Decision (Diversion Book 8)

by Eden Winters

“Making many friends?” Except for Keith-the-official-workplace-asshole’s daughter, he’d not seen Ty with anyone his own age recently, though he spoke on his cell phone often.

  “Yeah. A couple guys on the team.”

  Short, clipped answers. To the point. No volunteering information. The same technique Lucky taught prospective agents to not give away too much.

  He’d not been a big part of his nephew’s life until recently, but no familiarity was necessary to recognize Ty hid something. Lucky blew out a breath. Asking would only earn him evasive answers and make Ty more cautious of whatever he’d thrown into the bag.

  What was Lucky thinking? Ty was no felon. Chances were he’d simply hidden a love letter from his girlfriend or something. Nothing to worry about at all. “It’s about time for supper. Your mama’s busy. What say we rustle up something to eat?”

  Ty slammed his book shut. “Okay.” He tucked the book into the backpack and sat waiting for Lucky to leave. So he could hide the bag?

  This was his nephew; he couldn’t simply search Ty’s things based on suspicion. He’d destroy the fragile trust they’d built up over the last few weeks. Still, something seemed off.

  And even Walter paid attention to Lucky’s gut instincts.

  Could Ty have cigarettes in there? Booze? Drugs?

  No, Lucky, just because you did those things, doesn’t mean he does.

  ***

  Loretta Johnson sat at Bo’s desk, sipping coffee and tapping away on her laptop. As much time as she spent in Lucky’s shared cube, she might as well move in.

  But her moving in meant Bo moving out permanently, which he pretty much had already, sharing Walter’s office while learning to replace the boss someday.

  Lucky’s heart gave a painful squeeze. As much as he’d hated having Rookie Boy Schollenberger thrust on him all those years ago, now, how was he going to get by without glancing over to see Bo smiling back at him?

  “Well, damn,” Johnson groused, shattering Lucky’s delusions of Bo coming back.

  “What?”

  “Spring carnival at Rone’s school tonight. I promised I’d go. Then he’ll want me to take him for ice cream. I won’t get home until late.”

  Wait another day? But one day Lucky might be the one rearranging his schedule for parental duties. He could hardly fault her. “I could go alone.”

  Did she just growl? “Oh, hell no, you won’t. I brought you this case, and you sure as hell aren’t going to push me to the side on this one.”

  “Why, Johnson, you sound like you have a personal stake in this.”

  Lucky would hate to see the anger sparking in her eyes aimed at him. “Any compassionate human being would. If these people are being forced to do illegal work, we have to find out who’s pulling their strings and stop them.”

  “And if nothing illegal is going on?” Lucky would bet his prized Camaro they’d find someone doing something wrong, if nothing else, renting out apartments in a building in need of a “Condemned, no trespassing” sign on the door.

  “Then I’ll quietly slink off and lick my wounds.” She fixed him in place with a no-nonsense glower. “But, Lucky? I ain’t wrong.”

  He might not blow his asshole reputation by agreeing out loud, but inside, he did. “Are you honestly wanting me to sit on my ass and do nothing until you can come with me?”

  “Damned skippy.”

  “What about Wednesday night?”

  “Gran will take Rone with her to church. I’ll be free and tell them I’m working late.” She shrugged. “Sad to say, but they’re used to it.”

  Would Lucky’s children one day have to “get used to it” when he stayed out late? With Bo taking a desk job, maybe they’d coordinate for proper parental coverage at home.

  If and when they had a kid.

  “Okay.”

  Johnson beamed, snapped her laptop closed, and rose from the chair. “Thanks, man. I owe you one.” She tucked the laptop under one arm and strode off toward her own cubicle, leaving her empty coffee cup on the desk. The nerve!

  Lucky glanced down at his own desk, where six empty Starbucks cups shared space with a stained travel mug from home.

  Having no room to talk never stopped him before. He rose, picked up the cup, traipsed down to the cube she shared with three trainees, and dropped it on her desk.

  Too bad none of the trainees were present. Growling at a few might work off some frustration. “You left something.”

  Johnson rolled her eyes upward. “Really? You brought that all the way down here instead of throwing it in the trash?”

