“What if it wasn’t him? I mean, not just him. What if Terrance was the one bringing the drugs in and giving them to other students? What if someone else was in this fucking mess?”
Jack felt some of the pieces of the investigation fitting together, but there were too many unanswered questions. Martin Bogdin had means… a possible connection to a Baltimore distribution ring focusing on fitness centers. He had a motive… his son's scholarship. And he had opportunity… possibly the locker room and the team. Maybe, as Terrance’s dad, others would consider him trustworthy. But something still held Jack back. Something didn’t feel like they had all the pieces of the puzzle.
“We need to move on this now,” Jack said.
Mark nodded. “We can work on getting a warrant prepared to search his fitness center. You talk to Colt, make sure we've got backup and a solid plan.”
Jack headed back to Colt's office, his mind already running through logistics. They'd need to time the arrest carefully. Needed to make sure they had enough evidence to make charges stick. Needed to protect the kids who'd been taking the steroids, get them medical help before there were more emergencies.
Colt listened to Jack's rundown, his expression growing darker with each detail. When Jack finished, Colt stood and walked to his office window, hands clasped behind his back.
Colt said quietly, “A gym owner possibly distributing to minors. He’s active in the community. Part of the American Legion. Sponsors high school athletics. His own son in the hospital. This isn't just a criminal case, Jack. This is going to hit the community.”
“I know.” Jack nodded, the weight of it settling on his shoulders. This was about protecting an entire community of kids who'd been manipulated and lied to. Kids who thought they were doing what they needed to do to succeed, only to find out they'd been used. “We don’t know it was Martin, but it’s a credible possibility.”
“Keep working it,” Colt said.
“Mark and I are heading to the hospital. We’ll keep you informed.” With a nod, he headed back to the bullpen to get his partner.
The hospital room was on the third floor, a private space with beige walls and the sterile smell of antiseptic. Terrance Bogdin lay in the bed, hooked up to monitors that beeped steadily, an IV line running into his arm. He was awake but groggy, his eyes half-closed, his skin still sickly pale.
Martin and Charlotte Bogdin sat in the chairs beside the bed. Charlotte held Terrance’s hand while Martin’s shoulders were hunched and his hands clasped between his knees. He looked up when Jack and Mark entered, and his expression immediately shifted to surprise. “Jack? Mark? What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Bogdin, we need to ask you some questions about what happened to Terrance.”
“He collapsed at school. That's what happened.” Martin stood, crossing his arms over his chest. “The doctors are running tests. They’ve said he had some substances in him, but I’m telling you, my boy would never take drugs. He believes in his body too much.”
“The doctors have informed us,” Mark said quietly. “The toxicology report came back. Terrance had anabolic steroids in his system.”
Martin's face went pale, then flushed red. “That's impossible. My boy wouldn't?—”
“Mr. Bogdin.” Jack interrupted, his voice hardening. “We need to know if you have any information. We know there is a link between a pharmaceutical company operating illegally out of Baltimore that has a contact down here. And fitness centers were mentioned. You have the only fitness center in this county.”
Charlotte gasped, and Martin's jaw clenched. He looked at Terrance, still barely conscious in the hospital bed, then back at Jack.
“We can step outside if that’s better for you,” Jack suggested.
Martin nodded and followed Jack and Mark into the hall. Once at the small lounge that was empty, Martin sucked in a deep breath, his hands clenched at his sides. “Terrance is a good athlete. Good enough wrestler for a full-ride scholarship. That was his future. I wanted him to be the best possible.”
“By giving him illegal drugs?” Jack's voice was cold.
Martin jerked, and his eyes narrowed. “I never gave him anything but vitamins and watched his diet. We worked with a private trainer who came over from Virginia Beach once a week, and followed his regimen,” Martin bit out. His eyes darted between Jack and Mark, desperation creeping into his voice. “If there were steroids in my son, he didn't get them from me.”
“Who else can you think would be involved?” Mark asked. “One of the wrestlers? One of the coaches?”
Martin's jaw tightened. For a long moment, he didn't say anything. Then his shoulders sagged slightly. “I trusted the coaches with my son. David talked about Terrance being one of the best in the state.” Martin's hands were shaking now. “I was a state wrestler back in my day, and it opened doors for me.”
“Just to let you know, we’re obtaining a search warrant on your fitness center,” Jack began.
“Go ahead. I have nothing to hide. I would never do what you’re suggesting.” Martin's face twisted with anguish. “He's my son. I just wanted him to have a future.”
Jack and Mark exchanged a glance before leaving the lounge. As they left the hospital, Jack hoped Terrance would still have a chance at a future, and that the steroids hadn’t taken away his chance to live a long, full life.
30
Like most teachers that day, Rachel tried to maintain the students’ focus, but the excitement and horror of having a popular senior collapse with convulsions and being taken away by ambulance was the topic of every conversation and on everyone’s minds. Finally, the bell rang for lunch, and her class rushed from the room. She sighed, unable to believe the day was only half over.
She gathered her lunch bag and walked toward the teacher’s lounge. As she looked through the library windows from the hall, she noticed Tyler Morrison sitting at one of the back tables with his phone out, his fingers flying over the keyboard. When Rachel approached, he looked up, and his face went pale.
