JB leaned forward. “As it stands right now, we have no idea where Earl got his dope. But one of the people at the house party last night said the owner got the goods from a salesman passing through town early that morning.”
“How’s the man from the party doing?” Betsy asked.
“He and the other two at that party ended up lucky. They got them to the ER in time,” JB said. “Thankfully, no one else at the house party had used.”
Closing her eyes, she let the implication wash over her. A feeling of déjà vu of words spoken over four years ago came rushing in. Difference was the bearer of the news. Today JB. Back then the news had come from her uncle, Sheriff Cal Davis. She noticed JB had paused as if giving her time to process what he’d said and come to grips. Much as she grumbled at him, JB was a good man.
She glanced at Cain and was met by his noncommittal expression. What had he seen in her expression? If he thought he saw weakness, he’d be badly mistaken. That flaw of hers had been crushed years ago. She’d never be a moth drawn to an inferno ever again.
Kennett walked in and took a chair. “Sorry I’m late. It’s been busy on those streets. Don’t think I’ve eaten all day.”
The patrolman reached toward the pizza box.
“Not yet.” Cain double tapped his fingers on the lid, then leaned back once again.
“Well, since you said you had a proposition for me,” Betsy said, “I take it you want something. And since we’re meeting at Peyton’s, I take it this has something to do with my dealership.”
JB nodded.
“Then get to it. You know I’ll do whatever’s needed. What is it this time?”
Evans cleared his throat. “We’d like to?—”
“Stop right there. What haven’t I been told?” Cain uncrossed his arms and swiveled the chair in her direction. It wasn’t as if he looked angry, but he sure as hell didn’t look happy. “If one of you doesn’t tell me what the elephant in the room is all about, then I want no part of this plan.”
JB leaned forward in his chair. Rested his elbows on the table in front of him. “Let it be.”
Cain stood, bent just enough to brace the palms of his hands on the conference table. “Not this time.”
In a split second, both men were standing straight and strong. The look that passed between them held a challenge, and Betsy got the feeling neither was going to back down. Even the deputy and patrolman didn’t appear to be ready to step between them.
She could swear the room had become smaller…shorter…hotter. Felt like they were all under a magnifying glass. A group of five people in a still-shot photo with only one of them in charge. Question was, who? Might be her conference room in her dealership, but she sure wasn’t in charge.
“You can leave now, Cain,” JB ordered.
“I could. But I’d rather talk about my pizza.” He pointed toward the box sitting on the table. “The one Joanie made bright and early this morning as a special request from someone I know. Someone I trust. Someone who saved my life once, and I’ve saved his a time or two.”
Cain flipped open the lid to reveal a large half sausage and pepperoni/half jalapeño pizza. “You may notice that it’s double boxed. I’ve passed many a message using this technique in my career. So has my friend.”
He paused, looking at JB. “Now, should I stay or go?”
“I’m listening.” The acting sheriff sat. Settled back in his chair.
Carefully, Cain lifted the carton containing the pizza from the one below. Set it in front of Kennett, who immediately grabbed a slice and took his first bite. Meanwhile everyone else at the table stared at the bottom box. Nothing there but an envelope with “Cain” written on it.
Slow and easy, he looked each person in the room straight in the eye. Seemed to be snapping each one’s expression into his mind. Evaluating. Deciding. He gave Betsy an extra-long appraisal, then glanced at JB.
Cain picked up the envelope and showed them that he’d already opened it, then pulled out a folded piece of paper. “There’s only one word written on here. And I’m the only one besides my friend who knows what that is.”
Unfolding the note, he flipped it upward and watched it land print side up on the table. “Now I want some answers. Who is Phillip?”
Betsy tilted her chin up, then focused on the picture hanging on the wall at the end of the table. The one of a beach and clear blue water and colorful cabanas. Key West? St. Thomas? Barbados? Didn’t matter as long as she felt the sun’s warmth through the painting and heard the crash of the waves in her mind. Because she for sure didn’t like the direction this conversation had headed.
“I figured you’d kept up to date on Crayton while you were gone,” Betsy said.
“Nope. I’ve been a little busy working deep cover for years at a time.” Cain quirked the side of his mouth. “What with staying alive and everything, Crayton was the furthest thing from my mind. “Who’s Phillip?”
JB leaned back in his chair. “The short version is that about four, five years ago, a kid OD’d at a party here in town.”
