Gawdawful thudding came every few seconds from behind the closed door. Caucasian guy stood with hands on hips, barking out orders in Spanish.That’s it. Turn a bit toward me…
Lucky took a few pictures with his cell phone. Several times he pulled away from the door when the woman looked his way. She said nothing, so she either didn’t see him or didn’t care. Did she think him another one of her bosses?
The overseer kept glancing at his cell phone. Checking the time, or getting a text or call?
The thudding stopped, and Yolanda emerged from the back room with a jar of pills, different from the ones the pair currently packed.
The apparent boss barked out another order. The woman filling bottles winced, but picked up her speed.
Hour after hour passed. Damn, but Lucky had to piss. At last the three workers headed out the door, Yolanda swaying slightly on her feet.
He’d go with them, but soon he’d pay this pharmacy a visit in the daylight.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The next night, Lucky didn’t even bother hiding his activities from Bo. “We’re going to a movie,” he said, nodding toward his partner.
Ty perked up from his spot on the couch, even pausing his video game. “Oh? What movie?”
“Ty, let them have a date night,” Charlotte admonished.
Nice save. “We don’t know yet.” Hand at the small of Bo’s back, Lucky ushered him out the front door.
They met Johnson and picked up their loaner-mobile. “I can’t believe you still use this old thing,” Bo said. “As much as you hated it the first time Judy assigned it to you.”
Judy. Of course Bo knew the name of the keeper of impounded vehicles. “No one’s tried to steal it yet, except for those gawdawful rims.”
“True.”
This time Lucky drove, Bo beside him in the front, with Johnson crammed into the back, slurping a Big Gulp. Just another exciting night in the world of drug enforcement.
They parked the car on a side street with a visual of the warehouse parking lot. Sure enough, the van pulled up at ten fifteen.
Lucky followed them for two hours as they made their way around Atlanta, dropping off deliveries. Soon they’d hear bitching about the missing bottles Lucky had taken.
After five a.m., once the workers left the pharmacy, the van pulled up. He recorded the van being loaded and pulling away—headed back to the warehouse.
***
“Where would you like to start?” A sixtyish woman with graying brown hair and intelligent green eyes led Lucky through the front of the pharmacy to the back. She didn’t appear alarmed at their unannounced visit. Records showed several SNB audits in the past, never turning up anything of importance.
“How many people work here?” he asked.
“Three pharmacists, plus myself, five technicians, and two clerks to mind the front counter.” She kept her delivery matter-of-fact, answering the question without volunteering more information. So, she knew the drill.
Lucky read from the audit list he’d used many times before during inspections. “What are your normal hours of operation?”
“We open at ten, and close at five-thirty.”
“Is anyone on the premises before or after those times?”
“I get here before nine every morning, make sure the place is ready to go. I leave as late as seven.”
“No one at night?”
“No.” She gave a throaty laugh. “We’re just a small, family-run business, not Walgreens.”
Pictures of smiling faces hung from a wall behind the register. “Are those all your employees?”
