

Hands That Heal

Hands That Kill

A Daryl Richardson Crime Mystery

J.W. Lucas

Hands That Heal – Hands That Kill

Copyright © 2018 by John W. Lucas

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author.

Hands That Heal – Hands That Kill is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental or intended only to provide local ambiance to the story setting.

Books by J.W. Lucas: Daryl Richardson Crime Mysteries

The Secrets of Ethan Falls 2017

Author Contact: jwlucasbooks1@gmail.com

### INTRODUCTION

He paid his dues working as a police detective while he went to law school at night. Now, after years of experience consulting on major crime cases for the US Attorney in Boston, Daryl Richardson is at a crossroads in his life. The death of the Great Aunt who raised him when he was orphaned as a child has made him a multi-millionaire. He's newly engaged to a stunningly beautiful young woman and they've retreated to the estate in the Berkshires of Massachusetts where he grew up to start their new lives together.

Unexpectedly, their bliss is short-lived when he's asked to lead one more investigation, this time close to home. A rash of drug overdoses and a mounting death toll has the normally tranquil Berkshire communities in a state of near panic. Most alarming is number of deaths resulting from the abuse of powerful pain medicines, not heroin

When a prominent Congressman's granddaughter is among four young people who are murdered during a drug-fueled party, the crisis explodes with headlines across the country. The Congressman tells the press her death was a personal attack against him intended to sabotage his plan to run for the Presidency.

Assigned by the US Attorney's office to investigate, Daryl uncovers a shadowy pharmaceutical company run by medical professionals, a clandestine drug trafficking scheme, and a power-seeking politician who is no stranger to murder as he works to sort out whose hands heal and whose hands kill.

.

### CHAPTER 1

The narrow country lane leading to the driveway was buried in freshly fallen snow, the tracks from cars that had travelled before him barely visible. He had been down the lane twice before, verifying his target partied with friends every Friday night. Now, in the pitch darkness of night, with the tall pine trees lining the lane bent over under the crushing weight of the wet snow, it felt as if he was slowly crawling through a tunnel. He switched off the parking lights and carefully backed into the driveway, using the parking brake to prevent the stoplights from tipping off his arrival. He pulled the loaded shotgun from under a blanket on the front passenger seat. Leaving the rental SUV running, he stepped out into the fierce whipping wind and racked a round into the chamber. The clacking of the receiver was muted by the roar of nature's fury.

He pulled his ski mask down snugly to cover his face, tightened the thin leather gloves around his wrists and slowly made his way up the long path to the house. It was set back from the lane distant from any neighbors, perfect to conceal his arrival. He stopped and looked at each of the three cars parked in the driveway and the footprints leading to the front door.

As he approached, the sound from inside the house was faint at first. As he drew closer, the volume of the deep bass sound of a drumbeat reverberating against the walls and the sound of laughter left no doubt the occupants were awake. He carefully peered through the side window of the door, squinting to focus through the layers of ice and condensation.

Candles dimly illuminating the living room, he could see four people sitting on the floor in the center of the room. He hadn't been invited; they weren't expecting him, but he had arrived.

He stood erect in front of the door and drew a deep breath. He was calm and for the moment felt impervious to the brutal weather. This was just another job. He reached over and slowly turned the knob finding the door was unlocked. Fools!

He burst through the door and within an instant the girl's reactive scream was piercing. The young guy next to her leaped up, but he immediately cut them both down, their bodies jolting and writhing as each blast penetrated their flesh, her scream cut short to a gurgling sound. He whirled to his left and shot another guy and girl, both on their hands and knees as if to run, racking the pump action until the chamber was empty. He snuffed out their lives in ten seconds.

He took a handful of shells from his parka pocket, reloaded, and with another blast silenced the sound system. It was dead silent. The young guy he shot first had been hit center in the chest, the blood splatter now turning into a slow flow. He checked each victim confirming they were dead. He made his way through the small house, inspecting each room finding no one else. Good, he thought to himself as he subconsciously nodded his approval; there would be no witnesses. Returning to the living room he stood and again inspected his work. From the photo given to him he was satisfied he had found his target.

He pulled a plastic bottle from his left parka pocket and removed the cap. He splashed the gasoline across the four bodies and into a trail on the carpeting and drapes as he slowly backed to the front door. The fire would start slowly, the carpet and upholstery would feed an inferno. Tossing the empty container on a couch he leaned over with a lighter and put it to the fuel, closing the door as the flames came to life.

He walked back to the SUV carefully following the footprints in the snow from his approach, twisting his boots to distort the tread pattern on the soles. He opened the rear hatch door and placed the shotgun, ski mask, and gloves inside, hiding them under a mover's blanket that he tightly tucked into the edges of the storage compartment. To the untrained eye they wouldn't be detected, the evidence would be disposed of later,

He turned his gaze back to the house and saw the flames were now visible in the front bay window. He felt no remorse. He had found his target; the others were merely collateral. His work was finished for the night.

..

### CHAPTER 2

It's comforting to be sitting in the kitchen on a frigid New England Saturday morning in late February. Maybe it's the aroma of bacon frying on the stove, or the warm sensation of that first cup of steaming coffee that erases the chill. In my case, it's all that and watching my beautiful fiancée Mandy stirring the eggs she's preparing to scramble that makes me realize that all is well in my world, discounting the two feet of snow that blanketed the Berkshires. My recent work with the Department of Justice had almost consumed me, literally if you count getting shot at, but who's counting? I was home now, and rest was my top agenda item

My plan for the morning was to light the family room fireplace and go over with Mandy the monthly report of our charitable Foundation. My late Great Aunt Clarice had raised me after my parents were killed in a car accident when I was a child. She died two years ago, and her estate had left me this house and a fortune that Mandy is managing. At a few minutes past eight o'clock, just before breakfast was ready, a call on my cell phone changed my optimistic outlook. It was US Attorney Damian Costigan in Boston, to whose office I was assigned as a criminal investigation consulting attorney. So much for all is well I thought to myself as I got up and walked into the family room to take the call.

"Boss, this can't be good for you to call this early on a Saturday," I said as I answered, settling into a recliner.

"Good Morning!" he growled. "I had hoped I was waking you up to share the joy I had when the FBI office in Springfield woke me at four-thirty this morning." I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or was genuinely angry.

"That's kind of you," I shot back, "What's going on?" Damian was a bear this morning, and I was hesitant to hear his answer.

"Murders, four victims. Kids in their twenties. A small town on the outskirts of Pittsfield. One of the dead kids reportedly is Congressman Petrone's granddaughter, Anna Muranti," he answered tersely. He had my full attention.

"Holy Christ!! What happened?" my voice rising in pitch.

"I don't have many details, but it sounds like the kids were having a party at a house last night, reportedly evidence of drugs at the scene. An unknown person or persons shot them and then set the place on fire. A neighbor called 911 after being awakened by what he said sounded like an explosion. The local fire department responded and was able to knock the fire down and get inside They're the ones that found the dead kids."

"A drug deal gone bad? Gang activity?" I queried, my mind racing to think of a motive

Damian paused. "I don't have those answers. The Springfield FBI office was contacted by the County Sheriff and requested to assist with the investigation since it appears that a family member of a high-profile politician is involved," he answered with obvious exasperation in his voice.

I didn't like where I thought Damian was going with this and sensed it had political sensationalism written all over it. Before I could tell him of my concern he continued.

"Daryl, they told me the body count from drug activity in your area is up to seven in the past six months and now, if last night's murders fit that profile, it's up to eleven. And Daryl, it's not just heroin. They're saying opiate pills have flooded the street trafficking."

I didn't know what to say. I recalled having read stories about overdoses in the local weekly newspaper, but I hadn't made the realization of how significant the numbers were.

Damian continued. "I was told the local and State Police formed a task force two months ago and they think the drugs are mostly pharmaceuticals coming out of some pain management clinics, but they've made little progress identifying the dealers in any of the cases.

Now with Congressman Petrone already on a rampage this morning to find out who killed his granddaughter I'm afraid this will spiral out of control once the media gets ahold of the story. I'm coming down Monday for a press briefing in Pittsfield. With the sensational aspect of the murders I need the public to know I'm involved, and my office will take the lead on the case. Unfortunately, my friend," he added, "That means I need your help with this. I think the local PDs need experienced guidance on this. I want you to head up the investigation for me."

His confidence in me was flattering, but I had a reluctance to go back to work so soon. I mustered as much of a cooperative mood as I could.

"I understand Boss. When will you be coming down here?" I asked.

"Probably tomorrow. I'm going to bring my wife with me, she's online right now looking for a hotel, but she hasn't found anything she likes."

I knew Maggie Costigan was coming out of a lengthy course of treatment for breast cancer, but my last update from Damian was that her prognosis was encouraging. I admired him for his determination to balance the stresses of his personal life with his work and I really didn't want them staying in a hotel.

"Boss tell her to stop looking! Why don't you stay here with us? We're close to Pittsfield and the women can spend time together while we're working." Damian and Maggie had visited our Berkshire home a few months earlier and knew we had the room to comfortably accommodate their stay.

"Daryl, that's very generous of you. Maggie adores your Mandy, and she loved your house and property when we visited last Fall. I know she'll be excited. Thank You! That's great!" he said in acceptance of my offer.

"Then it's a done deal. We have no plans for tomorrow, so we'll see you when you get here."

"Okay, I'll be there in the afternoon. There's a County Detective, Sergeant Matt Holcomb, coordinating the local task force. I gave him your cell number and asked that he call you to give you a full briefing. I hope you don't mind."

"That's fine Boss. All right, we'll talk more when you get here. See you tomorrow."

After I ended the call, I stood there for a moment feeling sorry for myself. I went back into the kitchen and slid onto a stool at the island and saw Mandy had plated my breakfast of bacon and eggs and two precisely cut buttered slices of toast. This girl was killing my cholesterol level, but I loved it. She had prepared for herself a bowl of fresh fruit and an odd-looking thin pastry and sat down next to me. I knew better than to start a discussion about the disparities in our food habits and surely didn't want to bite the hand that was feeding me.

"Who called you this early?" she asked with a curious look on her face.

"That was Damian, Hon, something has come up, we need to talk."

She slowly put her spoon down into the bowl and leaned back on her stool. The look on her face quickly changed to disappointment, and I saw she was biting her lip. This wasn't how I wanted our weekend to start.

"What's going on, Daryl?" she asked, the look on her face had become serious.

I told her about the murders of the four young people, that one of the deaths reportedly was a Congressman's granddaughter, that the FBI was stepping in to assist with the investigation, and they needed my services in the case. Mandy never took her eyes from me and she didn't speak. I thought she was just taking in the shocking news I had told her about the murders, but I knew better. I'd learned in the few months we had been living together that silence was her first line of emotional defense.

I continued, "Damian told me he was coming down here tomorrow for a press conference on Monday and he's bringing Maggie. I offered for them to stay with us instead of a hotel. I hope that's all right with you."

"Of course, that's all right," she answered without hesitation. "I'll have to go to the store and get extra food, but you promised me we could talk about the Foundation today. When do you plan on doing that?"

"Let's do it after we eat Hon, I know how hard you've been working on this and I want to know if there's anything you need me to help with," I offered as an appeasement, knowing I was on thin ice with her.

After we finished breakfast, we went into the family room and spent the next hour going over her spreadsheets. It amazed me how well both the Foundation and her new personal stock portfolio were doing. When we finished, she put her paperwork into a folder, folded her hands on her lap, and asked me what Damian was expecting me to do in the new case.

I explained that the police had formed a task force to investigate a rash of drug overdose deaths and the suspicion the drugs may not be the street sales they commonly see. The local police had made little progress to find the source of the drugs. I said that my role, as I saw it, was to help coordinate the activities of the several police agencies involved to get the investigation moving.

She looked at me, her eyes darted to floor before she spoke, as if gathering her thoughts. "Daryl, I get nervous and I worry about you when you do these cases. You've given me a dream life and I adore you for that, but your lifestyle is still new to me and I'm trying to deal with all of this."

I saw the smile forming on her lips. "But I'm telling you Little Boy, if I hear you got shot at like you forgot to tell me happened in Vermont a few months ago I will break your neck!"

She got up and gave me a kiss and hug; I had feared the worse reaction from her and felt relieved by her sense of humor. I worried though, that the love of my life might not be kidding. The bell literally saved me when my cell phone rang.

"Daryl Richardson? Sgt. Matt Holcomb from the County Sheriff's Department here. Did the US Attorney get in touch with you?" the caller asked.

"He did Matt. He filled me in on what little he knew about last night's deaths."

"Daryl, I've learned that we're almost neighbors, I've been at the crime scene all night, but I live in West Stockbridge and just came home to change my clothes and grab a few hours' sleep. Any chance we can get together to discuss the case?"

"Absolutely Matt, why don't you come over to my house, I have nothing planned for today," I answered.

"That sounds great, but I'm afraid I'll be giving you plenty to do. See you around one this afternoon if that will work," he said. I told him fine and gave him directions to my house. I told Mandy about the call and she nodded, saying that she was going to town to pick up the groceries. She rebuked my offer to give her money for the food and added an editorial comment.

"You know, you aren't fooling me. I see that the first of every month you're depositing money into my checking account. Please stop! I have enough money!"

"Consider that for services rendered," I countered without looking at her.

"You don't have to pay me for our bedroom activities, Little Boy!" she shot back, her hands on her hips. "I'm your fiancée, remember?"

"Sex? I was referring to your cooking, My Love," I said.

Mandy fought it at first, but her grin gave her away.

"Brat!" she said as she walked out to the kitchen shaking her head.

My Love was back to normal.

### CHAPTER 3

Sergeant Matt Holcomb arrived at one-thirty and I showed him into the family room. Judging from his puffy eyes and pale skin color he looked completely worn out, and I couldn't help but notice there was a strong odor of smoke baked into his leather jacket. He surprised me. He was younger than he sounded on the phone, his long dark hair was a mass of curls, his five o'clock shadow was pushing eleven p.m. I sensed he needed to talk as he wearily dropped into the leather recliner in front of the fireplace, sitting quietly looking into the flames for a full minute.

He finally spoke, slowly, labored in his breathing. "Daryl, I was the Detective Sergeant on call last night and I was notified at one this morning. It took almost two hours after I got to the crime scene for the volunteers to get the fire knocked down before I could get inside. The scene was horrific. It appears the kids were having one hell of a drug party, two guys and two girls. The girls were half -naked, and all four kids had been shot. Their wounds were savage, their bodies torn up. Shell casings we found on the floor show a shotgun was used."

He continued. "There were pill containers scattered on the living room floor, the fire burned most of them, so we couldn't tell what they were or where they came from. We did a quick crime scene sweep and found a dirty syringe and a spoon cooker in the bathroom. We think at least one of them was shooting up.

As he brushed back the hair that had fallen across his forehead, I could now clearly see his bloodshot eyes as he continued his briefing.

"We've tentatively identified three of the bodies, the fourth body was badly burned but is a male. The worst of it is that a car in the driveway is registered to Congressman Petrone's granddaughter, Anna Muranti, who we believe last had an address in Pittsfield."

He drew a deep breath and continued, "Even though her body was charred and blistered from burns one of the patrol deputies who responded to the call recognized her. He said they were close friends in school, and he was positive it was her. I had to take him at his word. Daryl, bad enough the scene was grisly, but what has us crazy about this case is it looks like the drugs they were doing were pharmaceuticals."

I could see the Sergeant was shivering despite the roaring fire, and I offered him a drink to help warm him up. He quickly nodded yes and settled on a double bourbon straight up. I fixed his drink; he took a long sip.

"To give you some background, for the past few weeks I've been investigating the assault of a Dr. Saul Spiegel of Colony Family Health. He's a pain management specialist. I've learned that most of the docs in this part of the State have an affiliation with Colony Health and some of them have recently opened pain management and addiction treatment centers. I have a feeling that the murders last night and the assault are connected."

I couldn't understand how he made his assumption to connect the crimes and pressed the issue. "What was the assault about?" I asked.

"Two of my detectives made an arrest in the case and the suspect told them that Doctor Spiegel had been treating his wife for chronic back pain by loading her up with painkillers, to the point she had become addicted. He claims he called the doctor's office to talk about his concerns, but the doc refused to speak with him."

"He said when that happened, he called the FBI and made a complaint and an agent eventually interviewed him. After that, he heard nothing back for weeks. He said as his wife's addiction continued to get worse, he snapped and took matters into his own hands. He waited for the doctor to leave work one night and beat him unconscious."

"When he recovered enough to talk to us, the doc made an ID from a photo lineup after we learned about his prior contact with the attacker. I'll cut to the chase, Daryl. In the past six months, we've had seven narcotic overdose deaths in the County."

I shook my head in disbelief, wondering if had taken six months to consider the overdose cases were connected.

The Sergeant continued. "Two were from heroin laced with Fentanyl, but five were overdoses on Dilaudid or oxycodone pills, and each death involved someone under the age of twenty-five."

He took a long draw on his drink, squinting his eyes as he swallowed the warmth. "Last week we had a regional meeting of the PDs on a task force we formed two months ago. We had briefings from all the PDs that had overdose cases, and something came up as a common denominator." His words now flowed quickly, it was obvious he was working up to the proverbial 'other shoe-drop.'

"And what was that Matt?" I asked, not knowing where he was going with this.

"Five of the dead had a relationship with the medical system, Colony Family Health, either for pain management or addiction rehab," he said, leaning back into the couch.

"As I'm sure you're aware Matt, opioid overdoses are at an epidemic level everywhere. Could it be just a coincidence that the dead were patients under treatment at some point or relapsed from detox?" I asked.

"It could be, but I have a hunch that there's more to it than that," he answered in defense of his theory connecting the crimes.

"What's your gut telling you, Matt?"

