by Eden Winters
Still… “I want you to do something for me.”
“What?”
Lucky sucked in a deep breath. “We’re going to have to tell your mother, because like hell will I involve you without her knowledge, but I’m going to need you to get more of those pills.”
He shuddered, anticipating Charlotte’s reaction.
***
Lucky rammed his hands into his pockets and approached the soccer field. Ty sat on a bench with the other players, back turned. Good. If he didn’t see Lucky, he couldn’t react badly.
Or not nearly as badly as Charlotte had for Lucky and Ty not telling her about the pills from the get-go. Brrr… She might be small, but damn, Lucklighter women were fierce.
Ty might be off restriction by the time he left for college.
Charlotte still hadn’t mentioned the length of Lucky’s probation. Whatever she decided, Bo would back her up.
He watched his suspect, a squarely-built man in his mid-fifties.
The coach paced back and forth in front of the bench, player’s heads swiveling to track his movements. He issued the usual spiel about teamwork, how they were the best, and how no one could beat them.
Yadda, yadda. At last the players left the field and trudged up a grassy hill toward the school. Lucky stepped from the shadows of the bleachers. “Coach Akin? Could I have a world with you?”
The coach paused mid-motion of turning up a water bottle. “Sure. What can I do for you?” He resumed lifting the bottle to his lips and chugged down half in one go.
Lucky held out his hand. “Rich Lucklighter. I’m Ty’s uncle.”
“His uncle?” The coach squeezed Lucky’s hand in a too-firm, “I’m macho, damn it!” grip. Lucky didn’t flinch. “You’re a truck driver, right? He talks about you a lot.”
Truck driver? But sure, truck driver worked for Lucky’s goals. “Yeah. He talks a good bit about you too, and the team.” True enough. “Since he’s new here and all, I wanted to check in on how he’s doing.” Lucky shrugged. “You know how kids his age are. Anyone over thirty is the enemy and he ain’t telling me nothing.”
The coach chuckled. “Don’t I know it. Got a son about his age.”
Interesting. Did coach give him drugs too? “Is he on the team?”
“Nah.” Coach rolled his eyes. “He’s on the robotics and chess teams, if you get my drift.”
No, Lucky didn’t, but he wasn’t saying. Why wouldn’t a man be proud no matter what his son’s interests?
“Not like Ty. Now, there’s a boy with potential.”
Really. Pushing drugs at Ty damned sure wouldn’t help him reach that potential. “His joining the team late hasn’t hurt him?”
The coach swiped his arm over his sweaty forehead. Yes, spring sun got hot in Georgia. “Heck, no. I have to work with the new kids a bit more, but he’s coming along just fine. Or, he has since he got his grades up.”
Lucky just bet he had to work with them. As in filling them full of drugs. “Good to hear. I’ve been worried about him since he transferred from Spokane.”
“Well, don’t you worry none. He’s doing fine.” The coach finished his water and lobbed his bottle at the nearby trash can. “Two points! And basketball isn’t even my game.” The man laughed at his own joke. He gave Lucky an apologetic smile and cut his eyes toward the school. “If that’s all, I’m afraid I need to get up there before the guys tear the locker room apart.”
Lucky faked a wince. “You better do that. Thanks for easing my mind.”
“You bet.”
Lucky watched overly bulky shoulders and an ass better suited on a professional body-builder thump away. Steroids. Ty’s coach had to be taking steroids. Lucky waited until the man opened a door, threw up his hand, and disappeared inside the school.
Checking the area to ensure privacy, Lucky pulled out a handkerchief he’d swiped from Bo’s dresser drawer and reached into the trash can for the bottle, lifting it by the lid.
He’d done his part, now to wait for Ty.
***
Thirty. Thirty pills in a tiny little bottle, enough to put a kid in the hospital.
His kid. Or rather, his sister’s.
Lucky secured the pills in a plastic zip bag earmarked for the lab, and sent the bottle to forensics. With any luck, Ty did exactly as told and left no fingerprints.
Good money went on the coach not being so lucky.
