“What about Dr. Wright?” Krichek asked. “Could she help?”
Ray nodded his agreement. “After meeting the widow yesterday, I think she might get more out of her than either you or I could. I can’t decide if Tassi Standish is complicit and the best actress I’ve ever met, or if she’s as dumb as a load of bricks.” That was Ray, never one to couch his opinions in politically correct terms.
“We can use the CIC interview rooms, if they aren’t already booked.” The Crisis Intervention Center was part of the ER and had interview rooms equipped with video and audio recording capacities. Using them would save bringing Tassi and Dean back here. Plus, Luka could see if Ramsey had found anything about Beth and her baby.
“What’s Foster Dean want with a photograph of Standish?” Krichek asked.
“Proof that he’s really dead,” Ray answered. “And the only reason he’d need that—”
“Is if he’s working for the Zapata family,” Luka finished for him. Foster Dean intrigued him. Last night he’d gotten a few details from a phone call to a friend on the regional drug interdiction task force. It seemed Dean’s retirement hadn’t been entirely his own idea, from the rumors Luka’s friend had shared. According to her, Dean had been suspected of feeding intel to the Zapata family, but nothing had been proven and he’d resigned under a cloud of suspicion.
If Dean was working for the Zapatas, it would explain why he’d been tenacious enough to follow Spencer from Colorado to Pennsylvania after Spencer had been desperate enough to fake his own death back in Denver.
Which made Tassi, as the only person involved with Spencer back in Colorado as well as his new life here, even more important as a witness. It was vital that Luka find a way to get her talking.
She hadn’t responded to him or his team. Perhaps she really was too traumatized by her husband’s death. If so, there was one person who could not only help ease the widow’s pain but also help Luka get the answers he needed: Leah Wright.
Twenty-Seven
As soon as the uniformed officers had Darius restrained, Harper rushed to her car and grabbed the OD kit from the trunk. Leah rolled Macy onto her side and was monitoring her pulse.
“Heroin overdose?” Harper asked as she unwrapped one of the special nasal syringes of naloxone. She’d had to use the OD kits so many times while working patrol that she didn’t even wait for Leah’s answer, simply handing her the syringe.
“Definitely some sort of opiate,” Leah said, shoving the reversal agent up Macy’s nose and depressing the plunger. Harper kept back and noticed that Leah did as well. Naloxone immediately negated the effects of opioids, canceling an addict’s high so fast that their first action as they woke was often to take a swing at whoever was closest.
Macy merely fluttered her eyes and released a groan. “Give me another dose,” Leah ordered. “How far out is the ambulance?”
“Pulling up now.” Harper prepped the second dose and handed it to Leah. This time they were rewarded with Macy jerking upright, looking around in confusion. But then she slumped back against the car, muttering incoherently.
“Are you guys seeing any fentanyl or carfentanyl?” Leah asked Harper as the medics took over. “I haven’t heard of any cases from the ER, but she definitely took something higher grade than what we usually see.”
“I’ll ask, but the only cases of high-end stuff like that that I’ve heard of have been out of Philly and Baltimore.” Harper stepped back so that the medics could push their stretcher past. “She going to be okay?”
“I hope so.”
“Lucky you were here when it happened.” Harper wondered how Macy had got enough cash to OD on high-grade junk—maybe that was what she and Darius were arguing about.
“I’m going to ride with her,” Leah said, trotting after the medics.
“I’ll be right behind you.” Harper watched the ambulance leave, made sure the patrol officers were also taking Darius to Good Sam for a medical eval before they booked him, then walked back to her car. She used a liberal dose of hand sanitizer and made a note to replace the OD kit before signing the car back into the vehicle pool.
Jonah approached from the mission and rapped on her window as she was getting ready to head over to Good Sam. “I saw what happened. Is Macy going to be all right?”
“Hope so. Can you spread the word among your clients to be extra careful? Whatever she took, it was a lot more potent than regular street junk.”
“Will do.” He stood, then lowered his face again so that they were at eye level. “You did good today, sis.”
As Harper drove to the ER, his words haunted her. Had she done good? Really? How could she have been so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should have pushed the issue with Macy yesterday, brought her in off the streets. Now a girl had almost died because of Harper’s carelessness.
The aftermath of adrenaline shook her almost as much as her guilt at her rookie mistake. She’d thought she was cultivating Macy, easing her into telling her what she needed to know about Lily’s death. Should have known better. A street addict was going to do what addicts always did: chase their next fix, even if it killed them.
At least they’d gotten Darius. No way was he walking away from this. Kid was probably also high, reacting that way. The uniforms were taking him to get drug tested and cleared medically before booking him. Then it would be Harper’s turn to see what Darius knew. Had he killed Lily? Maybe he thought she was trying to get Macy to go back to rehab, was trying to take Macy from him?
Too many questions, not enough answers and now one girl was dead and one almost dead.
It felt like Harper’s first case as lead