He thought for a minute before he answered, carefully choosing his words. "Each of the area PD's patrol guys have recently been making increasingly more arrests for possession of pills, Daryl. Lots of pills! We're used to seeing weed and heroin, cocaine possession seems to have tapered off and there's been meth showing up, but we've been seeing a significant increase in pharmaceuticals, so much so it sticks out. And it seems that ever since Colony Family Health opened their pain and addiction clinics, pills have flooded the street trade."

"Matt, have your narc detectives done any attempts at undercover work with the clinics?"

"Yeah, we've had a few undercovers go in with complaints of chronic pain to see what the docs would prescribe, but so far nothing improper has shown itself," he answered. "In fact, the Colony clinic in Lee turned away two of our agents implying they were doctor shopping. And the undercovers are good Daryl, especially the young woman agents."

"Do you by chance know who in the FBI interviewed the assault suspect?" I asked.

"I don't, I can try to find out, though,"

He took another sip of his drink and I could see he was becoming more relaxed. He continued. "The suspect, Manny Rodriguez, is a real tough guy. I interviewed him at length. He used to be a gang-banger, but he told me once he got married and had a kid, he moved on from that ghetto crap. I think he trusts me, and he believed me when I told him his complaint about his wife's condition had my attention."

"What's he charged with?" I asked.

"Aggravated assault. The doc was in serious condition for a few days. That's a heavy felony, and Manny already has an assault conviction on his record."

He continued, "I put a word in with the DA and helped to get his bond reduced to something he could post thinking maybe I could get more information out of him. Manny told me that he owes me for that."

"Good. Hold on to that card until you can figure out how to use it," I offered in appreciation of his good work.

"I will Daryl. I was hoping to get information from Colony's CEO, a Dr. Culhane. I wanted to learn about his pain management clinics, but the doctor said it concerned him to discuss anything without his lawyer. He referred me to an attorney, Lindsey Moran. I think you know her."

"I do, Matt. We went to law school together, and I was on the team that investigated the recent shooting of her husband, Judge Forrest Moran.

"I thought so, I read about that case," he responded as he sat upright on the recliner, leaning toward me.

He continued, "At any rate, I felt like Attorney Moran fluffed me off. She said she wanted any request to interview Dr. Culhane to be outlined in writing, and that I was not to speak with him without her being present. What's that all about?" he asked. "I only wanted a preliminary interview, not question him as a suspect."

"She's a lawyer," I answered flatly, not wanting to go down the cops versus lawyers road with him. "Seriously Matt, it sounds like she's protecting her client if that's what he is, and that's her job."

The Sergeant thought for a moment before responding, taking another long sip of his drink.

" I don't mean to be rude Daryl, but I think I'm getting the runaround from her. After last night's murders, my gut is telling me they're somehow connected to Colony Family Health. I need answers, not roadblocks," he said raising his voice.

I noticed his face had flushed red, his frustration was obvious. He took another long pull on his drink to drain the glass and sank back into the recliner. His near exhaustion was obvious as I studied him. He seemed sincere, and I wanted to help him. Just at that moment Mandy came home from shopping and poked her head into the doorway. She apologized for interrupting and asked if she could get us anything. We both said no, and she went into the kitchen to put away the groceries.

"Is that your wife, Daryl?" the Sergeant asked, perking up as he watched her walk from the room.

"My Fiancée, Mandy," I answered with a smile.

"Wow! You're a lucky guy! She's beautiful," the Sergeant commented, his eyes unashamedly wide. He blushed in embarrassment for the remark, but I took no offense. I was used to that reaction and smiled.

I answered, "Yeah, I'm lucky, She's the woman that keeps me on the straight and narrow. Now, what is it you wanted from Colony Health?" I asked hoping to get the Sergeant back on track.

"Like I said, I have cases on three of the overdose deaths. I wanted to get their medical records, see who their docs were, see what was prescribed to them."

"You know you have to get a search warrant for that, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I hoped that Dr. Culhane would at least give me the doc's names, so I could start some background work. Now, after last night's murders that information is even more critical," he explained.

"I assure you Attorney Lindsey Moran won't let that happen without her setting ground rules," I explained." I hope you understand that she's not stonewalling you, just protecting patient privacy and her client."

"I get it. I was just taking a long shot," he answered with resignation in his voice.

"This murder case sounds horrible Matt, and I can understand how imperative it is to get the investigation moving. I think I can help with that." I told the Sergeant that the US Attorney was coming into town tomorrow for Monday's press briefing, and I expected he would provide Federal assistance. Sergeant Holcomb expressed his thanks and rose from his chair to leave. We shook hands, and I showed him out.

I stood in the foyer and watched him drive off. It troubled me that this case involved Congressman T. James Petrone. When I worked in Boston, he was on the nightly news at least once a week chastising the current Washington Administration for its views on whatever issue seemed to be the flavor of the week, be it a crime, terrorism, immigration, welfare, taxes, or environmental and social causes from A to Z. He was what I called a finger pointer; long on accusations and name calling and short on offering solutions. I wasn't looking forward to his blame game diatribe about his granddaughter's death before we even knew what had happened to her. Petrone had me convinced that he wasn't a friend of the police.

"So much for our quiet, restful weekend," Mandy said as she came into the hallway after the Sergeant left. "You look like you could use a drink, want me to get it?"

"No thanks, I feel a little tired and just want to take it easy this afternoon."

"Well," she said as she walked toward the bar in the family room, "I feel like a glass of wine. And I think we need to talk."

I didn't answer as I watched her open a bottle and pour what looked like a Chablis. We had met six months earlier where she was working as a bartender while finishing her Finance MBA degree and I was working on a Federal investigation. She surprised me today though, because she really doesn't drink often, especially in the afternoon.

I watched as she curled up next to me on the sofa, placed her glass on the coffee table and reached over and took my hand. I could feel that her palms were moist, and her eyes had a glaze starting. She pulled her hand away, looked down at the floor and then shifted her gaze into my eyes.

"Daryl," she said, "Why are you doing this? I mean, I know you work for the government and everything, but in the past six months I've only seen that they call you to help them when there's death involved. You asked me to marry you, to come here and live with you and to share the rest of our lives together."

I reached over and took her hand in mine. "Please, let me finish," she said, pulling her hand away.

"Daryl, I was feeling we were growing closer than I've ever been to anyone else in my life, and I've been incredibly happy, but now, I'm feeling scared again. I mean, I only have you. I don't know anybody else down here, and I don't want to lose you."

The only thing I could think of was to hug her. I did, and she rested her head against my chest.

"Mandy," I softly said, "I understand that this is all new to you, and I forget sometimes how that may seem overwhelming at times. The deaths last night have awakened everyone's most dread fears. Our home here, the Berkshires, the arts, culture, the people, are beautiful. But now, these drugs and the death they bring, and broken hearts and shattered dreams have come into our lives, our backyards, our homes. I feel I need to do something about that. I can't let that evil destroy the happiness you and I have found with each other."

She slid closer into my arms and as I brushed her hair from her face, I could feel her body trembling. I honestly didn't see this coming from her, and it made me realize that once again, I didn't know everything.

I was determined I wouldn't let this come between us. I was going to work this case and I would find out who killed these kids and who was supplying the drugs. Somehow, I needed to help Mandy feel she was part of the answer.

She rose from the couch and took my hand. "Honestly, I didn't think about how this must be hard for you too," she said as she reached over and tugged at my arm.

"C'mon, I think we need to take a long nap to make us feel better," she said with devilish smile as she led me toward the bedroom, taking her wine glass with her. I had a feeling there wouldn't be many quiet and restful days in our immediate future, so I didn't argue her invitation.

Early Sunday afternoon Damian and Maggie Costigan arrived for their visit. Mandy helped Maggie settle their luggage in one of the guest suites and Damian and I took advantage of the family room bar.

He was a scotch drinker, and I poured him a generous taste on the rocks. I opted for my old faithful VO and coke. I put more logs on the fire and we` spent the next half - hour with him filling me in on his office workload; a string of bank robberies that were a mix of onetime note passers and three that seemed to be the work of a professional crew out of Brookline. He threw in a mix of major identity theft schemes, money laundering, and a few securities fraud cases for good measure. He had his hands full and this new case would be pushing him and his staff to their limits.

"Daryl, these murders the other night have me worried," he said solemnly. "I had no idea there had been so many overdose deaths out here in the Berkshires. I mean, they've become a regular occurrence around Boston, but here? What's the answer to all of this? Who's behind it? Is it organized crime?" Gangs? Cartels? Jesus, our kids are dying here!" he said, raising his voice. I was surprised to see such strong emotion behind his words.

US Attorney Damian Costigan has a reputation as a calm and confident law enforcement professional, evidenced by his team's investigations and prosecution of some of the most high-profile Federal cases in recent years.

He was my mentor, and his trust in my skills gave me the confidence and drive to be successful. These murders had struck a chord with him. Why this case?

I turned and saw Mandy come into the family room offering me her cell phone. "Daryl?" she said, "Please excuse the interruption but I'm on the phone with Lindsey Moran and she said Judge Moran asked if he could speak with you." I looked over to Damian who shrugged and nodded and motioned for me to take the call. I took the phone and heard Lindsey pass the call on to the Judge.

"Daryl, hello," he said. "Mandy told us that Damian Costigan and his wife are down here at your house for tomorrow's press conference about the recent murders and I think it may be beneficial if Lindsey and I speak with the both of you beforehand. Lindsey has informed me that the police want to interview one of our clients, and I suspect that it's related to the recent drug overdoses."

"Yes Judge, I had a visit from a County Sheriff and he said he had spoken with Lindsey about getting the medical records of some young people who died from overdoses."

"Oh? And are you at liberty to disclose why the Sheriff visited you?" he asked.

"Yeah, Damian referred him to me. He gave me an overview of the recent drug overdose deaths and Friday night's murders. He's looking for some help," I answered politely to the Judge's veiled inference that the Feds were moving in and taking over the cases.

"I see. And from that information am I correct to believe there will be Federal involvement in the investigations?" he asked, direct to that point.

Before I answered the thought flashed in my mind, I was in a courtroom with Judge Moran peering over his glasses looking down at me standing before his bench. The man had an inherent tone of authority when he spoke, and it was disarming

"That's correct Sir, if you'd like to speak directly to Damian he's here, I can put him on the phone." I looked over and saw that Damian was draining the scotch from his glass. I had a sinking feeling that the two greatest influences in my legal career were gladiators positioning for battle. I didn't like the thought but handed the phone to Damian and held my breath.

"Judge Moran? Damian here. Good to hear from you, it's been a while. How are you?" The two men exchanged a few moments of social pleasantries until I heard the tone of Damian's voice change.

"I understand Judge," he said, "but I want you to clearly understand the Federal government's position in this matter. I'm prepared to use whatever legal resources are necessary to collect evidence and identify the person or persons who are supplying the drugs that have led to these overdoses and to find out who committed this heinous crime the other night."

I couldn't hear the Judge's reply but saw Damian's eyes become intense and from the furrow forming on his forehead I suspected battle lines were being drawn. "That's fine Judge. Daryl and I will be at your office tomorrow morning at nine o'clock sharp. See you then, good day," he said tersely as he ended the call, leaning over and handing Mandy her phone.

I hadn't realized that she was standing there during the call, and from the look on her face I knew she wanted to say something, but she apparently thought better, smiled sweetly, and went back to the kitchen.

"So, Damian, we have a meeting with Judge Moran tomorrow?" I asked, hoping for an elaboration on the side of the call I couldn't hear.

He looked at me for a few seconds, but I couldn't get a reading for what he would say.

"Yeah, he said his client believes that he may have information that will interest us, but he wants to establish ground rules before you're allowed to interview him."

"You want me to interview his client?" I asked, the pitch of my voice rising.

He looked over at me. "Yes, didn't I tell you? I'm putting you in charge of the Federal investigation. I sense that these deaths are just the tip of the iceberg, what lies below the surface I don't know, but I think it runs deeper than drug street sales. Tomorrow I'll make the necessary arrangements with the State and County officials to ensure that your authority is clear, and that you'll have whatever support you need to get the answers I need to build a prosecution."

He said he could use another scotch, and I got up and went behind the bar to fix it.

He continued, "I suggest that you link up with Sergeant Matt Holcomb as your liaison with the locals. I've only spoken with him briefly on the phone, but his intense focus on his cases reminded me of you and I think you two will work well together." I nodded my acknowledgment and handed him his drink. He motioned me to sit down.

"Daryl, I have some information that you need to know. It's about Congressman Petrone, and it's highly confidential."

I must admit, I'm not a fan of drama, but the look on Damian's face was serious. In the past that hasn't been his approach to me.

"Daryl, last evening I got a phone call at home from the U.S. Attorney General."

The US Attorney General? I thought to myself, this is serious.

Damian continued, "I must tell you I was shocked, and for a moment I couldn't figure out how he found my home number, but I guess I must take up a few lines in some secret Washington file. He spoke off the record on what he said was a secure line, and that's why I'm cautioning you not to repeat what I will tell you."

This wasn't like Damian, I thought. Why suddenly the black ops secrecy?

Damian continued; "Daryl, the AG said the President directed him to brief me on some concerns he has with Congressman Petrone. I told him I was planning to put you in charge of Petrone's granddaughter's murder investigation and he authorized me to share the information with you. And by the way, he was very complementary about the work that you've been doing with us."

The AG's vote of confidence flattered me, but I must admit I'm not a political person. In fact, I have an inherent dislike of anything political, but I could feel my heart pounding in anticipation of what was coming next. I leaned back in the couch and tried to put on my most attentive face.

"Daryl, you know right now Washington is a mess with all the investigations of alleged Russian involvement with our elections, North Korea, immigration restrictions, building a wall on the Mexican border, tax reform and on and on." He paused for a moment.

"Apparently, Congressman Petrone has been leading the obsession to start impeachment proceedings against the President by blaming him for all our country's social and foreign relations problems."

He took a sip of his scotch. "There's no love lost between the two men. Privately, there are concerns that Petrone may have a dark side he's been hiding, and all his anti-Administration rants are just a shield to deflect scrutiny away from himself."

"What do you mean by a dark side?" I asked, not understanding the insinuation.

"Campaign financing violations, kickbacks, pay-to-play contract awards. They're all allegations I caution you, but with the controversies coming out of Washington the past year nothing would surprise me. He already made a press statement demanding that the President authorize Federal entry into his granddaughter's case. Petrone's a player, Daryl. He claims her murder was a personal attack on him."

I leaned back into the couch and was at a loss for words. Political drama was out of my league, and my focus needed to be on who murdered four young people and why. That was the key to the source of the drugs I thought to myself.

"Daryl, the AG told me that the DEA has been investigating the import of opiate compounds used in the pharmaceutical industry. He told me a fair amount is imported legally from European labs, but apparently an incredible amount, especially the fentanyl and oxycodone that ends up in street sales, is coming into the country from China, smuggled into Central America and funneled into this country through the black market run by the Mexican cartels.

"What?" I asked incredulously, thinking to myself, global drug smuggling implications? Here in the Berkshires?

"I have to admit I had never given the import angle a thought," he said. "Daryl, maybe the clandestine manufacture of these opiate drugs is contributing to what's killing our kids. The AG informed me Congressman Petrone has been very outspoken against any attempts at restrictions on US drug manufacturer's imports, and when I thought about that, I wasn't surprised."

Damian's last bit of information confused me. My recollection of Petrone's public statements were mostly vitriolic against the President. If he was passionate about healthcare, it was lost in his rantings.

Damian continued, "Petrone's district covers Boston and its hundred or so pharmaceutical companies. They provide over fifty thousand biopharma jobs in the state. That's fifty thousand potential Petrone voters."

I leaned back into my recliner and thought about what he was saying. I hadn't considered the voter angle.

Damian explained, "That opens the door to scrutiny of any donations these companies make to his campaign or any government contracts they land, especially with the Veterans Administration. Petrone's been a staunch supporter of the Veteran's Administration mental health programs and has been relentless in his advocacy for medication treatment. Daryl, the AG told me Petrone is on a Congressional VA sub-committee that oversees the psychiatric services veterans receive. He's on the record for strongly supporting the use of medication to treat post-traumatic stress disorder cases".

"Boss, what does all of this have to do with me leading a murder investigation?" I asked, trying to sort all this out in my head.

"Daryl, I think the AG realizes we need to get to the source of these killer drugs, be them legitimate product or black market, and that your inquiry may involve a probe of the pharmaceutical distribution network. It's his way of letting us know you may hit heavyweight opposition to your inquiry. These drug companies have a powerful lobby in Washington, with billions in sales at stake."

"Boss, I have to be honest with you. If the DEA has an interest in Petrone that's their thing. If I uncover any information I think they should know, I'll pass it on to them."

"I know you will Daryl, but don't you think there's something under the surface here? The President wants us to know he's watching this investigation."

"I'm not a politician Boss. I'm a lawyer and a detective at heart," I answered, wanting the subject to drop. We ended our discussion abruptly when the women came into the room and Mandy settled into the couch next to me.

She said she had bought a pre-made lasagna, Italian bread, and salad and we would be eating dinner around six. She must have sensed Damian's conversation with me was troubling and she leaned over and quietly whispered, asking me if I was okay. I nodded and took her hand. I needed to put my troubles away and enjoy the company of family and good friends.

The afternoon passed quickly and after we ate, we went into the Great Room for an after-dinner drink. I built a fire for us and the room quickly filled with warmth.

After some encouragement, Damian and Maggie convinced Mandy to play our baby-grand piano, and we spent the next hour enjoying her musical gift, retiring for the night around ten.

After Mandy and I settled into bed, she leaned over and softly kissed me. "Hon, I want you to know that I understand you have to help Damian with this murder case, and I promise that I won't fall apart on you like I did yesterday."

### CHAPTER 4

The Moran's office, Berkshire Law as they were calling it, was on Main Street in Stockbridge located in a beautifully restored Victorian that had been converted into office suites. On Monday morning Damian and I arrived a few minutes before nine. The receptionist notified Lindsey of our arrival and she came into the waiting room and gave us hugs. She led us into a small conference room where Judge Moran sat at the head of the table. He rose and greeted us, I noted his greeting to Damian seemed cold but professional. We sat down, and the Judge addressed us.