Chapter Thirty-Four
The kid in the hospital wouldn’t talk, not even with Bo’s persuasive charm, and the parents weren’t cooperative either. If someone nearly killed Lucky’s son, he’d be out for blood.
Then again, denial was a powerful enemy to setting things right.
Okay, so no witness there. Still, Lucky had a case to solve.
The first order of business? Avoiding Judge Spence, who’d denied Lucky’s warrant requests. Second, follow-up on the lead from his grocery checker turned secret agent—at least in his own mind—and strike a name off the list.
Which required combing through hours of recorded videos. Good thing Lucky’s area of expertise wasn’t surveillance. Hopefully, Keith had to go through every second of footage by himself and got a bad case of eye strain.
The clip sent to Lucky from the school showed the money shot: the teacher—who no one but Lucky would suspect of being a drug dealer—shoving drugs into a kid’s locker at ten p.m. and taking a wad of bills in return. Camera images from outside the building showed her car in the parking lot.
But she didn’t have a key to Ty’s locker, so she wasn’t the only one supplying the drugs.
The asshole who’d dared supply a narcotics agent’s nephew with possibly tainted pharmaceuticals got the personal touch, even if Lucky couldn’t make the arrest himself. He could make sure it happened.
***
The bell sounded, heralding a mass exodus of the school. Lucky watched as Ty got into Charlotte’s car, and waited until his family and the majority of students were clear. He nodded at the two uniformed officers he’d had to put up with for the last half-hour.
Another officer kept a lookout on the teacher’s parking lot. No matter what kind of day Coach Akin had so far, from here on, his day headed for a swan dive.
Together, Lucky and the officers strode up the walkway. A couple of remaining students stopped to stare.
“Reckon Mr. Crawford’s cooking up meth after class?” asked one gawky kid.
His friend’s eyes went wide. “Just like in Breaking Bad? How cool would that be?”
Lucky made a mental note to check out this Mr. Crawford, just in case.
At least the school had good security—security not afraid to stop him and ask for ID and his business, even though he came with two uniformed cops.
The officers’ shoes struck out a steady beat on the floor. The entire place smelled like schools from Lucky’s memory. A janitor emptied a trash can in a classroom they passed. Damn, it’d been forever since Lucky’s own high school days—days best forgotten.
At last they came to the gym, turning down an adjacent hallway. Lucky tapped on the open doorframe.
The coach looked up. “Can I…” The astonishment on his face, and his not smiling and asking, “How can I help you?” spoke of his guilt.
“Let’s take a little walk, okay?” The officers led the man in shit-loads of trouble out of the building and to his car.
“Open it please. We have a warrant and probable cause.”
Coach Akin cut his eyes to the left and the woods. Nope. He might outrun Lucky with his gimpy leg, but not two young, fit officers.
With a resigned sigh, the teacher opened the trunk of his late-model BMW and stepped back. A black gym bag sat in the middle of various sports equipment. Lucky donned gloves and opened the bag.
Bottle upon bottle of small white pills.
Lucky smiled to the sweet sound of Miranda rights.
***
Lucky stared at a name list he’d never have expected in a case involving illicit dr
ugs and human trafficking. Did these people even know their actions hurt an innocent baby? Probably not.
God, how Lucky hated most people.
A teacher who’d slipped drugs into student’s lockers, providing a perceived answer to their grades problem—for a fee.
A coach determined to take a last place team to the playoffs, or whatever the ultimate soccer game was called.
A doctor who indiscriminately provided prescriptions for kids who didn’t need ADHD drugs.
The compounding pharmacist of Bo’s nightmares.
Lucky would take them down—take them all down. His undercover rookies supplied a few more names, kids who got the drugs and resold them, kids who bought and took them. By the time the SNB finished this case there might be no school left.
Sixty-five names. Sixty-five people who didn’t yet know they’d soon be spilling their guts. Not Lucky’s problem. Interrogation fell to Atlanta PD, DEA, and Homeland Security, depending on the charges and severity.
