And then there was the fog. So easy to slip away under the cover of darkness and mist.
The Canadian border wasn’t too far, relatively speaking. Was Adam working with the Clydes to smuggle something into Canada? Or from Canada?
“What do you know about smugglers in the Maine islands?” he asked Tina.
“I know there’s a long history of it. In the old days, goods were smuggled in to avoid tariffs, and during Prohibition there was lots of liquor smuggling. These days, it’s more about drugs. We’ve made some big fentanyl arrests.”
Fentanyl. Shit. What if Jessie had stumbled into a fentanyl operation? She disliked pharmaceuticals, and took her anti-anxiety meds only reluctantly. What if she’d threatened to report them to the police and they’d decided to silence her?
He shoved aside that doomsday scenario. His gut told him Jessie was still alive, and dammit, he was going to stick with his gut.
“Then there’s cocaine, meth, marijuana…” Tina went on. “There have even been cases of human smuggling. It’s on the uprise, folks smuggled in over the Canadian border to work in illegal grow operations or other commercial enterprises.”
Jack made a mental note to relay these interesting nuggets to the writers room at Dark of Night. “What about guns? Maybe that was Jessie’s message with the toy pistol, that they’re smuggling guns.”
Tina cocked her head, thinking that over. “There have been a few busts of gun smugglers in Maine, but they’re mostly straw purchases. Our state laws are a lot looser than those of New York or Massachusetts, and most of the guns purchased illegally here end up in other states. But I don’t think the islands play a role in that. Most gun smuggling in Maine is intertwined with drug smuggling, kind of an exchange sort of situation. Drugs come into the state, guns go out. This is all speculation until we get something solid.”
He slumped into a chair and ran a hand through his hair. They were so close…to something…he could feel it. And yet it was all so opaque.
Tina came over to him and crouched before him. “I know this is frustrating. But you did well.” She gestured at his notepad. “You recalled a lot of details and now we have several things to follow up on. This is progress. I promise.”
He deeply appreciated her effort to cheer him up. “I just feel like we’re missing something.”
“We probably are. That’s why we keep turning things over until we find the connections. Celine and Adam, the Night Light murder, the Clyde clan, Celine on her yacht, possible smugglers, not to mention Mark Peterson and someone setting your car on fire. That tells me he’s got something to do with this, somehow.”
“Should we go back to the hospital and check his visitor logs?”
She shook her head. “I can do that over the phone. I say we head back to Sea Smoke Island.”
“You think Jessie might be in those bunkers?”
“The thought occurred to me, yes. Maybe she knew Adam was going to stash her there and grabbed the only item at hand that would point to that. I’ll text Marigold, but she’ll need some backup for that. I wouldn’t want her going there alone.”
She rose to her feet and began tossing things into her overnight bag. He watched her for a moment, his heart swelling with thanks that someone with her smarts and dedication was on his side. Not to mention that lithe, dynamic body now bent over her bag.
“So you think we should go right away?”
The shift in his tone, the rough edge of lust in his voice, had her glancing back over her shoulder. “I mean…yes? No? Quickie?”
“Quickie it is.”
It was up-against-the-wall quick, down-and-dirty hot, and it seared through his system like the reset he needed. Let’s do this. We got this. Whoo, baby!
27
As they drove, Tina gathered what little information she could from the Rutland State Psychiatric Hospital. Mark Peterson’s former psychiatrist had died a few years ago. After that, he’d briefly been under the care of a Dr. Fatima Choudhoury, a neuropharmacologist.
“Where is she located?” Tina asked.
“Her research lab is here in the hospital. But I believe she’s at a conference in Boston right now.”
Was she the one sending the postcards? The orderly had said “an old doctor” was sending them. Why would Dr. Choudhoury be sending postcards to someone located in the same hospital? And what exactly was a neuropharmacologist?
“Should I transfer you to the lab?” asked the receptionist.
“No thanks,” Tina said, and hung up. She didn’t have time to talk to some lab assistant right now; Marigold had just texted.
Found Celine’s yacht. It’s refueling at the Bailey Island marina. Won’t be there long, so better hurry.
