Long Simmering Spring (6 page)

“Getting back to the business at hand,” Cole said, “I’m going to let Agent Grayson begin. Addressing his brother, he said, “I believe that you and Agent Rivera have some information you’d like to share with the Sheriff’s Department.”

Val cleared his throat. “Yes,” he said, his deep, low voice resonating in the room. “So far, the DEA has been pleased with the cooperation you’ve given us on the monumental task of shutting down the drug cartel tied to Star Harbor. It’s clear that the drugs are originating in town—the distribution center we shut down at the Grange and the Coast Guard’s interception of the vessel picking up drugs from the caves underneath Star Harbor Point make it clear that Star Harbor is ground zero for the manufacturing of this stuff.”

What Val didn’t need to mention was that Lexie and her line cook, Buster, had stumbled upon the Grange operation, and that Theo, who was staying at the Star Harbor Inn to write his next novel, had accidentally uncovered the cave plot.

Cole nodded at Val, and his brother went on. “We chose to focus on the drug’s unique synthetic makeup. Since then, we’ve conducted numerous tests and have confirmed that the drugs coming from Star Harbor are ‘bath salts’—mephedrone and MDPV—laced with something else, which I’ll get to in a minute. I’m sure you’re aware that the components of bath salts are now illegal to possess, make, or distribute. Bath salts are a powerful stimulant as well as a hallucinogen, and overdoses present like amphetamine ODs. Coupled with other drugs, they’re a recipe for disaster. Which brings me back to our test results. The manufacturers are lacing the mephedrone with prescription drugs, primarily oxycodone. You know this drug by the brand names OxyContin or Percocet.”

At that moment, Rhonda Lee came back through the door with a pot of coffee and a tray of muffins from the LMK. She set them, along with some plates, cups, sugar, napkins, and stirrers, on a side table.

When Rhonda Lee left, Agent Rivera spoke up. “Based on the presence of prescription drugs, we’re convinced that someone local is involved. Someone who knows this town inside out, has access to huge quantities of regulated, prescription drugs—or knows people who do—and who would be in a position to coordinate a large-scale distribution.”

“So far we’ve been working together unofficially, which has served both our departments well,” Val said. “You’ve been operating the way you’ve needed to in order to keep Star Harbor’s citizens safe, and we’ve been pursuing the drug running on a broader scale. However, now that we know more about what we’re dealing with, the DEA would like to formally request the Sheriff’s Department’s assistance in ferreting out who is involved and bringing them to justice.” Then he paused, waiting for Cole to respond.

Cole looked around before he spoke. Val was watching him carefully. Clearly this was a request from Val’s higher-ups or he wouldn’t be asking so stiffly. Cole wouldn’t disappoint his brother—or his own people. “We’re in.” He looked to either side of him. Both Pete and Hank looked determined. “On-the-ground logistical expertise, resources, manpower, and knowledge—you name it, we’ll provide it.”

Val didn’t smile, but his eyes warmed. “Thanks, bro,” he said, softly. Then in a more formal tone, he said, “On behalf of the DEA and the Federal Government, Agent Rivera and I thank you.”

“Where do you suggest we begin?” Cole asked, flipping open a pad of paper.

Val’s gaze got steely, and Cole knew he had a plan. “We attack from all sides. Put pressure on those dealers already in custody to talk, keep trying to pinpoint the other dens and distribution centers, and go after the other piece of the puzzle—the prescription drugs. When we find out where they’re coming from and whom they’re going to, the rest of the operation should crumble,” he said, Agent Rivera nodding at his side. “You ready?”

Cole glanced at his deputies. “It’s on.”

Julie glanced around Martins’s Market, scoping out the place with eagle eyes. A few older women were ten feet away, picking over the string beans, but they had their backs to her. Joanne Martins had stepped into the back to get something, and Will, her husband, was at the register, ringing somebody up. The area where Margo Rathbone was standing near the fruit displays was empty and no other customers seemed to be paying her any mind.

Good
. She didn’t want anyone to see what she was about to do. Now was her window. Quickly, she approached Margo, pulled a brown paper bag out of her tote, and thrust it forward, keeping it as low as she could. “Here,” she said softly.

