head back and stared at the ceiling.

  And there it was. The air vent.

  She grabbed a plastic crate and dumped out the contents, flipping it over and standing on it on top of the bed.

  “I was wrong,” George sighed, pressing the cell phone to her ear as she stood on the roof of the dorm next to the curved air vent cover she’d just kicked out. She dusted at the black streaks from inside the air ducts clinging to her, as she spoke, “I thought… I guess I convinced myself that they were cutting it here, but the supplier must be doing it. Anyway, James Clancy has a shitload of legal controlled substances, but nothing that could trace us back to a supplier.”

  “How about a frightened doctor?” Nelson asked, obviously walking somewhere at a fast pace.

  “Yeah,” she replied, looking down at the clear plastic bags filled with brightly colored tablets and capsules. “Hydrocodone, oxycodone, methamphetamines, and though I loathe the terminology—”

  “Medical marijuana.” Nelson sighed, slamming a door. “Who in the hell let a kid anywhere near this shit?”

  “It must be someone’s dad or mom.” George sighed, suddenly remembering the lawsuit and Ross Quinton’s paperwork. “The Surgeon General!”

  “Whoa, whoa, George, hit the brakes,” Nelson demanded. She didn’t need that kind of political strength pushing her down and the Department of Justice certainly didn’t need any negative attention at the moment.

  “Director.”

  “Just let me ask around first, okay?” Nelson snapped, hearing George’s agent groan. “George?”

  “Got it.”

  It still bothered her that she hadn’t found evidence in Clancy’s room that he was cutting the coke and heroin at the school, but she’d hit the jackpot with his pills, so she took it as a victory.

  She ended the call and grabbed the contraband, crawling back through the vent, replacing the covers, closing the window behind her, and leaping to the grass. She rolled once and grabbed her backpack, strolling to the ladies’ room. She flushed everything except one sample from each baggie, placed them in a brown envelope, and messengered them to the lab for analyzing from the campus mail center. Now to get to class.

  Dr. Thomas had tried to find ways to spend more time with Jane all week. He had liked her family and really wanted to keep her away from trouble. Unfortunately, the more he tried, the more she avoided him and flocked towards James Clancy. He kept a watchful eye, but still kept his distance. When she didn’t show up for class on Friday, he was ready to send out a search team for her.

  He was having the students copy problems from the board and was going to walk through the desks and make sure their work was correct. When he turned around from the board he noticed her desk wasn’t empty anymore. She was sitting there, writing on a piece of paper like she’d been there the whole time. Grinning to himself, he wove in and out of the rows of desks, correcting a few mistakes and telling the students that they were doing good work. When he finally reached Jane’s desk, he leaned over and wrote across the top of her paper. She smelled a little dusty and slightly musky, like she’d been rolling around in dust bunnies under a bed and then ran to class. He’d probably never really find out, knowing her.

  George frowned as he bent over her paper. She’d snuck into class when his back was turned and had caught up with the rest of the class without incident. She looked down at the red pen marks.

  See me after class.

  Great. She finished the last problem as the bell rang, then wondered if James was waiting for her like he said he would. Then something caught her attention and she looked up at the two boys talking next to her as they packed up.

  “What about Christian Whitman?” she asked in a low voice, standing next to them.

  “He’s out of jail,” the tall one said. “They released him this morning and he’ll be back in school on Monday. Some kind of technicality or something.”

  “Jane?” Dr. Thomas called, as he erased the board.

  “Just a sec,” she replied, turning back to the boys. “Do you know what his dad does?”

  “No,” the short one huffed. “But his mom works for the Surgeon General.”

  The boys suddenly gave a quick wave and backed up. “See you Monday, Dr. Thomas.”

  George turned and found her eyes about two inches away from Dr. Thomas’s second button on his starched blue shirt. She looked up and smiled.

  “I was just kidding about that just a sec stuff.”

  “Sure. Why were you late today? You’re never late,” he said, leading her over to his desk.

  She sat where he told her to and looked across at him as he sat, too. “Uh, I don’t know.”

  Teenager response. She was nailing it.

  “Hanging out with friends?” he asked, leaning back and resting his chin on his hand.

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  What was this line of questioning supposed to lead to? She shifted around in her wooden chair. “My f
riends Robbie, Ashton, and Kim.”

  “They’re on their way to New York for the UN Youth Council,” he replied, not flinching. Why was she lying? Why was she testing him?

