“Yeah. We go back a ways. Juan said he needed it to help keep some people in line with that cult he belongs to…” Valdez rubbed his nose. “I only sold him the drug. How he chose to use it wasn’t my call.”
“You can’t get off that easily,” Campbell told him unsympathetically, as Valdez was just as culpable in knowing that fentanyl could be deadly. But right now, the onus was on Barrientos. Had he taken it upon himself to drug the women for one reason or another? Or had he acted on behalf of Kenneth Braison as a means to control his followers—whatever the costs? “When exactly did this drug transaction take place?” Campbell demanded of the drug trafficker.
“A day before Founder’s Day,” Valdez answered without runup. “Said he needed some of the stuff in a hurry.”
Campbell sighed thoughtfully. If this was the real deal, Barrientos would be held accountable for his decision to perpetrate drug-induced homicides on Mia and Jasmine.As would the man who sold him the deadly drug. “We’ll check out your story,” he told him keenly. “And go from there…”
Valdez seemed content to let this play out, undoubtedly hoping it would work in his favor to one degree or another when he was handed over to federal authorities.
Fifteen minutes later, Campbell was at his desk, going over the claims by Valdez with Georgina, who was at her own desk.
“If Valdez is telling the truth about Barrientos, there’s our smoking gun,” Campbell said matter-of-factly, “with respect to linking Mia O’Dell and Jasmine Roxburgh’s fatal ODs. The big question is what does Kenneth Braison know and how long has he known it?”
“Yeah, both need to be answered, sooner rather than later,” Georgina said, staring at her laptop. “Valdez, the creep that he is, has basically pointed the finger at the Braison Family itself and their involvement through Barrientos in Roxburgh and O’Dell’s deaths.”
Campbell lowered his chin. “Now we need to make the case for this.”
“I think I found something that backs Valdez up on his claim of selling the fentanyl to Barrientos—if only by connotation in Mia’s fatal OD…” Georgina said. “Come take a look…”
Campbell got up and walked over to her desk. “What are we looking at?” he asked, watching the video over her shoulder.
“It’s surveillance video we obtained from a security camera not far from where Mia O’Dell was last seen alive,” she responded. “There’s Mia…”
“I see her.” Campbell stared at the small screen, waiting for more.
“Watch as the blue Volvo XC60 SUV pulls up alongside Mia,” Georgina said anxiously. “She looks inside, says something, then gets into the passenger seat before the SUV drives off—toward the direction of Reston Hills Park.”
Since he couldn’t make out the driver of the vehicle, Campbell said, “Can you back that up and zoom in on the license plate?”
Georgina did so for his benefit while saying excitedly, “I’m already two steps ahead. I checked out the plate.” She drew a breath. “The SUV’s registered to Juan Barrientos—”
“We’ve got him,” Campbell told her, feeling that the pieces had fallen into place that Barrientos had, in fact, lured Mia into his vehicle and gotten her to ingest the powdered fentanyl—before or after he took her to the park to leave her to die. The pattern fits as well in the death of Jasmine Roxburgh. Now they only needed to get him into custody and see just how far up the Braison Family chain this went.
Chapter Seventeen
Stefanie was a little surprised to see the door opened by Bella, after having come to expect that task to be done by her dependable, and seemingly always present, housekeeper, Nadine Marinkovich.
Bella grinned attractively. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Stefanie said, smiling back as she walked inside, paying her friend a planned visit just to chill out. “Where’s Nadine?”
“I gave her the day off,” Bella explained, as if feeling guilty for not doing so sooner. “Nadine works way too hard, cleaning up after me and my guests—present company excluded,” she added with a laugh. “You’re too much of a neat freak!”
Stefanie chuckled. “We are who we are,” she said, taking ownership of what she assumed was a compliment.
“So true.” Bella flashed her teeth. “Anyway, let’s go sit in the den. I made herbal tea.”
“Okay.” Stefanie glanced toward the incredible kitchen with its luxury appliances, waterfall island and quartz countertops.
They got past the great room and formal dining room before entering the den. It was spacious, with white-wood paneling, interlocking hardwood flooring, a vaulted ceiling,two matching upholstered swivel armchairs and a corduroy modular sectional.
Bella sat on the sectional sofa and waited for Stefanie to sit beside her, which she did. She handed Stefanie a cup of herbal tea from a bamboo serving tray on a farmhouse coffee table, and then picked up the other cup for herself.
“So, how’s your day been?” Bella asked casually.
Stefanie sipped the tea, thoughtful. “Same old, same old.”
“Anything new on the dual investigations?”