All those random people, with little in common, had unwittingly come together to commit one of the worst cases of Lucky’s career. So many changed lives. Scars folks like Yolanda would bear forever.
Those parents and kids might think themselves above ruthless cartels, and yet, they’d been party to every heinous act carried out.
He stood outside of an interrogation room, with Walter, staring through the glass at a young woman with mousy brown hair. Tears streaked her face.
“Ma’am, not only are you accused of supplying drugs to students, we also have evidence that you interfered with SAT scores, enabling students to qualify for college and scholarships. Privileges that rightfully belong to others. You’ve stolen from them.” The officer posing the questions might rival Walter for height, with broad shoulders and a take-no-prisoners attitude. His voice, however, remained deceptively soft. A voice to coax out your greatest secrets. He leaned on a chair, both huge hands resting on the back, slightly bent. To make himself appear smaller, less of a threat?
His partner, younger and likely still wet behind the ears, stood to the side. At last the questioning officer sat. “Ma’am, you’re in a whole lotta trouble. Keeping quiet and protecting drug dealers isn’t going to help your case.” She’d already been given her rights. An attorney would tell her to shut up. Lucky hoped she’d keep talking.
Her head snapped up. “Drug dealers? What drug dealers?”
“Ma’am, you’re caught up in an illegal drug operation and human trafficking.”
“Human trafficking!” Outrage burned on her face. “I have not been involved in such a horrible thing. I wouldn’t.”
“Who do you think made the pills you’ve been handing out like candy?” Lucky would be screaming by now. The officer remained calm, the only outward sign of his rage the clenching and unclenching of his fist beneath the table. “One of the victims is only nineteen years old. She’s been used as a drug mule and in so many…other ways.” He let his pointed stare fill in the blanks.
The teacher’s eyes widened, but she didn’t speak.
“Another was just seventeen years old. All the victims were brought to this country illegally and forced to work for no pay. They barely had enough food.”
She opened her mouth but the officer cut her off.
“This kid, the same age as the ones you’ve been supplying with drugs, had been used by various drug cartels since he was fourteen. Fourteen!”
Amazing how the man conveyed so much fury while keeping his voice level and steady. “He was told that if he sought help he’d be arrested and sent to prison. Even so, he escaped three times only to be caught, beaten, and returned to the people using him.”
After a moment of silence the woman asked, “Wha.. what happened to him?” The pain in her eyes said she already knew.
Lucky’s insides clenched at the memory of how the kid’s story played out.
“During the raid that would have freed him, he got scared and ran. Jumped out of a window. He lost his life because of people like you.”
Fat, black tears rolled down her face, further streaking her makeup. She shook her head. “I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t know.”
“Now that you do, what are you going to do about it?”
“I’ll talk.”
“Would you like to have your attorney present?”
She let out a heavy sigh. “No. I’ll tell you everything I know.” The woman began speaking how she thought she was doing a good thing in helping the kids.
At a signal from the officer through the one-way glass, Lucky rounded the corner and entered the room.
The crying mess of a teacher glanced upward, equal parts fear and hope in her eyes. The cop gave up his seat to Lucky, fading into the background. Atlanta PD handled the arrest, but Lucky still had a case.
The officer waved his hand toward Lucky. “This is Special Agent Harrison with the Southeastern Narcotics Bureau. He’s heading up this case.”
Lucky nodded and slipped into the chair. “Ma’am.” Politeness seemed to be working so far.
She sniffled and waited. Good sign.
“You might not realize how big this operation is, or who calls the shots. Can you tell me the name of your supplier?”
She named the pharmacist a little too fond of working nights—and who had a key to Grandma’s drug store.
“Thank you. Your cooperation is appreciated.” She’d saved him hours of further research.
She easily gave up meeting times and places, the phone number she called when she needed pills. Next, she gave a list of every kid she’d sold drugs to.
A lot of ugly waited in this woman’s future. She’d never compete with the Mangiardis for drug trafficking, but she’d caused one hell of a lot of harm.
