Decision (Diversion Book 8)

by Eden Winters

  “I’ve got enough hours in. I haven’t gotten to hang out with him lately.” He dared not tell his sister he planned to interview an informant, namely, her son. He’d still not worked up the nerve to tell her about Ty’s involvement with his case. This early in the process, the fewer people who knew details outside of the investigation, the better.

  Besides, preventing a blowup at home meant he also stood a chance of cultivating Ty as a source of information. As a student and athlete, Ty had connections, knew how to get pills. And from whom.

  Once Lucky had something concrete…

  “Good by me. I’ve got a lot of coursework to do this afternoon so I’m going to the library. Thanks, brother. You’re the best.” In all her years in Spokane, she’d never lost the Southern in her voice. Back down below the Mason-Dixon line, she twanged with the best of them.

  Sometimes to the point even Lucky worked hard to understand her. Likely, men still bought her drinks in bars just to hear her talk, on the rare occasion she went out with Rett, now curtailed to pursue mamahood.

  Which brought to mind Salters, and his futile attempts to get Lucky to play matchmaker. No way, no how.

  He scooted down the hallway. With any luck he’d hit the elevators before anyone noticed his escape.

  Lisa stopped him at the reception desk, glancing down the hallway first before opening her mouth. “Hi, Lucky,” she said in hushed tones, with a shy smile. “How’s the family?”

  She’d only recently lost her fear of him, and probably didn’t dare risk calling him anything but “Mr. Harrison” or “Agent Harrison” at work if others were around to hear.

  Please, no idle chitchat, not with places to go and people to interrogate. Lucky gave a noncommittal, “Fine,” and punched the down arrow for the elevator. Maybe she’d take the hint. “How’s your boy?” he asked, ‘cause he dared not let Bo catch wind of him being standoffish.

  Her smile widened. “Great. Growing like a weed.”

  The elevator door swished open and Lucky made his escape. Things were so much easier when the whole department avoided him and his asshole attitude.

  He drove out of the city to what once had been a separate town, now engulfed by urban sprawl, and pulled into the line of cars waiting to pick up students. The bell rang and a pack of ravaging teenagers sauntered down the hill, some heading for student parking, others seeking their rides.

  Ty spotted him and, with true teenaged swagger, slowly made his way over to Lucky’s Camaro and hopped into the passenger seat.

  “Hey, Uncle Lucky. Why did you pick me up today?”

  “I was in the neighborhood,” Lucky lied. “Me and you haven’t hung out much lately.”

  “Is this about the pills? I’m still not talking.” Ty folded his arms across his chest, so like his mother in defiant mode.

  “Still taking them?”

  Ty stared down at the floor. “No.”

  Lucky glanced Ty’s way before pulling out of the line of cars. None of his body language indicated lying. “Good.”

  They rode in silence for a while.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me?” Ty ventured.

  Lucky shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “Why? You already said you weren’t talking.”

  From the corner of his vision Lucky witnessed Ty’s side-eye. “Never stopped you before.”

  “It’s stopping me now.” The “ignore them and they’ll talk” method never failed to work for Lucky’s mother.

  Five miles later Ty broke. “Oh, all right. I don’t know where they came from. I got a D in algebra, Coach told me I’d have to get my grades up to stay on the team, and then the bottle showed up in my locker with a note telling me how to use them.”

  Lucky braked hard. What the ever-loving fuck? Bad enough taking counterfeit pills, but the kid didn’t even know who they came from. Ah, the young of the species. So naïve. “Did you keep the notes?” A horn sounding behind him put Lucky’s foot back on the accelerator.

  Brow wrinkled, Ty used his best, “Well, duh!” tone. “No.”

  Fuck, Lucky swerved into a deserted parking lot and faced Ty. “You mean to tell me, after all the horror stories you’ve heard from me and Bo, you took drugs when you didn’t even know what was in them or where they came from?”

  “Only two people have a key to my locker.”

  “Who?”

  “Me. And Coach.”

  Fuck, indeed.