  Tossing her own words back at her, he grinned and said, “Damned skippy,” and sauntered back to his own desk. Yep. That felt good. Not as good as doing recon work on an illicit warehouse, but good nonetheless.

  He sat at his desk. All the newbies being in classes with Jameson O’Donoghue, the hot-shot trainer on loan from DEA, freed up some of Lucky’s time. Which almost made Lucky appreciate the man.

  Almost, but not quite. The guy’s shitty taste in associates still griped Lucky’s ass.

  After a quick right-left perusal of the hall outside his cube, he put on his readers and scrolled through articles and records, entering search terms and coming up empty. Though he’d been taken off the case for being too close, somewhere out there Owen Landry still lurked— with plenty of reasons to hold a grudge.

  The strait-laced man who’d come across as too timid to be much of a threat turned out to be one of the worst criminals Lucky ever encountered, totally without remorse, uncaring who he threw under the bus, as long as he achieved his goals.

  A psychopath.

  Landry’s goals included million-dollar deals, but still, a nutjob. A nutjob who’d tried to kill Walter, as well as an innocent businessman who’d committed the crime of developing something Landry wanted.

  Lucky got in his way, making Landry a nutjob with a grudge. Would he take that grudge out on Lucky’s nearest and dearest? Only a few years ago, Lucky’d had nothing to lose. Now Bo, Charlotte, and Ty might get caught in the crosshairs of someone else’s spite.

  What if he, Bo, and Charlotte succeeded in bringing a child into the world?

  Off the case or no, if the opportunity presented itself to bring the man down, he damned sure would.

  Wasn’t “the asshole needed killing” a viable motive in the South?

  To protect his family, Lucky would take the man out. Unlike with the guy he might or might not have killed in Mexico, he’d lose no sleep over ending the life of someone who’d caused so much damage already, and might cause more if left unchecked.

  Add to those one more reason: Lucky hated looking over his shoulder.

  No time to worry now. He had a job to do, prompting him to abandon his search on Owen Landry in favor of his latest case. Like the bus, the van’s registration listed the fictitious cleaning company. Maybe he’d have better luck with the doctor’s office he’d trailed the car to.

  Dr. Desmond Keel, family practitioner, who’d leased the office space five years ago from a retiring ear, nose, and throat guy.

  All licenses in order, no viable complaints other than the usual Yelp grumbling about high prices and office wait times.

  Yet, he took late night deliveries from the back of his building. Damn, but Lucky wanted to raid that warehouse, try to find more of a connection.

  As soon as he could get together with Johnson.

  At some point during the day, his Internet searches wandered from warehouses and apartment buildings to drugs popular with high school kids.

  Chapter Ten

  Ty shot through the front door. His backpack caught on the doorknob and dropped from his shoulder, spilling books onto the floor. “Fuck!”

  Lucky glanced up from his laptop. His nephew crouched on the floor, shoving pens and papers back into his bag. He spun this way and that, peering under the couch.

  An amber pill bottle sat on the rug, blending with the colors. Lucky placed his socked foot on the plastic cyli
nder.

  Charlotte followed Ty inside, clutching a Food World bag in one hand and closed the door. Ty snatched up his backpack and ran toward his room like he’d been shot from a cannon.

  “What’s his problem?” Lucky asked, rolling the bottle underneath the couch and out of sight. No need to worry his sister until he found out what the bottle contained.

  Charlotte shrugged. “No idea. He’s been acting strange all afternoon. He even turned down a trip to the mall to come home and study.”

  Check one off the list of “symptoms of teenage drug abuse.”

  Calling on experience dealing with drug dealers, Lucky kept his voice casual. “You know, I never asked before, but does Ty take any meds?”

  Charlotte paused on her way to the kitchen. “Huh? No. Why?”

  Think, Lucky, think. “Just saw an article today about how many kids were on allergy meds and such.”

  Charlotte’s stiff posture relaxed. “Nope. My boys are healthy as horses. Eat like them too. Let me go fill the trough.” She disappeared into the kitchen.

