had come at her with lights flashing and sirens wailing. They’d appeared from nowhere, nearly running the one-ton off the road.
The officers had charged the truck cab with guns drawn, yelling incoherent sentences at her. One of them hauled her from the truck, throwing her to the ground. Absently she rubbed at the bruise on her cheek where it had slammed into the road.
The other two officers swarmed the truck like ants at a picnic. She was too frightened to protest even as the arresting officer groped her body a little too intimately. She had no idea what they were looking for until one of them produced something from under the driver’s seat. They waved the packets in her face accusing her of selling drugs. Pot didn’t come in crinkly cellophane packages. She still didn’t know what the bundles were. Whatever it was had been enough to slap cuffs roughly on her wrists, shove her into a cruiser and bring her to the police station.
She should be pissed. She’d done nothing wrong.
Instead, she was scared shitless.
* * * *
Glenn Lafflin, the Cutler chief of police, ushered Ayden in the backdoor of the small precinct and straight to his office. It was imperative none of the other officers see Ayden here. There was a high probability at least one of them on the small force was on Jameson’s payroll. The guys in Boston had done a thorough background check on Lafflin before they decided to bring him in, so only he was aware the DEA was in town. Sometimes it was good to have the cooperation of the local police. Ayden hoped he didn’t end up regretting the decision.
In hindsight, he probably should have sent over one of the other guys so there was no chance of blowing his cover. But after Harriman heard the Cutler officers touting the arrest over the scanner, he needed to find out for himself who else was in the game. Ayden would be pissed if this arrest turned up nothing more than a teenage punk getting ready for the weekend.
“I don’t know, Scott. The suspect looks pretty shaken up. Either there’s been a setup, or it’s one hell of an act.”
“Tell me again how you found the heroin.”
“We got a call into the switchboard at…” The chief consulted his notes. “—approximately three-thirty. An unidentified caller told us a street dealer was headed out of Cutler with drugs. Gave a detailed description of the vehicle and the time frame it would be on that particular road.”
“Unidentified?”
“The only thing that showed up on the switchboard was some disposable cell phone number. Can’t be traced back to the owner. Probably ditched the thing after reporting to us.”
“How much was confiscated?”
“Only five bundles.”
“Five hundred dollars worth of heroin, maybe a little more if the guy sold it on the streets in Bangor, less, if he planned on using some of it himself,” Ayden said. With the fish he was hoping to land, this small amount was hardly worth making a fuss over. But the Cutler police were no doubt slapping themselves on the back. It was probably the most action they’d seen in years.
“You think we got some turf war going on? Some dealer stepping on another’s toes?” the chief asked.
“Not sure.” Ayden hoped that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want anything to blow the deal with Jameson. “You talked to the guy yet?”
“It’s a woman. And no, we waited for you.”
* * * *
“So, Miss Tilling, tell us again what happened.”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“You’re welcome to call one, if you’d like.”
“But I didn’t do anything. The drugs aren’t mine. I don’t know how they got in my truck. I was just headed back to Delmont to dump the refuse. I’m a landscaper, and I have a job here in Cutler. I’ve told you all that.”
Ayden paced the little room, watching Deirdre through the window. He had all he could do not to storm into the interrogation room and pull her into his arms. Over the past half hour, she seemed to be shrinking into herself. She’d
The officers had charged the truck cab with guns drawn, yelling incoherent sentences at her. One of them hauled her from the truck, throwing her to the ground. Absently she rubbed at the bruise on her cheek where it had slammed into the road.
The other two officers swarmed the truck like ants at a picnic. She was too frightened to protest even as the arresting officer groped her body a little too intimately. She had no idea what they were looking for until one of them produced something from under the driver’s seat. They waved the packets in her face accusing her of selling drugs. Pot didn’t come in crinkly cellophane packages. She still didn’t know what the bundles were. Whatever it was had been enough to slap cuffs roughly on her wrists, shove her into a cruiser and bring her to the police station.
She should be pissed. She’d done nothing wrong.
Instead, she was scared shitless.
* * * *
Glenn Lafflin, the Cutler chief of police, ushered Ayden in the backdoor of the small precinct and straight to his office. It was imperative none of the other officers see Ayden here. There was a high probability at least one of them on the small force was on Jameson’s payroll. The guys in Boston had done a thorough background check on Lafflin before they decided to bring him in, so only he was aware the DEA was in town. Sometimes it was good to have the cooperation of the local police. Ayden hoped he didn’t end up regretting the decision.
In hindsight, he probably should have sent over one of the other guys so there was no chance of blowing his cover. But after Harriman heard the Cutler officers touting the arrest over the scanner, he needed to find out for himself who else was in the game. Ayden would be pissed if this arrest turned up nothing more than a teenage punk getting ready for the weekend.
“I don’t know, Scott. The suspect looks pretty shaken up. Either there’s been a setup, or it’s one hell of an act.”
“Tell me again how you found the heroin.”
“We got a call into the switchboard at…” The chief consulted his notes. “—approximately three-thirty. An unidentified caller told us a street dealer was headed out of Cutler with drugs. Gave a detailed description of the vehicle and the time frame it would be on that particular road.”
“Unidentified?”
“The only thing that showed up on the switchboard was some disposable cell phone number. Can’t be traced back to the owner. Probably ditched the thing after reporting to us.”
“How much was confiscated?”
“Only five bundles.”
“Five hundred dollars worth of heroin, maybe a little more if the guy sold it on the streets in Bangor, less, if he planned on using some of it himself,” Ayden said. With the fish he was hoping to land, this small amount was hardly worth making a fuss over. But the Cutler police were no doubt slapping themselves on the back. It was probably the most action they’d seen in years.
“You think we got some turf war going on? Some dealer stepping on another’s toes?” the chief asked.
“Not sure.” Ayden hoped that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want anything to blow the deal with Jameson. “You talked to the guy yet?”
“It’s a woman. And no, we waited for you.”
* * * *
“So, Miss Tilling, tell us again what happened.”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“You’re welcome to call one, if you’d like.”
“But I didn’t do anything. The drugs aren’t mine. I don’t know how they got in my truck. I was just headed back to Delmont to dump the refuse. I’m a landscaper, and I have a job here in Cutler. I’ve told you all that.”
Ayden paced the little room, watching Deirdre through the window. He had all he could do not to storm into the interrogation room and pull her into his arms. Over the past half hour, she seemed to be shrinking into herself. She’d
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