Knuckles snorted. “Sure thing, Detective Colborne.”
Drew sucked in a breath. His cover was blown. There was no point in denying it or trying to bluff his way through this. He was surprised he wasn’t a body floating in the river. “How did he know?”
“After we told him about you looking just like that missing dude, Max Ramesly, he looked you up,” Red supplied dryly. “Wasn’t difficult.”
“Why didn’t you kill me?” Drew asked softly. He was still wearing the wire. Maybe he could salvage something of this.
“What? And go to prison for murdering a cop?” Knuckles laughed. “You got nothing on us, Colborne. We’re going to walk.”
“We’ve got twelve barrels of heroin,” Drew scowled. “I don’t call that nothing.”
“Do you? Is that what you think you have?” Red snickered. “Some detective you are.”
Drew looked at them in uncertainty. Miguel had tested the white powder. Drew looked back at the cops who were standing near the back of the rental truck, discussing something heatedly. This wasn’t right. He remembered Miguel giving him a look and shaking his head a quick negative. Something wasn’t right about the powder.
Drew saw a smudge of the white powder on the right knee of his jeans. He leaned over, sniffing it. Drew gave it a quick lick.
“Icing sugar,” Drew said shortly.
Knuckles and Red just laughed.
Drew slumped down in the backseat. He looked at Red. “What about the guy who was trying to get a cut for his silence?”
“What about him?” Red grinned.
“Sam threatened him,” Drew said.
“Did he?” Red raised an eyebrow and looked at Knuckles. “Did Sam threaten anyone Knuckles?”
“Can’t say he did,” Knuckles chuckled.
Drew thought back to the wording that Sam had used. He’d said they would have to deal with the guy. No, no specific threats had been made. Certainly nothing that would hold up in a court of law.
Drew leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His career was about to go down the toilet. He’d been following these goons around for eight months, finally thought he was in and now he had nothing to show for all his efforts. Even the pictures he’d managed to snap on his phone at the abandoned building meant nothing. They didn’t prove that it was heroin versus icing sugar. No judge was going to convict on the pictures alone.
He wondered how bad the fallout was going to be. The only silver lining he could see was the fact that he could now kick Max Ramesly out of his apartment.
Drew ignored Knuckles and Red.
Monroe got in the car. He gave them all an unhappy look before starting the engine and driving them to the police station. Monroe took Drew out of the car, with two other officers to book Red and Knuckles. Drew was taken to Green’s office and uncuffed.
Green glared at Drew. “Shut the door after yourself Monroe.”
This was not going to go well, Drew reflected as Monroe quickly left.
“Do you want to tell me why I just wasted the department’s resources on icing sugar?” Green growled.
Drew sighed. “Lawe figured it out. He knew I was a cop and staged everything tonight. He expected the bust.”
“How did he learn you were a cop?” Green demanded of Drew.
“He heard from the guys how much Max Ramesly and I looked alike,” Drew absently scratched his chest. Then he lifted his shirt and pulled off the wire and tape, tossing them on Green’s desk. “Lawe did a search. My last name is hyphenated Colborne-Ramesly. Obviously, it came up somewhere and voila, Lawe knew everything. As a result, we’ve got nothing.”
“We’re going to take samples from the barrels, but it looks like it’s all just icing sugar,” Green sat down. Drew almost sat but Green barked, “Did I say you could sit?”
Drew straightened up. “No sir.”
“Eight months of undercover work blown in one night,” Green shook his head in regret. “Colborne, you can cut Ramesly loose. He can go home. We’ll magically find him tomorrow and have a press conference. Colby is due for a little recognition.”