  Lucky waited until the clang of pans and thump of cabinet doors promised she’d be busy for a while, and picked up the bottle off the floor. Normal pharmacy bottle with child-proof cap, but without a label. The kind readily available on the Internet. He took out a small white pill. No markings that he could make out, not even by squinting. Not good.

  He peered into the bottle. Thirteen pills in all. He slipped two into his pocket, shoved the bottle under the couch, and stepped out of the sliding glass doors. Moose followed him into the warm evening. Standing off to the side, out of sight, Lucky waited.

  Moose butted his hand, gazing up with hopeful brown eyes, and let out a whine.

  Despite his nephew fears, Lucky couldn’t fight a smile. “Hey there, boy. Got some ears you need rubbing and Charlotte ain’t around?” He scratched behind Moose’s ear. Moose moaned and leaned in to Lucky’s hand, hind foot tapping on the floor.

  Spoilt critter.

  Sure enough, Ty emerged from his room, glanced right and left, then dove straight for the couch. Relief lit his face when he retrieved the bottle.

  Oh fuck. Ty had drugs. No amount of wishful thinking would make the bottle magically disappear.

  What should Lucky do? Tell Charlotte? Hell, he was the narcotics agent. What if the bottle contained something harmless?

  Not with Ty’s actions.

  All through dinner Lucky kept a close watch on his nephew, once again scrolling through a list of drug use symptoms. No dilated pupils, shaking hands, hyperactivity, lethargy. Nope. Lucky stood from the table first. “I’ll get the dishes.” Charlotte and Bo both raised their brows at him.

  “What?” came from two directions.

  “It’s just that you don’t usually volunteer for cleanup duty,” Charlotte said, cutting off whatever smartass comment Bo might make.

  “Hey, I can do my part around here.” He’d promised to be a better partner for Bo. Maybe tonight he’d kill two birds with one stone. “Bo, Charlotte, why don’t you take Moose for a walk?”

  “Actually,” a flush rose to Charlotte’s cheeks. “I’ve made some new friends on an online craft site, and they’re having a get-together. I thought I’d go.” Lots of cheek color for a woman bound for a quilting bee.

  On second thought, she’d gone through the trouble of putting on makeup, her hair long and loose instead of in a ponytail. Well, she hadn’t gotten out much. Making friends would do her good.

  Charlotte kissed Lucky, Ty, and Bo on the cheeks. “I shouldn’t be too late.” She dashed out the door like hell hounds nipped at her ankles—or a mean-assed Chihuahua.

  “I’ll take Moose for a walk.” Bo kissed Lucky’s other cheek and called, “C’mon, Moose.”

  Ty rose from the table and tried to creep from the room. Oh, no. Not so fast. “Ty, stay and help me.” Wow, Lucky hadn’t meant for his suggestion to crack like a whip.

  Deer caught in the headlights didn’t look as scared as Ty. “Why?”

  Why, indeed. “One day you’ll need to know this stuff.”

  Ty scrunched his nose, lips twisted. “No, I won’t. I’ll get married and my wife will do the cooking and cleaning.”

  Bo shouted from the living room, “Good luck with that.” The door clicked shut behind him.

  Lucky threw down the dishcloth he’d been holding and turned on Ty. “Is there anything you want to tell me?” He’d just gotten to the point where Ty spoke to him without growling. But like hell would he let his nephew go down the same road he’d been when he’d fucked his life up so badly he’d only recently gotten on an even keel again.

  “No.” Ty busied himself stacking dishes on the table. At least he intended to do his share of the work.

  Lucky pulled the pills out of his pocket. “What are these?”

  Ty glanced back over his shoulder and froze, then narrowed his eyes. “Where did you get those?” He didn’t try to lie and say, “I have no idea.” Good thing, or a bad thing?

  “From the bottle that fell out of your backpack.”

  Ty said nothing.

  Oh fuck. Why didn’t Ty simply deny everything? His silence came far too close to an admission. Lucky could deal with drugs being in the world and the people who abused them, made a career out of dealing with them. But not in his own home. He clenched his jaw to keep his voice even. “I’m waiting.”

  Ty glared hot enough to melt lead. “They’re nothing, okay? Just something to help me study. All the kids at school take them.”

