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“Okay, I called the seller. I told her I wanted more money. I figured I had her by the short hairs, so to speak, and she’d have no other choice than to pay more.”
“What did she say?”
Dillon’s cuffs clinked as he sat back and rested his hands in his lap. “She was pissed. But she knows how business like this goes. There’s always a surprise. She said she’d call me back. Five minutes later she said the buyer was willing to pay more.”
“You looked in the bag, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I did.”
“What kind of drugs were they?”
“I don’t know. I don’t ask.”
“You had an idea. A guy like you is smart enough to know what he’s dealing so he knows the value. What kind of drug was it?”
“It was enough to keep someone under for a long time.”
“You’re not helping, Jimmy. We both know a lot of drugs can do that.”
“You need an IV to make it work.”
“Okay. Now we are getting somewhere. How much did you sell?”
“A month’s worth, maybe. I don’t know.”
Weeks? Diane Richardson had been drugged for weeks via IV. Could a connection to Diane Richardson’s killer be this easy? “Are you talking about propofol?”
“Yeah. That sounds right.”
Propofol could put a patient into a deep state of sleep and render the recipient totally immobile. Diane’s killer would have needed it or a similar drug to work on her face.
“Why did you decide to use Terrance for the transaction?”
“Seemed safer that way. All the kid knew was he was selling a bag. I told him to make the exchange and bring me the money. It was an easy job.”
“The kid didn’t question you?”
“It took a little convincing at first, but I got him to agree.”
“You had no idea who was on the other end of this deal?”
“I only communicated directly with him once.”
Sharp simply waited.
Dillon tugged at his collar. “By phone. Frances gave me a number to call after our renegotiation. I called and we spoke. He was okay with the new price, and we set up the meet.”
“So you sent Terrance because you got a bad vibe about the caller, right?”
“It’s a vibe I get. I’ve learned not to ignore it.”
“So you sent your son.”
Dillon shook his head. “I really thought it would go down fine.”
“No, you didn’t. You sensed trouble and sent your kid to take the heat.”
Dillon held up his finger. “That’s not fair. You make it sound cold-blooded. The kid wanted to go. He wanted to make money so he could buy his grandmother a dryer.” Dillon ran his fingers through his dark hair and smiled. “He loved that old bitch.”
“She loved him.”
“No, she didn’t. Taking him into her home was another way she was sticking it to me. She never thought I was good enough for her daughter.”
Sharp didn’t respond.
“I really figured the worst that could happen was an arrest, maybe a night in jail, and then it would be like nothing happened.”
“Terrance would have lost his scholarship.”
“He didn’t need college filling his head with stuck-up ideas.”
“Where was Terrance supposed to meet the buyer?”
“An alley near Seventeenth Street in Richmond.”
“I want an exact location.”
“Why do you care where the meeting took place?”
He’d bet money that was the spot where Terrance had been knifed to death. “I care.”
“In Shockoe Bottom near the train tracks.”
“Why would this guy turn on Terrance?”
“Terrance can be a talker. He never knows when to shut up. I told him to keep his mouth shut. Shit, I must have told him twenty times. Don’t talk. Grab and go.”
“When Terrance didn’t show up with the money, what did you think?”
“At first I thought he was stiffing me. I called him a couple of times, and when he didn’t answer, I drove by his grandmother’s house. I didn’t see him.”
“That didn’t set off any alarm bells?”
“Yeah. A few. I decided to lie low for a while. I figured today I was in the clear, so I decided to head west. Then a cop did a U-turn and came after me. I wasn’t speeding, so I knew they were after something else.”
“Terrance’s body wasn’t found in the city. It was dumped close to his home, which strikes me as a real coincidence. How could this buyer know where Terrance lived? He couldn’t have followed the kid home, because Terrance was counting on you to give him a ride back home.”
“Lucky guess?”
Sharp didn’t speak for a moment as fury surged in him. “Or maybe the kid said something that spooked the guy.”
“How would I know? I wasn’t there.”
“Anything about this buyer’s voice on the phone that reminded you of anyone you know?”
“How could I know him? I’ve been gone ten years.”
“Maybe it was someone from your past.”
“No, I didn’t recognize his voice. I just know I didn’t like the sound of it.” He barely spoke above a whisper. “Freaky.”
Time to find Frances. “What’s the address of the building where you picked up the bag?”
“I don’t know the exact address. It’s off Route 360 a couple of miles north of I-295. There’s a fast-food restaurant and a bike shop right by it.”
“Jimmy, I’ll be in touch. And if I find out you’re lying to me, you’re smart enough to know what I’ll do next.”
Dillon leaned forward, his fingers fisted. “I told you what I know.”
Sharp rose. “I believe you.”
“So that’s it? I’m off the hook.”
“No, you’re not.”
“You said you wouldn’t charge me.”
“The deputies in this county aren’t ready to let you go yet. Reckless driving is a parole violation. And I’m bett
ing you don’t own the white Lexus you were driving.”
Sharp left, not bothering to look back. This wasn’t the first person he’d met who was willing to sacrifice his kid, but it never failed to piss him off.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Saturday, October 8, 11:00 a.m.
As Sharp slid behind the wheel of his car, he dug out his phone and called Dr. Kincaid. When he reached her office, the administrative assistant on the weekend crew said Kincaid wasn’t available, but Dr. McGowan could come to the phone. “Fine, put her on.”
Seconds ticked before he heard, “This is Dr. McGowan.”
“It’s Dakota,” he said quickly. “I need a favor from Dr. Kincaid, but she isn’t available.”
“I can help,” she offered. “What do you need?”
“This is regarding the Terrance Dillon case. You found trace hair fibers on his body.”
“Correct.”
“I need that DNA cross-checked against any foreign DNA found on Diane Richardson.”
“Dillon and Diane? How are the two cases related?”
“I’m still working on that. Can you check?”
“Sure. I’ll take care of it myself.”
“Thanks.”
He hung up, before he was tempted to say more. His phone rang again. Julia Vargas. “Sharp,” he said.
“I called Elena Hayes’s office. They said she was on vacation, and she’s supposed to be checking in with the office daily because of an upcoming deal. But no one has spoken to her in two days. Boss received a text saying she was sick, but when he called, she didn’t answer.”
Sharp started his engine. He did not want to be right about this, but he already knew he wasn’t. “Where are you now?”
“I’m on my way to her apartment. I’ve contacted the landlord, and he’s willing to let me have a quick look inside the apartment. Care to come with?”
“I would.”
“Great. Sending you the address now.”
“Thanks.” His phone buzzed with the text, and he was en route immediately. A half hour later he was standing in front of Elena Hayes’s address. It was a converted warehouse near the train tracks cutting across the Shockoe Bottom district of the city. He stared at the street signs intersecting Main Street. He was at the corner of Sixteenth and Main. The Seventeenth Street location Jimmy Dillon had mentioned was a block away. Coincidences like this were rarely accidental.
