Lucky glanced Ty’s way before pulling out of the line of cars. None of his body language indicated lying. “Good.”
They rode in silence for a while.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Ty ventured.
Lucky shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “Why? You already said you weren’t talking.”
From the corner of his vision Lucky witnessed Ty’s side-eye. “Never stopped you before.”
“It’s stopping me now.” The “ignore them and they’ll talk” method never failed to work for Lucky’s mother.
Five miles later Ty broke. “Oh, all right. I don’t know where they came from. I got a D in algebra, Coach told me I’d have to get my grades up to stay on the team, and then the bottle showed up in my locker with a note telling me how to use them.”
Lucky braked hard. What the ever-loving fuck? Bad enough taking counterfeit pills, but the kid didn’t even know who they came from. Ah, the young of the species. So naïve. “Did you keep the notes?” A horn sounding behind him put Lucky’s foot back on the accelerator.
Brow wrinkled, Ty used his best,“Well, duh!”tone. “No.”
Fuck, Lucky swerved into a deserted parking lot and faced Ty. “You mean to tell me, after all the horror stories you’ve heard from me and Bo, you took drugs when you didn’t even know what was in them or where they came from?”
“Only two people have a key to my locker.”
“Who?”
“Me. And Coach.”
Fuck, indeed.
***
If anyone noticed the tension between Ty and Lucky over supper, no one commented. Charlotte rambled on about school work, oddly bubbly for this time of day, and Bo stayed strangely quiet.
The moment they stood up from the table, Bo’s phone chimed. He glanced at the screen, face unreadable. “I have to go,” he said, giving Lucky a quick kiss in passing.
Really? Anyone but Bo getting a mystery text and dashing out the door might signal cheating. Bo didn’t cheat, wouldn’t cheat.
“Is something going on between you two?” Charlotte asked.
“Just work. He’s trying to make sure human trafficking victims are treated right.”
“Human trafficking?” Charlotte blanched. “That happens here?”
“Happens everywhere, I’m sorry to say.” And would end now, if Lucky got his way. In all likelihood, Bo’s mad dash out the door meant Mercy General.
Lucky gave Bo space—for now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lucky saved all information on Ty’s coach, the magistrate, the pharmacy, and the doctor, trying to connect the dots. He also tossed in the other places Yolanda’s coworkers dropped off packages.
Johnson gave up all pretense of Bo ever coming back and moved her computer, files, and family pictures to Bo’s desk.
So far, jocks and rich kids took the pills, from what Ty said.
Who else took them? According to Walter, the samples Lucky brought from the warehouse raid contained thyroid meds, statins for cholesterol, and medication for high blood pressure. They contained the right ingredients, but the strengths varied. Inconsistent batches?
With pharmaceutical prices forever rising, people turned to other sources for cheaper meds, too trusting they’d get the right drugs. Assholes like the ones involved at the warehouse took full advantage.
His desk phone rang. No one ever called the landline anymore. He lifted the receiver. “Harrison.”
