by Matt Lincoln
It was probably a long shot, but maybe someone knew something about it that we didn’t.
“I don’t know,” Kyle shrugged. “There’s a challenge going around where people see how much of the cough syrup they’re willing to drink.”
“What?!” Naomi and I both shouted at once.
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Kids were deliberately ingesting something they knew would kill them or, worse, cause them to hurt others? I knew that it was normal for teenagers to do dumb and crazy things, but this was a step too far.
“It’s all fake, though,” Kyle rushed to assure us. “At least, most of them probably are. Most people can’t find any of the real bottles, so it’s pretty obvious that everyone is just drinking normal medicine and just pretending it’s the laced stuff. Besides, the few real bottles people have found have sold for so much that it would be a waste to use it just for some dumb internet video.”
“I see,” Naomi replied, and I could hear the relief in her voice. The idea of kids turning themselves into violent aggressors just to show off to their online friends was absolutely horrifying.
“I don’t really know anything else about it besides that,” Kyle shrugged. “If you want to know about that drug, you should go ask down at the Silver Horseshoe. You know that bar downtown that looks like it’s abandoned because half the windows are smashed in?”
“I know it,” I answered as calmly as I could. “How are they connected to the drug?”
“They’re the ones who first started distributing it,” Kyle replied. “I have a friend who deals there. Well, he’s not really my friend, I guess. Anyway, his name is Brady. He stands outside all the time. He told me once that the whole bar is just a cover for the Irish mob, but I’m pretty sure he’s full of crap. They do deal drugs there, though. Brady always has everything, and if not, he’ll get it for you, usually by the next day.”
“That one kid that tried to stop us from going into the bar.” I looked up at Naomi. “Do you remember? He was wearing a hoodie and went white as a ghost as soon as he heard we were feds.”
“I remember,” Naomi nodded.
“Whoa,” Kyle snickered. “So you guys already had your eye on him? Guess I just screwed him over then, huh? Oops.”
Kyle was chuckling, but there was a strained look in his eyes, and I could tell that he was trying to use laughter to cover up the pain he was in.
“You’ve been a big help, Kyle,” I told him. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he replied flatly. I could tell he was tired, and it was time for us to go.
“Get some rest,” I encouraged him before silently motioning at Naomi to follow me out of the room.
“Okay,” he muttered. He waved as we walked out, and I returned the gesture as we stepped out the doorway.
“We should go pay another visit to the bar,” I said once we were standing out in the hallway. “I think I know how we can leverage some information out of them this time.”
“Oh?” Naomi raised an eyebrow at me.
“All finished?” The officer from before suddenly asked as the door closed behind us.
“Yep,” I confirmed. “All done. I think we got what we needed, too.”
“Good,” the officer replied. “I hate thinking there’s a bunch of drugged-out whackos running loose in Las Vegas.”
“Yeah,” I frowned. Just a few days ago, I would have said the same thing without hesitation. Drugs were a useless vice, and people who abused them were weak and pathetic. At least, that’s what I’d always thought. Now that I was interacting with so many addicts close up, I wasn’t sure what to think anymore.
I waited until we were both in the elevator before turning to speak to Naomi.
“That kid,” I replied as the doors slid closed in front of us. “Kyle said his name was Brady. We have enough to arrest him for drug dealing.”
“That’s true,” Naomi nodded. “But isn’t that a little premature? We barely have enough to hold him. If we move now, we might mess up the case.”
“Brady isn’t our goal, though,” I corrected as the elevator chimed to indicate we’d arrived at the ground floor. “He’s just some low-level dealer. I could tell by that deer-in-the-headlights look that he’s just some grunt in over his head. I could also tell that protecting their own is important to them. Kyle said that Brady claimed that he was a part of the Irish mob. What if that wasn’t just some attempt to look cool? What if he was being honest?”
“You think that the mob is involved in this,” Naomi concluded. “That would certainly explain how the police records of the incidents connected to their bar were mysteriously scrubbed from the police database.”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “And it would explain all of that hush-hush, ‘we handled it in-house’ garbage that the bartender, O’Callaghan, was going on about.”
“So we arrest the kid on some minor offense,” Naomi hummed, “and use that as leverage to coerce them into speaking with us. That’s pretty underhanded, Miranda.”
A wicked smile broke out across her face as she turned to look at me.
“Let’s do it.”
33
Miranda
The rain had let up a little by the time we made it to the bar, but it was still coming down hard enough that staying outside for more than a few seconds would have left me drenched. It was a little past ten in the evening by that point, which meant that the energy in the bar was in full swing. There were only a few parking spaces on the street in front of this bar, typical for the city. Of course, since it was Halloween night, they were all filled already, which meant that we had to park a few blocks away and walk to the bar.
The bar was located in a rundown and significantly less crowded part of Las Vegas, close enough to the Strip that we could still see the glow of lights and hear the sounds of revelry in the distance, but far enough away that the area immediately around us was nearly pitch black. Except, of course, for the warm yellow light streaming through every window of the bar. Even the ones that had been broken and haphazardly repaired with cardboard and tape had beams of light streaming through the cracks. If we hadn’t known better about who was inside, the place might have looked like a beacon of safety amid the cold, wet darkness of the night.