  She raised her brow and pressed her lips together. “N-not an hour ago.”

  “Are you really going to make me call and check train schedules?” he asked, leaning forward on his knees. His eyes looked very intense.

  “Right,” she replied, looking down at the floor.

  “Jane, I’m really worried that you aren’t making friends here,” he sighed, folding his hands. “And I’m dead serious about you coming to soccer try-outs tomorrow.”

  “Oh, well, I’ve made friends and you really don’t want me on your soccer team.”

  “You eat almost every meal alone,” he said, trying to catch her eye.

  No, she didn’t. She frowned as she looked across the classroom and wished that he’d just let her leave. James wouldn’t wait around for her and if Christian was coming back then there would definitely be an influx of controlled substances around campus. What she really needed was a partner.

  “And stop looking around like I’m going to let you leave any time soon.” He sighed, turning and grabbing his ruler. “We never really discussed your behavior off-campus last Saturday night, either. I understand you were permitted to leave but I don’t think the law permits you to buy alcohol or cigarettes.”

  She stared up at him silently. Damn, no teenaged remarks came to mind. She had to give him credit that he’d totally busted her.

  “Stand up, Jane. You know what’s next.”

  “But Dr. Thomas,” she whined, very adolescently.

  “We’ve talked about this. I won’t hurt you, but you need it.”

  She grimaced as she slowly stood and faced the desk, placing her hands flat on his leather ink blotter. Christ, if anyone knew she willingly let herself get spanked without a fight she’d be mortified.

  The ruler cracked down over her skirt ten times, way more than he’d ever delivered in the past. He must have been serious about law-breaking. She swallowed when he stopped and pulled her shoulder around so she had to face him.

  “Let’s try and get some work done, now,” he said with that kind face, looking so strong yet soft.

  He dropped a large stack of papers in front of her and started grading his own pile.

  She stared at the papers for a minute, then turned and looked at him. He was a good guy. He wanted his students to do well and be safe. Maybe he could be her partner—without him really knowing. She began marking the exam in front of her and tried to find a good way to start.

  “So,” she said, trying to act involved in the grading. “I heard that Christian Whitman is coming back to school.”

  Dr. Thomas glanced over at her as he continued to scribble over the wrong answers. “I heard that, too.” And he didn’t want that kid going anywhere near her. He admitted it to himself. He was very protective of Jane.

  “I bet he got like, some community service and stuff, though.” She sighed, flipping the pages.

  “Well, whatever the local authorities have planned for him, it’s nothing compared to what’s going to happen to him here,” he said, with a very serious tone.

  George paused and looked over at him. She didn’t know what that meant but she figured he might tell her anyway.

  “Kitchen duty until the semester ends, for starters.” Dr. Thomas nodded, still focused on the papers. And a good hard paddling from the dean.

  God, that was so dumb. You don’t put a drug dealer in a kitchen where he’ll have free reign over items like sugar, starch, and powdered milk. They were all known products used for cutting opiates. Most specifically, heroin. She was shocked at first to learn that the kitchen staff had misplaced all of its starch, but even though she didn’t find any heroin in James’s room it was too much of a coincidence.

  Someone had a hideout and the refectory’s starch and was using it to cut pure heroin and cocaine. She knew it. She felt it to her bones that she was on the right track.

  “Jane?” Dr. Thomas asked, staring at her. “Why are you nodding and squinting your eyes?”

  “Huh? Oh, uh, I just… speaking of the kitchen, I heard that the staff was missing all of the starch. Weird, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” he agreed, wondering why that was significant at this point. She was such a strange kid. Sweet, but strange.

  She sighed heavily as he didn’t catch her drift. She continued, “You know, at my old school some kid stole all of the sugar from the kitchen and used it to make nose drops.”

  “How do you make nose drops with sugar?” Dr. Thomas asked, relieved to hear that she could at least gossip like other girls her age. Just ten minutes earlier he’d had to sit and listen to his female students ramble on about how one vampire show was superior to the other vampire show. It was different with Jane though. He was actually interested when she spoke.

  “Duh, Dr. Thomas, it’s like, street slang,” she huffed, rolling her eyes. She really didn’t want to have to spell it out for him.

  “For what?” he asked, frowning over at her. What did a little girl like her know about the streets?

  “Drugs and stuff, geez,” she said, trying her best to sound like an irritated teenager.

