For a consultation, most likely the doctor met with Bo in an office. Bypassing the bathroom, Lucky scooted down the hallway to the office. A curtain hung next to the door.
Lucky swept back the thin fabric, revealing a small storage closet.
“Can I help you, sir?” a frosty voice asked.
Fuck. Busted. Lucky turned to face the stern-looking woman with her arms folded across her chest. Simple answers worked best. “I was looking for the bathroom.”
The nurse’s suspicion melted. “Oh, it’s that way. I’ll take you.” She waited for Lucky to catch up. “Don’t worry, sir. Patients get lost all the time back here.”
He’d bet, especially as the storage closet held bottles of counterfeit pills. Pills that hadn’t been there on his last visit. Did Dr. Keel know what his colleague got up to in his absence?
Lucky took his time in the bathroom, texting Walter,“We have probable cause.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Lucky met Bo at the designated rendezvous point and climbed into the Lexus. His butt squeaked over the leather seat, and the scent of leather reminded him of Bo’s chaps. Leather gave Lucky woodies. “What’d you find out?”
“I told him my son might not make the football team this year, due to bad grades, and that if he didn’t pull his grades up, he’d never get into a good college. I said a friend told me he might be able to help, then spent the next five minutes stroking his ego.” Muscles tensed in Bo’s jaw.
“Does he want to see the son?”
“No. I recorded the whole conversation, but mostly he asked me questions, and finally diagnosed Junior with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.”
“What kind of questions?” Not that the questions mattered when the doctors didn’t even bother to examine the actual patient.
“Mostly ones where he fed me the information, like did my son have difficulty paying attention and following instructions, completing tasks, and was he awkward in social settings. I told him yes.”
“Let me guess, he wrote you a prescription.”
“Worse.” Bo reached into the console and extracted a pill bottle. No label, dosing instructions, or patient’s name, all legally required. “He said they were five milligram Adderall, but who knows until the lab report comes back.”
Lucky let out a low whistle. “He just gave these to you? The two guys who left before you went back likely got the same deal. How much did he charge you?”
“Four dollars a pill, two hundred for the office visit.” Bo stopped at a red light and faced Lucky. “In cash.”
Lucky’s work phone rang, Walter Smith’s name appearing on the screen. “Tell me some good news, boss man,” he said by way of answering.
“We’ve obtained the warrant. Be in my office bright and early tomorrow.”
***
After a sleepless night, Lucky and Bo sat in Walter’s office, their evidence on the desk. Johnson strolled past an empty chair to lean against the bookcase. The bottle he’d gotten from Ty sat a few inches away.
Walter leaned back in his chair, several printed pages in his hand. “The samples you found in the warehouse matched the ones you brought in, Lucky.” He peered over the documents, brows drawing close together. “You still haven’t told me where you acquired them.”
“Student. Local high school.” True enough. “He’s cooperating with the investigation.” If Walter pushed, Lucky would have to give up his nephew. May Walter see the bigger picture and not grasp for details.
“From what you tell me, also from undisclosed sources, the perpetrators of this crime may be guilty of human trafficking.” Walter slammed his hand down on the desk, dislodging a stack of papers. “While I’d love nothing more than for the SNB to bring them to justice, this is now a federal matter. FDA, DEA, Homeland Security, and Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Plus, I believe I’ve mentioned speaking with anti-trafficking and victim’s advocacy groups.”
Yeah, yeah. Story of Lucky’s life. Go in, risk his neck, rack up evidence, only to have someone else take the credit.
As long as it freed those poor souls. God, he couldn’t even imagine the life they led, no freedom, being forced to work for no pay, the threat of arrest and prison hanging over their heads.
“What will happen to the workers?” Bo crossed his ankle over his bouncing knee.
“They’ll be evaluated on a case by case basis. If they’re here against their wills, they’re victims of human trafficking, not criminals. Though the case is now out of our jurisdiction, I’ll do all I can to ensure their well-being.” Walter would too.
As would Bo.