  ***

  If anyone noticed the tension between Ty and Lucky over supper, no one commented. Charlotte rambled on about school work, oddly bubbly for this time of day, and Bo stayed strangely quiet.

  The moment they stood up from the table, Bo’s phone chimed. He glanced at the screen, face unreadable. “I have to go,” he said, giving Lucky a quick kiss in passing.

  Really? Anyone but Bo getting a mystery text and dashing out the door might signal cheating. Bo didn’t cheat, wouldn’t cheat.

  “Is something going on between you two?” Charlotte asked.

  “Just work. He’s trying to make sure human trafficking victims are treated right.”

  “Human trafficking?” Charlotte blanched. “That happens here?”

  “Happens everywhere, I’m sorry to say.” And would end now, if Lucky got his way. In all likelihood, Bo’s mad dash out the door meant Mercy General.

  Lucky gave Bo space—for now.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Lucky saved all information on Ty’s coach, the magistrate, the pharmacy, and the doctor, trying to connect the dots. He also tossed in the other places Yolanda’s coworkers dropped off packages.

  Johnson gave up all pretense of Bo ever coming back and moved her computer, files, and family pictures to Bo’s desk.

  So far, jocks and rich kids took the pills, from what Ty said.

  Who else took them? According to Walter, the samples Lucky brought from the warehouse raid contained thyroid meds, statins for cholesterol, and medication for high blood pressure. They contained the right ingredients, but the strengths varied. Inconsistent batches?

  With pharmaceutical prices forever rising, people turned to other sources for cheaper meds, too trusting they’d get the right drugs. Assholes like the ones involved at the warehouse took full advantage.

  His desk phone rang. No one ever called the landline anymore. He lifted the receiver. “Harrison.”

  ‘Mr…, I mean, Agent Harrison?”

  Lucky checked the phone screen. Unknown number. “Who is this?”

  “It’s me, Kenny, remember? You know. I work at Food Mart.”

  Damn, Lucky hadn’t yet followed up on his promise. “I’m still arranging your ride.”

  “That’s not what I’m calling about.”

  Really? “What’s up?” Lucky eyed the clock on the wall. He really didn’t have time for this.

  “I… I… I told a few people that my dad was going to kill me if I didn’t get into Auburn.”

  Kenny stayed quiet for so long Lucky checked to see if the call disconnected. “And?”

  “And yesterday I found a note in my locker, telling me to leave forty-five dollars in an empty locker, and expect to pay the other forty-five when I got the pills.”

  Oh, shit. Lucky never intended for a civilian to make drug buys, especially one barely legal to vote. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

  “I did!” Kenny’s pride came through loud and clear.

  Lucky palmed his face. No, no, no, no.

  “I got the pills today, and paid the other forty-five.”

  “And still no idea who put them there.”

  “Sure do. What’s your cell number?”

  Did Lucky really want a give a pimply-faced kid his cell phone number, even if it was only his work phone? “Okay.” He recited the number and hung up. A moment later, a photo came through text, showing a well-dressed young woman with her hand on a locker door. This couldn’t be a student.

  His phone chimed again. “That’s my first period English teacher.”

/>   Da fuck? For the second time in twenty-four hours, Lucky headed for the school, to refund Kenny’s money, and warn him never to play hero again. The woman being a teacher didn’t make her any less dangerous than other drug dealers.

  He texted the photo to his two undercover rookies, who’d been outdone by a grocery checker.

  ***

  For the rest of the day Lucky waited for a call or text, pulling his phone out of his pocket every now and then to double check for missed messages. Why the hell was he so worried about a near stranger and her child? She wasn’t the first poor soul he’d met in the line of duty who deserved better than the shit life handed her.

  Or was Bo who he really worried about?

  Nothing. Not a word.

  Better get his mind off his personal life and more on the job, like figuring out the connection between drug dealers and Ty’s high school. He’d seen on the news about a recent scandal, parents paying university personnel to get their kids in.

  Some folks would do anything to give their kids an advantage.

  Surely there weren’t many in this school district with that kind of money.

