“Then tell me how, exactly, you think you can use Gonzalez’s affection for Lily Bannon against him?”
“Simple. We want you to be her contact in Key West. We’ll make a deal with her. We’ll drop the drug charges if she gathers incriminating evidence against Gonzalez and gives it to you. As soon as we have enough evidence to make a case against him, you’ll pull Miss Bannon out. In return for your cooperation, we drop your suspension.”
Nick turned to Waverly. “You do realize this is insane?”
Waverly turned a dull red. “It’s risky, yes, but I think it could work.”
Nick shook his head. “The problem here is that neither of you fully understand who you’re dealing with. Gonzalez is a twisted psychopath. All the other dealers fear him. If anyone crosses him, in any way, he kills them. I don’t care how much you think he may care about Lily Bannon. If he suspects for one second that she turned on him, that she’s providing evidence to the DEA, she’s dead. And exactly what makes you think you can trust an alcoholic and a junkie to hold herself together for this kind of operation? She’ll crack under the pressure. And when she does, Gonzalez will pounce. There’s only one outcome from this. Disaster. And I want no part of it.”
He scooted his chair back from the table and stood. “I’d rather stay suspended than risk a woman’s life. I’ll take the paid vacation while Internal Affairs investigates me. And I assure you I’ll be contacting Lily Bannon to advise her not to help you. It’s far too dangerous.”
Rickloff shot up from his chair. “You’ll do no such thing. We need Miss Bannon’s cooperation.”
“Don’t count on it.” Nick strode to the door and yanked it open. He froze when he saw who was walking through the squad room toward him.
Rafe. And Heather.
Heather looked so pale the freckles on her face stood out in stark relief.
Nick met them halfway. “What happened? Are you okay, Heather?”
She shook her head but didn’t say anything.
Rafe reached into his pocket and pulled out a clear evidence bag with a piece of paper inside. “Lily Bannon has been abducted.”
* * *
THE CONFERENCE ROOM quickly filled with a mix of DEA agents and police officers. Captain Buresh—Rafe’s boss—barked out orders, along with Waverly and Rickloff.
Nick stared at the note through the plastic bag.
I’ve got what you want. You’ve got what I want. Let’s trade.
The most obvious interpretation was that Gonzalez had abducted Lily and wanted to trade her for his kilos of cocaine.
So much for Rickloff’s theory that Gonzalez was in love with Lily.
The second line of the note gave the location for the trade—Skeleton’s Misery, a bar in Key West, along with tomorrow’s date and the time of 9:00 p.m.
He glanced at his watch. It was eleven o’clock in the morning. That didn’t give them much time to come up with a plan to save Lily. As soon as he’d seen the note, he’d run out to his truck to grab his map of the Keys. But when he’d returned, the conference room was in chaos. He’d tried several times to get everyone to be quiet, but no one was paying him any attention.
Rafe was leaning against the far wall, shaking his head, obviously as disgusted as Nick was.
Screw it. Lily didn’t have time for this. And neither did Heather. She was sitting as still as a statue in her chair at the far end of the table, so ghostly pale she looked as if she might collapse at any moment.
Enough was enough. Nick raked his hand across the conference room table, sending folders, pads of paper and pens flying. The room went silent and everyone stared at him in shock.
“Now that I have your attention,” Nick said, “I want everyone out except essential personnel.” He plopped his rolled-up map onto the table. When nobody moved, he glanced at his brother. “Rafe, want to help me explain to everyone who the nonessential people are?”
Rafe grinned. Between him and Nick, they went around the room directing people out the door.
Nick finally closed the door and turned around to a much more orderly, and quiet, conference room. The only remaining people were the same ones Nick had been talking to earlier, plus Heather, Rafe and Captain Buresh.
“You’ve got a bit of an ego to order all those people out, don’t you, son?” Rickloff said.
“Lily Bannon’s life is on the line. And we don’t have a lot of time to figure out how we’re going to save her.”
He unrolled the map. Rafe grabbed some of the pads of paper off the floor and helped Nick weigh down the corners so the map would lie flat. Everyone except Heather gathered around the end of the table, leaning over the map while Nick drew a circle.
“That’s Skeleton’s Misery,” he said, pointing to the circle on the western edge of Key West. “It’s a new bar that opened up this year. That’s where Gonzalez wants to make the trade.”
“Tell me about the location,” Rickloff said.
Nick pointed to the street running out front. “It’s one of the more isolated bars, at the end of the tourist strip. The street is narrow, more for walkers than cars. The nearest cross streets are a mile south, here―” he pointed to another spot on the map and marked an X “―and two miles north.” He marked another X. “The only other access is from the ocean. There’s a dock right behind it, again, fairly new. The bar caters more to locals than to tourists, so it won’t be as crowded as some of the others, and there shouldn’t be a lot of boats at the dock.”
“What do you mean it caters to locals?” Waverly asked.
Nick glanced at Heather. Some of the color had returned to her face, and she was watching him intently.
“Heather, would you like some water or a bite to eat?” Nick asked. “Rafe could take you outside, get you something.”
Rafe was already heading to Heather’s side when she raised her hand to stop him.
“I’m not going anywhere. I want to hear this. I want to know how you’re going to help Lily.” Her voice broke on the last word and she clasped her hands tightly on the table in front of her.
Nick belatedly wished he hadn’t allowed Heather to stay in the conference room when he’d ushered everyone else out, but he didn’t have time to argue with her.
“When I say the bar caters to locals,” he continued, answering Waverly’s question, “I mean it’s raw. It’s little more than a shanty with loud music. No fancy menus, no live bands, and the people who run the place are ex-cons.”
Heather