“He’s not out here,” I said to Naomi as we approached the bar. Considering the rain, that much wasn’t surprising. Unfortunately, that meant we’d have to venture inside the bar to look for him. “How long do you think we’ll have before someone notices and kicks us out?”
“With how subtle and stealthy you are?” Naomi asked. “I’ll give us three seconds.”
“Haha,” I deadpanned as I moved toward the door. I could hear music coming from inside. Maybe everyone would be too drunk and distracted to notice us.
My hopes were not dashed as I pushed the door open and stepped inside. The place was decorated like an old-fashioned saloon, with a long, polished wood bar fixed with thin brass spigots. The entire space was packed to the brim. People were seated around tables and crowding around the floor, and it seemed like almost everyone was singing along to the song the band was playing up on the stage.
“Do you see him?” I called to Naomi over the roar of the crowd.
“No!” she yelled back.
We made our way further through the crowd until we were right up against the bar. I doubted we would have much luck finding him in this mess, so I decided to try asking directly instead.
“Dillon O’Callaghan,” I called to the bartender. The first expression to flash across his face was surprise, followed quickly by fury as he recognized who I was.
“Get out,” he huffed. “I believe I already told you that your kind isn’t welcome in here.”
“Our kind?” I blinked as I looked over at Naomi. “That’s kind of racist, isn’t it?”
“What?” O’Callaghan sputtered as his eyes flashed over to Naomi, whose skin was a distinctly darker shade than that of the other patrons in the bar. “No! I meant feds! Don’t b
e twisting my words now!”
“Right, got it,” I snickered. “But I’m afraid we can’t leave. We’re looking for someone.”
“Looking for me, I hope,” a voice drawled directly behind me. I turned to find an extremely inebriated man swaying from side to side. He was staring at me with what was probably supposed to be an alluring smile, but that came across more as a dopey grin.
“They’re not looking for you, Tom,” O’Callaghan huffed. “And they were just leaving!”
“What?” Tom slurred, his eyes going wide with disbelief. “Dill, where are your manners? What kind of Irishmen would throw two gorgeous women out into the cold rain without even offering them a drink first?”
“They’re feds,” O’Callaghan spat, clearly getting annoyed by the customer’s drunken rambling.
“Ooh,” he drawled as he snaked one arm around Naomi’s thin waist. “I love a woman who can take charge. Can I see your badge, gorgeous?”
“Unless you want to lose that arm,” Naomi crooned, “I suggest you remove it from my person.”
“Ah, she’s feisty!” Tom exclaimed, though he did as he was told and took a full step backward, away from Naomi. Even drunk, he could clearly discern the danger in her eyes. “Have you ever been with an Irish man, love? I’ve got the rest of the night free, you know.”
The look on Naomi’s face was so indignant that I almost laughed out loud. We had a plan to complete, though, so I turned back to the bar to face O’Callaghan.
“We need to speak to Brady,” I informed him.
The color drained from his face immediately, and he set his mouth into a thin line as though he was gritting his teeth.
“Brady?!” He exclaimed angrily. “What do you need with him?”
“We need to question him,” I replied vaguely. “Regarding a criminal matter. I’m afraid I can’t say much else.”
O’Callaghan’s face grew redder as he glared at me.
“Well, he isn’t here,” he spat.
Then, as though on cue, a door on the other side of the bar popped open as a head peeked out.
“Dillon, did you call me?” Brady called through the door behind the bar just as O’Callaghan finished speaking. O'Callaghan's mouth gaped open as he looked back and forth between the young man and me. Brady looked confused at his reaction until his eyes drifted over to mine, and I could see a spark of fear ignite behind them the moment he made eye contact.
“Brady, go!” O’Callaghan screamed as he caught me around the arm in a vice-like grip. The boy was gone in a flash, and before I could do anything to pull myself free of his grasp, Naomi was by my side. Quick as lightning, she placed one hand on O'Callaghan's forearm and the other beneath his elbow, and just a second later, his arm shattered with a sickening crack.
O’Callaghan howled with pain as he cradled his ruined arm to his chest, but I was already halfway out of the bar, shoving my way forcefully through the throngs of drunken patrons.
The rain was cold as I burst through the front entrance and around the side of the building. Brady had run through the back, which meant that there was probably a backdoor. My suspicions were proven right as I rounded the building and caught sight of a thin form sprinting through the alley behind the bar. I gave chase, urging my legs to move faster as I raced after him.
I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that Naomi wasn’t behind me. She was probably still back in the bar, dealing with the aftermath of having just broken someone’s arm. I was momentarily tempted to stop and return, but in the end, I decided to keep after Brady. She could take care of herself, and if I let up now, it would have all been for nothing.
Brady must have heard my footsteps because he turned to look over his shoulder as soon as I started following him. He let out a yell that was something between a scream and a squeak before turning back around. He reached out to knock over a plastic trash can as he ran, but it was easy enough for me to hurtle it. He looked back again to check if the trash can had actually slowed me down and screamed again when he saw that I was even closer now.