  “Rett.” Lucky spun his chair toward the desk formerly occupied by Bo. He’d never get used to being apart from his lover, but with so little office space, he’d gladly share with her rather than anyone else. “Why would a school resort to drugs to increase students’ test scores?”

  She didn’t look up from her computer, nor did her fingers slow on the keyboard. Yep, she’d just volunteered to write all future reports. “How long have they been under suspicion?”

  “Why?”

  For several seconds she continued to type, moving her nose closer to the screen. With a final flourish she stilled her hands and deigned to face him. “If they got a bad reputation, they’d risk losing their best students. Parents may yank ‘em if the school is failing. No one wants their kid going to a sub-standard school. Once the mass exodus starts, it’s like a rock rollin’ downhill.”

  “Schools have political agendas?” A phrase Lucky learned from Bo. Her assessment backed up his earlier suspicions.

  “Doesn’t everybody?” She returned to whatever fascinated her on her computer screen.

  Surely no one would be stupid enough to pull such a stunt just to hold onto students, would they, especially a school already under a microscope? Lucky continued his searches. Every now and then, visions of Bo holding a baby came to his mind.

  A shadow fell over his desk—a large shadow, but not as large as a year ago. Walter Smith stood in the cube’s entrance. “You haven’t seen Bo, by any chance, have you?”

  “No, sir.”

  “If you do, tell him I need to see him in my office.” Walter ambled off without saying what he wanted with Bo. Bo? Out of Walter’s pocket? Lucky texted, “Bo, where are you?”

  Five minutes passed, ten minutes. Lucky gave up waiting for an answer and went back to work. First, Bo hid his plans from Lucky, and now Walter?

  Sure, the counselor said Bo had made tremendous progress in recovering from forced drug dependence and PTSD, but had he backslid? Why else be so secretive?

  Two hours before quitting time, a text from Bo said, “Come home. I need to talk to you.”

  Oh fuck. What now?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Bo paced through the living room, tugging at his hair, back and forth, from the fireplace, to the front door, to the sliding glass door, and back to the fireplace. How much had he paid to get Charlotte and Ty out of the house?

  Craning his neck from the relative safety of the couch nearly gave Lucky whiplash. “Say what’s on your mind already.”

  Bo stopped in his tracks, meeting Lucky’s gaze and turning away.

  Not good. Not good at all. Lucky stood up and timed his steps to intercept his agitated man. Placing his hands on Bo’s shoulders, he braced himself for bad news. “What? Just spit it out already.” So we can deal with it remained unsaid.

  Bo tried to wrench out of Lucky’s grasp, but Lucky wasn’t having any of Bo’s running away. At last Bo sighed a breath that should’ve ruffled the curtains—in the next room. “Lucky… I…” He ran his hand through his hair again. While Lucky loved the freshly fucked look as well as the next man, the panic on Bo’s face made him want to find whatever upset his partner and open a can of whoop ass.

  “Out with it.” It wasn’t like Bo didn’t know how to speak his mind. Especially when riled.

  “It’s about Yolanda.”

  What the hell? Lucky felt the wrinkle forming between his brows Bo once declared deep enough to plant potatoes. He took a deep breath and braced for impact. “What about her?”

  Bo parked his ass on the couch arm, resting his hands on his knees, his hair no longer in danger of being yanked out. “Well, that first night, when I took her to the hospital?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The doctors thought she might lose the baby.”

  Nothing new. Guilt niggled, though. When had Lucky last asked about mother and son? “The baby’s okay now, right?” He didn’t dare give away his hospital visit.

  Bo jumped up and stalked the room again. If Lucky wasn’t positive Bo didn’t touch the stuff, he’d suspect a caffeine fest at the local Starbucks. “For now. But while waiting for the doctor and test results, she and I talked.”

  “About what?” Lucky’s heart double-timed, waiting for the bad news surely coming his way. Dragging the conversation out only added to the stress.

  “Music. Kids. Anything to take her mind off the situation until the doctor had a chance to examine her.” He whirled and faced Lucky with a shrug. “You know how long it takes in the emergency room.”

