Page 26 of Axe-ing for Trouble
“Otter, he’s the owner,” Mila explained. “He’s clean, but he turns a blind eye to his patrons who aren’t. And most of them aren’t. His son Razor gets himself mixed up from time to time but isn’t a major player.”
“And who are the major players?”
“They call themselves the syndicate. Some are bikers, some are loggers, and some are business types. They’re the ones responsible for the stream of opioids coming in from Canada. Some of them have matching tattoos.”
Parker’s eyes widened. “Can you describe it?”
“Haven’t seen them up close. A tree or something. Razor doesn’t have one. Probably because he isn’t fully in on the trafficking. I don’t think they trust him not to fuck it up. But some of the guys who run back and forth to Quebec have them. Usually on the hand or forearm. When I went up there for Winter Carnival with Razor, we stayed for a few weeks and met some of the guys on that side of the border.”
“You met with the Canadians?” Parker asked, scratching notes at a ridiculous speed.
“I think so. Eagle seemed to be the one doing business, but he was speaking French, so I couldn’t decode any of what he was saying. Razor was more of a hanger-on.”
Parker pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “Do you have any idea how much danger you were in palling around with an international drug trafficking organization like that?”
Mila glared at her. “I’m acutely aware, thank you. And I got a pretty good reminder the day before yesterday, when they shot at me and chased me through the woods on ATVs. But I’ve been in war zones before. I know how to take care of myself.”
Parker frowned, her expression dubious. “Okay, then. So where is this evidence?”
“I have to go back for it,” Mila said, her gaze drifting down to the table. “But I have so much. Recordings, notes, photos, paper files.”
I was still trying to wrap my head around this. Mila—or Amy, as I knew her before—had infiltrated this criminal organization and was working to single-handedly take them down from the inside?
As impressive as her bravery was, I was mostly terrified for her.
Parker looked up from her notes. “You didn’t take it with you?”
“Long story. But I can get it,” Mila said.
“How do you know they didn’t get to it first?”
Mila chuckled. “I don’t. But I’d be impressed if they found everything. Razor and his crew are not exactly masterminds.”
Parker pinched the bridge of her nose. “I appreciate the work you’ve done as a civilian—”
Mila huffed.
“But we need to get law enforcement involved.”
“I thought you were law enforcement.”
“I’m going through the background check process. Becoming chief of police in a small town comes with a shocking amount of red tape. But I have great contacts at the FBI.”
“As I explained already, the FBI is compromised.” Mila seemed annoyed.
“How do you know that?”
“They used to joke around about a fed on their payroll. They’d laugh about this investigation being the longest in Bureau history because their guy kept delaying things.”
Parker’s face paled.
The FBI had been sniffing around Hebert Timber for years. We’d had meetings, investigations, and numerous drop-ins. Yet they still hadn’t come up with enough concrete evidence to bust this ring. The only arrest they’d made was an arsonist who torched our machine shop in full view of our security cameras.
With a long breath out, Parker sank down in her chair. “Do you know who it is? Or have a description?”
Mila hummed. “White guy, in his forties or fifties. I saw him once, and I recorded his voice on my phone. At the poker game.”
Parker was back to jotting notes. “This could be worse than we thought.” She peered up at us, pen still moving. “But we can keep it local for now if we need to.”
