by Vella Day
When she’d shown up at his office a few days later to ask about the freed men, Logan began to think maybe it hadn’t been his imagination. Wendy really was meant for him.
I told you she was our mate, his dragon chimed in again.
“Hey! Where did you go?” Stone asked waving a hand in front of Logan’s face.
Shit. Logan looked up. “Sorry. Anderson has me working on a case.”
Stone smiled and pulled out a chair in front of Logan’s desk and sat down. “Oh, yeah? Can I help?”
That brightened Logan’s day. Stone loved nothing more than a case. “In fact, I could use your help.”
“Tell me.”
Chapter Two
“Let’s take this discussion someplace else,” Brent Shepard said.
Ugh. As much as Wendy wanted to remain in the open, he was right. A police officer, probably shouldn’t be seen discussing an on-going case with a reporter, especially in his workplace. “Sure.”
Brent smiled. Okay, he might be good-looking and kind of charming, but he didn’t rev her engine like her former boyfriend Deke Darnell had—or Logan Caspian did for that matter. Comparing the men was not a luxury she could afford though. She had to focus on writing this article.
When Brent led her outside, she almost told him she didn’t want to do this, but she really needed his help. “Where are we going?”
“I thought we’d go to the Hillside Café. If anyone sees us, we’ll say we’re two friends grabbing a cup of coffee.”
If she didn’t think he was right, she would have walked away. Okay, she probably wouldn’t have, but she would have put up a fuss. The café was only two blocks from the police station, and she was grateful when he said little on their short walk.
Once inside, she slid into a booth near the back, and Brent sat next to her instead of across from her. Really? While she needed her personal space, she also needed Brent—or rather what Brent had to offer.
Instead of commenting, she moved toward the wall to put more distance between them and twisted toward him. “Tell me what you know,” she said in as professional a voice as she could muster.
“Two teens died of a drug overdose last night.”
“Oh, no. That is horrible. But while it’s terribly tragic, what is there to investigate?” Wendy stilled, recalling the story she’d investigated of a truck driver who was thought to have died from an overdose when in reality he’d been poisoned. She’d spent weeks trying to learn who’d killed him, but that had resulted in a dead end. “Was it Crenathum?”
“Yes, it was. I thought you might be interested.”
“There might be a story if the boys were also poisoned,” she said.
“Like the truck driver?”
“Yes.”
“We haven’t received the autopsy reports back. For now, it looks like a drug overdose.”
She huffed out a sigh. “What can I possibly do? Other than do a human-interest story on the teens.”
“Detective Caspian wants to find the pusher, and you’re so good with getting people to talk, I thought this might be up your alley.”
Wendy would pretty much do anything to get the story. She’d yet to go undercover as a drug dealer though. “I asked questions a few months ago about who had supplied the truck driver with drugs, but I got nowhere. It was before anyone was aware he’d died from rat poison.”
The waitress stopped by, and they both ordered coffee. Not that she really was in the mood for some right now, but she wanted to make it look like they were at the café to socialize.
“Do you have any actual leads who might have sold the teens these drugs?” she asked, keeping her voice to a near whisper. Capturing a big-time drug dealer might be newsworthy, but only if it wasn’t just some two-bit local pusher.
Brent wove his fingers together. “No.”
Okay, this had been a mistake. “What do you think I can do then?”
He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket. “Here are the names of the two high school boys. This information will be released to the papers today. I don’t know who was at the Evans’ party last night when the two teens died, but if you ask around at their high school, you might get someone to talk. The boys came from wealthy families and participated on several sports teams. If they are as popular as I think they are, everyone at school will know who was there.”
Wendy had to admit this intrigued her. “Don’t the parents know?”
He shook his head. “Mike Evans’ parents were away for the weekend and never suspected their son would throw a party. I listed the contact information for both parents in case you can charm them into talking to you. They’ve been resistant about sharing with us.”
“Why? Don’t they want to know who sold their kid drugs?”
“Yes, but they fear every paper will sensationalize their children’s deaths.”
Ouch. Her paper wouldn’t do that. Others however might. Wendy folded the paper and stuffed it in her purse. “I appreciate this.”
“Let me know what you learn.”
“I will.”
Wendy had to admit it was a smart move on Brent’s part to include her. She could talk to school kids about the boys without attracting too much attention. Not only that, kids were more likely to speak to a journalist than a cop.
Before she went that route though, she wanted to speak with the parents of the Evans boy. They might not know who was at the party, but they should be able to list a few of his closest friends. If they were leery of journalists, she’d just have to convince them she wouldn’t publish anything without their permission. Surely, they’d want the drug dealer caught.
After she and Brent finished their coffee, they went their separate ways. Once back at her apartment, Wendy called the Evans’ home and was pleased when someone picked up.
“Hello?” The voice was female and sounded mature.
“Mrs. Evans?”
“I’m not making a statement. I’m sorry.”
Oh, crap. “Wait, please. I want to help find out who did this as much as you do.”
“Who is this?”