"Gentlemen, as you know, we've only had the Practice open for a little over three months and we're attracting clients more quickly than we had expected."

"I'm not surprised," Damian answered, "With your background and Lindsey's reputation as a litigator Berkshire Law is bound to be successful."

"Well, thank you for that, but with success comes challenges," the Judge replied.

"Challenges? I don't quite follow you," Damian said.

"We're what you would call a boutique firm. We focus on complex litigation and I have several requests to act as a mediator as an alternative to litigation. You're the last people I must remind that there are some extremely successful and wealthy people in Berkshire County. There are many among them who have disdain for court actions and the exposure and publicity that comes with it."

Damian and I didn't respond, but Judge Moran had piqued my interest.

The Judge continued, "I recently met with a local physician who has concerns about a former colleague. I preface this by saying he's local in that he lives in the area, and he's the CEO of a large healthcare enterprise here in Western Massachusetts." He paused for a sip of water and continued.

"He leads over fifty family and specialty practices, and three out-patient addiction recovery facilities. The health system is a privately held partnership with some senior physicians acting as the board of directors. The doctor was at our office for over two hours and told us quite a story. He informed us that several months ago his Board of Directors voted to terminate the employment of their Chief Medical Officer, who was also the Chief Operating Officer and General Counsel. Without going into the minutiae of the details he provided, the decision was significantly influenced by their auditor's concerns that financial records appeared to be inconsistent with those of prior years, and despite growth in patient volumes and expanded services, revenues and income were down."

"Was he inferring embezzlement?" I asked.

"No, not directly. His concerns focused on the overall performance of the pain management clinics, which he said are a relatively new joint venture."

"I apologize Judge, but I'm not following you." I said, shaking my head.

"Drugs. Mismanagement of pain medications, falsifying patient records, dispensing of pain medications for cash," the Judge explained.

"Judge are you saying that the CEO thinks the pain management docs are providing narcotics to patients to keep them under treatment?" I asked.

Judge Moran paused for a long moment before he answered. "That was my impression of his suspicion, yes."

"But Judge, that activity is between the provider and the patient. You said the fired doc was an executive. That implies that he doesn't see patients," I proffered as a theory to discount the fired man's direct involvement.

"Correct Daryl. In fact, he was an extremely well compensated executive, but he heavily involved himself with management of the pain centers." He paused and took another, longer, drink of water before continuing.

"The CEO told me that his suspicions started when the Medical Officer led an intense internal campaign to get the health system more involved in behavioral health, drug addiction and chronic pain treatment."

"Well, from what little I know about healthcare many people need those services, and there aren't enough programs," I responded.

"I agree Daryl. But the CEO's contrary business vision intrigued me. He said behavioral health issues indeed needed to be addressed, but the risk-reward aspect didn't align with his strategic financial goals."

"Forgive me Judge, but now I'm really getting lost in this," I said.

"He told me his initial reaction was that expanding services was an opportunity to increase revenue. But as he did research, he found that many patients seeking such treatment are on some form of government medical insurance program. That limits reimbursement rates," the Judge explained. "According to him those reimbursement rates don't cover the expense of staffing to provide the services and the government-mandated reimbursement record keeping. It's a noble cause but operates at a loss. The programs have failed to meet the assumption that referrals of the patients to other medical services would exceed the reimbursement loss. Most concerning to him is that many of these detox programs are grant subsidized, and when the grant funding runs out or isn't renewed, a significant number of patients relapse when the programs are cut back or eliminated."

"I understand his point. But you said that they fired the Medical Officer. What were the grounds?" Damian asked.

"Overall job performance. Apparently, there was also an embezzlement. A significant one. Almost a quarter of a million dollars," answered the Judge.

"But you said the Medical Officer wasn't embezzling," Damian countered.

The Judge nodded. "He wasn't. One of the physician directors of a medical practice was using a health system credit card for personal expenses, but claiming they were business growth related. The CEO learned that the Chief Medical Officer knew that something didn't seem right with the payments being made by the System, but he failed to investigate or bring the issue to the Board. The CEO said the scheme had been ongoing for almost a year before they discovered it. The Medical Officer was terminated for failure to meet his fiduciary responsibility, but the CEO told me off the record that he suspected the Medical Officer was involved in unethical and possibly illegal practices at the pain and addiction centers."

"So, the CEO is looking to Berkshire Law to defend him in a wrongful termination suit?" Damian asked.

"No, and this is where it gets interesting," the Judge explained." The fired Medical Officer hasn't filed a termination lawsuit!"

Damian and I exchanged looks, it was obvious each of us thought our meeting had taken a left turn. Judge Moran was talking about business problems, not a murder case or overdose deaths.

The Judge must have sensed our confusion. "Gentleman let me explain. When the Chief Medical Officer set up the affiliation with the pain clinics, he obligated the health network to a partnership contract. It reportedly stipulates that the health system provides human resources, IT, and other support services, but the partner company, the pain clinics, has the management right to hire their own physicians and support staff independent from the System. That's the first problem."

Judge Moran continued, "The affiliation contract indemnifies the pain and addiction services partner for claims of malpractice and all associated legal expenses, obligating the health system to bear that risk and expense. It's now known the Medical Officer signed the contract without the knowledge of the Board, but under the System governance rules, he may have had the authority to do so. That's the second legal problem."

"Are there any more problems?" Damian asked, making no effort to hide his sarcasm as he shifted his position in the chair.

"Unfortunately, yes. The Pain Clinic has hired the health system's ex-employee as their Chief Medical Officer," answered the Judge.

"Judge," I said shaking my head with some embarrassment, "As you are painfully aware from my days as one of your law students, my brain is as barren as Death Valley when it comes to understanding contract law!"

My remark drew a subdued laugh from Damian and a smile from the normally stoic and professorial Judge Forrest Moran.

"Let me explain," he said. "The CEO told me that several weeks ago a physician at one of the pain management clinics was brutally assaulted when he left work in the late evening. The police investigated and made an arrest. The suspect is the husband of a clinic patient and he told the arresting officers that the doctor had made his wife drug dependent by loading her up with large doses of narcotic pain pills. He maintains that instead of managing her pain he had turned her into an addict. The CEO told me the patient's husband said he had called the FBI and filed a complaint that the doctor was a drug dealer, but he felt his plea for help was being ignored. His criminal case is pending, and he has retained counsel and has filed suit against the pain clinic and health system."

"I'm aware of the assault case Judge, I was briefed on it by the local detective," I responded. He seemed surprised by my comment.

"And from what you've told us the health system is on the hook for all the legal expenses?" Damian queried.

"It appears so. But that's not the most troubling thing, and that's why I need assistance from you gentlemen," the Judge answered with a hint of frustration. It was obvious his client was mired in a complex legal quagmire.

"What would you need from us, Judge?" Damian asked.

"Since the employment termination the health system has done a pharmacy audit of opiates being purchased by the pain clinics. The CEO said it shocked him to learn that over the past year an unusually large amount of narcotic pain pills had been purchased as supplies on hand rather than maintaining a low emergency inventory and writing a prescription for the patient to have the order filled elsewhere."

"Are you suggesting that these clinics are acting as pharmacies?" Damian asked.

Judge Moran paused in thought before he answered. "Some might say that suggests the clinics may be selling the drugs, yes." I looked over to Damian, but he was silent as he leaned back in his chair.

"After this past weekend's apparent murders of the young people," the Judge continued, "I suspect that you Federal authorities will look at our client's business operations as you search for the source of these illegal drugs. When the deaths were reported on television Saturday the CEO called me looking for help to minimize the reputational damage to his health system and him personally if an investigation brought them under scrutiny. He said he wants to do the right thing but doesn't know where to start. I am hoping that you gentleman can provide me with some guidance on that. As I said, the CEO wants to make a complaint to the authorities, and he wants to offer full cooperation. What he needs is assistance to gather the documentary evidence to prove his suspicions rather than his health system being subjected to search warrants and the publicity that will bring. He's especially concerned with improperly disclosing protected health information."

Lindsey, who to this point had been silent, finally spoke.

"Gentlemen I was contacted by a County Detective, Sergeant Matt Holcomb, who was seeking to speak with our client. I asked him why, and he said it related to the assault of Dr. Saul Spiegel. I told him I would need to confer with my client but asked the Detective to outline in writing the questions he would be asking."

I looked over at Damian and saw a smirk forming on his lips. Before Lindsey could continue, shaking his head he interrupted her, looking first at her, then the Judge.

"Counselor, Judge Moran, I need to advise you that the US Attorney General contacted me regarding these recent drug overdose deaths and this weekend's murders, which weren't "apparent" as you described them, but actual murders. He has directed me to use the full resources of my office and take over the investigations initiated by the local authorities. I respect your commitment to your CEO client however, I must inform you that at this early point in time I am viewing your client's health system as possibly complicit in the illegal distribution of narcotics. And bluntly, to me, the reputational damage to its executives is of little consequence."

Damian paused, then leaned over in his chair, his eyes locked on the Judge as he spoke.

"We're talking about the murder of four young people here, not white-collar crime. I don't have the time or inclination to provide guidance to the CEO," he said. I saw the Judge wince at the rebuke.

I uncontrollably uttered the words "Oh boy" with a sigh and looked to the ceiling. I hoped that the Judge and Lindsey didn't catch my failure of self-control. I saw the intense stare each man was giving the other, and there was an awkward silence in the room. Both men would have made great poker players I thought, as neither's face expression showed they were intimidated.

"I understand Damian," Judge Moran finally said calmly, "I would expect nothing less than a thorough, professional, and just investigation by your office. I assure you that we will cooperate with you to the point we feel our client's constitutional rights may be at risk. At that point we will so advise you. Please extend us the courtesy of providing our office with copies of any subpoenas, search warrants or other written demands for business records you may seek from Colony Family Health."

Damian thought for a moment before he offered a rebuttal. "I will agree to that Judge, on the condition you make arrangements for Daryl to interview your CEO client within the next forty-eight hours."

"And the scope of the interview?" Judge Moran asked.

"An overview of the health system, its organizational table, names of employees and locations where it does business. Also, the backgrounds of the fired employee and the circumstances that led to the doctor being assaulted," Damian explained.

"Agreed," Judge Moran offered, "with the stipulation any further production of business records is done under subpoena."

"Or search warrant," Damian reminded him.

Judge Moran looked over at Lindsey, she nodded slightly, and the Judge said, "Agreed" as he reached over and shook Damian's hand.

"Well gentlemen," Lindsey said as she stood up, "is there anything else that we need to discuss?"

I looked over at Damian and he shook his head no. He reached over and shook hands again with Judge Moran, Lindsey and I walked out into the hallway.

"That was interesting," I said to her as we entered the waiting room.

"That's what lawyers do. We discuss, negotiate, and make our positions clear to our opponents," she answered with a smile. "C'mon friend, I know that you'll do a great job for Damian, and off the record, Forrest and I are heartbroken over the deaths of those kids," she said, linking her arm in mine.

"I never thought in my lifetime we would see such violence happen right in our own backyards. And the poor parents, I can imagine the grief they're going through. I know how devastated I was when Forrest was shot last year."

"Yeah, that was a scare for all of us," I concurred.

"And I know that you and Mandy were hoping to have time to get her settled into your new life together. This must complicate things for you. How is she handling it?" she asked.

"Okay I think, we talked a little last night, but I still worry she's nervous," I answered, acknowledging Mandy was on my mind too. Lindsey put both her hands on my arms. "Mandy is an exceptional young woman, stronger than you may think. and I adore her and think she's the best thing to happen in your life. Just remember at the end of the day it's just you and her."

The Judge and Damian came into the waiting room, Damian asked, "All set partner? I could use a cup of coffee and something light to eat before our meeting in Pittsfield this afternoon."

"There's a nice bakery and coffee shop just down the street," Lindsey offered, "It's a short walk from here." Damian thanked her for her time and she gave us each a hug. I couldn't help but think we were all friends, but our interests were as opposite as they could be. This would be a challenge for all of us.

Damian and I stepped out into the bitter cold and walked down the block to the coffee shop without speaking, our steps hastened by the wind buffeting our backs as we shivered from the cold.

When we arrived, I saw that Lindsey had called it right. The place was small but cozy, and the aroma of fresh- brewed coffee hit our nostrils as soon as we entered.

We took a table by the window looking out onto Main Street and the waitress promptly presented menus and offered the house specialty blend coffee. We settled on the fresh strawberry muffins which our waitress delivered with a side dish of warm butter and maple syrup.

"Well, what do you think about Judge Moran's client?" Damian asked as he took a bite from his muffin.

"I don't know what to think," I answered, "he didn't offer any names or real specifics for us, we don't even know who his client is."

"Exactly," Damian countered. "My gut is telling me that his client is hiding something. I don't know what, but I'm sure you'll find out if my instincts are correct when you interview him."

"Boss, do you really think there's a link between the health system and the murders? I mean, four dead kids are my priority and I don't want to waste my time getting into the business problems the Moran's client has."

Damian took a sip of his coffee and set the mug back down on the table. I noticed there was a slight tremor in his hand. I didn't know if the weather had chilled him or if his mind was racing ahead of his words.

"Daryl, I think there's a link between them. I sense it. At the briefing this afternoon I'll stress to the local cops that we're going for a clean sweep on this; the murders, drug trafficking if it's there, insurance fraud, whatever we find. And I need to get them to buy into your lead. You will be calling the shots. Do you have any ideas where you're going to start?"

I took two long sips of coffee before I answered. As I swallowed, the warmth erased the chill I felt from the nearby windows and as I set the mug down it occurred to me that I really hadn't thought about a starting point. I sat back in my chair.

"I think we need to work backwards from the murders. I need to see the crime scene for myself. I need to know who these kids were, how they knew each other, what brought them to that house the other night."

"We'll, you'll have a good size group of investigators to work with you," Damian said." I suggest that you let the locals do the background workups on the kids. See what the autopsies tell us, find out what forensic evidence they collected."

"Boss, if these were drug-related murders, we need to figure why these kids were the targets to come up with a motive. Sgt. Holcomb was pretty shaken up when he came to my house to brief me, and he was at loss for a motive."

Damian took a sip of coffee and wiped his lips with a napkin.

"Daryl, we both know that Justice is taking a beating in Washington with all the intelligence leak scandals, and the credibility of Justice and the FBI has taken a huge hit. Hell, I'm not even sure who's calling the shots in Washington these days, but I need you to build the locals' trust in us and work as a team."

He continued. "I'll assign some agents from the Boston office if you need them. They're seasoned pros and you've worked with them many times. I'm also going to pull a few agents from the Springfield office, this is their turf and we need their intelligence sources to work for us. I'm done with all that Washington insanity, let's get back to what we do best, solving crimes."

If Damian's intent was to boost my morale, he was off to a good start. I hoped he could keep the energy going when he announced the new task force to the locals. We finished our light brunch and walked back to the Berkshire Law parking lot, dodging icy patches along the sidewalk.

I started the car and turned the heater and defroster onto high. Damian and I didn't talk much on the ride to Pittsfield. We pulled into the Sheriff's Department complex half an hour before the meeting was to start.

Once inside, I asked for Sgt. Holcomb and after a short wait he came into the lobby to great us. I introduced him to Damian, and he escorted us to the Department briefing classroom. The Sheriffs had set up a buffet with coffee and pastries and we saw there were about twenty men and women officers milling around the room, a mix of uniforms and plain clothes. A uniformed Sheriff approached us and identified himself as Chief Deputy Caswell.

"I'm sorry the Sheriff couldn't be here, but he's home with the flu," he said. "He said you have the full support and cooperation of our Department and he sends his thanks for you folks stepping in to help."

I glanced to my right and saw three plain clothes officers look at each other as one rolled his eyes. I sensed that this would not be easy, but I had confidence Damian could pull it all together.

At precisely one o'clock, the Chief Deputy called the meeting to order. Looking around the room, the uniforms showed me we had representatives from the Sheriff's Department, State Police, Pittsfield, and four or five area local departments. I took a seat at the end of the table in front of the group. The Chief Deputy opened the meeting with a summary of the overdose deaths and recent shootings. He was a strong speaker and made it clear to the group they needed Federal help to put an end to the deaths. As I looked around, I could see the skepticism on many of the faces.

US Attorney Damian Costigan was the man of the hour, and he didn't disappoint. His voice was commanding, his message succinct but crystal clear. He stressed that this would be a team effort, with our focus on the drug trafficking to link it to the overdose deaths and murders.

He informed the group I would be the US Attorney-In-Charge of the task force, and as he spoke of my background and experience, I felt their twenty sets of eyes locked on me.

I looked around and saw that most seemed to accept my anointment, but not all I was sure, as I saw the plainclothesman again roll his eyes as he nudged the officer sitting next to him. Damian spoke for fifteen minutes, telling the group of his assignment of FBI Agents and a DEA liaison to assist in the investigation. He walked around the table and up close to the officers, subliminally sending the message "Here I am, take your best shot." The room was dead silent as he paused for a moment before he again spoke.

"I'm looking around this room and I see years of street experience," he said. "I also see among you a few doubters who resent our Federal presence. I want all of you to understand that we are all accountable to the parents and families of the young people who have died from this scourge of drug abuse. We may wear different uniforms, but we're all on the same team. Our mission is to bring those persons responsible for these deaths to justice. And we will do that. Not in months but in weeks."

Damian moved closer to the assembled cops and struck a pose with his hands on his hips. Looking across the group he spoke, "I expect each of you in this room to accept that responsibility. I expect, no, let me correct that, I demand your full cooperation and effort to achieve that goal. Are there any questions ladies and gentlemen?"

I looked around the room and noticed most of the officers were looking down to the floor. Again, no one spoke, but Damian wasn't finished. His voice took on a more patriarchal tone.