Once the woman exhausted her supply of new information, he left the room and searched out Walter. The boss’s appearance still caught him off guard. He’d lost weight and aged a lot in the dozen or so years they’d worked together.
Still smelled like Old Spice though. “Have they brought in the pharmacist yet?” That asshole had a lot to answer for.
Walter nodded. “Yes, but he’s not talking.”
“He got a lawyer.” Fuck.
“Public defender.”
What? All that drug money and the guy couldn’t afford his own attorney?
“His accounts were frozen,” Walter said by way of explanation.
God, Lucky hated dealing with lowlifes with no regard for other people. “Has DEA managed to keep things quiet?”
“As quiet as an operation of this size can be.”
“Call off the dogs. Let me talk to him.”
“The DEA has taken over this case, Lucky.”
“Yeah, but I think they could use the help of a cocky little bantam rooster, don’t you?”
“You, offering to help them?” Walter raised an eyebrow in question, one side of his mouth lifting. “What happened to your usual animosity?”
Yeah, Lucky hated doing all the work and someone else getting the glory, but he’d be damned if this case ended here. He’d find the ringleaders if it was the last thing he did.
The DEA agents might be thorough, but nobody knew the dark underbelly of Atlanta like Lucky.
“I won’t promise anything, but I’ll see what I can do.” Those words, coming from Walter Smith, meant Lucky’d better plan on interrogating a would-be pharmacist soon.
Until then, back to the office to see what else he could dig up.
***
Many of the names the teacher gave up belonged to a parent, each one likely thinking they were doing no harm, just helping their kids. The teacher swore she had no association with the coach, who’d had his own reasons to drug his students. Dear God, they’d be lucky if anyone remained at the school at the end of this investigation.
Still no lead on the ones calling the shots. They wouldn’t be as easy as apprehending the teacher and coach. But taking out the guppies and leaving the piranhas wouldn’t end the problem. With
money to be made, the bosses would only regroup. Time to shut them down before they hurt anyone else.
Keith and his team collected cellphones and bank records of all the suspects charged thus far.
A shadow fell across his desk, moving too fast to be Walter, and Bo would’ve kissed him, or at least put a hand on his arm. Yeah, Lucky’s touchy-feely man liked contact. Johnson was in the field. Must be a rookie. Damn it. Lucky glanced up, ready to growl.
Jameson O’Donoghue stared down at him. Lucky nearly growled anyway, but Bo’s promotion meant he’d soon be the boss, and Lucky’s bullshit couldn’t be allowed to spill over onto Bo. Better play nice.
No matter how badly Lucky didn’t want to.
“Yeah?”
The DEA loaner kept his face free of tells. “Our pharmacy school dropout wised up and cooperated. He’s scheduled a meeting in the old building where they stored the inventory.”
Hallelujah! Probably too early to rejoice, but all afternoon squirmy feelings in the pit of his stomach had tied him up in knots. Someone needed to go down besides the small-time criminals they’d already caught.
“And?” O’Donoghue could’ve emailed or called with his news. He’d hunted Lucky down for a reason, a reason Lucky bet he’d hate.
“DEA is considering your offer.”
Maybe not. “They talked to you?” Really? He’d expected to have to get Boss and Bo involved to keep lead on this case. Then again, maybe O’Donoghue shot the idea down and came here to gloat.
“Yes.” O’Donoghue leaned against Bo’s desk, folding his arms across his chest.
Fuck, there went his case. O’Donoghue acted too smug for Lucky to get the answer he wanted. “And?”
O’Donoghue paused long enough to make Lucky want to squirm. He managed not to. “And I told them that with your knowledge of the case and stellar record as an agent, I could think of no one better suited for this job.”
Should Lucky be flattered or offended that O’Donoghue thought him the perfect man to deal with lowlife scum?
“And Harrison?”
There had to be a “but” or insult coming. No love lost between them. “Yeah?”
The man who might or might not be a mortal enemy gave Lucky a long, appraising look. “Be careful. We’ve had our differences, but you’re going into the lion’s den. Watch your back. I want you back here in one piece.”