I swallowed and printed it out. “Judge Hallenback,” I sighed. “We kind of suck.”
Nick took the papers. “We surely do. I’ll drive.”
I had no problem with that. We finished the paperwork and ran back outside. The clouds had turned even darker and the rain more insistent as dinnertime passed. I dodged into his car and sighed in relief, watching him start the engine and drive. Nick had pushed his shirt sleeves up. The rhythmic sound of the windshield wipers added an intimacy to the warm car.
He followed Main Street toward the historic section. “Did Pierce ever ask you out?”
I peered out at the empty sidewalks. “Sheriff Franco in Silverville had a barbecue that we were supposed to attend, but work got in the way.”
“Cops and lawyers. Never a good combination,” Nick mused.
I didn’t feel like reminding him that he’d kissed me. Obviously, he knew that. I sure as heck wasn’t going to tell him that I’d slept with Aiden. “Jealous?” I tried to lighten the mood.
“A little.” He drove quickly, heading back toward the west end of the lake and the historic homes. We reached the gate on the private drive, and he pressed a button.
“What do you want? It’s after dinnertime,” Judge Hallenback mumbled.
“It’s Nick Basanelli. I need a warrant signed,” Nick said.
I looked at the beach on the other side of the road. Whitecaps tossed waves toward the sand, which was being pelted by the rain as night strengthened and banished the day. Nobody was around for miles.
The buzzer rang and the fence lifted.
Nick drove past the other three silent mansions to the Judge’s. “I hate taking advantage of him like this, but…”
I nodded. “I get it. I really do.” Then I jumped from the vehicle and jogged to the safety of the porch to ring the old-fashioned bell.
The judge opened the door wearing a Hawaiian shirt, grass skirt, and combat boots. “Morning, Alberto.”
I blinked. “Evening,” I murmured. “I mean, good evening.”
He scrunched up his gray eyebrows. “What happened to your face? It looks even worse than the other day.”
“Long story. Part of it is in the affidavit,” Nick said, handing over the papers and not looking at the judge’s hairy legs. “We need a search warrant for a building we think is being used as a drug lab, Judge.”
“Hmm.” The judge gestured us inside, where it was about a thousand degrees. He led the way to a darkened study with Cherrywood desk, walls, and ceiling. He skipped around the wide desk to an executive style leather chair, reading the papers. Finally, he looked up. “You don’t have enough here. An off the cuff statement about power, which could be anywhere, doesn’t lead to this one building. You need a better connection in order to search it. People have privacy rights, you know.”
My hopes plummeted. Worse yet, I knew he was right. “Judge? We have to get out there before these drugs are put on the street.”
The judge looked over my shoulder. “Tell me the police are watching this building and waiting for a warrant.”
“Of course,” Nick said. “DEA, FBI, State, and even the ATF. We’ve got the place covered.”
“Then get a proper warrant.” The judge shoved the papers across the desk. “You don’t want this whole thing thrown out of court or later overturned on appeal, do you?”
I sighed. The guy had probably been a pretty good judge before his brain had started to slip. Maybe there were medications he could take to regain his faculties.
Nick took his phone from his pocket. “Excuse me, Judge.” He wandered toward the door. “Hey, Pierce. No warrant for this particular building.” He explained the circumstances and then listened for a minute. “What do they have? You think? Okay. We’ll be right there.” He clicked off and turned toward me.
I was already shaking my head. “No. We can’t give Melvin a deal.” The guy had created opioids that could make the meth epidemic look like a minor societal inconvenience.
Nick’s eye gleamed. “A couple of the biker bunnies are talking. Want deals. One will have three strikes from burglary and prostitution charges. It appears she’s been to the hidden lab with Whitaker.”
My breath caught. “She can lead us to the lab? She’s seen it?”
“Looks like it. I just need to make her a deal,” Nick said. “She wants it in writing.”
The judge reared up. “Then get it in writing and acquire her affidavit to support the search warrant. With the cops on the property, they aren’t going anywhere. Let’s do this right.” He rolled his hips, and his skirt danced. “Alberto? We need to flesh out your affidavit, as well. You need more evidence as to what Melvin Whitaker said, what you heard, and better details about the kidnapping.”
