“This is Emma,” Gabe introduced me.
“Hey, Emma. Sorry you had to come out here in the middle of the night,” she said. Her voice was very high, like a child’s. In the creamy glow of the lantern light, I could just make out a rose tattoo creeping out from the collar at her throat. “I’m Violeta.”
CHAPTER 13
VIOLETA OPENED THE BLACK BRIEFCASE. She pulled out two stacks of cash and thunked them on the table.
“That’s the rest of your money.”
I stared at it, unsure if I should count it. Would she be offended?
She swiped at her nose and sniffed. “Count it. I don’t care.”
“No, it’s okay. I trust Gabe.” I dropped the money into my purse.
Violeta arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. “Great. Now let’s talk about my business proposition.”
She sniffed again. It was really starting to annoy me. “Would you like a tissue?” I asked.
For some reason this made her giggle, the sound high-pitched, like a chipmunk.
“You’re funny! I like you!” she said.
She swiped at her nose again, her eyes glittering. She pulled a baggie of pills out of the briefcase and dumped a few into her palm, then handed them to Gabe. He grinned and dry-swallowed two, shoving the rest in his pocket. She offered the baggie to me.
“No thanks.”
“I don’t do this all the time, just so you know. But it’s mom’s night out tonight. You understand, yeah? Sometimes I just need to, like, chill.”
“You have children?” Christ, how old was she?
“Just one.”
She sealed the baggie and put it back inside the briefcase. From where I was sitting, I could see that inside were stacks of cash and baggies with pills and powders. She grabbed another baggie of white powder and tapped the cocaine into a little pile on the table. But instead of snorting it, she lit a cigarette. The end glowed red in the dim light. She leaned back in her chair, the wood creaking, and inhaled deeply. Smoke hissed out between her lips.
“How rude of me.” She held the pack out to me. “Would you like one?”
Again, I shook my head. She looked too young to be smoking. A little piece of me wanted to tell her to go home to her parents.
She flicked ash onto the floor. “So. Emma. Your son has leukemia.”
I glared at Gabe, and Violeta giggled. “Don’t worry so much! Geez, Gabe said you were uptight, but I had no idea! Your secret’s safe with me. In fact, I’ll tell you one of my own. My son has diabetes. That’s why I do this.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Type one?”
“Yes. Did you know that the cost of insulin has gone up over a thousand percent?” She scowled. “I guess you do know that, since you’re a doctor.”
“Tell her about the plan, Vi,” Gabe said. He’d pushed his chair back, and his long legs were now extended and crossed at the ankles, his hands behind his neck.
“I thought you said you weren’t involved, Gabe?” I said.
“He’s not,” Violeta snapped. “Gabe made it clear he’s only doing this to help his son.”
She inhaled sharply on her cigarette, then stubbed it out on the table, ash scattering into the wood grain. She brushed it away with the side of her hand.
“So. It’s simple, really. You write the scripts. I got some girls. My guy drives the girls around the state to a bunch of pharmacies. The girls fill their scripts. Once we have the pills, we deliver them to people who need them.”
She tapped another cigarette from the pack and lit it, grinning. “We’re the Amazon of the drug world.”
“How do the girls fill the prescriptions?” I asked. “They need ID. Aren’t they afraid of being caught?”
“We change them, make it so they’re different each time. They all have fake IDs. Don’t worry, they’re very good fake IDs. And they have no idea who’s involved. They only know the guy who drives them, so it would never come back to you.”
“Then why do they do it?”
Violeta giggled, smoke billowing between her teeth. “Duh! They need the money!”
The plan was brilliant in its simplicity. And as long as they didn’t sell too many, it was unlikely they’d be caught. I knew from being married to a detective that the cops only had the resources to investigate the big cases, cartels, gangs. And unlike heroin or fentanyl, oxy was readily available through legal means.
A few extra pills in an already crowded market would go unseen.
“When are you sending them out next?”
