“Is this about the extra security at the music festival?” Sylvie asked.
“In a way. It’s no secret that we’ve had an increase in drug-related crimes in and around Lyons. It’s coming up from Denver—that’s no secret, either. But some of these crimes, well, I’m seeing an increase in cocaine and pill use around here. Heroin is up, too. It’s on our streets. Last night was the first time I’ve ever seen someone nodding off in a doorway around here, and good thing I spotted him when I did, because then he’d immediately started to seize. The shit he took was laced with fentanyl. I gave him Narcan and got the guy over to Longmont for treatment. But when I questioned him later about where he got it, he laughed and said I should know. I pushed him a little, and he asked me if I was trying to shake down a brother and move in on the business. I asked if he meant a fellow cop, and he clammed up. Got scared. So I let it go.”
Sylvie’s anger flared. It was hard enough being a police officer without bad cops smearing the profession. She’d known a few who had skirted the line, but this was a different level.
Carla looked equally angry. “Are you kidding? Hell yeah we will, George. And you know we would’ve come to you already if we’d heard anything.”
“Of course I know.”
“Did you already talk to Sheriff Daniels?” Sylvie asked.
George hesitated. “It’s not that I doubt Robert is clean.”
“You just don’t know who else is. I get it.”
“And Robert sometimes thinks a little too much of himself and I don’t want to hear another lecture about how I should stay in my own lane over here.”
Sylvie rolled her eyes. “Yeah, he’s good at that. So, youdidtalk to him?”
“Only in general, which is why—”
“You need us to keep our ears open. Got it.”
“Thanks, ladies.”
“Thankyoufor the warning, George,” Carla said.
“Got anyone who might fit the bill?”
A little niggle started in the back of Sylvie’s head as she tried to think if anyone had been behaving differently recently. She’d been so focused on making it to the K9 squad, she hadn’t been in the office as much, using her time to go to class instead. They’d had an all-hands-on-deck meeting about the influx of drugs from Mexico making their way up through the Denver gangs. She’d seen a few smirks, but didn’t think anything of it at the time.
“Maybe. Now that it’s on my radar, I’ll pay closer attention.”
“Me too,” Carla added.
“So, I doubt you’ve talked to the FBI,” Sylvie said.
“Nope.”
Sylvie narrowed her eyes. “George.” Her dad was an old-school cop protective of his town and still held a lot of prejudice against calling the Feds into what he considered ‘his’ territory.
He narrowed his eyes right back at her. “Not yet. I have no proof other than one man’s inference.”
Sylvie nodded. “If I can find anything—”
“Bring it to me first. We’ll go from there.” George shifted in his chair. “I hate to pile this on top of everything else you two got going on, especially if I’m wrong.”
“George, your instincts have always been good. If you’re smelling smoke, I’m grabbing a fire extinguisher,” Carla said.
He shook his head, and Sylvie hated the way her dad suddenly looked years older. “I’m not always sure anymore, but thank you.” He stood up, indicating their meeting was over. Carla led the way out the office door.
“Hang on, Sylvie,” George said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“I’ll meet you outside,” Carla said, then she continued down the hall to the front.
“So, what else, George?” Sylvie asked.
He shook his head. “Not George. This is from a father to his daughter.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “This is difficult for me. Cop to cop, I want this favor from you. But, father to daughter, I want this to be a warning to you to protect yourself. I could ask you to turn a blind eye, to stay out of it, but I know you.”
