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Richard James Borden. Known by his friends as Ricky.
The kid had celebrated his sixteenth birthday three weeks earlier. He'd played football and, according to his tearful and emotionally wrecked mother, had dreams of qualifying for a college scholarship.
Ricky's mother didn't have any idea where he might have gotten the drugs. She claimed he'd been a good boy who hadn't gotten into trouble with the law or skipped school as some of the other kids in the neighborhood did. Football had been too important to him.
He could have pointed out that good kids didn't usually carry guns and percocets but he hadn't. Because deep down he believed her. Ricky probably was a good kid, one who had made the stupid mistake of trying to settle an argument with a gun.
Where Ricky had gotten the gun and the drugs was a complete mystery. Although Ricky’s juvenile record did show he once run with a rough crowd. The kid had been hauled in with a handful of other teens for hanging out in Barclay Park after hours. Two of the other kids had marijuana on them. Nothing major, but they’d received a citation just the same.
He glanced up when a blue Chevy sedan pulled into the parking lot. When Jillian climbed out, his chest tightened and he had to swallow past a hard lump in the back of his throat. She was dressed casually in jeans that appeared to have been molded solely for her long legs, paired with the pink V necked t-shirt. In the hospital her long white lab coat and conservative business clothes had given her a professional, hands-off image.
Now, with her pale blonde hair falling around her shoulders, Jillian looked young. Fresh. Beautiful. And close.
Way too close. He wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. A completely inappropriate thought.
“Hi!” Her breathless smile almost sent him to his knees. “I hope you weren't waiting long?”
He shook his head, trying to convince his lame brain not to fail him, now. He pried his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Not at all.” He stepped up to pull the door open for her, somewhat surprised she wasn't driving something a little more fun and sporty. He could easily envision her in a flashy convertible. “I finished up early.”
“I'm hungry,” she confided as they were seated at a cozy table for two. “I'm glad you suggested meeting for lunch.”
“Me, too”. He knew better than to think of a simple sharing of a meal as a date but it was difficult to stay on track when he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. Once they were seated, they pondered the menus and placed their orders. When they both chose the same Italian dish, she laughed.
He sucked in a quick breath. Jillian went from beautiful to stunning when she laughed.
It didn't take much to imagine her smiling and laughing with his family. He came from a loud, noisy clan and he knew his parents and five siblings would love her. He suspected his youngest sister, Amber, especially would get along great with her.
Maybe he should invite Jillian to his parent’s anniversary party next month?
No, he already had a date. His daughter.
“I'm sorry I can't be more helpful with your case, Alec,” she said in a soft, apologetic tone. “But I promise to make sure you get the list of staff members as requested by Monday afternoon at the latest.”
He shrugged, hiding his disappointment. He appreciated her need to go through proper channels, but it wasn't easy to hold off on the investigation when kids’ lives were at stake. “That's alright. I wanted to ask you about something kind of related to the case.” He flashed a chagrined smile. “Percocets are pain pills.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Can you think of any legitimate reason why a sixteen-year-old would have them in his pocket?”
She sat back in her chair, tilted her head and drew her brows together in a small frown. He liked the way she carefully considered his questions, giving them the importance they deserved. Rather than just shooting off an easy answer from the top of her head. “Not really, unless he recently had surgery, which could be verified on autopsy. But even then, the percocets wouldn’t be individually wrapped. Honestly, I have to assume he planned to sell them.”
“Yeah.” He thought so, too.
“From what I hear, percocets don't have the same street value as other drugs, like oxycodone. And right now, fentanyl is the hottest drug out there.” She held his gaze for a moment. “Which makes the situation even more confusing.”
He raised a brow at her perceptiveness. “You're right about that. I've asked around and heard the same thing. It’s highly unusual for kids to have this kind of drug. Our narcotics division has seen more fentanyl and oxy, along with the usual marijuana, heroin, crack cocaine and meth. Rarely had any of them come across individually wrapped percocets.”
Jillian shivered. “I don't like to think about any of those drugs ending up in kids’ hands.”
Yeah, he was totally in sync with her on that one. The image of Shannon's innocent smile flashed in his mind as he added a heartfelt, “Me either.”
“I guess I've lived a pretty sheltered life,” Jillian mused. “I didn't know nearly as much about this sort of thing, other than what I heard on the news until I started working in the emergency department.”
Alec found himself wanting to know more about her. He leaned forward. “Did you grow up here in Milwaukee?”
“Yes.” She lifted a slender shoulder. “My parents were older when they had me, and they were a bit overprotective. As they were both college professors, I ended up spending a lot of time in classrooms. Not that I minded. I love books.”
“I’m sure you were good in school.” He could easily see her, studying intently at the library.