  “You know street slang for drugs?” he asked, setting his red pen down and turning his chair towards her.

  Woops. Maybe she’d taken it a little too far.

  “Okay, it’s like this,” she said, turning towards him and holding out her hands. “Remember when you ambushed me the other night at that bar?”

  “I didn’t ambush you, you were drinking a beer.”

  “Exactly!” she said, pointing at him. “And then you said that it was okay, you knew about beer because you went to boarding school, too?”

  “Yes,” he said, an unsure tone in his voice.

  “Well, it’s the twenty-first century. I go to a boarding school. I know about drugs.”

  He slowly nodded, actually seeming to get it, then asked, “So, nose drops would be street slang for…”

  “Heroin,” she sighed, turning back and placing an X on the paper. For the love of God, Dr. Thomas, please catch on.

  He looked at her, deep in thought, opened his mouth to ask another question, then suddenly stood up. She thought that she could actually see the light bulb turn on above his head. Thank God. She only had to sing it for him until he figured it out.

  “I have to go take care of something,” he said, grabbing his coat and heading for the door to the classroom. He suddenly paused and said, “Stay right there until I get back. I swear to God if you’re not here when I return I will take you over my knee for a spanking you will never forget.”

  Jesus Christ.

  “Yes sir,” she replied, relaxing as he left. Hopefully now he would talk to the dean and not let Christian anywhere near the kitchen. And if he was smart, which she knew he was, he’d get them to take James Clancy out of kitchen duty as well.

  She quickly stood and opened a window, leaning out and holding her phone out until she got a signal.

  “Christian Whitman’s mom is a doctor working for the Surgeon General,” she wheezed, stretching as far out of the window as she could while her service went in and out.

  “So, the Surgeon General was a character witness for the Quinton family.” Nelson sighed. “He probably has no idea those kids stole from him.”

  “How could anyone not know that?”

  “Dr. Gary is getting up there.”

  “He’s still the Surgeon General? I thought he was dead.”

  “I rest my case,” Nelson sighed. “Good work. I’ll check on it first thing next week.”

  “Got it.”

  “Jane!”

  “Shit!” she yelped, tipping forward as she balanced on her stomach in the stone window frame, then fell head first into the bushes. She pushed off of the cool, mushy dirt and was trying to untangle herself from the sparsely leafed twigs when two hands reached down
and yanked her out to the walkway.

  “Jane!”

  “I wasn’t trying to run away, I promise! I was still in the room!”

  “I don’t care!” he shouted, dragging her back inside and into the classroom, gripping her cell phone in his other hand. “You’re going to be here all night now!”

  “But…”

  “Would you like me to take you to the dean? Because I just left his office and he is ripe for an expulsion!” Dr. Thomas hollered, pushing her into the chair and running his fingers through his hair as he turned around and tried to calm down. She just made him so incensed sometimes.

  He wanted to expel her? She bit her lip and immediately turned back to the paperwork. Now was not the time to plead her case. He eventually sat next to her and began finishing his work.

  They worked quietly until eight pm. He’d calmed down. Should he follow through on his threat? He figured he’d better so she knew how serious he was about her keeping her nose clean.

  “Okay, Jane,” he sighed, looking over at her and watching her back stiffen over her work as he gently tapped his leg.

  Her stomach flipped, and she felt heat rush to her cheeks. God, he was determined to take her down a notch, wasn’t he? She didn’t want to go across his lap and get spanked like a little kid. Should she out herself? Tell him she was an adult? Undercover? No, she couldn’t blow it. Not when she’d come so far.

  “What is it I always tell you, Jane?” he softly said, giving her a patient look.

  She swallowed and took a shaky breath, her palms sweaty. She’d handled murderous drug lords. Why couldn’t she handle him, damn it?!

  “That, um, you say that you won’t, um, hurt me and that…”

  “Go on.”

  She whispered, “I need it.”

  He didn’t force her, which she thought was even worse. He just waited patiently for her to do it herself. A bonus. She was going to need a big bonus and some fucking time off after this operation was all over.

  Tentatively she leaned forward and put her hand on his thigh. God, it was way firmer than she would have suspected a professor’s would be. She pulled forward and leaned over, letting out a little squeal as he finally showed a little mercy and helped her the rest of the way. His thighs were hard and high off the floor. Her saddle shoes didn’t even touch the ground.