“My name is Wendy Oprander. I am working on an article for the Edendale Herald, but I won’t mention your son’s name unless you want me to.” Wendy spoke as quickly as possible, hoping the grieving mother wouldn’t hang up on her.
“I’m sorry, but my husband advised me to say nothing to anyone.” Her tone came out colder this time, but it also sounded tortured. Her husband was a lawyer, so it made sense she’d respond that way.
“Why is that?” Wendy asked with as much sympathy as possible. Wendy could guess, but she wanted to keep the woman talking.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
“Please, Mrs. Evans. Just a few questions? I want to help.”
She sniffled. “Do you have children, Ms. Oprander?” Mrs. Evans asked.
“No.”
“When you do, you’ll understand how horrible it is to not only lose a child but to have their discretions thrown in our faces.”
Wendy was losing this woman. “Like I said, I won’t print anything until you read the article first and approve it. I promise.”
Wendy couldn’t remember ever offering this to anyone before, but this woman’s grief affected her.
“Why do you want to do this? Did you know my son?”
“No.” This article wasn’t just for the money or the potential job anymore. Wendy believed in justice. “I don’t want what happened to your child to happen to anyone else’s. Everyone involved in the drug distribution needs to be caught and locked up.”
The woman’s chuckle came out bitter. “And some female journalist can do that?”
Wendy’s back bristled, but she tamped down her frustration. “I exposed a slave ring and helped bring down their leader last month.”
Silence. “What do you need to know?”
The relief almost made her sigh out loud. “Can you tell me who was at the party or the name of someone who might know who was there?
”
“I can’t say for sure but ask Sherry Knowlton. That’s Mike’s girlfriend. She could tell you.”
That piece of information was a huge win. “Thank you so much.”
“Please help bring my son’s killer to justice.”
Mrs. Evans’ plea choked Wendy up. “I promise to do everything I can.”
What had started out as a paid job just turned into a cause.
“I’d like to take a trip to Thedia,” Logan said.
Stone’s eyes widened. “That’s a long haul. What’s there?”
Logan explained about the two teens who’d overdosed. “Someone is supplying this province with drugs, and we need to find out who it is.”
“Why this case? I mean two teen deaths is sad, but what’s so special about this one?”
“One of the boy’s fathers—John Evans—has done a lot of pro bono work for the precinct. Chief Wilson wants to solve this case for him. Anderson is making it a priority too.”
“And he doesn’t have the computer expertise that you do to get into the needed records, I presume?”
Stone always caught on fast. “Correct. He wants me to look into some bank records and cell phone calls the boys might have made.”
Stone leaned back. “That’s right up your alley.”
“It is.”
“I’m sure you know that kids at parties do stupid stuff. I trust they were human?” his cousin asked.
“Yes. What is important here is that Anderson asked us to figure out who sold the drugs to those kids and find him. And that is what I intend to do. So are you up for the trip?”
“Do dragons fly?”
Logan actually laughed. It didn’t matter he’d heard that expression since birth. He always enjoyed Stone’s positive attitude. “Come on. Since I don’t know how long we’ll be staying, we should put a change of clothes in a pack.”
“Sounds good. I’ll meet you back here in thirty.”
“I’ll be ready. But first, I’ll call Griffin to let him know what we’re up to.” His brother might wonder where his business staff had disappeared to when he came back to the office.
Wendy’s attempt to learn something at the high school about the party where the boys had died had been a bust. She’d arrived at Edendale Prep School right before school let out since she thought that would be the optimum time to talk to Mike’s girlfriend. When Wendy asked at the receptionist’s desk for the whereabouts of Sherry Knowlton, she learned the girl had called in sick today, which made sense.
Not one to give up, Wendy decided to find someone else to talk to—someone who looked like they could have attended the upscale party. It would probably be a student who was fairly popular and well-dressed—or at least a kid who looked like they put effort into their appearance. She based that conclusion on the fact that the Evans and Sanderson families were well off.
When the kids piled out of the front door after the end-of-day bell, no one struck her as the hard-partying type. Wendy was about to head back to where she’d parked when she spotted a very pretty girl laughing, only the cheer didn’t reach her eyes. For some reason, Wendy believed she would somehow be connected to Mike and Tom.
Wendy practically stepped in front of the girl in order to get her attention. “Excuse me.”
Thankfully, the teen stopped and didn’t look like she was about to blow her off. “Yes?”
“I’m Wendy Oprander, a writer for the Edendale Herald.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “Really? I plan to major in journalism next year in college.”
What luck. Wendy certainly hadn’t expected such a positive reaction to her profession, but she’d go with it. While her job wasn’t glamorous, this girl seemed to think it was. “That is awesome. Then you’ll understand that as a journalist, I need to ask questions. Do you have a moment to answer a few?”
The teen looked around. “Sure, but what’s this about?”
“Let’s talk someplace other than the main walkway.”
Once they were away from the crowds, Wendy pulled out a tablet from her purse, ready to take notes. “Let’s start with your name.”
