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He was a wily, silver fox.
Which meant the bombing was a diversion to bring in the heroin, but also served its purpose for ISIS to carry out its attack. I wondered if the accountant and I were just at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Elliot didn’t want me to fly out that day, but later changed his mind. Did he know there was going to be a mother lode of heroin at that time?
There seemed to be more questions than answers right now, and something told me I was running out of time.
*****
I needed to talk to Troy and sent word that I would meet him at the little coffee shop and bakery, Java Outpost, located right at the edge of Misty Grove. I thought that would be neutral enough territory, unlike the diner. I heard there was a bit of bad blood between the Outpost owner and Millie. Something about the former lusting after John Crowder for a long time, but it was common knowledge that the man only had eyes for Millie. And since they became a couple, the cold regard between the two owners had only grown frostier.
Oh, the drama in such a small town.
Matt had some business in Atlanta, and, after he’d yelled at me on the phone for planning this meeting when he wasn’t around, he sent Roger with me. Fair enough. I guessed many things could happen even if the garage was only a mile away from Java Outpost.
Since it was a balmy day in March, I wasn’t surprised to see Troy and Cristiano sitting outside at the available tables, soaking up early spring weather.
“Gracie girl,” Troy greeted me in a bear hug.
“Troy,” I returned when I was able to breathe. I nodded at Cristiano. Troy’s second-in-command unnerved me. Not only did he watch me closely, but he was only one of the few people I knew who carried his gun openly in this town.
“Hope you have good news for me, lady,” Troy said as he sat on a scroll iron chair that matched the table design. He motioned me to sit in the chair beside him, and I did. Cristiano and Roger sat at another table.
“Actually, I was hoping you had some news for me.”
The biker’s brow furrowed. “What’s this about?”
“Have you heard of any major influx of heroin into the southern states?”
All geniality on Troy’s face vanished. Cristiano looked more forbidding.
“Where the fuck did you hear this?” Troy growled.
“Answer me.”
“Grace, what do you know?”
“I’m not saying anything until you tell me what you know and don’t lie because your face tells me I’m onto something. You shouldn’t play poker, Troy.”
The biker scowled at me, and leaned closer as he looked left and then right before saying, “Two weeks ago we were approached by a runner of the Dixie Mafia. He said they have a steady supply of heroin.”
“Is it pure heroin?”
“Yes, but they said they could spike it with fentanyl.”
“Where do they want you to take it?”
“Ah-ah, Grace. Quid pro quo. How do you know this when Matt has you all but ensconced in a fortress?”
“I have my sources.”
“Grace, goddammit,” Troy stood up, trying to intimidate me with his height. Roger stood up too, his face warning the biker to watch his step. Cristiano continued to watch us.
“The terrorist bombing was a diversion,” I said. “I think someone brought in heroin on one of the flights or there’d been a customs seizure the DEA knew nothing about or it was off the books.”
“I can bet who knew about it,” Troy drawled as he sat down again. “Your boss.”
A waitress brought out the biker’s order of coffee and muffins. I ordered a cappuccino for myself and told Roger to get whatever he wanted. Troy took a sip of his coffee and offered me the plate of muffins, but I declined. I may be pregnant, but it didn’t mean I was hungry all the time.
“So how did you find out about the heroin, Grace?” Troy asked when the waitress was out of earshot.
