42
Deputy Bobby Parker knocked on Terry's office door, a tablet in his hand and disappointment written across his young face. "Captain, I have the results from the camera canvas around the Legal Aid office."
Terry looked up hopefully. "Please tell me you've got something."
Bobby shook his head. "Sorry, sir. We checked every business in that strip mall and the surrounding area. The Legal Aid office cameras only cover the front entrance, like Sandra said. The dry cleaner next door has cameras, but they're focused on their own storefront. Bess's Bakery upgraded their system after their break-in a few months back, but their cameras are angled toward their parking area, not the Legal Aid section."
"What about traffic cameras?" Terry asked, though he already suspected the answer.
"Nothing that covers that parking lot. The closest traffic camera is two blocks away at the main intersection, and it's focused on vehicle flow, not parked cars." Bobby's disappointment was evident. "Whoever did this knew the blind spots, or they got lucky."
Terry leaned back in his chair, frustration building. "So we've got nothing from the scene."
"Afraid not, sir. I checked with the other businesses too, asked if anyone saw anything suspicious yesterday afternoon. No luck there either."
"Thanks, Bobby. Good work on being thorough." Terry watched the young deputy leave, then turned back to the investigation into the drugs at the party and what they knew. He wondered if Harry Blackwood thought he could intimidate Sandra. There was no way Harry would do the deed himself, but it wouldn’t be hard to hire someone to slash tires.
The image of her vehicle burned in his memory, but the vulnerability he'd seen in Sandra's eyes fueled his anger. Nobody threatened the woman he loved and got away with it.
Jeremy looked up from his computer as Terry entered the DTF bullpen, his expression immediately shifting to professional alertness. "Good morning. How’s Sandra?”
"She's fine." Terry's voice carried the controlled fury of a man trying to stay professional when everything in him wanted to hunt down whoever had threatened Sandra.
Pete nodded, then sighed. “Maybe it’s time to bring Harry in.”
Terry nodded. “I’m going to talk to Colt.” He walked down the hall to Colt's office, the weight of the Blackwood investigation pressing on his shoulders like a lead vest. He knocked once on Colt's open door before stepping inside. The sheriff looked up from a stack of budget reports, his weathered face showing the strain of managing both counties' law enforcement needs.
"Terry," he greeted with a chin dip. “What have you got?”
"Nothing concrete until we can gather enough evidence for arrest warrants, or until he does something that forces our hand." Terry's jaw tightened as he thought about the scope ofwhat they were dealing with. "Colt, this isn't just local drug dealing anymore. We're looking at the possibility of drug money being laundered through one of the Shore's businesses."
"Son of a bitch." Colt's voice carried the disgust of a man who'd spent his career watching criminals hide behind respectable facades. "Harrison Blackwood's been playing the community benefactor for years."
"Maybe. Could just be Harry washing drug money through Daddy's construction contracts." Terry's phone buzzed with an incoming call, and he glanced at the screen. "Norfolk DTF. I need to take this."
"Captain Bunswick," Terry answered, putting the phone on speaker so Colt could hear.
"Terry, this is Chief Martinez from Norfolk DTF. You asked us about cartel presence in the Chesapeake area."
"Yes. I have you on speaker with Sheriff Colt Hudson listening. What did you find?"
"It took a while to get an informant on the inside of the Mendoza organization. We’ve been working on them for several years." Martinez's voice carried the grim satisfaction of pieces falling into place. "Our informant reported that Harry Blackwood has been connected to cartel operations since his drug charge in college. That cocaine possession that got mysteriously dropped? It wasn't just Daddy's lawyers. Someone in the cartel organization made sure those charges disappeared."
Terry felt cold settle in his stomach. "How deep is he?"
"Deep enough. Word is he's been handling distribution and money laundering for the Mendoza organization for at least three years." Martinez paused, and Terry could hear papers rustling in the background. "Terry, if Harry Blackwood is in business with the Mendoza cartel, you're not just dealing with local criminals anymore. These people don't hesitate to eliminate threats."
Colt's expression had grown darker with each word. "What kind of resources do they have access to?"
"Enough money to buy their way out of most problems."
“Have you ever heard of Marcus Webb? He’s an attorney?” Terry asked.
Martinez chuckled. “Oh, he’s a slick lawyer. He charges a fortune, but manages to get in with some of the judicial top dogs. He’s the one who got Harry’s drug charges dropped way back in college.”
Terry thought about Sandra's slashed tires, about the fear he'd seen in her eyes despite her determination to continue the investigation. "Chief, we've got a Legal Aid attorney who's been asking questions about Blackwood's contracts. Yesterday, someone slashed her tires."
"Christ." Martinez's voice grew more urgent. "Terry, if the Mendoza organization sees her as a threat to their money-laundering operation, slashed tires will be the least of her problems. Although, I have to say that Harry might be seen as a fuckup to them. He may be the one who needs to watch his back."