  Yes, Lucky did. Too fucking long. “And?”

  “And she asked if I had any kids. I told her no, but I’d like to one day. Then she asked if I was married. I told her I had a partner. You know, the normal stuff people talk about.”

  Not normal for Lucky, but normal for Bo, apparently. “I heard she’s been asking lots of questions about you. You don’t suppose she’s gotten ideas in her head about you, do you?” He’d seen Bo rocking and feeding Yolanda’s baby. Yeah, he could see where she might get the wrong idea.

  Once again Bo dragged his hand through his hair. “Possibly, but not in the way you might think.”

  “In what way, then?”

  Bo deflated, slipping down fully onto the couch. “I thought she just took an interest, wanted to be friendly when she asked me about my life. I mean, she told me about herself too.”

  The woman was fixating on Bo. The hairs on the back of Lucky’s neck rose. “Stop scaring me and spit it out.”

  “She was interviewing me, then backing up everything I said by talking to others who knew me. Using her Spanish-speaking nurses, when necessary.”

  “To what end?”

  “What she wants…” Bo averted his gaze. “She wants me… us… to raise her baby.”

  What the ever-loving fuck? “Do what?”

  Now on a roll, Bo wouldn’t let Lucky get a word in. “She wants what’s best for her child, but knows she’s not in a good place to be a mother, and resents whoever the father is. She’s torn, wanting to do the right thing. If she finds a good parent, or parents, for her baby, she can go on and live her life knowing she gave her child the best start she could. She wants better for her son than the kind of life she’s had.”

  Was he saying what Lucky thought he was saying? Lucky held his breath.

  Sure, they’d talked about having kids one day, were even trying with Charlotte, but instant fatherhood? Would they even qualify with social services for fostering or adopting? “Bo… I…”

  “We’ve talked about having kids. Andro is premature and has heart issues. He might need surgery. It’s not like families will line up to adopt him. Plus, he’s had no prenatal care, so other problems might arise.”

  “Andro?” An image flashed into Lucky’s mind of the tiny child in the incubator, of Bo cradling the small body to his chest.
>
  Bo’s face flushed. “Even though she didn’t plan to keep her son, she named him Alejandro, after her grandfather.”

  They’d met an Alejandro during their time in Mexico. Who’d idolized Lucky.

  Lost his life for Lucky.

  Yes, a fine name.

  “Anyway.” Bo paused to stroke a finger over one of his dragon statues on the coffee table, one he’d once considered a protector. “I know it’s sudden and all, and at first I thought it was a crazy idea, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder if this is the right thing to do.”

  What the ever-loving fuck?

  “We want kids, right?” Bo didn’t wait for Lucky to answer. He paced to the sliding glass doors, gazing out while keeping his back to Lucky. “We have a nice home, good jobs, a support base. We could ask Charlotte and Ty if they would help with childcare.

  “Of course, we’d already planned on a child, but Charlotte could stop trying for now. We could still have another child later, right? I mean, nobody says we have to stop at one.”

  What the hell was Bo suggesting? “Bo, I—”

  Bo whirled and threw up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say, that we don’t know this girl, don’t owe her or the baby anything, but I say we do. I mean, if we’d caught these guys years ago, she’d never be in this situation.”

  Lucky put himself the path of Bo’s renewed pacing. He’d get the man’s attention this time.

  Bo sidestepped him and continued his rant. “The poor kid is getting a bad enough start in life. You and I have spent years trying to make up for poor choices. What if we could give this little guy a chance?” He spun and faced Lucky.

  Finally! “Bo—”

  “Yeah, I know. We need to look at the big picture. There’ll be doctor bills, he might need surgery, then there’s daycare, clothes, toys, furniture. Of course, we’d already planned on some of that.”

  “Bo…”

  Bo dropped a bomb. “Lucky, she left the hospital today without telling anybody. Left the baby.”

  Holy shit. Alone? She’d left the kid alone?

  He visualized the tiny child in the bassinet, separated from the other babies. What chance would he have in the foster system? What would happen if no one adopted him?