“Everything’s done. All we have to do is show up. The last thing we needed to finalize was the reception but my mom said she had that sorted and I didn’t need to worry.”
There was the calm, cool, and collected Adalynn I knew.
“Oh, we’re going to postpone our business meeting about Women, Inc,” Liberty told me.
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up about that name, cousin. Hadley’s willing to fight until the bitter end on the name,” Quinn said.
With all the chatter I’d forgotten Ian was sitting nearby. My gaze went from my friends gathered around my desk to the big, overstuffed chairs arranged near the wall and found him staring at us with a wide smile. He didn’t look put out or annoyed he had to listen to us cackle and gossip. He looked thoughtful, and if his smile was anything to go by, I’d say amused.
“What else are you going to name a business that’s run by all women, that’s sole purpose is to lift up women?” Liberty asked.
“Lift up women?”
“Outreach,” Quinn started. “Self-defense, employment readiness, navigating enrolling in college or trade school, help with finding scholarships, information on the military and what jobs the different branches offer, ASVAB, GED, you name it we’re gonna do it. Women inspiring women. Aunt Lily ran a charity a long time ago when she lived in California. She’s going to help us get started and the Aunts will help with fundraising but the day-to-day will be us. The women of TC. Us giving back.”
Without having to think about it I said, “I love it. I’m in. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll make the time.”
“Are you sure?” Liberty inquired.
“Positive.”
I felt eyes on me and looked back over at Ian. He was looking down at his tablet but he was doing it smiling a smile that was a little bit conspiratorial and a whole lot secretive.
23
I scanned the whiteboard Nick flipped over as soon as Lauren left the room, following the lines and information someone had spent a great deal of time drawing—dates, times, places, overdoses—all leading back to one person.
I felt the anger welling but before I could commit to the feeling Ethan spoke up. “We caught a break. A resident has been having issues with vandalism, kids knocking his mailbox over. He set up deer cameras at the end of his driveway and one on the other side of the street. The images are black and white, quality’s bad, but they were good enough for our guys to run. Isaac Robinson and Everett Moore.”
I heard Ethan but I couldn’t stop staring at the name on the board.
How in the fuck…
Echo’s aggravated voice interrupted my thoughts. “I know them. On the street Robinson’s known as Candy. You want pills, Robinson’s your go-to. Moore’s mostly the muscle. He’s been picked up for questioning but we’ve never had enough to make anything stick.” Echo worked with the drug task force, so knowing the suspects was both good and bad. “Something else about Moore; he’s never been caught in a sweep. We get intel he’s there, we get a team ready, but by the time we’re ready to kick down the door, he’s gone.”
“Who’s Moore connected to?” I inquired, not taking my eyes off the board.
“That’s the thing, we don’t know. One week he’s providing his services to a local gang, next week we’ll get word he’s providing transportation for a rival, and the week after that he’s out of town playing bodyguard. The unit can’t get a lock on him. How he operates is unheard of.”
Echo was correct; dealers didn’t like to share territory and they typically set up their own crews and trusted no one outside of their network. But I homed in on the out-of-town part of Echo’s explanation.
“Where out of town and who’s he protecting?”
“Not sure where exactly, but word is he works for a man called Lucky.”
“Lucky?”
My gaze cut to Echo’s but continued to move through the room when Jasper cut in.
“You know,” Jasper started. “Just fuckin’ once it’d be nice if everyone was on the same page. Shit might get done a fuckuva a lot faster if information was shared.”
Jasper was correct. It was annoying as fuck that the flow of information from the feds to local law enforcement was seriously lacking. Hell, there was even an issue locally—with all the different departments, intel moved at a snail’s pace.
“What information?” Echo’s question clearly conveyed his irritation.
“An old colleague of Jason’s from the DEA came to us about three months ago asking for help. A new date rape drug’s popping up in different cities. But just as fast as it hits the street it goes away. But then weeks later it’s back but with a different formula. The DEA believes Atlanta’s the test bed. New versions of the drug hit the market there first before they’re distributed,” I explained. “They also have a new distributor, Lucky. Chemistry’s different than anything the DEA or locals have on record. Most of today’s heroin comes from Afghanistan, but this comes from the old Golden Triangle, specifically Burma, and it’s cut with creatine. One specific brand is always used.”
“Burma?” Lauren squeaked from the doorway, Ian standing closely behind her. “Guy loves Burma. He has this huge picture on his wall of this circular rock that sits on the edge of a cliff. The rock is painted gold, and on top of the rock is this pagoda. He told me he took that picture when he visited Burma a few years ago.”
“Are you sure? There’s no record of Guy visiting Burma,” Lenox asked.
Typical Lenox. He, Jasper, Clark, and Levi were supposed to be retired, yet they were up to date on all of our cases. They might not come into the office but each of them still accessed our reports and would make notes or send emails when they had thoughts on a certain case.
“I’m positive. It was Burma—or Myanmar it’s called now.”
“You said the DEA thinks Atlanta’s a test bed,” Echo mused. “Are they thinking general rave, club population, or actual testing?”
That was an interesting question, one we were still trying to work out.
“We’re not a hundred percent sure but we think both,” Jason answered. “The women who’ve survived were all slipped the drug at nightclubs. And before you ask, they come in clusters. After the last batch, five women visited the ER, all with the same drug in their system, all of them had at one time been to a club called Images. The time before that it was a small dive bar called Andy’s. But the feds reported that overdoses are up significantly with prostitutes.”
“In the last two years we’ve had an upswing in overdoses,” Ethan admitted. “But the ones you don’t hear about are the ODs with the homeless and the prostitutes. Those numbers have skyrocketed. Could Lucky be testing his drugs on hookers?”
I felt Lauren’s eyes on me. Talk about an uncomfortable conversation for her to be a part of.
“Ren?”
Echo’s gaze cut to Lauren and recognition dawned. He gave me a lift of his chin and quickly stood to flip the board over.
“You don’t have to hide it from me,” she whispered.