“Next Thursday. My guy will pick them up at Costco over by Twin Lakes. Gabe will bring your money to you. You’ll get two thousand dollars per prescription.”
“I want three thousand.”
Violeta’s cigarette froze on its way to her mouth. When she looked at me her eyes were flat and black, and suddenly she didn’t seem like such a child. “I don’t think you’re in a position to negotiate, Emma,” she said, her voice soft and menacing.
A lurch of fear darted through me, but I clenched my jaw and held my position. “Three. I’m risking a lot here.”
“Sometimes you have to take big risks to get big rewards.”
“Three.”
Violeta blew a smoke ring into the damp air. “Two and a half.”
I looked at Gabe. He shrugged and grinned. His eyes were glazed, the oxy kicking in. I would need to sell forty prescriptions in the next few weeks if I made $2,500 each. It was a risk, but I’d have enough to pay the hospital to get Josh’s reprogrammed cells injected. A few more sales after that, and I could pay off the hospital bills. Then I was out, and I’d never have to see Gabe or this horrible girl-woman again.
“Okay,” I agreed. “I’m in. But I have one more question.”
“Yes?”
“Who is we?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said ‘we.’ Once we have the pills, we deliver them to people. If I’m going to get involved, I want to know who I’m working with.”
Violeta took one last drag, then flicked the cigarette onto the floor. The light around us dimmed as the lantern flickered. “That’s need-to-know information, and right now, you don’t need to know.”
We stared at each other, eyes locked.
“Fine.” I lifted a shoulder and extracted a handful of signed prescriptions from the canvas bag. “There are a dozen here, from six different doctors. There’s more once this batch is sold.”
She giggled again, back to being a child, which I now saw was all an act. She rifled through them. “Genius. Using other doctors’ prescription pads. Ha! I love that.”
She tucked the prescriptions into the briefcase and snapped it shut, twisting the metal numbers on the combination lock and setting it on the floor. Then she turned her attention to the little pile of cocaine on the table.
“You sure you don’t want any?” She waved at the white powder.
“Uh, no thanks. I never did like it.”
She scraped at the pile with her pinkie nail, frowning. “Do you have something I can use?”
I dug around in my purse but couldn’t find anything.
“Here.” Gabe handed her a white card.
“I’m going to head off.” I stood and backed away from them. The lantern flickered, casting shadows at my feet. “It was nice meeting you, Violeta. Gabe, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Byeee!” Violeta called. She didn’t look up, just continued cutting the powder into two thick lines with the card Gabe had given her.
Outside, I flicked the flashlight on. The light cut through the mist rolling off the falls. I jogged silently through the underbrush, the darkness like a fist in my back, propelling me forward. It wasn’t until I reached my car that I realized I was shaking. But I wasn’t shaking from adrenaline or fear.
I was shaking from relief.
The bag in my hand was full of cash and I had a plan in place to get the money I needed for Josh. If this worked, he could get the treatment he needed.
&nbs
p; My hand was on the car door’s handle when a shout cut through the air.
“Emma!”
Ice flooded my veins. It had come from the warehouse. I sprinted back the way I’d come, branches slapping my face. About halfway there, I crashed into Gabe.
“Emma!” He grabbed me by the shoulders, eyes wide with panic. “It’s Vi. Come on!”
Inside the warehouse, Violeta was sprawled on the floor near the table. She was seizing, her body thudding hard against the wooden floor. Her eyes were open, the pupils dilated. Her face was a stark blue-gray, clashing horribly with the scarf in her hair.
“What’s wrong with her?” Gabe screeched.
I scanned the area. The powder. I picked up the baggie.
“Gabe, what’s this?” My voice was icy, steady.
“Cocaine, I think. It’s what she likes.”
I dropped to my knees and put my fingers to Violeta’s neck. Her pulse was thready. “Check what that is!”
Violeta had gone still, the violent thudding replaced by a horrific gurgling coming from her chest. One eye was half-open. Her lips had turned blue.
Gabe tried to open the briefcase, but it was locked. He punched it over and over while I wiped foam from Violeta’s mouth with my coat sleeve and began CPR.
