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Simon inspected the dresser, opening drawer after drawer. He let out a loud whistle. "I'll say. Look at this. There must be a few kilos in each drawer. Looks like our lead panned out for a change."
Mason took the hand of one of the other agents and stood slowly. His back hadn't been healed enough for this. He'd argued with the physical therapists to go back in the field. But he wasn't supposed to get involved in the primary take down.
Pain shot down his leg as he tried to step. "Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, sinking into the chair in the corner.
Simon gave him the side eye. "I told you to give it a few months more, didn't I?"
Mason nodded and rubbed at his back. "I know, but if I can't be in the field, I'll be stuck behind a desk. That'd be hell, and you know it."
Simon hummed and turned back to the dresser as the forensics team came in. "Round up everyone downstairs and take them to the local station for questioning and drug tests. I want to know who knows where this all came from. We need to find the source. This might be the biggest score Denton's seen in a couple of years. It's gotta be coming up from Dallas. I just know it."
Mason stood once more and took a tentative step toward another agent who was going to do Simon's bidding. "There's a black-haired girl downstairs in a v-neck shirt and miniskirt. Bring her up here."
Simon looked at him curiously. Mason shrugged as he went slowly to the door. "There's a brunette down the hall who's her roommate. Black-haired girl might know something about our main suspect. I'll interview them."
Simon nodded and barked more orders as Mason shuffled down the hall. It took him so long that the agent was bringing a cuffed black-haired girl up the stairs. She was cussing like a sailor and struggling against her bonds until she saw him.
Her jaw clenched, and she practically bounded up the rest of the stairs. "You son of a bitch, where's Lucy? If you've hurt a hair on her head, I swear—"
Mason opened the door and turned on the light. Lucy stood up from the bed, her hands twisting together. The black-haired girl glanced inside, then raced to her friend.
Chapter 5
Lucy threw her arms around Taylor and sobbed. "Oh God, are you ok? Are you hurt?"
She pulled back and inspected her friend. When she found the cuffs, she gasped and glared at Mason. "Let her go. She's done nothing wrong."
Mason nodded at the agent who released her cuffs, then said in his deep, gravelly voice, "Thanks. I'll call for backup if I need anything."
He walked to his shirt on the bed and pulled it on with a groan. The shirt she'd not been sniffing after he left. The shirt she'd not held close to her chest trying to feel his comforting embrace.
She frowned. "Did you get hurt?"
He winced as he pulled his shirt down. "An old injury is acting up. That's all. I told my superior I'd ask some questions. If you'll both cooperate, we'll make this quick, and we can all go home and try to forget it."
She snorted, but it was Taylor who mouthed off, "Forget it? How the hell are we supposed to forget something like this? Six years. We've been going to school in this town and partying for six years and have had nothing like this happen before."
Mason grabbed his sock off the door and his other from the floor. He was moving stiffly and sank onto the bed with another groan.
"I saw you talking with a guy earlier. He came in with three goons, each with a girl on their arm. Taller, blond, preppy looking guy. Ring a bell?"
Taylor snorted and crossed her arms, cocking a hip and making her cleavage plunge. "Goons? What are you, like fifty?"
Lucy looked at Mason, but he didn't even glance down at her friend's boobs. He just sighed and pulled his boots on.
"My age doesn't matter. What can you tell me about him?"
Taylor frowned as she recounted their previous encounters.
Men and women in tactical gear walked back and forth in front of the door. She watched as each carried an armload of white coke bags. Lucy tuned out Taylor's words, the sight in the hall triggering flashbacks to her dad's episodes.
Her hands went clammy, and she sat on the bed once more to hold them still, a few feet from Mason. Dear God, she'd thought she'd escaped all this shit.
Maybe she should move to Crimson Creek, just to get away from all the druggies and crack heads once and for all. Surely the crime rate in the small town was way less than here.
By the time Taylor was done talking, Mason was sitting with a stunned look on his face.
Taylor frowned and put both hands on her hips. "What?"