Margo, eyes darting around as frantically as a field mouse’s, snatched the bag from Julie’s hand and stuffed it into her gigantic purse. For a second, Julie didn’t breathe.

Then, as she realized that no one was even glancing their way, she relaxed fractionally.

Mission accomplished.

Julie stifled the urge to laugh. Even though the situation wasn’t funny—
at all
—by the way they were acting, anyone who saw them might think this was some kind of drug deal. Sadly, it wasn’t that far from the truth. They’d arranged this meeting through old-fashioned note-passing, as Don had access to Margo’s sole email account.

“Margo,” Julie said in a low voice. “I really need you to come in for a physical. Please. I’m worried about you.”

“I told you, it’s hard for me to get away,” Margo whispered back.

“But this isn’t right. I have no problem prescribing you a three-month supply of birth control pills. I’ve done it before for other patients who can’t get in to see me right away, but I always insist they come in for a physical afterward. I’m a good doctor who practices good medicine. And if I didn’t insist on seeing you for a physical when you haven’t had one in years, it’d be wrong.”

Margo looked like she was about to speak, but then something she saw made her face go ashen.

“Margo? Are you all—” But Julie didn’t need to finish the sentence, because at that moment she turned and saw what was making Margo pale. It was Don. And he was heading right for them with a mean look in his eye.

“Don!” Margo said a bit too brightly. “What are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here?” he demanded.

“Why, I’m just buying some meat for tonight’s supper. I know how much you love beef.”

“Well, go get it,” he demanded. “Don’t stand around chitchatting all day with the ladies.” He gave Julie a once-over and sneered.

“Yes,” Margo said meekly. Staring at the ground, she went off to the butcher’s counter.

Once Margo had moved away, Don turned back to Julie. “You stay away from my wife,” he hissed. “She doesn’t need someone like you filling her head with crap.”

Julie set her jaw. She was dying to say something—anything—to Don, but she feared it would make things more difficult for Margo. So instead of giving Don a diatribe on women’s rights, control, and power, she clamped her teeth together, knowing she must look like she was grimacing. At the moment, she didn’t care.

As soon as Don moved away, she let out a deep breath and grabbed an apple. When she took it to the counter to pay, Will Martins looked at her sympathetically.

“I know you’re only trying to help her,” he said softly.

Julie glanced up at his kind, worn face. He knew. Somehow, he knew what she and Margo had done. “You can lead a horse to water,” she said sadly, shaking her head. Inside the paper bag, she’d slipped a piece of paper with a domestic abuse hotline number, but she doubted that Margo would call it.

“You’re doing just fine, Doc,” Will said, tucking the apple into a small brown bag. “Just fine.”

“Thanks, Will,” she said, passing him a bill. “But some days it just doesn’t feel like I’m doing enough.” She glanced over at Don and Margo. He had his big hand wrapped around her upper arm and was steering her toward the register. She couldn’t watch anymore. When Will handed her the change, she beat a hasty retreat.

Ducking out of the market into the late-afternoon air, she slowly walked back to her office. The salty, musky scent of the harbor wafted through downtown, and she inhaled deeply. Tough cases didn’t scare her. They never had, but then again, she hadn’t been practicing for that long. Only a three-year residency and just under two years of private practice. Still, the ones who
had
slipped through her fingers? A totally different matter. She really didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, so instead of going in through the Front Street entrance, she slipped into the alley behind her practice. But when she turned into the narrow street, she stopped short.

There, halfway down the block, were two boys. Based on their builds, they looked to be about twelve or thirteen years old. From so far away, Julie couldn’t see who they were, but what she did see was that they each had a can of spray paint and were tagging the brick wall near her back door. Caught mid-spray, both of them stared at her for a split second.

“Run!” yelled the one closer to her, and they both dropped their implements of destruction and bolted down the alleyway. Julie chased after them.

“Stop! Come back!” she shouted, running as fast as she could. The boys were sprinting now, glancing backward to check her position. There was no way she could catch up. They had the better part of a block on her, they were young, and they were seriously motivated to escape. Once they hit Main Street, she knew they’d be long gone. But then, a large, dark figure appeared at the other end of the alley.