At the end of the alley, he took a sharp corner without slowing down, probably hoping to shake me off once I lost sight of him. Unfortunately for him, the ground was slick from the rain, and his shoe slid in a puddle as he took the corner. I watched as he fell face-first onto the ground, and I even winced at the sharp crunch his chin made as it hit the concrete sidewalk.
“Don’t move,” I ordered as I caught up to him. “Put your hands behind your back.”
He did as I commanded without hesitation, and I felt a pang of sympathy as I leaned down to handcuff him and realized tears were streaming down his eyes.
“Miranda,” Naomi huffed as she ran down the alley toward us. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I nodded as I helped the kid up onto his feet. He was trembling like a leaf and was openly crying.
“Stop!” a thundering voice called out from the same alley. I watched as O’Callaghan lumbered up to us, accompanied by several other people from the bar, including the man who’d been hitting on Naomi. Their expressions were angry, and some, including O’Callaghan’s, looked downright murderous. “You can’t arrest him. He hasn’t broken any laws.”
“He’s been dealing drugs,” I retorted. “That’s what he’s being arrested for.”
“Are you serious?” O’Callaghan roared. “You broke my arm and chased a teenager down through the rain because of some drugs?”
“Is there something else we should be arresting him for?” I snarled.
O’Callaghan frowned but didn’t say anything.
“I broke your arm,” Naomi sneered, “because you assaulted a federal agent. You should be worrying about being arrested yourself. And yes, he’s being arrested on suspicion of drug trafficking. I know that for a long time, you’ve believed that your organization is above the law, but that ends today.”
Naomi’s harsh declaration stunned the group into silence. She’d been bluffing since we didn’t really know very much about their group or if they were even part of the mob, but her accusation had obviously struck a chord.
“You’ll regret this,” O’Callaghan barked as Naomi and I frogmarched Brady back toward the car. “You have no idea who you’re screwing around with!”
34
Fiona
I inhaled the rich, warm scent emanating from the coffee pot as I watched the liquid inside bubble. I was taking refuge in the break room for just a few minutes before getting back to work. It was still early in the morning, but so much had happened the previous night that I hadn’t been able to sleep well, and I already felt tired.
First, Junior had called me just a few hours after Miranda and Naomi had left to inform me that they’d apprehended the leader of the organization behind the current case, and that he just so happened to be the boss of the Irish Mafia, and that he needed me to try to track down a Liam O’Sullivan staying somewhere in Northern Ireland. Then, a few hours after that, Miranda and Naomi had returned to the office with a hysterical teenager in tow and had said something similar about the Irish Mafia being involved with the original designer drug cases.
I sighed as the machine chimed to let me know the coffee was ready. I hadn’t been able to find any trace of this Liam O’Sullivan guy, and I felt guilty. I also felt bad for the kid that Miranda and Naomi had dragged in, who’d spent the entire night crying in lockup. I knew because I’d been there all night myself. I’d only gone home to check on my dog, Beau, and when I came back, he was in the exact same position, still sobbing.
Miranda had explained that they were using him as leverage to get the real people involved to talk, but it still seemed too cruel to me. I’d gotten him some hot chocolate after everyone else had left, and he’d accepted it gratefully before finally falling asleep.
As I poured myself my third cup of coffee that morning, I wondered if I really had what it took to do this job. I was confident in my abilities as a researcher and data analyst, but sometimes I thought I was a little to
o soft-hearted. Federal agents shouldn’t feel bad for criminals, right?
I shook my worries away as I headed back into my office. This wasn’t the time to get all introspective. I was about halfway through the bullpen when the keypad beeped to indicate that the door had been unlocked.
Miranda and Naomi had just left, and I wondered if one of them had forgotten something to be back so soon. To my horror, the person who stepped through the door wasn’t either of them, but rather a complete stranger, with dark red hair and freckles dusting his cheeks and forehead.
“Who are you?” I demanded immediately. I moved my arm as though to reach for my gun, but with one arm in a sling and the other holding the cup of coffee, I couldn’t actually grab it.
“Hi, beautiful,” the man said with a smile as he stepped toward me.
I dropped the cup onto the ground and reached for my gun. I was a little unsteady with only one hand, but I did my best to keep from shaking as I pointed it at the stranger.
“I asked who you were,” I repeated coldly.
“Whoa,” he replied nervously. “No need to get hostile. I’m here to help you.”
“Don’t move,” Nelson’s voice called from behind me, and I felt a rush of relief. Once again, we were the only ones in the office, and I felt much safer with two against one.
“Help with that?” I demanded as the man’s gaze shifted between Nelson and me. “And how did you get in here?”
“We’ve got a problem in common,” he responded. “That being, someone within our organization is off stirring up trouble. You feds don’t like it, and honestly, we don’t either, so I’m here to negotiate a truce between us.”
“You’re with the mafia,” I concluded as I glared into his eyes. I needed to be very careful about what I did and said. This man obviously wasn’t playing around. He’d broken through our security like it was nothing, and now he was standing there cool as a cucumber with two guns aimed at him. “How do I know I can trust you?”
