Heart pounding in his chest, he made his way to Walter’s room.
Mrs. Smith beamed at him. “Lucky, what perfect timing! Look!” She stepped aside.
Walter Smith stood by the side of the bed, gripping the bed rails with both hands.
Hallelujah!
“Boss?”
Walter raised rheumy eyes. Not a bit of recognition shone in their depths.
***
Walter lay in bed, lightly snoring. Standing must’ve worn him out.
His body still worked, but maybe not his mind.
“Mrs. Smith, did Walter happen to mention any cases he might have been involved with, particularly with the DEA?” No matter how close they were, he still couldn’t bring himself to call her “Lucy” or “Lucille.” She’d always be “Mrs. Smith” to him, the way he’d been raised to address his elders.
“No. He’s spoken about retiring lately, but he never made a habit of talking about work to me.”
Lucky’d been afraid of that. He needed answers, and Walter wasn’t in any shape to give them.
***
Lucky used his personal computer at home, unwilling to risk who might have access to his work searches. At one time he’d have been untraceable, but with new technology coming along every day, he’d gotten out of touch.
He read the trade magazines, searched the FDA and DEA websites, and logged on to his favorite pharmaceutical newsletter.
Fuck.
An unexplained fire took out Chastain’s big fish competitor.
Which left the shark.
Forsyth Pharmaceuticals.
Chapter Fourteen
Lucky’s laptop threatened to slide into his groin but the Adirondack chair on the deck was his best hope for privacy without offending someone. He ignored the weeds in the lawn almost as well as his teenaged weeders did, choosing to think of dandelions as decorations instead of flaws in his haste to open the file.
He watched Keith’s video for the twentieth time. Someone went through a lot of trouble to alter the content. What was it about the cup and the file?
Why not simply make the evidence disappear? Who even knew of its existence?
Someone found out Keith planted the camera. Someone from surveillance. Lucky knew Keith and Rogers. The rest were hardly blips on his radar.
Keith would’ve questioned the loss of the video. For that matter, what if Keith doctored the video himself for some reason?
No, the guy might be an asshole, but he’d been genuinely concerned. He’d be watching his own people.
Rogers. Following Lucky. How he’d love to beat the truth out of the motherfucker. Without proof of wrongdoing, O’Donoghue would have his badge for sure.
So many things could’ve caused Walter’s attack, or so the doctor said, a few more Lucky could add. Some so potent one sip could kill.
Someone put something in Walter’s cup. Or something else.
Or on it. Why would anyone want to hurt Walter?