"I'm sure most of you saw Congressman Petrone on the news and are aware he's garnered national attention to the recent murders because his granddaughter was a victim. This is not only about him and his family as he's telling the Country. This is about all the victims."

"I assure you that there will be no political interference in your work, and I urge you not to buy into the hysteria the media may promote. Do your jobs. You know how, you'll have all the tools you need, and I expect your finest work. This is your community, and you have a deadly problem. Eliminate the threat to your children, your families and your friends." He stood silently for a minute before he walked back to his seat.

Sgt. Matt Holcomb stood and called out the names of four ranking officers in the group and asked them to meet with us in an adjacent office. The Chief Deputy dismissed the group, but I noticed that most gathered in small groups to talk. Damian had set the tone, now it was my task to ensure the job got done.

Sgt. Holcomb, Damian and I met with the ranking officers in the next room, and he made the introductions. We exchanged business cards and phone numbers and agreed to be in contact the next afternoon. The Sergeant told the group that Sheriffs' investigators would attend the murder victims' autopsies and we would start with the murders and work back into the drug distribution network. It impressed me his mind and mine were on the same track.

As the group broke up and left the room, the Sergeant offered his hand to Damian. "Thank You for coming down here today. Your message was spot on and I think everyone is ready to get this job done."

"I hope so Sergeant," Damian responded "Just follow Daryl's lead and give me a case I can prosecute. I want this resolved quickly."

Damian and I stepped out into the parking lot and immediately felt the sub-zero wind chill. I started the Challenger and with the heater blowing full strength the warmth settled in and we headed back to Stockbridge. We had driven for about fifteen minutes without talking. After a while I asked, "You okay Boss?"

"Yeah, I have a feeling that there was a lot of resentment against us in that room."

"There was," I answered, "but I get it. Justice has been taking a beating in the press the past few months and honestly, I think some of the criticism is warranted and has eroded trust in us."

He didn't answer, and I let the conversation drop. I pulled into my driveway a little after two-thirty and as we went into the house, the aroma of something good cooking drew us to the kitchen.

"Hey, you're home earlier than I thought you'd be," Mandy said as she gave me a long kiss hello. As I moved to open the oven door, she stepped in front of me.

"Hey! No peeking Little Boy. Maggie gave me a cooking lesson and I want to surprise you for dinner," she said as she poked me in the stomach pushing me away.

Damian gave Maggie a hug and a kiss and motioning for me to follow, he led me toward the family room.

"Pot roast!" he whispered.

"What?"

"My friend, my wife makes a world class pot roast and I suspect she shared her family recipe with Mandy. I know that aroma! You are in for a treat."

As we crossed over into the family room he added, "And by the way, I can't help but see you've put on a few pounds since I last saw you!"

"Yeah," I answered with some embarrassment, "Mandy has been spoiling me."

"You're a lucky guy Daryl, she's a sweetheart. Maggie and I are still waiting for that phone call from you telling us when the wedding is."

"To be honest Boss, we really haven't talked about a date. I had hoped we could take it easy this year, get some rest, maybe travel. I want Mandy to get comfortable with my lifestyle."

"I hear you, and I know this new case throws a wrench in your plans and I'm sorry," offering an apology.

I went to the family room bar and poured us each a drink as Damian checked his cell phone for messages.

"Daryl, I have to call my office, I hope you don't mind."

"No not at all Boss, I want to check some things on the computer, you can stay in here if you'd like for privacy, I'll use Mandy's office." Damian nodded his agreement as I handed him his Scotch and told him to help himself to a refill as I went out to the kitchen.

"Do you need anything Hon?" Mandy asked as she quickly closed the oven door.

"No, I need to look something up on the computer and Damian needs to make some business calls. I'd like to use the computer in your office," I said.

"Okay," she answered, "If you need any help just holler."

I wanted to work up some background on Colony Family Health and was confident that my friends at Google had the answers. As it turned out, I wasn't disappointed. A few inquiry keystrokes and the answers came quickly.

A site map showed their forty-seven medical practices and clinics were concentrated along the western side of the State, with the next closest site to their Stockbridge office being a family medicine practice and a pain management center in Lennox.

The website indicated the President and CEO was Robert Culhane MD, and the Chief Medical Officer and General Counsel was Howard Levi MD, JD. That caught my attention; he was a physician and a lawyer. I noted the System website had an announcement of an affiliation with Everest Behavioral Health, proclaiming them as operating leading-edge pain management and addiction treatment centers.

I Googled Dr. Culhane and was impressed with his curriculum vitae. He was a highly trained cardiologist and had graduated summa cum laude from a prestigious ivy-league university.

He had practiced at several of the top heart treatment centers in the country and had left active practice six years ago to create Colony Family Health.

Howard Levi MD, JD had an equal if not superior educational background. He was a Psychiatrist by training, having graduated from Johns Hopkins and had served as a reserve duty Army physician at Walter Reed Medical Center in Washington. During the years he was stationed there he received a law degree from Georgetown University and retired from the military with the rank of Major. He had joined Colony Family Health two years ago.

As I considered their backgrounds, I thought to myself my UCONN law degree was pale compared to these highly educated men.

Everest Behavioral Health turned out to be a bit of a mystery. I found that it was listed as a subsidiary of Marlana Holdings, which appeared to be a publicly traded company. My research of Marlana found it was a Delaware corporation listed on the Nasdaq Pink Sheets under the symbol MLRN.

When I ran the symbol through Yahoo Finance, I saw it was trading for seventy-five cents a share, down from a twelve-month high of four dollars and change. It seemed that Colony Family Health had affiliated with a penny stock company! "Why would they do that?" I asked myself.

Financial information on MLRN was scant as they were delinquent in filing their financial reports and I couldn't find any information on revenues or key shareholders. But what I did find troubled me.

Their legal contact was an attorney in West Virginia. I Googled his name and found he was a sole practitioner and didn't have a website. I had an uneasy feeling that Berkshire Law's client was holding hands with some shadowy characters.

Mandy came into the room and asked how I was coming along.

"Hon, is there a way to get detailed information about penny stock companies?" I asked.

She stared at me with a look of disbelief. "Little Boy, you're a multi-millionaire! Why on earth would you want to invest in penny stocks?"

"I'm not, you're the investor in the family, not me! I just need background information on a company that may tie in with something Judge Moran mentioned this morning," I explained. She pulled over a chair and sat down next to me. "Do you know the stock symbol?"

"Yeah, MLRN."

She entered the symbol and looked at the screen. She clicked through some tabs quickly, and I was amazed to see how good she was at this.

"This was a shell corporation," she said. "That's a red flag right there. And their legal agent is in West Virginia.? That's very odd. What kind of company is this?" she asked herself out-loud as she brought up some new screens.

"This says Marlana Holdings bought the inactive stock listing of a non-operating mining company about a year and a half ago. That's why it's called a shell corporation," she explained.

"You're going to have to educate me Ms. Finance MBA! I don't understand."

"It's going to cost you later tonight," she said with a grin and wink.

"A shell corporation is a company that serves as a vehicle for business transactions without itself having any significant assets or operations," she explained. "Sometimes, shell companies are used for tax avoidance or evasion or to achieve a specific goal, like keeping the key shareholders anonymous."

"You are so smart! "I said as I gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Can you print out a hard copy for me?"

She printed the page and said "I'll be so glad when we get the new system we bought set up; this printer is so slow. Don't forget they'll be delivering everything next week. I hope that you're handy setting up all the connections because I'm not sure I can do it." Changing the subject, she asked, "Does this have something to do with the new case?"

"I don't know. At this point, it's just a curiosity," I told her.

I took my notebook from my rear pocket and jotted down some information I didn't want to forget. Who were the owners of Marlana Holdings? What was their business history? What were the personal backgrounds of the key shareholders.?

The more I started to think this through it crossed my mind that Colony Family Health's CEO was concerned with medication fraud. Was it possible Everest Behavioral Health was really a shell to protect the identity of the people behind a drug distribution scheme?

I went back into the family room and saw Damian had finished his calls and was watching TV. I freshened our drinks and we watched the news without talking, other than him mentioning he and Maggie wanted to get an early start back to Boston in the morning. Despite the distraction of the TV my mind kept wandering back to MRLN. I sensed this case was going to get more complicated.

At six pm Maggie Costigan announced that dinner was ready, and I must admit, the recipe she had shared with Mandy produced a world class pot roast. After we finished. I was stuffed, and as the women cleaned up the dishes, I excused myself and called Sergeant Matt Holcomb.

"Matt, I'm just checking in. Anything to report?"

"Yeah Daryl, we've been busy. We have positive IDs on three of the four kids. Three of them are local. One of the guys, Tim Valens, rented the house and has been living there for about a year."

"His girlfriend Tanya Ross is the second female victim. We found her purse with photo ID, and her car was parked in the driveway. She works at a bank in Lennox and reportedly recently moved in with Valens. The other girl you know already is Anna Muranti."

"What about the second male victim?" I asked.

"Still a bit of a mystery. The State crime scene guys said his face was badly burned, looks like he took some of the accelerant around his head. A driver's license in his wallet has him as Michael Balentine, with an address in Great Barrington. We're working on finding his next of kin to make an ID with any dental records we can get for him, and we're working on a search warrant for his car in the driveway and his residence. Hopefully we'll have them signed tomorrow morning. He has no criminal arrests or convictions on his record, just a speeding violation on the Mass Pike about six months ago."

"Any information on the connection between him and the other victims?" I asked.

"No, not yet, but when I went through the belongings inventoried from his wallet, I found a private pilot's license. We're working on getting some records from the FAA to see if that helps to give us some more information."

It took a few moments for something to dawn on me. "Matt, have the next of kin all been notified to confirm the victim IDs?

"Yeah, I had deputies visit the Valens boy and Ross girl's parents. They showed them photos of the bodies and they made the IDs. We haven't had any luck locating next of kin for the Balentine kid. As I told you, we're still working on that."

"Matt, who confirmed the ID of Petrone's granddaughter, Anna Muranti?"

My question seemed to surprise him, and he hesitated in thought before he answered.

"I think it must have been the FBI who contacted Congressman Petrone. The first two agents showed up at the scene around six that morning and I recall they interviewed the deputy who had said he knew her from school. Somehow, their agency must have contacted Petrone and informed him of her murder."

Matt's answer troubled me, a lot.

Damian Costigan had called me at a little after eight that morning and said the Congressman had already gone to the media and contacted the White House to voice his outrage. That was an extremely tight timeline to photograph a body in Pittsfield, locate Congressman Petrone, and show him the picture to confirm the ID. I found that extremely hard to believe. This didn't make sense.

"Matt, make a note, I need the names of everyone who was at the crime scene the morning after the murder. Police, Fire, law enforcement, Federal officers, everyone. Do you understand? I mean everyone."

"OK, I'll assign a deputy to get right on it.," the Sergeant assured me.

"Okay, that's great Matt. Where do we stand on the autopsies?"

"The State Medical Examiner has the bodies and I was told that they'll do their best to get us preliminary results by the end of next week."

"That's not good enough Matt. We need answers sooner than that. I'll see what I can do to get them moving."

"That would help Daryl. I was there when the ME transport team removed the bodies and they were grousing about being overworked, understaffed, you know the song."

"I know, budget cuts," I responded.

"At any rate," the Sergeant continued, "I spoke with the guy who owns the murder house about the crime scene investigators going back in when it's safe. He was very cooperative and said he'll sign a consent to search and provide us with a small construction crew to remove any debris that's unsafe or in our way. You okay with that?"

"No Matt, no consent, I want a search warrant. I don't want any issues down the road of whether the landlord had the legal authority to grant consent.

"Good point Daryl, I didn't think of that," the Sergeant answered.

"Matt, I want to be there when the State Crime Scene Services team goes in. Can you arrange that?"

"Absolutely. I'll see if I can set it up for tomorrow afternoon."

When I got off the phone, I went back into the family room and briefed Damian on the conversation. He was angry with the ME's projected delay and said he would call the Governor in the morning and put pressure on him to help expedite the autopsies. I didn't offer any comment but thought to myself I wouldn't want this US Attorney on my back.

Mandy was up early the next morning and had prepared a full breakfast for us, we ate, and Damian and Maggie headed back to Boston at nine-thirty.

A little after ten Deputy Holcomb called and told me the crime scene team would be at the murder house at noon this afternoon. Mandy heard the conversation and asked if we could talk for a minute. We went into the family room with cups of coffee she had prepared and settled onto the couch.

"Daryl," she said as she looked into my eyes, "I can see already that you're changing because of this new case. I mean, you probably don't sense it, but I do. I just want you to know that if I can help with anything, I mean anything, please, just ask me."

I promised her I would, and we drank our coffees without further discussion about the case. Just before eleven Lindsey Moran called me, and we set up an appointment at her office for me to interview Colony Family Health CEO Thomas Culhane tomorrow at ten-AM. Things were starting to come together.

I went into the master bedroom and changed into a set of thermal underwear, jeans, a flannel shirt, and took out my fleece lined Department of Justice parka. I opened the closet gun safe and removed my Sig Sauer, hip holster, and two loaded clips. I turned and saw Mandy was standing there watching.

"I can see the real you now," she said, and walked out of the room.

When I finished dressing, I looked for her and found she was sitting in her home office staring through the window at the back meadow. I kissed her goodbye and told her I would be home in a few hours. She acknowledged me with a long look but said nothing.

I walked outside through the kitchen door and saw our groundskeeper and neighbor Erik Nichols was cleaning some drifted snow from the front walk. I greeted him with a hello, and he stopped his work.

"I saw on the news this morning that you're taking over the Pittsfield murder case," he said.

"Yeah," I answered, "It's a new task force and I'm the legal officer." I explained.

"Well, the reporter did quite a story about you, your recent cases and all. I'm afraid a lot of people are counting on you to clear this up quickly," he said. "How's Mandy handling this?"

"She's nervous Eric, and I can't blame her. Neither of us saw this coming, especially so close to home."

As bitter cold as it was standing there, Erik pulled off his wool cap and with a rag from his back pocket wiped his forehead before he spoke. In his early seventies, I worried about the yard work he did for me all year long, but he said that's what kept him young.

"Well son," he said, "Just do your job, and be careful. You know, the other day Mandy saw me using the Bobcat excavator to move the snow around and she asked me if I would teach her how to drive it so that she could help around the yard."

"Maybe while you're out today it would be a good time to give her a driving lesson, you know, take her mind from you having to work. What do you think?" he asked with a knowing smile.

I patted him on the shoulder. "Thanks Eric, I think she would enjoy that," as I turned and went into to the garage to start my Dodge Challenger. I let it warm up a bit and as I pulled out onto the driveway, I saw Eric headed to the barn where he stored the Bobcat.

### CHAPTER 5

My drive North on Route 7 through Stockbridge and into Lenox was smooth. Despite the heavy snow the road crews had the main roads cleared and traffic was relatively light. Following directions that Sgt. Matt Holcomb had given me I turned left onto Route 20 West as I came into Pittsfield and a few minutes later entered the area known as Shaker Brook. I recalled visiting the nearby Shaker Village with my Aunt Clarice when I was a teenager and thought to myself how sad it was an area so rich in historical heritage will be remembered for years by locals as the scene of a quadruple homicide.

As I rounded a sharp curve to the right, I saw two marked cruisers with their emergency lights flashing establishing a roadblock. As I approached and came to a stop a uniformed Sheriff motioned to me and walked toward my driver's window. I saw a second Deputy standing in front of a cruiser holding an assault rifle at low ready. A little overkill I thought to myself.

"This area is closed to traffic," the first Deputy announced in an officious tone as I lowered my window. I told him who I was, and he asked for some identification, which I produced. "Oh! Mr. Richardson," he said. "We were told to expect you. Listen, the road up ahead is very narrow, and we have our crime scene truck and cruisers up there."

The Deputy motioned over his shoulder, turned to me and shook his head. "There's no place to park, and this car will probably get stuck."

"Back up and pull in here," he said motioning to an area that had been plowed out as a staging area." I'll have a Deputy take you to the scene in our utility truck."

I did as I was told and pulled in next to two unmarked police cars and a TV news crew van.

As I got out of my car, I saw the driver and passenger get out of the van and speak with a third Deputy who was standing next to a police pickup truck. I saw him nod his head and motion toward me, and the two were joined by a cameraman as they hurriedly approached me.

"Mr. Richardson! Mr. Richardson!" a young woman bundled in a heavy parka called out as she held out a microphone with one hand and waved the other as she ran.

"Mr. Richardson, Katie Keller, Berkshire TV16 News," she announced as the cameraman switched on a high intensity light and nodded toward her. "What can you tell us about this weekend's murders Sir?" she asked.

I managed a slight smile and answered, "Miss Keller, I have no comment, as you can see, I've just arrived here," and walked toward the Deputy and pickup truck.

"Mr. Richardson is it true that the FBI and US Attorney have taken over the murder investigation?" she asked.

"I'm not authorized to make any comment, Miss Keller," I explained.

She pressed the issue as I walked away. "Mr. Richardson, is it true as Congressman Petrone has said that these murders were an attack on him personally and that his granddaughter is one of the victims?"

I stopped and politely took her gloved hand from my arm. "Ms. Keller, any questions regarding Federal criminal investigations should be directed to the US Attorney's Office in Boston. I have informed you that I have no comment." I walked up to the pickup and told the Deputy to get me out of there. He smiled and slid in behind the steering wheel.

About a quarter mile from where I parked, we turned onto Spruce Lane, a narrow road more like a private drive. I noted two houses on the right were small cottage style and they reminded me of a lakeside community.

We passed a vacant wooded lot when I saw several police SUVs parked in front of a small fire damaged house.

A Massachusetts State Police Crime Scene Services truck was backed into the driveway, a local fire company truck rigged for power and lighting was behind it. I thanked the Deputy for the ride and stepped out into the driveway. I'd been at hundreds of crime and serious accident scenes in my careers, and the sounds and smell of diesel generators were all too familiar. This is where it all starts, I thought to myself.

