He moved to where Jeremy had gathered around Pete, noting the room was clean, unlike the other rooms he’d witnessed. The floors didn’t look like the partygoers had trod upon the room. The closer he got to the table, the more his professional instincts kicked in, pushing his personal frustration aside. This might not have been just a party gone wrong, but a distribution-level drug bust that would have required serious coordination between agencies.
He stepped up to the group, scrubbed his hand over his face to clear his head, and swallowed the growl that threatened to erupt from his throat. Without him having to ask, the detectives began filling him in with the efficient shorthand of experienced investigators.
"House is owned by Harrison Blackwood." Sam’s voice carried the weight of someone who'd already done the preliminary legwork. “Yes,theowner of Blackwood Luxury Custom Homes.”
At that revelation, Terry's eyebrows shot toward his hairline. He knew Blackwood built luxury homes in Virginia Beach, Norfolk, Chesapeake, and on the Eastern Shore, but he’d never been inside one of them.Too bad I didn’t get to see one of his exclusive homes before it was trashed.
“He rents this one?”
“Yeah. And the cost would be way more than any of us could afford, even for a weekend. So he not only sells homes to high-end customers, but owns several homes as rentals to those same kind of customers.”
Terry thought about the man he’d met at the American Legion meeting. He imagined the idea of Blackwood’s pristine vacation rental being turned into a drug distribution hub would give the man nightmares.
"He's been called," Aaron added, glancing at his notes. "He and his wife were spending the evening at his brother's house in Williamsburg. He should be here within the hour, and did not sound happy."
Terry could only imagine that phone conversation. "So what's the deal with this party? How did we go from a quiet weekend rental to this disaster?"
"The house was rented for the weekend to a group of five UVA graduate students who claimed they were spending the weekend preparing for final exams," Brad explained, his tone carrying just enough sarcasm to indicate what he thought of that story.
Terry's eyebrow remained elevated as he glanced around the room, taking in the evidence of everything except studying. "I wonder how much academic preparation they actually accomplished."
His gaze swept over the college-age faces scattered throughout the room. Most looked too young to be at this party in this house. One couple standing together, fear on their faces, couldn’t have been out of their teens. Their nervous vibes gave off the feel of high schoolers who'd gotten in way over their heads.
"Did the renter put out an invitation to the others?" Terry asked, already dreading the answer.
"They say it started as word of mouth to some of their frat brothers at ODU who showed up with some others." Brad consulted his notebook. “Another said he was delivering the pizza. All in all, it's a complete clusterfuck.”
“But here’s the thing,” Jeremy reported. “The party was called in by a neighbor who was upset about the noise and the number of cars going up and down the street. When the deputies got here, they found all the alcohol. The drugs weren’t out where everyone else was. They were found in this room that had been kept locked."
“And…” Pete shook his head as he finished, “They all claim they didn’t know there were drugs in this room.”
Terry felt his jaw clench as he processed the implications. “Were any of the kids using or was this a distribution point for sellers, not users?” As the words left his mouth, he knew this scene was easily turning into a multi-jurisdictional nightmare that would require coordination between his task force, the sheriff's department, and probably the state police before it was all over.
"With all the alcohol these kids have been consuming, it's amazing somebody isn't in the ER," Pete said, his voice carrying the kind of weary resignation that came from seeing too many young people make life-altering mistakes. "Hell, it's a miracle none of them tried to drive home and wrapped their car around a tree."
The harsh reality of Pete's words settled over the group like a blanket. They'd all worked scenes where parties like this had ended in tragedy—overdoses, drunk driving accidents, and sexual assaults that happened when judgment was impaired and inhibitions disappeared. Tonight could have been so much worse, and they all knew it.
Releasing a heavy sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, Terry nodded toward the four sheriff detectives and said, "We work this together. Task force takes point on the drug charges, sheriff’s department handles the underage drinking and property damage. We coordinate everything and make sure nobody falls through the cracks."
The detectives nodded in acknowledgment, their expressions reflecting the easy working relationship that had developed between the sheriff's department and the drug task force over the years. They'd collaborated on enough cases to know how to divide responsibilities without stepping on each other's jurisdictions.
Stepping to the side to create some privacy, Terry addressed Jeremy and Pete directly, his voice low enough that the teenagers scattered around the room couldn't overhear. "What have you found out so far? And please tell me we've got some idea of where this product came from."
16
As soon as Terry left, Sandra stood at the front door for a moment, her hand still resting on the cool metal of the deadbolt. The house was quiet, and she was suddenly unsure, caught between respecting boundaries and wanting to make sure Emma and Toby were comfortable with her being there.
The role she was supposed to play here wasn't clearly defined. They didn’t need a babysitter, and she wasn't even officially their father's girlfriend.Yet.That one word carried weight she wasn't sure she was ready for. Terry had just indicated he wanted more than friendship, and there was no denying she did too. But wanting something and being prepared for its reality were two entirely different things.
Dating a single father meant stepping into a world where she would always be one part of a larger equation. Emma and Toby weren't just part of Terry's life… they were the center of it, and if she wanted a future with him, they would also become part of hers. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.
She walked down the hallway toward the kids' rooms, her socked feet silent on the hardwood floors. When she'd been in Terry's bedroom the previous weekend, she'd been too focused on him to pay attention to the rest of the house. Now she couldsee how thoughtfully he'd arranged everything. The main living areas occupied the front, with one hallway extending toward Terry's primary suite and another leading from the kitchen past the laundry room to what were obviously the children's bedrooms.
She stopped at the first door, relieved when she saw it was partially open. She smiled as she spotted Toby sitting up in bed, a book propped against his knees, his dark hair still damp from his shower. Terry had allowed the kids to sit up late, but she didn’t mind if Toby wanted to read until he fell asleep.
His room was a perfect reflection of an eleven-year-old boy caught between childhood and adolescence. The walls were painted ivory, except for the accent wall behind his bed, which was deep navy blue, serving as a backdrop for an eclectic collection of posters—Olympic swimmers frozen mid-stroke, a detailed map of the solar system, and what appeared to be a chart showing different types of sharks. His twin bed was covered with a comforter featuring various sports equipment, and a few stuffed animals that he probably wouldn't admit to still sleeping with occupied one corner.
The desk under the window was cluttered with school supplies, a half-finished LEGO spaceship, and several books about marine biology stacked next to a lamp shaped like a basketball. Swimming ribbons decorated the top of his dresser, interspersed with rocks and shells that had obviously been collected during beach walks.