  Chills ran down Lucky’s body. “Where did you get them?”

  Ty stared at the floor. “From somebody at school.”

  “Do you know what they are?” Lucky didn’t really need an answer. First thing tomorrow he’d have the pills tested.

  “ADHD drugs. They help you focus.” So cocky, so bold.

  Like Lucky at sixteen. “Why do you take them?” Ty never showed the slightest symptoms of any attention deficit disorder.

  Ty snorted. “Have you seen my grades? Classes here are different from back ho… in Spokane. If I didn’t take them, I’d be kicked off the team.”

  Wow! How the hell was Lucky supposed to handle a full confession? Well, the unlikely worked so far. He’d try reason. “Whatever they are, there’s no markings.” He held out the pill. “Manufacturers always stamp something on the tablets. When you get a prescription, the label says what’s on the pill.” Maybe a demonstration would be in order. Fumbling around in the kitchen cabinet, Lucky found a blister packet of cold medicine. He popped the tablet from the pack and handed it over with one of the pills he’d gotten from Ty. “See the difference?”

  Ty stared at Lucky’s hand for a long moment, then picked up the two pills and held them close to his nose. He said nothing when he returned them.

  “Whatever these are”—Lucky lifted the unstamped pill— “they probably aren’t what you think they are.”

  In a move so like Bo in stubborn mode, Ty lifted his chin, defiance in his eyes. “What are you gonna do?”

  What, indeed? Lucky faced kids like this on a regular basis, who took something they thought harmless and wound up in over their heads. How many meth addicts started out with something they believed innocuous? “First, I’m going to have these pills analyzed. Then, I’m going to talk to whoever you got them from.”

  The color drained from Ty’s face. “You can’t do that! You want the guys on the team to hate me?” He slapped a hand over his mouth.

  Too late. Guys on the team? “Tyler, there’s no telling what’s in these pills. They could have no active ingredient, or too much. They could kill you.” Case after case came over Lucky’s desk in the past few years, athletes taking performance enhancing drugs and winding up dying.

  The young always thought the horrors shown on the news every single night of the week couldn’t happen to them.

  “They haven’t hurt me so far. Like I said, everybody takes ‘em.”

  A thousand cases, a thousand crime
photos of people who felt the same way, like a young woman Lucky had once found lying dead on the floor, leaving her three small children without a mother.

  How could he deal with this shit every day and overlook it in his own home? “How long have you been taking them?”

  Ty stared at the floor, scuffing the toe of one shoe across the tile. “Two weeks.”

  Fuck. Lucky held out his hand. “Give me the bottle.”

  “But—”

  How could his nephew do something this stupid? Knowing he’d been stupid as a young ‘un too kept Lucky’s anger in check. “You do realize I could arrest you, right? If you give me the pills, tell me where you got them, then you’re cooperating in an investigation.” God, how he hated turning agent on his own nephew. Better him than Atlanta PD.

  The color flooded back into Ty’s face, a rush of red up to his ears. “What the fuck, man? You wouldn’t.”

  Lucky met Tyler’s attitude and raised him some stubborn. “Only if you make me.” Please, God, let Ty not make him. With a few simple words he’d turned his nephew against him again. “Go get the rest of those pills. I want them, now.”

  Ty pursed his lips, balling his hands into fists, but relented and retrieved the bottle. Good. He hadn’t taken any since Lucky found them.

  An unsuspecting school district might have a huge fucking problem. If the problem hadn’t escalated to elsewhere.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lucky stood on the back deck, staring out at the night, serenaded by a few early crickets and the occasional frog. Too much went on in his head to sleep: Landry, the folks Rett worried about, Bo’s new job and how it would affect their future, Charlotte getting pregnant.

  Charlotte not getting pregnant.

  Now Ty.

  Possibly a whole school full of Tys.

  Bo stepped out onto the deck and became a first-class back warmer. Lucky leaned into the embrace. Part of him wanted to say “Go back to bed”, but another part of him needed Bo more now than ever before.

  Dealing with drugs on the streets, or factories, or taking out supply chains seemed relatively easy compared to facing the battle dropped onto his doorstep.