Even from a distance, she knew it was Cole. He looked huge and very, very angry. Not watching where they were going, the boys ran smack into the big man, who grabbed each of them by the arm.

Within a few moments, she was there, breathing hard. And she recognized the boys—two of her patients. “Benjamin Jackson! Christopher Walsh! What on earth were you thinking?” she managed to get out. She was just going to give them a warning, but with the sheriff there, things would escalate. Too bad, because she liked Ben and Chris.

“Why don’t you let me handle this, Dr. Kensington?” Cole said smoothly.

She looked up at him. His eyes were hard and his jaw was clenched. He was holding himself in check—whether for her sake or for the boys’, she wasn’t certain.

“Sheriff Grayson, please. I know these boys. I don’t want them to get into any serious trouble.”

“Dr. Kensington,” he repeated, his voice a silken warning, “let me handle this.” Power emanated from him and his gaze didn’t waver.

“But—”

“This is my job. Please let me do it.”

It was the “please” that got her. She swallowed. “Okay,” she said, and was rewarded when his gaze softened fractionally. Then, just as quickly, his usual intensity returned.

Giving each boy a hard look, he let go of their arms. “Stay here,” he ordered. “Don’t move a muscle.”

The boys looked at him and then at each other, fear in their eyes. They weren’t going anywhere. His mouth set in a straight line, Cole stalked down the alleyway to examine the damage done. He stopped outside the back door of Julie’s office and checked out the graffiti. As Julie had run past, she’d seen a couple of swear words scrawled across the wall. She’d clearly interrupted the creation of their masterpiece—the beginning of a crude picture. Within a few moments, Cole was back. He put a hand on each boy’s shoulder.

“Doctor,” he said to Julie. “Please go back to your office and wait for me.” Though it was a clear order, his tone was different.

“All right,” Julie said with a sigh. It was out of her hands now.

Slowly, she walked back down the alleyway and unlocked her back door. Just before she went inside, she turned. Cole was facing both boys and appeared to be talking sternly to them. Sighing again, she stepped in and let the door slam shut behind her.

“Hi, Julie,” Lisa said in her usual peppy voice. “Hey,” she said, finally noticing Julie’s face. “Are you okay?”

Julie quickly explained what had happened.

“Aw, geez. Just wait until their parents find out. They’re going to be in so much trouble!”

“It’s more than that,” Julie said. “With Cole involved, they’re probably going to have something on their permanent records. Of course, they’re minors, so I suppose they can have their juvenile records sealed when they get older, but neither boy is actually bad. Just a bit naughty.”

“Well, there’s nothing you can do now,” Lisa said.

“We just have one more patient today, right?”

“Right,” Lisa confirmed.

“Okay.” Julie shook her head. “I’m going to my office to try to get some paperwork done.”

“Good idea.”

Julie had just settled into her office when there was a knock at the door.

“Julie, the sheriff is here to see you. And he brought some friends,” Lisa said wryly.

“Send them in.”

In a few moments, the boys slunk into her office, followed immediately by Cole. Neither boy would meet her gaze, so she stood up from her chair and looked at Cole quizzically.

“Gentlemen?” Cole prompted.

Ben, a skinny, black-haired kid, raised his head. “Sorry, Dr. Kensington,” he said just above a whisper.

Cole cleared his throat.

“We apologize,” Chris said sheepishly, his reddish-brown hair falling over his eyes.

Cole looked somewhat satisfied. He stood behind the boys, legs slightly spread and arms akimbo. Julie had never seen him look more like a cop. “Now we’re faced here with a tough problem. On the one hand, we have defacement of private property, clear criminal mischief, and running from the scene of a crime. On the other hand, we have two young boys who have never gotten into trouble before.”

Julie saw where he was going. “What would you propose, Sheriff Grayson?” she asked, trying to keep her tone even.

“A compromise. Mr. Jackson and Mr. Walsh have agreed to scrub the back of your office clean and to volunteer their stage-building services at the Spring Fair. I’ve telephoned both their parents to discuss this and will be having follow-up conversations with them in person. In return, you won’t press charges and I won’t write them up. I trust this is an acceptable solution.”

“Yes,” she said. It was more than acceptable. The boys would learn a valuable lesson without a permanent mark on their records.