“Come on, Cain. We need you in on this, too.” JB ran out the front doors, headed to his police SUV.
“You do remember I’m just a sideline advisor, don’t you?” Cain jogged alongside.
He’d heard other agents talk about how hard getting out of the business could be. How they’d been lured back in with the thrill of the chase. The adrenaline rush of tracking the dealers all the way up the ladder. Taking down a drug lieutenant or captain. Not him. He would not let that happen. He’d been too close to the edge to risk going back in.
“I know. May need to make that more permanent.” JB opened the driver’s side door, motioning Cain to the passenger side. “But can you honestly say you’re not chomping at the bit to see where the hell this leads? Besides you owe me one.”
“Owe you one? Like hell.” Cain slid inside and buckled up. “More like you owe me big time, buddy.”
“Maybe one.”
“Two. Or have you forgot about the cabin.”
JB laughed. “What’s one little cabin among friends?”
“Friends like you can get a man killed.” Cain pulled back inside himself to think. The banter felt good, and he rolled his shoulders to release the tension even more. Nothing wrong with helping the police. He’d just stay to the side and observe.
After a quick drive over to Willow Street, Cain walked into the house already knowing what he’d find. This might be an considered an upper-middle-class neighborhood, but drugs didn’t differentiate. Money bought the same everywhere. The flashing lights of two EMT vans had only been a preamble to the stretchers waiting by the front and back doorways.
From the shocked expressions on the faces of the men and women gathered in the living room, it looked to have been a friendly get-together. Looked to be some mid-to-late thirty-somethings. Looked to be your everyday group of parents and coworkers just glad to have a night out.
This part of the group had evidently not been into the serious partying happening upstairs. A few of them looked angry. A few were crying. Some eyed the front door as if given half a chance they’d escape into the night. One problem with that idea, the patrolman stationed on the front porch. Plus, Officer Hastings didn’t look like she’d allow one person to slip out the back.
He leaned in her direction. “Do we know who brought the drugs?”
“The man we found passed out upstairs. This is his house.”
Paramedics were wheeling two people from the kitchen out the back door to the waiting ambulances.
“These two going to make it?” Cain asked.
The EMT nodded. “Due to some quick thinking on the part of the others, they will. But the man we found upstairs was in critical condition. We did a Level 1 triage on him first thing. Transported him straight to ER.”
Officer Hastings nodded in agreement then turned in Cain’s direction once again. “We allowed his wife to ride in the front of the ambulance. Paperwork has been initiated on the initial report. And, as far as we can tell, no one has moved anything upstairs.”
Cain felt the twitch at the corner of his eye, the hitch in the breath he’d just inhaled. He braced his hands against the counter and stared out the window over the sink.
JB walked up beside him and leaned back, surveying the room. “We could sure use your help on this problem.”
“Not my problem this time.” Cain had stayed with the DEA years longer than he should have for this very reason. He’d walked a thin line between right and wrong. He needed to pull himself out once and for all. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.”
“I know you and I talked about why you want to get out of the DEA. Believe me, I do understand. Can you at least point me in the right direction?”
“Call the DEA Division Headquarters in St. Louis. Or even the Post of Duty in Jefferson City. They’ll get somebody down here fast.” Cain felt like a brick building was about to fall on him. He pulled out his phone. “I’ll even get you the numbers if you need them.”
“I’ve got the damn numbers.” The acting sheriff scanned the room, then focused back in Cain’s direction. “You know that’s not what I’m getting at. I don’t have time for any bullshit right now either. Bottom line. Yes or no. Can I count on you to help us out?”
Just like clockwork. There it was. The question that would follow Cain the rest of his life. “Man, I know you need help on this. But?—”
Across the room a man and woman walked in the front door, disbelief written in their expression.
“What the hell’s going on here?” the man asked.
“I’m Officer Hastings. May I ask your name, sir?”
“No, you may not ask my name. This is my brother’s house. Where is he?” Fear and agitation worked his tone and volume and words. “Where is he?”
“Calm down, honey. Calm down.” The woman beside him pressed her palm against his shoulder as she turned to the policewoman. “My husband and the owner are brothers. Has there been an accident?”