The murder scene house was a small ranch style, set back from the road. Its front was scorched from the fire and a section of the roof to the left of the front door was partially collapsed. The smell of smoke was still heavy in the air even though it had been three days since the fire. I started walking over to a uniformed Deputy standing outside the front door when I heard my name being called. I looked over and saw Sergeant Matt Holcomb coming from a Sheriff's Department Mobile Crime Scene truck parked on the lawn.

"A real mess, huh?" he said as he offered a gloved hand to shake. "It's freezing out here, let's go inside the truck and I can brief you. We just put some more coffee on."

We went into the truck and I was impressed with its equipment and layout. He poured two black coffees and motioned to a small refrigerator. "Milk and cream are in there, sugar in the basket on top," he said. I fixed my cup, and we sat at a workspace counter. He handed me a thick manila envelope and explained the contents.

"I made copies of the search warrants for the house and the three cars that we towed from the driveway. We've had Deputies posted here since the fire and have a list of everybody who has been here," he said. I opened the envelope and started to look at the search warrant applications when he interrupted.

"You asked me to list everyone who was here during the initial response," he said, taking the envelope and removing a single sheet of paper bearing the heading "Federal Officers On-Scene."

The first name was Michael Flynn, FBI, Springfield. The second name hit me like a punch to the stomach. Thomas Barden, FBI Liaison, DEA, Springfield. I couldn't believe what I was reading.

Sgt. Holcomb saw the look on my face and asked, "Daryl, you okay? Is something wrong?

"Matt are you sure about this second agent, Thomas Barden?" I asked.

"Yeah," he answered. "I got it from the Shift Supervisor who was in-charge at the scene the first night. He's meticulous about his work. If he listed this Barden guy as being here, he was here. Why? Something wrong?"

I didn't know Sergeant Holcomb well enough to give him a full explanation, but Special Agent Thomas "Tommy" Barden and I had a run-in during my investigation of Judge Moran being shot in Vermont. Barden was belligerent, abusive and literally acted like a wild man in his behavior and I had to remove him from the investigation. I was worried he was bi-polar, or worse. Afterward, I heard he had been disciplined and re-assigned from the Vermont FBI office, but I had no idea he had landed in the Springfield Mass Field office, let alone assigned as liaison to Drug Enforcement. This was a red flag in my mind and I wondered what connections he had to pull that off.

"Okay, Barden was here," I said." Matt, at some point I would like to speak directly with your deputy who spoke with Barden. I want to know how involved he got with identifying Congressman Petrone's granddaughter."

Sgt. Holcomb had a confused look on his face, but fortunately he didn't pursue the issue. "I'll arrange a meeting," he said.

"And Matt," I added, "Were you ever able to learn the name of the FBI Agent your informant spoke with about his wife becoming addicted at the pain clinic?"

I saw Sgt. Holcomb's face turn flushed for an instant, and he sheepishly answered, "To be honest, I haven't had the time, I've been buried, and now this," he said pointing toward the house as his voice trailed off,

I liked this Sergeant Matt Holcomb and didn't want to strain our working relationship, so I threw him a life preserver.

"It's okay Matt, it's important but not urgent," I said as I put the paperwork back in the envelope. When the dust settles a bit, I'll tell you about my history with Agent Barden to see what you think."

I could see the relief on his face as he nodded his understanding.

"Okay," I continued changing the subject. "I'd like to look around inside the house if it's okay with the CSS guys."

"Yeah, I'm sure they're okay with that. I warn you though, the inside still isn't completely safe. There's a big hole in the living room floor from the fire, and still a lot of water and ice everywhere." He looked down and saw that I had on hiking boots and commented that we just had to be careful where we walked.

He continued, "My department's crime scene team did the photos of the bodies before they were removed by the Medical Examiner, and they did a scene search as best they could, but as I said, it was dangerous in there." Motioning to the house he said, "The State guys are in there now doing a thorough contents search for us. I'm betting they find some more drugs than what we found in the living room."

I took my notebook out of my back pocket as we headed to the house and noted the date and time of my inspection of the scene. Upon entering Sergeant Holcomb introduced me to the State Crime Scene Services Team Leader, Master Sergeant Steve Bentley.

We had never met, but his reputation among law enforcement in the State was excellent. His briefing was short; his team had found six empty prescription pill containers among about a dozen that were scattered around the house. Many had been fire-damaged, but two were Oxycodone prescriptions written for Anna Muranti, and four Xanax prescriptions were for Tanya Ross, the girlfriend of Tim Valens who was renting the house. They were all empty. Sergeant Bentley explained that each script was for sixty pills and were strong doses, but he didn't know how many pills had been in the containers.

Matt Holcomb interrupted, "I'd be willing to bet all the pills ordered on each script exceeds the new State mandated controlled drug dispensing limits."

"Funny that you should say that, Matt," Sergeant Bentley said. "These containers are all labeled as being filled by a pharmacy called Marlana Pharmaceuticals, but there's no address on the labels."

I was stunned at what I was hearing, but I didn't offer any comment.

Sergeant Bentley continued, "We also found an empty Narcan nasal spray device. My guess is that someone must have suffered an OD or a close call at some point. We're just about finished here. As you can see, there wasn't much furniture here before the fire. It looks like whoever lived here was just moving in or they were very poor folks."

Turning to Sergeant Holcomb he said, "Matt, I understand that you have search warrants for three cars that you towed out of the yard. We'll head over to your department impound lot and process them next. Sorry we couldn't come up with much here."

I thanked Sergeant Bentley for his team's help and motioned for Matt Holcomb to follow me outside. He spoke first.

"Damn, I thought sure we'd find evidence they had a drug stash here. There wasn't even any evidence that they smoked pot. I don't get it."

I stopped on the front porch, turned to the Sergeant and said, "I think I'm beginning to get it."

We went back into the Sheriff's truck to warm up, and it was just then that I realized my clothes wreaked of smoke. I was dressed warmly I thought, but I was beginning to feel a chill in the warm confines of the truck and my nose was runny.

"Great," I said to no one in particular. Matt Holcomb looked at me and said, "Did you say something?"

"No, I just got a chill," I explained, and without asking he poured me another coffee. Just as he set it on the counter I sneezed. "Great," he said. "The same thing happened to me yesterday, and yes, we do both smell like we've been in a fire." He reached into a cupboard and pulled out a can of Fabreze air freshener and handed it to me. "Here, this works pretty good. Take it and spray it in your car or you'll be breathing in smoke all the way home."

We sat there for ten minutes and finished the coffees. "I'm going to our HQ to watch the search of the cars. Do you want to come or are you going to head back home?" he asked as he got up and rinsed our empty cups in a sink.

"I think I'm going to head back to Stockbridge Matt, there's something I want to check out. Call me this evening and let me know what CSS finds in the cars. Also, see if you can get ahold of your informant and get the name of the FBI agent that interviewed him."

He nodded his understanding and said, "I have a department SUV outside, I'll drive you back to your car."

We didn't talk on the short ride back to the staging area, and when we pulled in, I was glad to see the TV news van was gone.

I thanked Matt for the ride and as I started to open my door, he said, "Daryl, I know you have a lot more experience than I do in cases like this, but what did you mean before when you said you thought you were beginning to get it?"

"Matt, it's a gut feeling thing. Whoever did this wasn't after their drugs. They were after a person."

### CHAPTER 6

Driving back to Stockbridge I was glad that before I left Pittsfield, I had sprayed a heavy dose of air freshener inside the car. Even so, the smoke odor lingered on my clothes. When I got home, I pulled the Challenger inside the garage and closed the overhead door. Inside the house I found Mandy on the computer in her office. I went in and said hello, leaning over to give her a kiss.

"God!" She said. "You smell all smoky. Ugh! And what's that other smell? It's like Fabreze or something! God, Little Boy! Only you would think that one smell will cover up another. Go and change and take a shower! And don't put those smoky clothes on the bed, put them on the tile floor in the bathroom. I'll wash them tonight." Before I could offer a defense for my odoriferous condition, I sneezed.

"GO! NOW!" She commanded as she got up and took me by the arm. "Change your clothes and take a hot shower before you catch pneumonia."

Who was I to argue?

As I stripped down Mandy started the shower, and in a few short seconds I could feel the heat from the hot water even before I stepped into it. I shivered as I took off my undershorts and turned to thank her for coming to my aid.

"NO, Mister! Get away! I'm not joining you!" she cried out as she backed away from me.

"Just take a long hot shower and I'll lay out some clothes for you to wear when you get out. And wash your hair good! I don't want that smoke smell on our pillows tonight." Her admonishment pointedly cast my fate to the shower. I did as I was told.

I stood and rinsed for a good twenty minutes and it felt good. I used up half a bottle of shampoo and when I finished, I was confident that I would pass inspection. I toweled off and went into the bedroom to find that Mandy had laid out wool socks, sweatpants, a heavy flannel shirt, and my slippers.

I dressed and combed my hair and went out to the kitchen. I looked around and saw she was in the family room behind the bar. I went in to join her and she handed me a drink.

"It's a little strong," she explained, "but you look like you can use it. Come, sit by the fire and get warm." I'm truly lucky to have this girl watching out for me, but I wondered if sometimes she thought she was raising a ten-year old.

I asked what she had done while I was out, and she became excited

as she told me about Erik showing her how the Bobcat worked and let her practice moving some snow around. She broke into laughter as she described a series of wheelies she did as she was getting used to it. Poor Erik! I thought to myself.

After a few minutes she asked me what I did at the crime scene house. I described the damage to her and told her about the news people pestering me when I arrived.

She looked pensive and I asked her if she was all right.

"Yeah, I'm okay, I was just worried about you all day and I missed you. She curled up to me on the couch and pushed her feet under my legs. "Ummm.." she purred, you're warm now and you smell much better. So, did you find out who killed those kids?"

I almost laughed at her question but fought the urge. "It's a little more complicated than that Hon. I did find something that interested me though and hope maybe you could help me look something up.

She sat up abruptly and was all ears.

"What? How can I help you?" she asked with a tinge of excitement.

I told her we had found some empty pill containers and oddly, they were labeled as from a pharmacy we weren't familiar with.

"What's the name?" she asked.

"Marlana Pharmaceuticals," I answered quietly.

"WHAT?" she almost shouted. "You have to be kidding me!"

I was proud of her. She was connecting the dots, just as I did.

"Yeah, that's what they were marked. We need to try to trace that company, see where it's located and who operates it." I explained. I had barely finished speaking when she was on her feet heading to her computer.

I got up and went behind the bar, emptying my drink in the sink. Mandy was an experienced bartender, and I appreciated her gesture of preparing a stiff drink to fend off my skirmish with pneumonia, but it was so strong it could kill every germ in my body for the next three months.

I prepared myself a milder potion and sat back down in front of the fireplace. About twenty minutes later just as I was going to check on her, she came back into the room waving a printout. She had the look of the proverbial cat that had just dined on the family canary. She bounced down onto the couch next to me and kneeling, waved a handful of documents in front of my face.

"Look at this," she said excitedly, "This company is a sham. They have an address in West Virginia and it's a post office box! And the town in West Virginia they get their mail at is home to a pharmacy that was involved in a huge drug case, something about millions of pills being delivered into a tiny town. Look!" she continued, as she handed me page after page of printouts. "These people are crooks. I just know it!"

"Easy Hon, easy!" I said with a laugh, "Let's see what you have here." I started to go through the printouts, the second one immediately caught my attention with the heading 'Drug Firms shipped 20.8M pain pills to WV town with 2,900 people.' I recalled having read about this case in the Boston newspaper months ago but didn't recall reading any follow-up articles. Mandy's quick research filled in the blanks.

Another printout bore an article detailing that two major US prescription drug wholesalers had paid thirty-six million dollars in fines to settle claims by the State of West Virginia for their role in a drug supply chain that included doctors who wrote prescriptions for nonmedical purposes and "pill mill" pharmacies that dispensed excessive numbers of painkillers.

As is usually the case with these high profile too big to fail companies, they admitted no wrongdoing and pledged to review their compliance practices to prevent future transgressions.

A third printout was a newspaper article that described the indictment of a pharmacist who was alleged to have operated a licensed pharmaceutical compounding lab that ultimately shipped excessive amounts of pain management pills directly to several clinics. My quick review of the article seemed to indicate the scheme involved the compounding lab receiving huge amounts of oxycodone and hydrocodone in powder form from a supplier, converting that to potent strength pill form. The lab would then send the end-product directly to the pain clinics after a provider wrote a batch of purported patient prescriptions. I thought about this for a minute and realized that it effectively was a scheme to circumvent regulatory scrutiny.

I leaned back on the couch and took a slow, long swallow of my drink. I considered the allegation the raw opiate product was illegally imported by a cartel, delivered to a clandestine lab, compounded into pill form and shipped out to the clinics. That could minimize the paper trail and allow the distribution process to fly low under the regulator's radar. It was a theory that made sense to me.

As I was trying to understand what I was reading Mandy interrupted, asking, "Does this help?"

I leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek and told her yes, it helped greatly. She sat back with a look of satisfaction and asked. "What's next?"

I thought for a moment before I answered. She was very good at research, and it made her happy to be part of the case. I didn't have the time to do it myself, let alone understand what it all meant to the murder case, and I thought it wouldn't hurt to have her get involved in a limited role.

"Hon," I said, I can't go into much detail right now as I'm trying to get my head around this case, but yes, I could use your help." She grinned and lightly clapped her hands. "What can I do?" she asked.

I told her that the printouts had names of several pharmaceutical companies, clinics, and several people who were involved in the West Virginia cases.

"I need a listing of the players, where they were located, who ran the places, anything I can get to try and make a connection to Marlana Pharmaceuticals," I said. The biggest piece of the puzzle we were missing was the identity of the people behind Marlana Holdings. There had to be a way to unmask them.

Mandy was quiet for a few minutes, finally she stood up and said, "I can try and put together a flow sheet for you, the companies, people, information that you said you wanted. Maybe it will be easier to associate them if we see that on paper." I liked where she was going with this.

She continued, "Let me do some research on any regulatory filings that Marlana did make. There has to be something out there, but I'll need some time to figure out how to get access to it."

"Mandy, I said," Also try and work up a profile of that lawyer in West Virginia. He's listed as the agent-for-service for Marlana. See if there's any connection between him and the pill mill cases down South."

She thought for a moment and said, "I'm not sure how to do that, but you're right. There must be some filings made by him. If the State they're registered in has on-line access to public records I may be able to do something."

I told her that either way, just try and see what she could do. If we needed, we could request the FBI Field Office in that state do the research for us.

"You can do that?" she asked, and then laughed. "Oh! Sorry! I forgot! You're Daryl Richardson the famous Federal Officer!"

I didn't dare respond and watched as she hurried off to her office. I also thought it wasn't the right moment to ask her what we were having for supper.

On Wednesday morning I woke up a little after seven to see Mandy coming out of the shower. "Good Morning Sunshine," she chirped as she leaned over and kissed my forehead. She had on her robe and a towel was wrapped around her hair. "I'll put the coffee on and we can have a light breakfast," she informed me as she walked toward the kitchen.

After my shower I dressed in a dark blue business suit to wear to my ten AM interview of Berkshire's CEO at Berkshire Law. I strapped on my holster and Sig Sauer and dropped two extra clips into the suit coat pockets.

I went out to the kitchen where Mandy and I shared some toast and pastries. I reminded her of my appointment and she nodded. "I'm going to change into some sweats and start my research," she said as she placed her cup and plate in the dishwasher. "You look nice. Are you going to wear a tie with that shirt?" she asked. I told her no, noticing she had come alongside of me and saw I was wearing my gun. It took her aback for an instant, but she shrugged it off. As she walked toward the bedroom, I heard her mutter, "Hmmm, no tie but he'll wear his gun. Go figure."

I put my plate in the dishwasher, freshened my coffee, went into the family room and turned on the local TV news. The story in progress was about the murder scene search. I had tuned in just in time to see the cameraman had filmed me removing the reporter's hand from my arm and my walking away.

The next story almost caused me to spill my coffee on my suit. The lead-in was that Congressman T. James Petrone was in seclusion, but through his Chief of Staff he announced he was seeking election as Speaker of the House. Thank God I didn't have a mouthful of hot coffee.

The news anchor read a short, prepared statement from the Congressman. My surprise increased as the statement mentioned the experience as Speaker would be his platform for an exploratory committee to research his running as a candidate in the next Presidential election. Not a word about his granddaughter or family. I couldn't believe the guy was this self-centered.

A few minutes before ten I went into our home office and saw Mandy was busy at the computer. I told her I was leaving for my appointment and kissed her on the head. She smiled and nodded and went back to her work. I knew better than to challenge her train of thought. I grabbed my wool overcoat from the front closet and headed out the door. About five minutes into my drive the incoming call icon flashed on the navigation screen and I saw it was Damian.

I answered with as cheerful a hello that I could muster. He offered no greeting and cut to the chase. "Did you see on the news this morning that Petrone has announced he's seeking the Speaker's job? And he's looking into running for President?"

I started to answer but Damian cut me off. "I can't believe his gall! A freshman Congressman thinks the country would support him as President? Daryl, I want you to take a hard look at this guy."

"I did Boss," I answered." I was shocked that he made no mention of his granddaughter's murder. Sickening."

Damian let loose his tirade. "This is exactly what's wrong with Washington, Daryl. These phony power players and their egos. He doesn't care about his family, just himself. But believe me, he'll use all the sympathy he can get and will trample anyone that tries to get in his way. Christ, he even called the President and accused the kids' murderer of attacking him personally. Is he out of his mind? His granddaughter and three other kids are dead!"

I changed the subject. "Boss, I'm on my way to Berkshire Law to interview the Moran's CEO client. How about I give you a call when I'm done, and I'll fill you in?"

"Fine," he answered. "Daryl, this case needs to be resolved quickly. I can already hear the media and political war drums starting to beat. I won't have my office be part of this bullshit. Am I clear?"

