Page 143 of Don't Say a Word
I didn’t answer. I didn’t owe him an explanation.
Jack said, “We are investigating the death of a teenager. Police closed the case, but there were some threads they didn’t tie off. The kid worked at the Cactus Stop, and over the last week we’ve come to believe he was tracking illegal activity within the store, and may have been killed because of it, framed as an accidental overdose.”
“And Bradford?” Cal pushed.
“One of the teachers at Sun Valley High mentioned him,” I said. “Then she was killed. I wanted to figure out if he was still running things at the school, or maybe someone took over for him and Lena Clark was stabbed to death because she had been asking questions that threatened their organization. Elijah attendedSun Valley, but there was no other connection to Bradford. I was, frankly, fishing. I didn’t get anything out of him, but I think he’s somehow involved, or may know who is.”
“Their operation was fucking brilliant,” Cal said.
“More brilliant than me?” I asked with a half smile.
He laughed. “I’d put my money on you. The Bradford operation was simple and straightforward, which is probably why it wasn’t on our radar until the anonymous call.”
He drained his energy drink, tossed the can in the trash, then grabbed another. This guy was already wired—he didn’t need more caffeine, but I didn’t say anything.
“They compartmentalized everything,” Cal said. “Only Eric McMahon knew that Bradford was in charge—at least of distribution. So when we got him to turn state’s evidence, the only thing Eric could give us was Bradford—and by extension his wife—and everyone Eric recruited to deal for him. It was a pyramid. But while we watched for months, we never got the top guy. They were very, very discreet in how they communicated with the supplier. When Scott Jimenez shot Eric, we pulled it. Took everyone we had down and wrapped it up.”
“Without knowing who the supplier was,” Jack said.
“Yep. Really irked us, but we really didn’t have a choice at that point. Then, after following Margo around, I noted she stopped at the Cactus Stop on Hatcher twice. And something in the back of my mind told me I’d missed something. I found it. A work permit for Scott Jimenez. He worked at the Cactus Stop for more than two years. Lightbulb!” Cal flicked his fingers above his head and I couldn’t help but smile.
“So I began digging into the Cactus Stop,” he said. “Manny Ramos is squeaky clean. No investigations by any agency, not even OSHA. He has a corporation, under which the Cactus Stop holdings are just one business. He started from one store and built it up. Gotta admire the guy. Hires teenagers because they’re cheap and it gives them experience. Gives back to the community. Friendswith law enforcement. Donates to politicians and the Catholic Church. Everyone likes him.”
Jack said, “What are you getting at?”
“I’ll tell you everything we have, if you tell me everything you know. Even if you can’t prove it. Then maybe we can finally put an end to this operation.”
“On one condition,” Jack said.
I glanced at him, confused. Jack usually jumped to work with law enforcement.
“Sure, if I can,” Cal said.
“Promise me that you’llneverfollow anyone in my family again.”
Cal shrugged. “No can do.”
Hitch said, “Cal,come on.”
“Well, I don’t know if our cases are going to cross again. I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.”
I laughed. “I like honesty.”
Cal grinned.
“One minute,” I said and went to my office.
I’d put up all my notes this morning on my whiteboard, but hadn’t really had time to analyze them. I rolled the board into the conference room and turned it to face the three men.
“Whoa,” Cal said. “Holy shit.”
He stared, taking in everything at once. The notes, the connections, the questions, and the copies of Elijah’s photos that I’d taped along the bottom because I had run out of room.
Jack slowly rose and I saw he had narrowed in on one corner. I looked where he was looking—my notes on Lena Clark and Dwight Parsons. He glanced at me and I shrugged.
“They’re connected, Jack. I just don’t know how.”
Hitch looked at the photos. “I know half these people. They’re dealers.”
