To Protect & Serve (17 page)

The knots in Keri’s stomach grew tighter. Forget it? Would it be that easy? Alex’s tone made it clear the conversation was over, but Keri sensed it was far from that. Sometime soon they needed to talk. Honestly. “Sure.”

After Keri walked hesitantly out the door, the phone rang. Alex briefly debated not answering it so she could grab a quick breakfast, but the heavy weight of responsibility overtook her hunger. She scribbled a few notes, thanked the operator, and slumped against the side of her desk, trying to understand the possible significant of the message:
Please see Marilyn Carruthers at Granville Drug Rehab after 0800 hours. She has information about the Chambers death.

Maybe this was the lead she’d been waiting for. Maybe finally someone knew something that could help the investigation. She stuffed the note in her pocket, grabbed her briefcase, and walked to her car.

*

The Granville Drug Rehab office was located next door to the courthouse in an old gray one-story building. The location suited their clientele perfectly. They left court and reported immediately to drug rehab, and most never returned a second time. Alex had checked Byron Chambers’s list of Stacey’s contacts and found Marilyn Carruthers among the group of coworkers at the center. After identifying herself at the front desk, Alex was escorted to a small office at the back of the building.

A makeshift cardboard nameplate beside the door indicated the office of Marilyn Carruthers and Stacey Chambers. Alex’s insides balked at the delicate handwriting she recognized as Stacey’s. It bothered her that newbies were often relegated to the least desirable accommodations even though their enthusiasm usually surpassed the veterans’. She knocked on the door and a quiet voice asked her to come in.

Marilyn Carruthers introduced herself and motioned Alex to a chair. The young woman was Stacey’s opposite, short and round, mousy-brown hair, unexpressive green eyes, and a voice that Alex had to strain to hear. The two of them had probably worked well together because they were so very different. Alex looked around the office trying to imagine Stacey working here.

The room was exactly as she expected: dated and dull. An old table served as a two-sided desk with straight-backed chairs on either side, scratched metal in-baskets at either end were piled high with files that threatened to topple over, and an institutional-green sofa against the wall sagged in the middle from years of use. The room spoke to the value placed on its occupants and their clients. Alex found it a sad commentary on the culture in general, and somehow insulting to the memory of a young woman she’d liked and respected.

“Your message said you had information for me.”

Marilyn Carruthers looked conspiratorially around the room before answering. “It could be nothing, but the press release said any details might be of value.” She waited for reassurance.

“That’s right. You never know what could be helpful in a case like this. So, please, tell me what you know and I’ll evaluate it.”

With a sigh of relief Marilyn said, “Stacey was counseling an African American woman in drug rehab. They’d only been working together for a few weeks, but Stacey liked her and thought she had the potential to start over and make a better life for herself and her child.” Marilyn stopped. She seemed reluctant to continue, as if embarrassed by revealing confidential information.

“Yes, and…?” Alex’s impatience was getting the better of her. She fought an urge to take the soft-spoken woman by the shoulders and shake the information from her in one quick motion.

“This client not only used drugs, she also slept with the dealer for quite a while. She was finding it hard to extricate herself from that connection. The last time they talked, she told Stacey she was willing to testify against him if she could get protection.”

Alex straightened in her chair. “Do you know when they had this conversation?”

“It would’ve been a few days before Stacey…” Marilyn’s voice trailed off as tears gathered at the corners of her eyes.

“Stacey was a wonderful person,” Alex reassured Marilyn in hopes she would continue. “She’ll be missed by everyone who knew her.” She patted Marilyn’s hand and asked, “Did she say if she’d contacted anyone about this woman’s testimony or made any arrangements to seek protection for her?”

Marilyn swiped at a loose strand of lifeless hair that fell across her forehead. “She just said they were going to talk to a friend of hers in Vice/Narcotics and set everything up after the community watch meeting. But then…well, you know.”

Alex’s throat tightened and she felt a pang of guilt rip through her. “Yes, I know.”