“The baggie,” I hissed. “There’s something written on it.”
I thrust down on Violeta’s chest with the heels of my hands. The pressure forced more foamy blood to seep from the corners of her mouth. But no breaths came. After a minute, her ribs cracked and gave way under my palms.
Gabe picked up the baggie from the ground and held it up to the lantern. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck, no, no, no!” he shouted. “It has an F on it. F. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Gabe, listen to me, you need to calm down. Tell me what F stands for.”
He met my gaze, his eyes stunned. “Fentanyl. I think it stands for fentanyl.”
I checked Violeta’s pulse. Nothing. I kept a dose of naloxone in the first aid kit in my car, but it wouldn’t be enough to combat something as strong as fentanyl.
I began another round of CPR.
By the time I stopped, my knees and my shoulders ached, and my fingers trembled. I checked again for a pulse, used my phone’s flashlight to peer into her eyes. These actions calmed me, separated me from what was actually happening.
After a moment, I sat back on my heels.
I’d seen bodies before. Pronounced death. Been to the morgue. Made life-or-death decisions more times than I could count. I had watched many people die. I didn’t get squeamish or overwhelmed the way some people did. I’d learned long ago to put distance between myself and the horrible things I’d seen.
But now I was entirely complicit. I needed to call an ambulance, but I also knew there was no hope for Violeta.
I looked at Gabe.
“She’s dead.”
Oh my God. Gabe’s mouth moved, but no words came out.
I stared at Violeta’s body, feeling numb, like I’d stepped outside of myself. Bloody foam gleamed at the corners of her mouth. The scarf in her hair looked like a slash of blood.
I closed my eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Gabe was crying, a quiet keening that seemed to be absorbed by the walls of the old warehouse.
I started to dial 911—but then I thought of everything that had been discussed tonight. The drugs. The prescriptions. The plan. The money.
If we called the cops…
I froze.
The cops. Nate. How would I explain why I was here with a drug dealer? Scripts written on my colleagues’ prescription pads were in Violeta’s briefcase next to a stack of cash and drugs. There was no way he could—or would—smooth this over for me. I’d lose my license. I’d go to jail. Then what would happen to Josh?
I wasn’t going to let my son die.
“Gabe, listen to me.” My voice was sharp with urgency. “We have to get rid of her body.”
CHAPTER 14
WE STOPPED WHEN WE reached a small clearing in the woods and put down the body—that’s what I was now calling it, the body, because I couldn’t possibly call her Violeta anymore—and stood in the swirling mist. The air smelled earthy, like damp soil and leaves and rotting wood. I shook the blood back into my numb fingers. My arms and legs were shaking with exertion. I swiped my hair off my face. It was soaked with sweat.
A full moon peeked out from black-velvet clouds, casting shadows over the muddy path. It was gnarled with roots and mostly covered with brush and decaying leaves. The skeletons of trees jabbed into the charcoal sky.
“We have to stop,” Gabe gasped. His hair was coming out of its ponytail, plastering itself to his forehead in damp, sweaty tendrils. He was still high, his eyes glassy, his stare dull.
I glanced around. He was right. The path disappeared in front of us, trees twisting together and forming an impenetrable barrier. I edged toward the sound of rushing water, carefully pushing through the brush until I reached a small ledge that hovered about five feet above the river.
“We can do it here,” I called to Gabe.
We’d carried the body as far upstream as we could, to allow it to get swept up in the current and carried over the waterfall. The last thing we needed was for it to get caught in the brambles near the warehouse and lead the cops directly there.
We maneuvered the body to the ledge and peered over. I had gone to a weird place inside myself. I’d always been good at compartmentalizing. I could create separate planets in which I dealt with life. Planet work. Planet mom. Planet wife. I’d learned how to do it the night my father died. He was in so much pain before he died, and I was so helpless, completely powerless against fate.
