“I have. He thinks it’s interesting but isn’t convinced. I’m reviewing older reports of fentanyl overdoses to look for some mention of painting activity. There are a few, but not as many as I’d like. It’s not something the EMTs or the officers thought was worth recording, which is understandable. Probably never occurred to them, even as an afterthought.”
“How many mentions do you need before you send in the sniffer dogs?”
“That’s up to the chief and the drug task force. He has questions as to whether our dogs can pick up the scent when the drugs are packed in paint. He wants to test it. We have some fentanyl in the evidence locker and I told you I already bought a can that was nothing but Caribbean Coast. We’ll do an experiment and see what happens. Have to be careful, though. Fentanyl is as deadly to dogs as it is to humans.”
“Do you have to turn this over to the task force?”
“Yes and no. The chief promised if this looks like a go, then he’s assigning me to the task force for this case. Maybe others in the future.”
“That sounds like a good thing. Is it?”
“I think so. You realize that finding the drugs is only a first step. We have to trace them to their origin.”
“Easy. China. Doesn’t most of the fentanyl come from China?”
“Starts there and comes across entry points in the southern border, but what I’m thinking about is a little closer to home.”
“Oh, you mean like someone here at the Ridge is in on the distribution.”
“That’s a start. It might be possible to get someone higher up the food chain.”
“Will the lot numbers help?”
“I don’t like admitting it, but yes, they will. We can use them to trace them back to the warehouse. It remains for us to discover when and where the fentanyl was added to the cans…if it was.”
“It was,” she said certainly. “You only need to get a good look at the customers congregating in home improvement to see the full spectrum of addiction.”
Sullivan was immediately suspicious. “Were you hanging out there again today?”
“No.” She crossed her heart. “Swear. I made only one pass in that section and that’s because the knucklehead I was following went that way.” She recounted the activity on her shift. “Mr. Mayhew on the motorcycle was a lot of sound and fury, but those two kids from this morning are what will stick.”
“I might be able to find something out about what happened to them.”
“Would you? That would ease my mind.” Ramsey stacked their empty plates and bowls and carried them to the dishwasher. “You want another beer?”
“No, thanks. Do you need me to hang longer? I will if you’d like.”
“No. I’m good now. Did I interrupt something you had going on tonight?”
“Uncle Mark asked me to come out to the house and help him with the transmission to his ’72 Mustang. I already called him and told him I’d be later than I first thought, so it’s all good.”
“You’re sure?” she asked. “I hate to think that I’ve caused you trouble.”
“No trouble. I would have been unhappy if youhadn’tcalled. Remember that. Anyway, it’s Uncle Mark, not my aunt. He’s so easy going that I’m tempted to check his breathing from time to time. Besides, what can you do? Write an excuse for me?”
“Ha. Ha.” She waved him away from the table. “Be gone. Go have your way with a ’72 Mustang. I’ll be fine.”
Sullivan stood and headed for the front door. He laid a loud, smacking kiss on her lips that made her laugh. “Set the alarm,” he said, and then he was out.
36
Ramsey didn’t noticeSullivan left his jacket behind until she returned to the kitchen to wipe off the table and saw it hanging over the back of a chair. It was a couple of minutes later that she heard a knock at the door. Smiling to herself, she picked up the jacket and headed to the front of the house. She disarmed security and opened the door, holding his jacket out at the end of her fingertips.
“Forget something?” The words were out of her mouth before she realized they were all wrong. It wasn’t Sullivan standing on her porch. It was Jay. She blinked, withdrew her hand, and started to push the door closed. He was prepared as she was not and had a foothold in the doorway that stopped her. She pushed harder, heard him curse. There was no moment to take pleasure in causing him pain because it motivated him to shove his shoulder into the opening and push back. The runner under her feet began to slide. She scrambled to kick it away but she was wearing thick socks that offered no friction on the hardwood floor.
“Get out, Jay!” She uttered the words from between clenched teeth. “I’m calling the police.” But she wasn’t. Her phone, the phone she promised she always had with her, was sitting on the kitchen counter where she placed it while she was wiping down the table.
“Get over yourself, Liz.” He squeezed through the opening and burst across the threshold when she gave way. Stumbling forward, he managed to avoid mowing her down. He straightened, brushed himself off, and elbowed the door closed. “What do you think I’m going to do? I’m here to talk. That’s all. Talk. Our breakfast meeting ended abruptly and unsatisfactorily.”
