Walter nodded. “Yes, but he’s not talking.”
“He got a lawyer.” Fuck.
“Public defender.”
What? All that drug money and the guy couldn’t afford his own attorney?
“His accounts were frozen,” Walter said by way of explanation.
God, Lucky hated dealing with lowlifes with no regard for other people. “Has DEA managed to keep things quiet?”
“As quiet as an operation of this size can be.”
“Call off the dogs. Let me talk to him.”
“The DEA has taken over this case, Lucky.”
“Yeah, but I think they could use the help of a cocky little bantam rooster, don’t you?”
“You, offering to help them?” Walter raised an eyebrow in question, one side of his mouth lifting. “What happened to your usual animosity?”
Yeah, Lucky hated doing all the work and someone else getting the glory, but he’d be damned if this case ended here. He’d find the ringleaders if it was the last thing he did.
The DEA agents might be thorough, but nobody knew the dark underbelly of Atlanta like Lucky.
“I won’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.” Those words, coming from Walter Smith, meant Lucky’d better plan on interrogating a would-be pharmacist soon.
Until then, back to the office to see what else he could dig up.
***
Many of the names the teacher gave up belonged to a parent, each one likely thinking they were doing no harm, just helping their kids. The teacher swore she had no association with the coach, who’d had his own reasons to drug his students. Dear God, they’d be lucky if anyone remained at the school at the end of this investigation.
Still no lead on the ones calling the shots. They wouldn’t be as easy as apprehending the teacher and coach. But taking out the guppies and leaving the piranhas wouldn’t end the problem. With money to be made, the bosses would only regroup. Time to shut them down before they hurt anyone else.
Keith and his team collected cellphones and bank records of all the suspects charged thus far.
A shadow fell across his desk, moving too fast to be Walter, and Bo would’ve kissed him, or at least put a hand on his arm. Yeah, Lucky’s touchy-feely man liked contact. Johnson was in the field. Must be a rookie. Damn it. Lucky glanced up, ready to growl.
Jameson O’Donoghue stared down at him. Lucky nearly growled anyway, but Bo’s promotion meant he’d soon be the boss, and Lucky’s bullshit couldn’t be allowed to spill over onto Bo. Better play nice.
No matter how badly Lucky didn’t want to.
“Yeah?”
The DEA loaner kept his face free of tells. “Our pharmacy school dropout wised up and cooperated. He’s scheduled a meeting in the old building where they stored the inventory.”
Hallelujah! Probably too early to rejoice, but all afternoon squirmy feelings in the pit of his stomach had tied him up in knots. Someone needed to go down besides the small-time criminals they’d already caught.
“And?” O’Donoghue could’ve emailed or called with his news. He’d hunted Lucky down for a reason, a reason Lucky bet he’d hate.
“DEA is considering your offer.”
Maybe not. “They talked to you?” Really? He’d expected to have to get Boss and Bo involved to keep lead on this case. Then again, maybe O’Donoghue shot the idea down and came here to gloat.
“Yes.” O’Donoghue leaned against Bo’s desk, folding his arms across his chest.
Fuck, there went his case. O’Donoghue acted too smug for Lucky to get the answer he wanted. “And?”
