His lips thinned into a line, but he nodded an acknowledgment. “Yes, other than those.”
“I’m peachy,” she said, keeping her tone light.
“Do you need some medicine for the nausea?”
She waved the suggestion away. “Actually, the increase in speed is working out better for me.” Her phone buzzed in her hand, but she ignored it. “I’m glad I didn’t ask Bud to forward the incoming calls from the office to this phone.” She gave her head a rueful shake. “I don’t have the stamina to do much at the moment.”
“Actually, you’re doing a lot,” he countered.
“As much as anyone parked on a seahorse bench can do,” she agreed, her tone dry as desert sand. “Emma Parker is following up on a lead on our suspect.”
He nodded. “Colonel Aronson said she was going to question someone you arrested.”
Cassidy leaned in, too, bracing her elbows on her knees to help alleviate some of the weight on her back and shoulders. “I barely remember the guy, and his discharge was more than ten years ago. Something doesn’t feel right. Why wait so long?”
“Revenge is best served cold?” He hazarded a guess.
She wove her fingers together and squeezed before shaking them out again. “Seems like a stretch. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to remember everything I can about the incident. Baker’s brother was driving him back to the base. We stopped them at the gate because we suspected the brother was driving impaired.”
“Was he?”
“Reeked of alcohol, but refused to submit to a field sobriety test.”
“Breathalyzer?”
She shook her head. “I tried to get him to do one, but he refused. Claimed since they were still in line to get past the gate, they were technically on city property, not on base and I had no authority.”
Jake’s eyebrows jumped. “What did you do?”
“Notified Jacksonville police and detained him until they arrived,” she said with a shrug.
“Did you arrest the brother?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said, nodding emphatically. “Trevor got out of the car, shooting his mouth off about how his brother was going to get him busted, and carrying on. We walked him through to the gatehouse then patted him down. Found enough to charge him with possession with intent to sell.”
“And his brother?”
“He was quiet at first,” she said, thinking back. She tried to conjure an image of either man, but figured she was likely superimposing the file photo Emma had sent over on whatever scraps of memory she had. “He was too quiet. Barely said a word.”
“Jacksonville PD took him in?”
“Yeah. Yeah, he had…so much.” She gave a short, sharp laugh. “Driving under the influence, though, would later get thrown out. His lawyer argued we hadn’t actually seen the vehicle move, so we couldn’t say for certain he was operating it.” She gave an indelicate snort, and he shook his head, no doubt pondering the many vagaries of due process, as cops so often do.
“Anyway, he had enough of a stash to stock a small pharmacy. Felony possession with intent to distribute. Also found a handgun.” She twisted her lips into a smirky smile. “Unregistered, of course. The elder Mr. Baker had a previous felony conviction.”
“Of course he did.”
Cassidy ignored his sarcasm, lost to her memories as the events of the long-ago confrontation came rushing back to her.
The rainbow of pills.
An avalanche of plasticine packets.
The skunk stench of weed seeping from the upholstery.
Airman Baker’s litany of curses.
His brother’s stony silence.