It appeared a small light of recognition suddenly went off in Marilyn’s eyes. “You were the person she was going to talk to in Vice/Narcotics, weren’t you? I’ve just put it all together. She spoke of you often and with such high regard when she interned for you.”

“Yes.” Alex held back the surge of raw feelings that threatened to distract her from her purpose. “Marilyn, can you tell me this client’s name or the name of the dealer?”

The woman’s eyes lit up, “I can tell you both. She was Tiffany Brown. I’m not sure if that was her real name, but it’s the one she used here and it checked out. And the dealer was Sonny Davis. He’s supposed to be big time.”

Alex wanted to reach across the table and hug Marilyn Carruthers within an inch of her life. This was the break she’d been waiting for. Struggling to contain her enthusiasm, she willed her voice to remain calm. “Is there anything else you can remember?”

“Not that I can think of. Stacey was so excited about helping this young mother and her child start over. It was going to be her first success story. She really loved this job and she was excellent at it.”

“She was excellent at everything she did, from what I could see.” Alex stood, shook Marilyn’s hand, and started toward the door. “Thank you again for everything. Your information is important.”

As she walked toward her car, Alex considered Marilyn’s statement. She wondered what Davis’s friends would think of him sleeping with an African American woman. His racist roots seemed pretty deep, except in the bedroom. If Tiffany had been sleeping with Sonny Davis, she’d probably have information about his contacts, his business schedule, how he replenished his stash, and maybe even where he kept the drugs. If he had realized that Tiffany wanted out and was talking to Stacey, he must have wanted to shut her up. Had he arranged for Stacey to be eliminated before she could go to the police with what she knew? A crack addict was easy enough to discredit, but a board-certified therapist, and a councilman’s daughter to boot, wouldn’t be so easily dismissed.

But if Davis had Stacey killed to keep her quiet, why didn’t he kill Tiffany as well? Or did he? The first order of business was to have the team track down Tiffany Brown. If she was still alive, she could be the key to this whole case, of that Alex was sure.

*

Keri hated the waiting—waiting for Davis to call for another meet, waiting to see Alex again, waiting for a chance to talk to her. Hurry up and wait. For the past few days the team had tailed Davis from bars and strip clubs to flophouses and back without learning anything significant, and no one could locate Tiffany Brown. Keri did her job, tried to keep the guys psyched, and pumped Beth for information about Alex. What else could she do but wait?

Her waiting came to an abrupt halt when Alex strolled into the lineup area. Everyone immediately straightened in their seats and the room seemed to crackle with excitement and anticipation. Keri never understood how Alex had such an effect on her troops, but it happened every time.

Keri’s senses also sharpened but she was looking for something else, for some sign that Alex at least remembered their kiss. But there was no such indication. Alex avoided eye contact just as she’d avoided talking to her since that night, leaving Keri to think maybe she had just imagined it all, maybe she’d just wanted something magical to happen and her mind had played tricks on her.

“Sergeant Price briefed me on your progress,” Alex said. “You’ve all done an outstanding job gathering information on Davis. I know it’s been boring. Nobody likes grunt work, but I have a feeling that’s about to change.” She sat down at the head of the small conference table and continued. “Who has the intel on his associates?”

Paige Hunter, the shy DEA intelligence officer, shuffled some papers and said, “Yes, ma’am. Two have criminal records, two don’t. James Fletcher, AKA Fletch, is Davis’s right-hand man and they’re childhood friends. He appears to be clean. Charles Randolph, nickname Dolph, has no record, but he’s a suspect in three substantial fraud cases the Bureau is working. The victims in all three cases have either refused to cooperate or have disappeared.”

Her partner, Rick Jones, spoke up with his country-boy charm. “And we all know what that means.”

Paige grinned. “Now comes the hard stuff. Henry Watkins, AKA Hunk, is a former high school football star. He started using meth and ecstasy right after he graduated, and apparently supported his habit by committing armed robberies. He served three years at Crayton Maximum Security Prison.”

