Page 15 of Desperate Justice
He stared at her. “Laundry. That’s all that you’re thinking about?”
“Well, it’s better than thinking that you’re convinced I deliberately brought a bowl of fentanyl into your niece’s makeshift party so I could overdose a group of innocent teens, Supervisory Special Agent Rafael.”
Allison leaned forward as he placed two hands on the table and scowled at her.
“Convince me you’re innocent, Ms. Lexington. Tell me who set you up if you didn’t do this.”
“I don’t know.”
Her gaze darted away. Too late she remembered that was a clear sign of avoiding the truth.
“You’re sweating profusely, Ms. Lexington. Why?”
“It’s hot in here.”
“The thermostat is turned down to seventy.”
More questions. More grilling. Allison’s back began to ache, along with her head. She had been in the middle of gulping down a quick sandwich when Rafe arrested her.
At least he’d shown some concern, for he’d asked if she had touched the candy with her bare hands when she’d opened the packets to place it in the bowl. Allison had not.
Nor in her wildest nightmares could she ever envision it was fentanyl.
She rubbed her head. “Listen to me, I’m as concerned as you are about this. I’m a trauma nurse. I’ve seen what fentanyl does. Do you really think I’d want to deal in that crap? Just the dust alone is deadly! That’s a clear contradiction.”
“You’re a trauma nurse who rides a motorcycle, and most trauma and emergency room nurses have seen what a bike crash can do to a body. That’s a clear contradiction as well. Unless you have a death wish.”
Allison sighed. Now he sounded like her coworkers. “You ride a motorcycle, too. Do you have a death wish?”
Rafe folded his arms across his chest as another agent cleared his throat. “Rafe,” the agent began. “Maybe we should...”
“Leave us.” Rafe didn’t take his gaze off her. “Go find some paperwork to finish.”
When the other agent left, Rafe pulled out a chair, the steel scraping against the linoleum floor in a protesting squeak.
“Level with me, Ms. Lexington. I know you. You’re hiding something. Where did you get the damn pills? We’re going to find out. Your hospital has surveillance cameras. It may take a little time. And in the time it takes us to find out who left you the pills, more innocents could get hurt.”
His voice softened. “You’re a nurse. Do you really want more of this crap on the streets for kids to eat and OD?”
Damn, he struck at the heart of her. Allison had treated more than a few overdoses of fentanyl, including a ten-year-old who’d been exposed to his older brother’s stash. No amount of naloxone could have saved the kid, despite her best efforts. Remembering the child knotted her stomach.
“No.”
His intense gaze met hers across the table. “Help me stop this crap before it’s too late. Were the pills yours?”
“No. I thought they were candy.”
“Who gave you the pills and said it was candy?”
Allison bit her lip. “I can’t remember.”
Her gaze darted away and she was sweating. Lying.
“Tell me or you’re spending the night in jail.”
Allison threw her head back. “Fine, put me in jail.”
“I can’t believe you’d go to such lengths to protect someone who distributes death in a pill.”