"Crystal clear, Boss" I answered as I pressed the end call icon.

### CHAPTER 7

I pulled into the Berkshire Law parking lot and went inside to the reception desk. The young woman greeted me by name and said that she would notify Lindsey I had arrived. As I settled into an arm chair in the waiting room my cellphone beeped, and I saw it was an incoming call from Sergeant Matt Holcomb.

"Matt, Good Morning. What's up?" I asked.

"Daryl, we have a breakthrough on the murders. We may have a suspect and the weapon!" he said excitedly. "We got lucky!"

"Matt, what are you saying?" I asked. I must had raised my voice because the receptionist looked up in surprise. She motioned as if holding a phone to her ear and mouthed the word "privacy?" as she pointed to an adjacent room. I nodded and went into the Moran's law library. I partially closed the door and took a chair at a long dark oak conference table.

"Matt, what are you saying?" I asked again.

The Sergeant spoke rapidly, barely containing his excitement.

"Daryl, our intelligence officer was going through some reports and saw a bulletin from the State Police Westfield Barracks that we missed when it came in Saturday afternoon."

"A little before two AM on Saturday morning there was a bad accident on their stretch of the Mass Pike. A rental SUV slammed into the back of a tractor trailer at a high rate of speed. They had to extricate the guy driving the car and airlift him to Baystate Medical in Springfield. That was the closest Trauma Center. He's alive but in extremely critical condition."

"Matt how does that tie into our case?"

He answered quickly. "The Troop thought the accident was going to be a fatality, so they had the guy's car removed to their impound lot for inspection. When they were doing an inventory of contents, they found a sawed-off Remington twelve-gauge pump shotgun, a ski mask and gloves. They sent the intelligence bulletin out to see if any area agencies had recent crimes involving a shotgun."

Before I could ask any questions, the Sergeant continued. "And Daryl, the driver had two driver's licenses on him, different names, same photo and date of births. The Troopers did some research and believe they have a positive ID on him. State Police Intelligence has him as a known organized crime associate, he's done time for attempted murder, extortion, weapon's possession, gambling and robbery. He's a bad guy Daryl. I think he's our man!"

"Whoa!" I said, "don't get too far ahead of yourself, Matt. What's the guy's name?"

"Antonio 'Tony' Banacci. He's a white male, fifty-three years old. I have his date of birth and his FBI, Mass Criminal, and Department of Corrections ID numbers. I emailed Corrections and requested their most recent mug shot of him, and as I said we got his FBI rap sheet. It's four pages long!"

I pulled out my notebook and wrote down the suspect's name. I was surprised. I had expected our suspect would have a Hispanic background given that it looked like some cartel involvement may be involved in our case.

"Matt, what about the shotgun? Who has it and where is it?" I asked.

"SP Westfield has it in their evidence room," he answered.

"Good, Matt," I said. "Now please listen carefully, I need you to do some things immediately, exactly as I am going to tell you. Do you have something to write on?"

He answered that he was at his desk and was ready.

"Okay, call the Shift Supervisor at the Westfield Barracks and tell him they need to hold the shotgun, mask, and gloves and any other items that they took from the driver and his car as possible evidence in a multiple homicide."

"Second, tell the Supervisor that we need a complete inventory of items seized sent to you by email as soon as possible. I will also need a copy of that."

"Call Steve Bentley at the State CSI office. Tell him of this development and let him know we'll be getting a search warrant for all the suspect's possessions that Westfield is holding."

I continued, "Have your detectives rough out a search warrant application. They can get the description of the Westfield barracks location and the items they're holding from them."

As an afterthought I added, "In their affidavit have your guys describe our murder scene as concisely as possible, we don't need them to write a book. When they have the draft finished, email it to me. I'll look it over and touch it up if need be. Got that?"

"Got it," he said.

"Okay, "I continued, "Did your crime scene guys seize any of the spent shotgun shells from the scene?"

He answered that they did seize spent shells and that they were holding all the seized items in their evidence room.

"Good. Now read back the actions to take that I just gave you."

To his credit Sergeant Matt Holcomb flawlessly read back my instructions.

"Anything else Daryl?" he asked.

I thought for a minute. "Yeah, when you have time, please text me Sergeant Bentley's personal cell phone number. I want to know if his crime lab has a certified ballistics examiner that could expedite examination of the shotgun and spent shells for us."

"Okay, Daryl, but don't you want the FBI or ATF labs to do that for us?"

"Matt, we need to keep this new case development as confidential as possible. I'm more comfortable if we keep this out of Washington. I'm worried about leaks to the press, or any delays that might crop up."

"Say no more Daryl, I can read between the lines. Thanks for your guidance on this. I wouldn't have thought to do all of these things."

"Don't sell yourself short Matt. You're doing fine. Just take this case a step at a time. I was just ready to press the end call icon when he shouted. "Daryl! I almost forgot. The State CSS guys searched and inventoried the three cars we impounded from the murder house. The only thing they found was one package of unused syringes under a bunch of paperwork in the console of Anna Muranti's car."

That was a shocker. Could Anna be the one shooting up at the murder house? I asked myself.

"Jesus, Matt, I was thinking that they would have come up with drugs or more paraphernalia in the cars."

"Me too, Daryl. I was hoping they would find something to help us prove the murders were a drug deal gone bad."

"I know. We don't have a motive yet." All right, I'll call you later today to see how you're making out," I responded.

As I started to end the call he said loudly," Daryl! Wait! I almost forgot one more thing with all that's been happening. I called my informant Manny Rodriguez. Are you ready for this? He said the FBI Agent that interviewed him is named Barden."

I was speechless. No, more like numb. Barden?

"Daryl? You still there?" he asked.

"Yeah. Thanks, Matt, I'll call you later," I said in a weak voice ending the call.

As I stood up to go back into the waiting room, Lyndsey was standing just outside the door. I don't know how long she was there, but I was sure she heard enough to sense that the murder case was active.

"Hi Daryl," she said as she leaned in and gave me a hug. "I wasn't eavesdropping, but I could see that you're a very busy man these days."

"Yeah, we may have some leads we can move on," I answered without elaboration.

"If you're ready," she said, "Doctor Culhane arrived about ten minutes ago and he and Forrest are in the conference room." She led me into the room and introduced me.

Robert Culhane MD was a distinguished-looking man, in his early sixties if I had to guess. His gray pinstripe three-piece suit projected a business CEO image rather than a notable heart specialist. We shook hands, and I took a seat across from him at the table.

Judge Moran started a small cassette recorder on the table and opened the interview. "Daryl, I've explained to Dr. Culhane your association with the Justice Department, and that your request for this interview today is part of an official government inquiry. For the record, I am present as his attorney and need to inform you that Dr. Culhane has retained Berkshire Law to represent his Medical System in a lawsuit."

I nodded my understanding.

The Judge continued, "The litigation arises from an assault of one of his physician employees, which I believe is part of your inquiry. The Summons and Complaint alleges that the physician negligently prescribed opiate painkillers to a female patient to the extent that her husband who subsequently assaulted the doctor, believed his wife had become drug dependent. We strongly disagree with the allegations." Also, for the purposes of this interview, we shall be discussing protected health information, and I need an assurance from you that you understand that there are restrictions on how that information may be further disclosed."

"I understand Judge," I said as I again nodded.

Turning to the doctor he asked, "Have you brought the patient's medical record?"

"I have Judge."

"Fine. I have a release of protected health information authorization form I received from the plaintiff's attorney, so we may proceed," the Judge directed. I said I understood.

"Fine then. Have you reviewed the record?" he asked the CEO.

"I have."

"Very well, give us a background on the patient, how she came under the care of Colony Family Health and what services your staff provided."

Dr. Culhane looked at Lindsey who was seated next to him, and her nod of approval seemed to reassure him the disclosure was proper.

He opened the file and said, "Martine Rodriguez is a thirty-seven-year-old woman who was involved in a car accident. She sustained injuries that were described as consistent with whiplash. During her intake examination, she told Dr. Spiegel over the prior few weeks she was experiencing extreme neck and back pain, to the extent that it was affecting her ability to function normally."

Dr. Culhane looked at each of us as if he thought we may have questions. We didn't respond, and he continued.

"Dr. Spiegel initially prescribed Percocet for relief, but after a follow-up visit with her complaining of no relief, he put her on Oxycodone ten milligrams to be taken every twelve hours."

Judge Moran asked, "Is that an appropriate dosage?"

"Well, there are many variables, but to my best knowledge a generally accepted usage standard shall not exceed thirty milligrams within a twenty-four-hour period. I must stress that is only a guideline, and pain management is not my area of expertise."

He continued, "Mrs. Rodriguez called the pain management practice several times complaining of no relief of her intense back pain, and I saw notes where Dr. Spiegel, and in his absence his physician assistant, called in prescriptions for her raising the dosage to thirty milligrams a day with an order for three days of medication. There are also nursing notes that document Mrs. Rodriguez called the clinic twice demanding that her prescriptions be renewed, but Dr. Spiegel would not do that without examining her. She apparently declined."

"So, do you believe that Dr. Spiegel acted within proper medical guidelines for the prescriptions?" Judge Moran asked.

"Yes, I do."

Judge Moran turned to me and asked, "Daryl, any questions for the doctor?"

"Yes, I do Sir. Doctor, what is Doctor Spiegel's association with Colony Family Health?

"He's one of two pain management specialists that I had on staff before the affiliation with Everest Behavioral Health. His credentials are impeccable."

"As I understand it, Everest Behavioral Health is the pain management arm of Berkshire. Who was responsible for quality of care oversight when this treatment occurred?" I asked.

"It was under the oversight of our Chief Medical Officer," he responded.

"And at the time of his treatment of Mrs. Rodriguez, would Dr. Levi have been the Chief Medical Officer."

"Yes."

Where there any prior incidents with Dr. Spiegel? Complaints or peer review proceedings?" I probed.

"No, nothing. As I said, his performance has been impeccable."

"Doctor, as I understand it Dr. Levi is a psychiatrist. Is he qualified to review medical practice standards?"

"Mr. Richardson. we have a peer review committee that represents many specialties. Any complaints we receive, or adverse outcomes we become aware of, are thoroughly vetted by that group. Dr. Levi's role would have been as a facilitator."

"Did Mr. or Mrs. Rodrigues file a formal complaint regarding her care?"

"No, not with us."

"Doctor, I'm curious about your employment of Dr. Levi as both your Chief Medical Officer and General Counsel."

"Purely a financial consideration Mr. Richardson. We retain outside counsel for malpractice and compliance issues, and I have a risk management attorney as a direct employee. Our system legal expenses are significant, and I felt that Dr. Levi's law degree presented a value-added opportunity."

"Doctor, Judge Moran advised me that Dr. Levi signed an affiliation contract with Everest Behavioral Health without approval of your board of directors' review. Is that correct?"

Dr. Culhane looked over to Lindsey, she nodded, and he lowered his head before answering.

"Yes. In hindsight, I misjudged his authority when I reviewed his contract. I now believe that I committed the Health System to a change in our governance rules. He apparently had the legal authority to do what he did."

Judge Moran interrupted. "Daryl, that assumption is subject to judicial review, which I suspect will be forthcoming."

"I understand Judge, I'm just suggesting that perhaps Dr. Levi had a self-serving motive to promote the affiliation."

Both men looked at me with a surprised look.

"Daryl, that statement requires an explanation. What do you mean?" asked the Judge.

"My preliminary research has found that Everest is a subsidiary of a publicly traded company, in fact, what I would call penny stock. Were you aware of that doctor?" I asked, looking at Dr. Culhane.

Dr. Culhane genuinely looked shocked by my question and looked over to Lindsey. I saw his face flush red for an instant. She looked over at me and said, "Daryl, please explain where you're going with this."

"I'm suggesting that Dr. Levi may have a vested interest in this public company by getting Colony Family Health into its affiliation with Everest," I explained.

I looked over to Judge Moran and he had his hand on his chin, striking a pensive look. "Daryl, play this out for us. I'm interested in your theory."

Turning to Dr. Culhane, I said, "Judge Moran told me that there was some conflict between you and Dr. Levi when he broached the idea of an affiliation with addiction recovery services. Could you explain that a little more?"

He thought for a moment before he answered. "I had presented a three-year strategic plan to our Board of Directors that stated my belief that our focus should be on developing regional urgent care centers to compete with hospital Emergency Rooms. I believe that we can be more cost effective for the patient by offering services that don't carry the expense of overhead that hospitals have, and I saw an opportunity to synchronize patient care value with our System revenue. Addiction care treatment in my opinion is the malady of the day, so to speak. We need to think long term. The research shows that patient volumes for general emergent care issues far exceeds that of addiction-related emergencies."

"But Doctor, didn't Dr. Levi press the opposite belief? That drug overdose cases had reached an epidemic level, and Washington in fact believes that we have a National health crisis?"

"He did. I feel he capitalized on the media frenzy reporting overdoses, and the pledge from Washington to pour money into a solution. Although early on I agreed with him, after a few weeks of doing my own research I believed his thinking was short-term, to be honest," the doctor explained.

Judge Moran interrupted, "Daryl, we seem to be getting off the point of our meeting. My issue is Dr. Spiegel's treatment of Mrs. Rodriguez, and did it rise to the level of malpractice and provoke his being assaulted and is that related to the deaths of the four young people."

"Sorry Judge, I just sense there's something underlying all of this. Dr. Culhane describes Dr. Spiegel's record as impeccable. What caused this accusation he deviated from the high standard of care that he's known for? Could this have been a set-up?"

We all sat quietly, none of us had an answer. After a minute, Judge

Moran asked if I had any further questions, I told him I wanted to ask what his client knew about Dr. Levi's personal life. The Judge considered my request for a few seconds, and turning to his client asked, "Dr. Culhane, are you comfortable with that?"

Culhane looked over to me and I noticed he seemed to relax a bit as he leaned back in his chair. Before I could ask a question, he spoke.

"Well, despite our recent business disagreement, Howard Levi and I have been acquainted for many years. In fact, my wife and I considered him and his late wife Marie Alana as our closest friends. Marie died suddenly of heart failure about four years ago. Curiously, she had no prior heart problems."

Dr. Culhane took a sip of water and continued. "Right after his wife's death Howard seemed lost for a time. Sullen. Withdrawn. He inherited a substantial fortune from his wife's estate, and after a while he seemed to radically change his lifestyle. He built a large new house, a beautiful estate here in Stockbridge. He took flying lessons and got his private pilot's license and even bought himself an airplane. The last few years he's been taking frequent trips down South and told me he had bought a small plantation where he planned to live in retirement."

I sat up in my chair and was attentive as Dr. Culhane's reference to Levi being a pilot, owning a plane and trips down south were starting to fit into the drug trafficking profile that I had in my mind.

"Doctor, you said the late Mrs. Levi had significant wealth. Do you know how she acquired that? I asked.

Dr. Culhane formed a smile and answered, "Yes, it came from family wealth. They were in the import/export business for many years and had extensive business holdings in South and Central America. Unfortunately, over the years some of their business interests were lost due to the civil unrest in those countries, but they managed to maintain good relations with the new government leaders and prospered."

I wanted to focus on Dr. Levi's activities of late, and asked, "Dr. Culhane, where does Dr. Levi fly out of when he goes on his trips?"

He looked surprised with my question, and I glanced at Judge Moran who also seemed curious as to where I was going with this.

"He keeps his plane at a small private airfield in Great Barrington," he answered.

"Oh?" I responded. "Have you had any contact with Dr. Levi since he was terminated?"

He looked over to Lyndsey, she nodded her approval to answer.

"Yes," he said. "We've had several discussions over the phone regarding Dr. Spiegle's injuries, and some discussions, and, uh, ......."

His voice trailed off for a moment and he looked at Judge Moran before continuing. The Judge nodded his approval.

"To be honest, we've had some heated arguments regarding the operation of Everest Behavioral Health. I'm worried that some of their business practices may be unethical, or even illegal."

Judge Moran immediately interrupted and asked if I would excuse myself for a few minutes while he and Lyndsey conferred with their client. I agreed and stepped out to the waiting room. I checked my phone and saw that Matt Holcomb had texted me the State Police CSS contact information I had requested. I sat quietly for ten minutes as I waited, contemplating if I wanted to push my luck and press Dr. Culhane to admit he had more to do with the Everest affiliation than he was admitting.

My wait was short lived when Lyndsey opened the conference room door and beckoned me to enter. As I sat down Judge Moran looked at his watch and announced that he wanted to wrap up my interview, asking if I had any further questions.

I thought for a moment and decided, hell, I might as well go for broke.

"Yes, Judge, one more question," I responded.

Turning to Dr. Culhane I leaned over and looked directly at him.

"Dr. Culhane, do you presently, or did you previous to the affiliation with Everest Behavioral Health have a financial interest as a shareholder in a company called Marlana Holdings?"

The sudden pale of his complexion answered my question without him saying a word. He looked as if I had stabbed him in the heart.

Judge Moran immediately instructed his client not to answer the question and glared at me for an instant before I saw a slight smile start to form on his lips.

"Daryl, I feel it's prudent that our client not answer any further questions," the Judge calmly decreed, and turned off the recorder.

I nodded, thanked Dr. Culhane for his assistance to our investigation, and reached over to shake his hand. It was weak, cold and clammy.

Lyndsey stood and walked me into the waiting room. She started to turn away but stopped, saying, "We'll talk soon." As I put on my overcoat, she looked over at me. "Hey! You are good!" she said with a smile as she shook her head. I heard the conference room door shut as I left the reception room. Once outside, the surge of bitter cold air felt good, and so did I.

Having learned more from Dr. Culhane than I expected, I started the Challenger and headed back home. Damian's instincts about Dr. Culhane were right. The man did have his hand in the nest of the golden goose. Now all I had to do was find the documentation to prove it.

I drove back to my house and after I went inside, I saw Mandy was in her home office, her small worktable was cluttered with papers.

