“Nothing to be embarrassed about. See if you can stand okay.”
She stood and there was no dizziness. “See, I told you. Let me get a plate for the bacon.”
Max moved the computers to the end of the table, and Jennawilled herself to stay upright while she laid out the plates and cutlery.
She took a bite of Max’s omelet. “You really can cook.”
“Shannon showed me how to make omelets. They aren’t that hard.”
“What happened with you two?” Jenna slapped her hand over her mouth. “That was none of my business.”
He stared at the cup of coffee he cradled in his hand. Then he looked up. “I don’t mind talking about her or the breakup now, and it wasn’t all her fault. Being a cop is hard on a relationship. We had a lot of good years, five of them, before ...” He sighed and looked toward the window.
Being a cop was one reason she’d shied away from relationships after Phillip. The hours were long sometimes, and it was hard to leave the job at the station. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Shannon was a good cook. Early on, she often made elaborate candlelight dinners—although I never quite saw the point in not seeing what you were eating.”
They both laughed.
“But then she broke her leg in a skiing accident. The doctor prescribed oxycodone.” He blew out a breath. “Unfortunately, she became addicted. I didn’t realize it until one night she overdosed. I called an ambulance and found out when it showed up on a drug screen the ER doctor ordered.”
“How in the world did you get that information from the doctor?”
“She’d put me on her HIPAA form because she had no family in Chattanooga. The ER doctor told me—he thought I knew. She finally admitted she was getting them off the street after her doctor refused to continue prescribing it.”
“I’m so sorry, both for you and her.” Jenna had seen what addiction did in her uncle, only his drug was alcohol.
“I tried to talk to her about getting help.” Max shook his head.“She didn’t believe she had a problem, and she eventually broke the engagement.”
She remembered when that had happened.
“Is she still doing drugs?”
“Actually, she went into rehab about a year ago. I haven’t talked to her, but I hope she’s still straight.”
It was plain he still cared about her.
48
Sweat drenched Sebastian’s shirt, but he continued his push-ups. How had Jenna Hart and the TBI agent figured out he’d rented the farmhouse next to the horse barn? He’d like to take them both out, but killing two law enforcement officers would bring the FBI in on the case. And that was too much heat. He wasn’t going back to prison.
His biceps trembled. Twenty more push-ups and he would quit. It wasn’t getting his mind off the problem, anyway.
He’d told Ross renting a place adjacent to where Hart kept her horse was a stupid move. The cop had rented the place anyway. Said it was perfect for their setup.
Sebastian agreed it ticked all the requirements—out of the way and a space to store the heroin and fentanyl as well as a place to make the pills ... there’d even been a place for a small grow room. But he’d known the owner of the farm next door would be curious about the new tenants who weren’t very neighborly, and what better person to discuss his concerns with than a deputy who came every day?
He finished his last twenty push-ups and grabbed a towel. His cell phone rang and he checked the ID. Ross. “Yeah?” he answered.
“Your text—tell me you didn’t give the word to move the operation.”
“Okay, I won’t tell you.”
“Moving right now is stupid.”
“No. Stupid is renting a house right next to where Hart keeps her horse. She and that TBI agent know we’re there. I’ve already given the order to move out, so find us a new place to carry on the pill-making operation. One that isn’t close to anything Hart is connected to.”
“Rescind the order—the buyer is expecting a shipment Sunday morning, and we only have half of what he paid for. If we move, we can’t make the deadline.”