“Melanie Whittaker.” She clasped her hands in front of her. “Is this about Mike and Tom?” Her voice caught, a sure sign this was an emotional topic.
“Yes. Were you at the party last night?”
She shook her head. “Tom and I dated for a bit, but a few months ago he got so full of himself that I broke things off. I stopped hanging out with anyone from our group after that.”
That was disappointing as far as collecting intel for her story went. “I see. Did something happen to cause Tom to change?”
Wendy recalled that senior year was a time for searching for one’s independence—especially if the family was demanding. Wendy wondered if Tom had used drugs to achieve this freedom.
“He got into the best school in the province—Hanfield University. That’s what changed him.”
Wendy whistled. It was for the elite of the elite. “That’s impressive. Tom should have been proud of his accomplishment.”
“He was, mainly because he never did well in school. Mike, who was his best friend, had been a shoe-in. Tom never got an A in his life, yet both of them received scholarships to play ball.”
Something didn’t add up. “If Tom wasn’t strong academically, do you think he would have done okay at Hanfield? It is rigorous.”
“Honestly? No. I mean, he had two great tutors this year, one for math and science and another for history and writing, but unless Mr. Quigley and Mr. Hammersmith went to the university with him, there was no way Tom would pass his classes.”
“If Tom seemed so confident, he must have had a plan,” Wendy said. From the way Melanie was picking at her nails, she was conflicted talking ill of the dead.
Melanie inhaled. “He just said he had everything handled.”
“What did that mean?” Wendy asked, though she could come up with a few ideas. One involved paying off someone at the university, though that was a reach.
“I don’t know. I just didn’t like how once Tom was accepted, he changed into a different person.”
“Do you think it was drug related?” It was a tough question to ask, but the answer might help point her in the right direction.
“No. That’s the one thing that I believe wasn’t involved. Tom was an athlete. When we were together, he never touched the stuff. I can tell you I was totally shocked when I found out he died from an overdose. I might believe he experimented with drugs, but not that he would take so much that he’d die. Both he and Mike were good kids.”
That was a shame. “Could you give me the names of some other students who could have gone to the party? They might be able to shed more light on the boys’ frame of mind.”
Melanie lifted her chin. “Why do you want to write a story about them? I mean their poor parents have been through enough.”
Wendy appreciated the girl’s defense of Tom’s memory. She liked her. “I’m actually doing an exposé on the person responsible for pushing the drugs. I told Mike’s mom that I won’t use any names if she doesn’t want me to.”
Melanie grabbed Wendy’s arm. “Does that mean you know who the dealer is? If you do, why isn’t he in jail?”
Wendy held up a hand. “Whoa. No. I’m trying to help find out who this person, or persons, is. I’m only looking for clues to give to the police.”
“Oh. Okay. Have you spoken to Mike’s girlfriend, Sherry?”
“Not yet. She’s out sick today. Can you think of who else might have been at the party?”
Melanie gave her the names of ten students. “I’m only guessing here, even though we were really tight at one time. In fact, we all went skiing in Thedia right before Tom and I broke up. His parents have a cabin there, and Tom told everyone that they could stay there for free.”
The poor girl was a bundle of nerves. Wendy made a show of jotting down the information, even though it didn’t seem relevant. “I appreciate your help.”
Melanie’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t see how I helped, but I hope you do find this dealer.”
After taking down Melanie’s email address, Wendy left, her mind spinning.
Armed with a list of names to check out, she had the next few days cut out for her.
Chapter Three
With Stone on his heels, Logan strode into the office building at the mines and slapped a notebook on his desk. “That was a bust.”
“I wouldn’t say that. I thought it was a nice change of pace seeing Thedia Province.” Stone dropped his backpack on the sofa on the other side of the room. “Besides, we got the names of everyone who sells a large number of mushrooms as well as the names of the pharmaceutical companies who produce Trilox.”
“I probably could have learned who sold that stuff with a few phone calls,” Logan said.
He wasn’t ready to admit that his lack of cheer was because his mind wasn’t totally on this search, and that bothered him.
Stone chuckled. “Did you think someone was going to give us the name of all the drug dealers who pedal the stuff out of their province?”
“No. I don’t know what I expected. I’ve looked through the bank records of suspected drug dealers in Avonbelle and couldn’t find anything incriminating.”
“You’ll figure something out eventually.” Stone slid a hip on the edge of Logan’s desk. “I can tell something else is bugging you. What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m good.”
“I’m calling bullshit.”
Despite all of Stone’s light-hearted attitude, the man was clever and astute. “Fine. I think Wendy Oprander is my mate, but she won’t give me the time of day.”
Stone chuckled. “Wendy? As in the girl who was held captive for a week by Malpan?”
Stone had been one of the Guardians who’d helped save the slaves in the mine. “The one and only.”
His cousin sobered. “Maybe she’s not ready to have a mate. I mean, I know I’m not. You have a lot of years left to enjoy each other. Wendy is a wolf shifter, so she’ll come around eventually. I don’t see the need to rush.”