Now, as a doctor, I’d guess his spinal cord had been torn and he’d suffered massive trauma to his internal organs. I’d always been terrified I made it worse when I dragged him from the car. He died slowly, painfully, and all I could do was sit and watch as the flames from the car slowly extinguished into the blackness of night. That was the first time I really learned how to partition my life into neat little boxes. Before, and after.
The day of Mom and Dad’s funeral, I did the same thing. Ben and I were staying at a temporary foster home then. I woke early, and my whole body hurt, like ached with grief. I hadn’t just lost my parents; I’d lost my home and my bedroom and all my familiar things. And then when I sat down to pee I noticed my underwear was damp with blood, and I realized I’d lost my childhood, too.
I became a woman that day. Physically and mentally.
Later I would take this night out and examine it and hate myself for all the things I should’ve or shouldn’t have done. But for now I couldn’t afford to feel anything. There was too much at stake.
“On three,” I said. I didn’t even recognize my voice anymore.
We started to swing the body. Tendrils of dark hair wrapped around my wrist.
“Wait, wait!” I cried. “Did you put the fentanyl in her pocket?”
“Yes!” Gabe snapped. “I already told you.”
I hesitated again. A flickering ray of moonlight beamed down between racing clouds, brilliant and white as bone.
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “On three.”
I stepped out of the moonlight and into the shadows, this time releasing the body.
We didn’t let go at the same time, though, so the body bounced against the ledge with a horrific thunk, spinning in the air then crashing into the river with a splash. Gabe bent over at the waist and retched, watery bile spewing onto the damp leaves. I watched as the body sank and then bobbed up again, then was swept downstream in the current. The black water moved fast, completely nonchalant.
After a moment, Gabe stood. He wiped his mouth on his coat sleeve.
“Did it go over the falls?” I asked, peering over the ledge. “I can’t see. Did it go over?”
“I don’t—I don’t know! It’s too dark.”
“It needs to go over!” I’d started to shake, my voice turning shrill.
“Emma.”
Gabe put a hand on my arm. In a complete role reversal, he was suddenly calming me. “I’m sure it did. Look.” He pointed at the swirling water. “The current’s pretty fast.”
I nodded, my teeth chattering. The mist mingled with the sweat on our skin. I stared in the direction of the waterfall, hearing the power and brilliance of its roar. It was both beautiful and brutal.
When I was a kid, my family used to come hiking up here. The river sent a massive volume of water coursing over a cluster of large boulders and hurtling down three hundred feet in two tiers. Water skipped over the first tier—a broad, fan-shaped fall—to a gently domed ledge, then plunged a further two hundred feet into a narrow amphitheater gorge.
We stood, watching the water, until a severe black cloud obscured the moon, releasing a fine rain that eventually drenched my hair. Water dripped down my cheeks like tears.
“Come on, let’s go,” Gabe said.
Back inside the warehouse, it was cold and damp. Gabe relit the lantern, and we sat on opposite sides of the table, shivering, shocked. I closed my eyes, running images of Josh on the screen of my inner eyelids. I was doing this for him. I had to keep that in mind.
I tried to think of all the evidence we would need to hide, to think like Nate.
“Where’s her car?” My eyes popped open. “There was only one car outside. Is it yours or hers?”
“It’s mine. We left hers at the Target on the other side of town. She didn’t know how to get here.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
In the stark shadows cast by the lantern, Gabe’s eyes were hard to read. Could I count on him to stay silent? And what if he didn’t? What would I do then?
I straightened. “Okay. You remember the plan?”
He lifted the backpack of cash I’d given him. “I’ll set up a bank account, deposit this five K, and transfer it into the GoFundMe account for Josh.”
I needed the cash to pay for Josh’s treatment, but I figured it was smarter to have smaller payments, so I’d decided to split the money between the GoFundMe account and a checking account I planned to open.
“Right. I’ll take the briefcase and try to open it.” I thumped it with my foot. “There’s cash in there we can split. And I have to get those prescriptions I wrote. I can’t have anybody find them.”
Do No Harm Page 9