Page 80 of Don't Say a Word
I may have jumped the gun with Bradford. Bradford never gave up his supplier. He claimedhewas the supplier, thathebrought in the drugs from Mexico and distributed them through his network of kids. The police hadn’t believed him, but he hadn’t budged.
If the police were right, who was his partner? Someone on campus? Were his regular trips to Yuma important or a smoke screen? Would his partner recruit a new Ben Bradford to run his operation, run it himself?
If itwason campus, that might be motive to kill Lena Clark if she suspected something. What if Elijah told someone he trusted about his suspicions? Someone who then betrayed him?
Where did the Cactus Stop photos fit in?
Too many what-ifs and half-assed theories. I needed more information, and that meant talking to as many people as possible. Shake the hornet’s nest. But unlike Lena Clark, I knew what I was doing was dangerous.
Something was here, just outside my grasp. I had to figure it out before someone else died.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Cal Rafferty
DEA Agent Cal Rafferty sorted through the files on his desk and pulled out the one he needed.
He hated paperwork. Most cops did. But Cal liked to think that he detested that part of the job more than anyone.
He turned to his computer and painstakingly input the information from his last interview with a potential witness to a mid-level drug trafficking ring. It wasn’t even his case—he was assisting his colleagues in the field by following up on the information they learned. He loved his job in the DEA; he hated the bureaucracy.
Cal itched to be out in the field, but he’d recently finished a major undercover operation with the ASU Police Department and helped take down an Ecstasy manufacturing ring running out of a Chemistry lab. It was a majorly satisfying bust. But George Franks, his boss, had strict rules about spacing undercover assignments. He’d been at ASU for four months, so he had a month of what his boss called “office time.” It wasn’t that he wasn’t working—there was plenty to do. Fielding calls. Consulting with local police. Tracking tips. Following up on interviews. Reviewing cold cases and online chatter. But most of their cases were built over time,and there was no greater satisfaction than having a righteous bust after months of tightening the noose.
There was nothing Cal wanted to do more in his life than stop the scourge of drugs, especially fentanyl. The surge in the use of this deadly drug was faster than anything he or his colleagues had ever witnessed.
He had professional reasons for wanting it off the street, of course.
He had personal reasons as well.
Cal’s cell phone rang.
“Rafferty,” he answered.
“Cal, this is Officer Dave Blair down at Eyman.”
“Dave, yeah, how’re you doing?”
“Good, thanks. One of your prisoners had a visitor today.”
He straightened. He had a guard at every prison where he’d flagged a criminal. Cal didn’t flag everyone he’d put away—he’d be getting calls all day and night—but there were a few felons Cal knew who hadn’t forked over information in an ongoing case. He had two of them at Eyman.
“Who?” Cal asked.
“Bradford.”
That surprised him. Bradford had been arrested nearly three years ago and sentenced after his subsequent plea agreement. Cal could count on one hand the people who visited him—Bradford’s parents brought his kids every few months, his brother visited monthly, and a couple friends, who Cal had vetted, visited periodically, until last year. It felt as if everyone who knew him back when he was a popular coach had abandoned him.
Serves him right, Cal thought. He’d exploited teens, ruined lives, and showed no remorse.
His wife was just as bad. Cal wished she’d been put away longer than the six years she’d got in her plea deal. Cecilia Bradford had lied during the investigation and interviews. Cal had no patience for her, and though he objected to the plea, the AUSA went ahead with it.
“Ben Bradford,” Cal said with a whistle. “Who visited?”
“A private investigator, Margo Angelhart. Her father is incarcerated here and she visits regularly. She has an in with the visitors’ office and got her name put on Bradford’s list.”
“What did they talk about?”
“I don’t know.”