“So we can assume quite a few criminal connections,” Alex said pensively. “And Cappy?”

“Freddy Capanelli is also an ex-con. He served two years for assault with a deadly weapon with intent to kill, inflicting serious injury, and another year for attempted rape. The assault was on his then-girlfriend. He’s a real nice piece of work. That’s pretty much it.”

Alex looked up from her notes. “What was Cappy’s weapon of choice in the assault case?”

Paige flipped back through the file. “A 9mm Glock, which was never located, but three bullets were recovered from the victim and shell casings were found at the scene.”

“Thanks, Paige, good work. Questions from anyone?” Alex waited, and when no one spoke, she continued. “We now have a pretty clear picture of Davis. His history, habits, associates, places he frequents, and where he might try to hide from us. How about Tiffany Brown? Does anyone have information on her yet? Do we know where she is?”

Keri tried unsuccessfully to meet Alex’s eyes. “I spoke with my CI again last night and he provided a few names. People she knows and places she hangs out.”

Alex nodded. “Follow up every possibility. We’ve got to find this girl before she turns up dead.”

“Is there anything new on Stacey Chambers?” Beth asked.

Alex opened her case file and pulled out the autopsy results and toxicology report from the state lab. “I just got the reports back today. Stacey Chambers’s COD was acute irreversible cardiovascular damage caused by a drug overdose. The tox report confirms it’s the same as the ones found in the other victims and in the drugs we’ve purchased from Davis’s dealers on the street—they’re selling it as ecstasy, but the primary ingredient is PMA, not MDMA. It appears she probably ingested the substance in something she ate or drank at that meeting.”

“I might be able to help with the how, Lieu,” Steve Alston offered. “Our lab did a fingerprint analysis on the prints recovered at the scene. The drinking glass found next to Stacey’s body had two sets of prints. One was hers and the other belonged to our missing witness, Tiffany Brown.”

Alex considered this new information. It didn’t make sense that Tiffany would intentionally give a spiked drink to Stacey. “Well, one thing is for sure, whoever this drink was intended for was intended to die. The dosage was so high there could be no other outcome. Were there any other prints of interest recovered, Steve?”

Alston scanned the report again before answering, “No, ma’am.”

“Not exactly a smoking gun,” Beth said.

Keri’s undercover cell phone jingled to life as if on cue. She grabbed it off her waistband and placed it carefully on the table. There could only be a few possible callers, and Sonny Davis was the one she’d been expecting. “Everybody clear the area,” Beth said. “Steve, hook up the recorder. If it’s him, we want to be ready.”

On Beth’s cue, Keri took a deep breath and hoped she wouldn’t sound as anxious as she felt. “Yes?”

“Yo, is this lovely Lynn who likes variety?” Davis’s too-charming voice was unmistakable.

“Who is this?” Keri gave Beth a thumbs-up.

“It’s your main man, Sonny. We met at Shelly’s a while back.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember now. What’s up?”

“I was wondering if you and that hot little redheaded friend of yours were free on Saturday night. I’m arranging something special at the Gentlemen’s Club and I sure could use some new scenery. Why don’t you drop by?”

“Well…” Keri glanced toward Beth for the go-ahead, intercepting a sharp “ain’t no way in hell” look from Alex. “I’m not sure if Kathy can make it, but I’ll be there.”

“Talk her into it. I’m partial to redheads. See you there.” Then the line went dead.

Keri cringed at Davis’s reference to Alex. She knew exactly what he meant, and it made her nauseous.

Steve pumped the air with his fist. “Yeah, now we’ve got a game.”

“All right, guys, huddle up,” Beth called to the group in the hallway.

Before the planning could begin, Alex got to her feet and asked Beth for a few minutes in her office. The sergeant didn’t look at all surprised at the request.

“Steve, get a drawing of the location,” Beth said. “Make coverage assignments and assess our vehicle situation. I’ll be back in a second for the briefing.”