"Hey! I'm so glad you're home!" she said excitedly. "I think you're going to be surprised with what I found out."

With a big grin, she pulled me over to the table and pointed to a chair. "Sit here and just listen." With a bit of a flourish she produced a legal-sized flowchart compete with multicolored connecting lines and arrows.

I examined the document and saw from headings she had typed that she had crafted a relationship chart linking four major pharmaceutical manufacturers and five pharmacies, three pain clinics, and two independent compounding labs.

"These are the companies that were identified in the West Virginia pill mill case you told me about," she explained. I laughed quietly that she picked up so quickly on the legal slang 'pill mill.'

She continued, "I found there were a lot of articles online and I figured out how they set up their scheme."

She stood back and put her hands on her hips. "I should be a detective," she said with a laugh. "This is so interesting! But they got caught! And I know how!"

I didn't want to spoil the elation she was showing, but I could see that I needed to gently slow her down.

"This is great Hon, thank you. But tell me, Madame Inspector, how did they get caught?" I asked even though I already knew the answer.

"Audits, the paper trail!" she pronounced with great authority.

"I know that Hon, the news articles explained it all," I said, "But how does this tie into our murder and overdose cases?"

I thought sure I had deflated her grand accomplishment bubble, but to the contrary, I unknowingly just wound her up for round two! What she showed me next stunned me.

She turned to the table and rustled through some papers. "It by itself doesn't tie in, but this does," she said as she presented me with a document bearing the heading 'Russell Canfield RPH'.

I examined the paper and saw that she had taken excerpts from a case printed in the Federal Reported and had highlighted one paragraph.

"I read where this guy was the pharmacist who was arrested for running the compounding lab that made the high dose oxycodone pills," she explained. "The drug detectives learned he was getting most of his drug powder from what they said was an obscure export company in Costa Rica. There isn't too much more information in the article, but he told the detectives that he received shipments that were flown into a private airport near his lab. That's how the scheme worked."

Mandy had no way of knowing I had learned from Dr. Culhane that the family of his ex-employee Howard Levi's deceased wife had import/export business interests in Central America, and that he was a pilot and owned a plane. I was speechless.

"And now," she said in the tone of a ringmaster, or in her case, mistress. "I present you with the icing on my cake!"

She handed me the document. A quick glance told me it was a copy of a Securities and Exchange Commission Initial Statement of Beneficial Ownership of Securities for Marlana Holdings.

"How did you get this? "I asked as I sat up in my chair.

She sat down at the table across from me and explained. "I called one of my former business class professors at Bennington and explained what information I needed and that I couldn't seem to access it. She was so excited to hear from me and said she had heard through the grapevine that you and I were together now. We had a great talk catching up, and she couldn't do enough to help me."

I started to speak, but she put her hand up. "Don't worry I didn't tell her why I needed the information and I didn't say anything about your case. She did mention the murders, though. She said she saw the story on the television news and I told her yes, it was awful and that I had heard the police were working hard to find the killers. That's all I said about it. Honestly."

"I believe you, Hon, and thank you. This is great! This is a huge piece in the puzzle. This is a great help!" I reached over, took her hand and kissed it.

"Thanks," she said. "I want so much to help you. What else can I do?" she asked.

I looked at the document and almost broke out into a cold sweat. There were six names on the list of initial shareholders. The first two names on the list? Howard Levi with seven-hundred fifty thousand shares, and Thomas Culhane with two hundred fifty thousand shares. My hands were shaking. I looked further and saw five-hundred thousand shares were held by Revere Two, a limited liability company.

I didn't recognize four additional names on the list but guessed they were Colony Family Health board member physicians. The opportunity for them to have a partial ownership interest in Everest Behavior Health was a huge incentive for them to endorse the affiliation between the two businesses. But where did Revere fit in?

I looked up and saw Mandy was watching me intently, biting her lip.

"Honey," I said, "I need to know who these last four people are. I think they may be local doctors, but maybe you can do some more research for me. I especially need to know who is behind Revere Two LLC."

She jumped up quickly, and I motioned for her to ease up. "Babe, I don't need it this instant. Why don't you take a break? You did a great job, and this is a tremendous help."

"Okay, you're right. I am a little worn out", she said as she stretched and sharply arched her back. "What are you going to do?"

I told her I wanted to change out of my suit and had some phone calls to make. I told her that I didn't have any lunch and thought we could go out for an early dinner. She agreed almost immediately, and when I said we could go to the Red Lion or another inn she liked in town she let out a resounding "YES!"

I still didn't know what it was about both places that excited her so, but I wasn't going to push my luck and ask. Besides, I needed a break, too.

I changed into jeans, comfortable low boots and a wool pullover. I went into the family room, settled into the couch and checked my phone. I saw an email with several attachments from Matt Holcomb. I opened the first and saw it was a draft of a search warrant application for the evidence seized by the State Police from the murder suspect Tony Banacci's car. The draft was well crafted, and I especially appreciated how carefully they established probable cause for our seizure without disclosing too much about the murder scene.

My instincts were telling me there was more than one person involved in the murders, and I didn't know why the victims were targeted, or if only one of them was, the others simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't need the press coming up with their own theories.

I texted Matt Holcomb to let him know the affidavit was excellent and asked him to convey my thanks to the Sheriffs who prepared it.

The second attachment was a scanned copy of suspect Tony Banacci's FBI rap sheet. Matt Holcomb called it right, this guy was a career criminal. Most of his arrests were in Massachusetts, and involved assaults, robberies, a few weapons possessions, and gambling related crimes. An attempted murder and extortion case resulted in a ten-year sentence at Walpole.

When I checked his inmate status it showed me that he had been paroled a little more than a year ago after serving only three years.

I read through all four pages and was surprised to see that there was only one misdemeanor arrest for controlled drugs. Seems Mr. Banacci was primarily into violent crimes, not drugs.

Mandy came into the room and I saw she had changed into a pair of designer jeans, a pale blue knit low-cut top and brown suede vest. With her hair brushed down, makeup, and knee-high leather boots she looked stunning. I stood up and gave her a long kiss. "You are absolutely gorgeous, and I 'm a very lucky guy."

"Ummm...thank you," she answered with a slight blush forming on her cheeks. I wanted to dress nice for you because I have a feeling this may be our last date night for a while." The mood changed abruptly as she pulled her left hand away from my waist and stepped back from me. Damn! She had felt the gun on my hip under the sweater.

"Do you really need that?" she asked nodding toward my waist.

"Sweetheart, the way you look tonight I'll need a tank to ward off all of the admirer's you're going to attract."

She looked to the ceiling with an expression of surrender and shifted her eyes to mine.

"All right then, just don't shoot anybody until after I've finished my dessert, okay? I'm ready anytime that you are."

Having received my marching orders, we went on our dinner date.

### CHAPTER 8

We arrived at the inn a few minutes after five-thirty and as we walked into the foyer, I was surprised to see Sergeant Matt Holcomb standing in line at the host podium, holding hands with a very attractive young blonde woman. He turned and saw us, his surprise surpassed mine.

"Daryl" he cried out. Conscious of his enthusiasm, he lowered his voice and turned to the blonde. "This is my wife, Kristin." He introduced me and as I reached to shake her hand, I introduced Mandy as my fiancée, who smiled sweetly and shook the woman's hand.

"Matt has done nothing but talk about how pleased he is to be working with you," Kristin said. She turned to Mandy. "I love your outfit and your ring is gorgeous," she said, staring at Mandy's left hand.

Mandy thanked her, and I asked, "Now that the introductions are behind us, Matt, are you here for dinner or is it a special occasion?"

Matt reached over and put his hand around his wife's waist pulling her close. "It's our wedding anniversary, eight years today. We had our reception here so we're celebrating over dinner."

"Well, Happy Anniversary," I said. "In that case you must join Mandy and I as our guests for dinner."

"Matt looked embarrassed. "No, we wouldn't want to intrude on your plans, and really..." Kristin cut him short. "Thank You, but I agree, we wouldn't want to ..." I interrupted her. "No, please, I do insist, please, be our guests."

Mandy leaned over to Kristin and quietly said with a giggle, "I wouldn't argue with Daryl, he's got a gun!"

The Holcomb's both laughed, and Kristin whispered, "So does Matt!" So, before things get out of hand, we accept your invitation and thank you."

Mandy put her hand on my arm and looked at both Matt and me. "And gentleman, please, no talk about your case over dinner," she instructed. We simultaneously agreed just as the host asked, "Party of four for dinner?"

Before I could answer I heard someone call out "Daryl!" and saw James Ferrance, the distinguished long-time evening Inn Manager approach the podium. We had been acquainted for many years.

As he shook my hand he said, "Daryl, Mandy, so nice to have you as guests this evening" As he turned toward the Holcombs in acknowledgment I introduced them, adding that Matt was with the Sheriff's Department. He shook hands with them both and turned to me. "Daryl, a brief private moment please?" motioning me to step out of line. I followed him a few paces, and he stepped in close to me.

Almost in a whisper he said, "Daryl, three men arrived a short time ago, two of them showed badges and said they were from the FBI here to make arrangements for Congressman Petrone who will be staying with us for the next few days."

I jerked my head back in surprise. "What?" I asked.

James nodded his head. "Yes, they inspected the parking lot, dining and conference rooms and the VIP suite. I just saw them take a seat in the Tavern. They seemed very aggressive to me."

I couldn't see the bar from where I was standing but told James that we were just here for dinner, wanted it to be low key, and we would appreciate some privacy.

"Understood," he answered, I have a nice table just off the foyer by the window. I think you'll find it perfect. I thanked him, shook his hand again and went back to the podium. The Holcombs and Mandy gave me a confused look.

"James has a very private table for us. He understands we want our visit to be low-key" I explained.

James whispered something to the host, nodded toward the front wall of the dining room and the host promptly led our party to the nearby table. Matt Holcomb dropped back from the women.

"What was that all about Daryl?" he asked.

"He said there's some people here from the FBI saying they're the advance team for Congressman Petrone, checking things out for him to arrive here tomorrow.

"I didn't hear anything about him visiting," he replied.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Let's just have a nice dinner to celebrate your anniversary, shall we?" and I motioned him to catch up with the ladies.

We got settled, received menus and ordered drinks. After they arrived, we studied the offerings and made our selections; the women both ordered smoked salmon and Matt and I the prime rib. As we waited for our meals to arrive, we got acquainted with each other.

Kristin was an ER nurse at the Medical Center, they had no children, and had bought their house in West Stockbridge about five years ago. She told us how she and Matt had met, I explained how Mandy and I had met and become engaged, and Mandy talked about her work with The Stonegarden Foundation.

Kristin commented that Matt had told her our house was magnificent and hinted she would love to see it sometime. Mandy picked up on that quickly and suggested they visit for coffee after we finished dinner. Kristin didn't hesitate to accept, and I sensed that Mandy may have made a new friend.

Our meals arrived, and the food didn't disappoint. As we dined, the women dominated the conversation, talking with each other about the town, shopping, Kristin's experiences at the hospital, some labor issues the nurses had, plus Kristin contributing the occasional tidbit of local gossip for good measure.

Matt and I contributed little, both of us being careful not to talk shop as we had promised. For desert, the women ordered a decadent looking brownie sundae that they said they would share. After it arrived, Matt and I watched as they delicately but passionately savored the treat.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw three men dressed in suits walking across the dining room. One stopped abruptly and did a double take.

He slowly walked up to our table and smugly said, "Well, Attorney Daryl Richardson, how about that."

I looked him straight in the eye as I leaned back in my chair.

I answered, "Agent Barden," as I slowly nodded. I shot a glance over at Mandy and saw she looked frozen in time, her fork poised just above her plate as she stared at the man.

In a loud sarcastic tone Barden asked, "Have you found the man who killed Congressman Petrone's granddaughter yet?" I saw the people sitting at two tables near us turn in their chairs toward us. I didn't respond.

"I didn't think so," he said with a sneer as he looked at his cohorts and grinned.

His shirt collar was unbuttoned, his tie loose and askew, his eyes watery. All signs he had been drinking, but he wasn't drunk. He put both his hands on the table and leaned over, his face close in to mine. I turned my head to deflect the sour smell of alcohol on his breath.

Matt Holcomb started to slowly slide his chair away from the table and I motioned for him to stay seated. "Richardson, Congressman Petrone will be staying here for a few days, and he'll expect you to come by and pay your respects."

I looked over and gave him an intense stare. "Tell him that's not going to happen, Tommy," I said slowly. I knew the nickname would irritate him.

He snapped his head back in an exaggerated show of indignation that I was challenging his eighty-six-proof bravado.

"Daryl?" Mandy said loudly enough to get my attention.

"Yeah?" I asked looking over at her.

"I finished my dessert." She pursed her lips in an exaggerated smile as I watched her put her fork on the empty plate with a loud clink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Barden snarled as he looked over to her.

I stood up quickly, my six feet plus of height towering over him. Very quietly I said, "Before we came here tonight Mandy made me promise not to shoot anyone before she finished her dessert." His eyes widened in disbelief.

I looked at his two buddies who were now standing close behind him. "Gentlemen, I strongly suggest that you take Tommy home before his career ends here and now."

Without argument each grabbed one of his arms and firmly pulled him away from the table. He shook them off and shrugged violently as he re-settled his suit coat on his shoulders. He glared at me.

"Good night Tommy," I said, before he could utter the obscenities I knew he was forming in his brain. Thankfully, his friends ushered him to the front door.

I looked over to our neighboring diners and apologized for the commotion. They all smiled and seemed pleased Barden and his friends were gone. I watched as they started whispering amongst themselves, occasionally glancing back at our table. So much for low key and privacy I thought as I sat back down.

I looked over at Mandy and saw from her smile she had the look of absolute satisfaction on her face. Our waiter appeared at the table and I asked for our check. Matt offered to share the tab, but I waved him off.

As I reached for my wallet, I realized he was still watching me, and as I acknowledged his stare, he shook his head. "Now I understand why you wanted to know who notified Petrone about his granddaughter."

I looked over at the women, and true to my promise not to talk about work, I just nodded. They didn't press the issue.

I settled our bill and Matt and Kristin said they would follow us to our house. As Mandy and I walked to my car hand in hand, she leaned against me for some warmth from the frigid night air. As she put her arm around my waist, I realized it wasn't about warmth. She wanted me to know that we both were okay even if I was wearing a gun.

As soon we arrived at our house Mandy beckoned Kristin and led her on the grand tour. I motioned for Matt to follow me into the family room and asked if he wanted an after-dinner drink. He declined without an excuse or explanation. I really wanted that drink but decided it could wait. We both settled into recliners across from each other.

"Daryl, what the hell was that all about with Barden?" he asked.

"Just a big mouth being a jackass," I answered. "I had a run in with him a few months ago when he was assigned to work a case I was leading. I got fed up with his arrogant attitude and abusive treatment of the rest of the team, so I kicked him off. To be honest, I thought he had been re-assigned to some obscure field office far from here."

Matt nodded his understanding. "Well, if you ask me, it sounds like he's got himself attached at the hip to Petrone."

"Yeah," I answered. Matt hit the nail on the head, but I let the subject drop.

"And Daryl, I have to ask. Did Mandy really tell you not to shoot anyone before she finished dessert? What the hell was that all about?" I laughed and said, "You had to be there Matt, forget it. Listen, the girls will be back in a few minutes, tell me where things stand in the case on your end."

"We'll have the search warrants signed tomorrow for the shotgun from Banacci's car. The autopsies are scheduled for Friday, I guess Damian Costigan raised some hell with the M.E. I've assigned four of our team to attend them." He continued. "Oh, I almost forgot, you asked about our Deputy who was there when Agent Barden examined the bodies at the scene. His name is Phil Costa, and he's working the dayshift tomorrow. Just let me know when you can meet with him."

"Great," I said, "I'll give you a call tomorrow morning. I can meet him on the road somewhere if that will be easier for him."

"Yeah, that might work. When I talked to him about you wanting to speak with him, he didn't have anything good to say about Barden. He said he was an F-ing pervert."

"What?" I asked in disbelief.

"Daryl, the two girls were in their underwear when they were shot. Petrone's granddaughter got hit in the left chest and her bra was ripped off. The autopsy will probably show her heart took a direct hit. Anyway, Costa told me that Barden was taking photos with his cell phone and he made some vulgar sexual comments as he took several pictures of her boobs."

I sank back in my recliner and shook my head. "That son-of-a-bitch."

"Yeah." Matt said quietly, shaking his head in disgust. "I'm sure Phil will have a lot more to tell you about all that. Daryl, are you worried about Barden leaking details of the investigation to Petrone? "You're the boss, I know, but I hope you know you can trust me. Is there something I don't know?"

"I do trust you Matt," I assured him. I don't trust Barden and I'll deal with him. You just keep your focus on the investigation like you're doing."

Changing the course of conversation, I continued. "I've been doing some background work on the people whose names have come up in the case, but it's all in my head right now. I think I need to sit down and put my theories down on paper. That might be the best way for you and our team to help come up with a motive."

"Christ Daryl, when do you find the time to do everything? Don't you ever sleep?" Right at that instant Mandy and Kristin returned to the room. I looked at Mandy and answered Matt's question. "Like a baby." I think he knew what I meant.

"Daryl! your house is gorgeous! And it's huge! And the Great room. God! That room is to die for!" Kristin cried out as she rushed in and plopped down on the couch next to her husband's chair. She leaned over, grabbed his arm, and shook it in her excitement.

I looked over at Mandy and she couldn't hide her grin. "I'm going to put the coffee on," she said with a laugh as she turned and headed into the kitchen.

I sat with a mix of interest and amusement as Kristin gave her husband a two-minute summary of her tour. I watched them as she chattered, slapping Matt on the arm in excitement at least a half dozen times. Not only was she extremely pretty, her high energy personality was off the charts. They were a perfect couple together, I thought.

After a few minutes Kristin went out to the kitchen and she and Mandy returned with coffee for us men and tea for themselves. Mandy set out a plate of cookies and we spent the next half hour enjoying light conversation.

The Holcombs stayed until a little before ten when Matt said they both had to be up early and should be getting home. Mandy and Kristin went to get their coats from the front closet.

He thanked me for dinner and our hospitality, I assured him Mandy and I really enjoyed their company. I don't know where the thought came from, but it just popped into my head.

"Matt, I forgot something. Did the Troopers find a cellphone on Banacci, or in the car?" He thought for a few seconds. "I honestly don't know. I can check on it tomorrow. Why?"

I didn't offer an explanation, and said, "If they did, I want it. And if they did, we'll need a search warrant to see what's on it. Don't let anybody start playing around and search it without the warrant. Understood?"

He stood up and answered "Yeah." He had that confused look again.

As we walked toward the foyer he reached over and touched my arm to stop me.

"Man!" He said shaking his head. "How do you think of these things? Don't you ever turn your brain off?" I took no offense and just smiled.

"Once in a while, Matt, once in a while."

Kristin thanked us profusely for our hospitality and hugged Mandy at least three times thanking her for showing the house. Eventually Matt was successful in gently guiding his bride to the door. After we saw them off and I closed the front door, Mandy gave me a strong hug. I mean strong, like she didn't want to let me go!

"Thank You," she whispered. "I really, really like Kristin."

We took the dishes into the kitchen and I made the rounds checking that the doors were all locked and the lights off.

As soon as we were in bed Mandy curled up next to me.

I turned my brain off.

### CHAPTER 9

I slept late in the morning and after I showered and dressed, I went out to the kitchen and saw Mandy was already at the computer in her office. She got up and greeted me with a kiss. "I got an early start," she explained," and I checked out those four names on the MLRN stock ownership papers you are interested in. You were right. They are doctors. I just looked up the first two and they are working for Colony Family Health. I'll check the other two later to see if they also are. I can't find anything on Revere Two LLC." She motioned for me to sit at the breakfast bar and brought me a cup of coffee.

"I don't feel like cooking a full breakfast," she said. "How about some pastry instead?" That was fine with me, and I was sure my recently expanding waistline could use a breather.

"What are your plans for today?" she asked as she set a plate of baked goods on the bar.

I explained I had to make some phone calls and at some point, I had to meet up with one of the Sheriff's deputies who was at the murder scene. She didn't ask me why, and I thought her lack of interest was curious. She took her coffee mug and a pastry and headed back into her office.

I went into the family room and called Deputy Matt Holcomb's cell phone. When he answered I asked if he had any word on his suspect Tony Banacci's condition.

He said he called the hospital first thing this morning but all they would tell him was that Banacci was in critical condition. I hadn't given any thought on how we could get the hospital to provide us more information on his injuries to get around the patient privacy laws. He wasn't under arrest, and since he was unconscious, he wasn't being guarded by the State Police.

I asked Matt if he knew if the State Police had been in contact with Banacci's family or next of kin. He said he didn't have that answer but would check on it. I thought if they did, then perhaps they would consent for us to get updates on his condition.

Matt said he had assigned several of our Task Force members to start the background investigations on the murder victims, and the plan was for them to interview Tim Valens and Tanya Ross's parents later this morning. He said both sets of parents were already demanding that their kids' bodies be released so that they could start making burial arrangements. I didn't envy the deputies for their task.

I asked if there had been any success in obtaining dental or medical records or ideally a set of fingerprints for the second dead male that we thought was Michael Balentine. He said they had received via fax a clear copy of the prints taken by the FAA when Balentine applied for his pilot's license. He told me he had called the State Police CSI team and they agreed to go to the ME's morgue and fingerprint the body for us, and that they thought they could have the prints examined in a few hours.

I was pleased to see that we were getting the inter-agency cooperation that Damian thought might be a barrier.

I reminded Matt that I wanted to meet with Deputy Costa and discuss how Agent Tommy Barden acted at the murder scene. It was really bothering me to think that there was come connection between Barden and Congressman Petrone.

Matt said he would give the deputy my cell number and have him call me to arrange where and when we could meet.

I took my laptop and sat on the couch to start putting together my case file. I had so many facts and theories swirling in my head, but I was spinning my wheels. I needed to put things paper to help me focus.

Writing the narrative describing the crime, apparent manner of deaths, and description of the crime scene and evidence seized came easily to me.

I typed up a few paragraphs describing the State Police information from the turnpike accident that may have produced a suspect.

Two more paragraphs documented the steps we were taking to link the recovered shotgun to shells found at the murder scene. If they matched, we probably had the murderer, but I needed to link him to the scene and victims.

My progress came to abrupt stop when it came to the motive. I sat and mulled things over in my mind. On one hand, Deputy Matt Holcomb was convinced that Colony Family Health and the pain management clinics were somehow involved in not only the murder case, but the surge in overdose deaths. He believed the potent opiate pills flooding illegal street sales were originating from the doctors at Everest Behavioral Health.

On the other hand, Congressman Petrone's outrageous statement the murders were an attack on him, and his sudden announcement he was seeking a higher political office and prepping for a presidential run threw me for a curve. His granddaughter had been murdered. What could he gain from that?

If I had three hands, the third would be holding Agent Tommy Barden by the scruff of his scrawny neck. He was the wild card. Barden was the FBI Agent who interviewed the subject who assaulted the Berkshire physician, but apparently nothing came of the man's complaint that the doctor was turning patients into addicts. Why?

How did Barden manage to get assigned as a liaison to the DEA?

How did Barden manage to worm his way into Congressman Petrone's inner circle? I needed to learn who notified Petrone so quickly that his granddaughter was murdered. Was it Barden?

The ultimate conundrum? Who was the target victim? We had no evidence of a robbery, and no reasonable explanation for having multiple victims other than an innocent bystander scenario.

My gut was telling me there was only one target. But who was it? I sat for a while staring at the laptop screen, but the answers weren't coming.

I was pulled back to reality when my phone beeped and saw that the incoming call was a local number, with no caller ID info. I took a chance it wasn't a telemarketer and answered. Fortunately, it was Deputy Phil Costa.

He told me that his patrol sector today included Stockbridge, and with a little persuasion I convinced him to stop by my house. I gave him directions and he said he would come by in half an hour.

I went back to typing my case summary and documented my interview of Berkshire CEO Thomas Culhane. He and his partner Howard Levi both were the principal shareholders in Everest Behavioral Health, which I had learned was a subsidiary of Marlana Holdings.

I wrote that evidence recovered at the murder scene included empty pill containers bearing the label Marlana Pharmaceuticals. As I finished typing, it hit me. There it was! The first direct link between the murder scene, Everest Behavioral Health, and two of the principal shareholders, Drs. Culhane and Levi.

I typed faster now, putting on paper Culhane's statements about Levi having inherited a substantial fortune from his late wife's estate, money she had made running her family's import/export business. What was her name? I tried to remember. "Yes! Marie Alana," I said out loud to no one there, and at that moment the lightning bolt of enlightenment found its way into my brain. Marie Alana Levi was Marlana. It was her company in life, now, in her afterlife, could her legacy be the Angel of Death?

My concentration was broken when I heard the chimes of the front doorbell. As I started to get up, I saw that Mandy was walking to the door from the kitchen. I called out that I was expecting a visit from a Sheriff's Deputy and heard her answer "Okay." As I entered the foyer hallway, I saw Mandy was ushering the Deputy toward me. She smiled as he introduced himself, Phil Costa, and I thanked him for stopping by. I motioned for him to follow me into the family room, Mandy said she would put some coffee on.

Phil was a bit of a surprise. He looked to be in his mid-fifties, not a tall man but built like a fullback. We shook hands, I asked him to call me Daryl, he readily agreed.

Deputy Costa explained he was in his twentieth year with the Department, and generally was assigned to the Pittsfield, Great Barrington patrol zones on the day and evening shifts. I explained to the Deputy I was interested in learning how the identification of Congressman Petrone's granddaughter was apparently made so quickly. He said he understood and sat down in an arm chair.

"Daryl, I was the first officer on the scene for a call of an explosion and a house on fire the night of the murders," he said." A few minutes later a Pittsfield officer arrived, and we tried to get inside. As we ran to the door there was another explosion and the whole place lit up like a volcano. We had to back off. The fire volunteers got there quickly and immediately called out for mutual aid assistance. There were engines and tankers from all of the neighboring towns and the scene was chaotic for quite a while."

Mandy came into the room with a tray holding two coffees and some pastries and set it on the coffee table.

The Deputy smiled and remarked he had been busy with calls and hadn't had time to eat lunch. Mandy offered to fix him a sandwich. He declined, thanking her for the offer as he reached for an apple strudel pastry. After fixing his coffee and sampling the pastry, he continued his briefing. Mandy sat down to listen, I didn't object.

"I recall that it was a little before two AM when the firefighters got inside the house and called out to say they had bodies inside. I went inside with two Pittsfield guys and we could see that death was obvious. The fire was out so I had all the fireman leave the house and we secured the scene. I saw shotgun shells on the floor and noticed a lot of plastic pill containers scattered around. The four kids were all in their underwear, and...," he paused, looking at Mandy, as if he was uneasy to continue.

"Would you be more comfortable talking with Daryl alone?" she asked. He didn't answer.

"Deputy, Mandy is my fiancée and my research assistant in this case," I interjected. I saw Mandy flash a quick smile.

"Deputy, please don't be embarrassed," she said. "Young people today have different ideas about having a party than our generations. I get it." Deputy Costa seemed to relax a bit and continued, right after he reached for another pastry.

He continued. "I called in to Headquarters on my cell phone and told dispatch what we had. They said they were sending out detectives and the State Fire Marshal. Basically, I made sure the scene was secure until Sergeant Holcomb and some others arrived."

I interrupted and said, "Phil I'm interested on when it became apparent Congressman Petrone's granddaughter was one of the victims."

He thought for a moment and responded, his voice lowered in tone.

"Daryl, I haven't seen many burn victims in my career, thank God, but these kids looked horrific. I knew Anna Muranti. I have a daughter a year or two older than her and several years ago they were friends. Not close friends, but Anna had visited our house a few times. When I saw the body on the floor, even though it was burned, and soot covered, I thought it was her. I didn't tell anyone though. Another deputy from my Department was at the house and he said he had dated Anna in high school. He's the one that recognized her. Of course, when we ran the license plates of the cars in the driveway, the Taurus was registered to her." He stopped and stared at the platter of pastries, but I guessed his mind was back at the fire scene.

Mandy reached over and lifted the platter offering him another. He chose wisely, another apple strudel. He thanked her and sat quietly enjoying his snack.

"Phil, tell me about when the FBI agents arrived", I asked.

The Deputy dabbed at the crumbs around his lips and took a sip of coffee.

"Well," he said, "It was a little before six AM when they got there. One of them acted like he was the second coming of Christ." He looked at Mandy. "Forgive me Miss, but that's the show he put on." Looking back to me he continued." He tried to just walk in saying he was FBI and it was his crime scene now. I didn't know who the hell he was, so I braced him to produce some ID. He tried to push past me, and I admit I wasn't gentle when I stopped him and demanded ID. He flashed it in front of my face and told me to get out of the way. I saw enough of the ID to see that he was FBI."

I looked over at Mandy and saw she was trying to hide the grin her mouth was forming.

"Phil, do you remember his name?" I asked.

The word came out in unison, from him and Mandy. "Barden!"

"Ooops! Sorry!" Mandy said, her embarrassment showing as her face flushed red.

"It's okay Hon," I said, smiling back at her.

"Oh, so you've had the pleasure of meeting Agent Barden?" The Deputy inquired, looking at Mandy.

"More like displeasure of meeting him," she quipped. "Ooops! Sorry again! I think I'll freshen up my coffee. Can I get you a refill Deputy?" she asked as she stood up. He accepted her offer and we watched as she collected our mugs and headed off to the kitchen.

Phil looked back at me and said, "I really like that girl. And she is beautiful. Fiancee you said? When's the wedding?"

That's the million-dollar question I thought to myself. I answered, "Next year," and moved the conversation on.

"Phil, I was told that Barden made some vulgar comments about Anna. What's that all about?" I asked.

"It wasn't just the comments about her body that bothered me Daryl. She had a good figure and even lying there with her boobs laid out that son-of-a-bitch wouldn't stop with his comments about what a waste of a wicked body, taking close-up photos of her breasts. It's what he did after that made me want to beat his ass into the ground."

"What do you mean, Phil? I asked, looking around to make sure that Mandy was still in the kitchen.

"Daryl, he ordered everyone out of the house, including his partner. No one argued, even me. But I stood at the door with my back to him. I snuck a look to see what he was doing and saw him ripping off Anna's underwear and taking pictures of her naked body with his phone. He went over to the other girl's body and did the same thing. He must have seen me looking at him because he stopped and came out of the house almost knocking me over." The Deputy looked down at the floor in silence. His face was red from anger.

After a few moments he said, "I should have beat his ass for desecrating those girls," he said, banging his fist against his thigh.

Before I could speak Mandy came in with our coffees and more pastries. I raised my hand to let Phil know that he had made his point and he nodded acknowledgement.

"Phil, do you know anything about Anna's background?" I asked. "You said your daughter and she were friends, though not close friends."

"I knew enough that I didn't want my daughter hanging around with her."

"Anna was a flirt, easy I guess is the way to describe her in today's words. She dressed in skimpy clothes, talked freely about getting drunk with guys and partying. My daughter told me afterwards that Anna turned wild after her father was murdered about seven or eight years ago."

"What?" I asked incredulously. "What do you mean murdered?"

"Yeah," he said." As I said, it was years ago but I remember her father was a bigshot in the construction industry. He was married to TJ Petrone's daughter. That's the Congressman's nickname,' TJ.' Aldo Muranti, Anna's father, and TJ had built a construction empire; highways, shopping centers, office parks. They were a big deal back then. Huge money involved."

"How was he murdered?" I asked. I glanced at Mandy and saw that she was excitedly waiting for his response.

"Well," he said, "As I remember it, apparently it was a mob hit. Aldo had ruffled some feathers with the building trade unions and pushed back against the mob on their hiring demands to employ their people in no-show jobs. He was shot and killed as he left his house for work one morning, right there in his driveway. At least that's one story."

"What do you mean, one story?" I asked. He had my undivided attention.

The Deputy fixed his new coffee and sat back in the couch. He took a sip and eyed the pastry platter.

"I remember some old timers at the PD talking about a rift between Aldo and TJ over money. TJ was living a lavish lifestyle and it was rumored he was on the take from some of the sub-contractors and unions. Aldo apparently didn't want any part of that."

"Are you talking pay to play schemes?" I asked.

He raised his hand in protest." Not me saying that. I said some of the old-timers were talking about that. It was years ago but to my memory the case was never solved, and the kickback accusations were never proven."

I looked over at Mandy and was going to ask her to make a note of this information. She raised her hand to stop me. "Got it. I'll do some research," she said.

"But what happened with Anna?" I pressed the Deputy.

"I recall my daughter talking about TJ moving his daughter and granddaughter out of state after the murder and later about Anna getting arrested a few times"

"Arrested for what?" I asked.

"Mostly drug charges if I remember it right. I recall my daughter saying Anna was in and out of rehab programs, even a six-month jail sentence once, but again, that's second-hand information."

"I understand. It sounds like you knew the Congressman pretty well," I said

"Not really," the Deputy answered as he reached for another strudel.

"I wasn't surprised when he announced he was running for the State legislature, but after only two terms I was amazed when he ran for Congress as an Independent. This guy is all about power. His ego precedes him. If you ask me, I wouldn't be surprised if he had his son-in-law murdered because he was a problem and in the way of a grander scheme to be in national politics."

His last statement got my attention. "A problem in the way of a grander scheme."

I had run out of questions, and the Deputy had visited for more than an hour. He said he'd better get back on the road. Mandy offered him some pastry to go but, he weakly declined. She smiled and produced a paper lunch bag and placed a healthy portion of snacks inside. She said, "Just in case!" Deputy Costa accepted the gift with thanks and headed out.

I went back into the family room with Mandy on my heels.

"Daryl, did you hear what he said? That maybe the Congressman had his son-in-law murdered? Do you think he had his granddaughter murdered?"

"That's a pretty big leap Mandy. What I need is anything that you can find about TJ Petrone. I don't know how far back Google goes with newspaper articles about murder cases, but maybe if you search the name Aldo Muranti something may come up."

She said she would get right on it and got up to head for her computer.

As she was leaving a thought came into my head. "Mandy, see if you can put together a brief biography of the Congressman. I'm especially interested if Google has any articles describing the allegations that he was tight with the labor unions. It's a long shot, but worth a try." She nodded her understanding and continued to her office.

I sat down and called Matt Holcomb's cell phone. He answered on the third ring and I asked for a status report.

"Daryl. Hi. The deputies interviewed Tim Valens and Tanya Ross's parents this morning. The guys told me that the parents are devastated. And angry."

"Angry? I asked. "How so?"

The guys told me the Valens kid's father especially was a wild man. He's demanding to know what evidence we have, what authority we have to order an autopsy on his son. He said he saw on TV that the FBI is involved and demanded to know why the local police have been shut out of the case. And the topper of his rantings is that he's demanding to meet with you."

I thought on that for minute before I responded. Before I could speak, Matt continued. "The Deputies that interviewed Tanya Ross' parents said both were also hysterical. They told my guys that this was all the pilot kid's fault. They didn't know his name, but said he showed up a few months ago hanging around Anna Muranti. Apparently, Tanya and Anna were friends from high school, and despite all the trouble Anna had gotten into they stayed close. My guys tried to get out of the parents why they suspected the pilot, all they would say was that their daughter had told them that he seemed to have lots of money and was flying a private plane down south every two weeks or so on business."

I thought on that. Who was he flying for I wondered?

Matt continued. "And my guys said both sets of parents are outraged that the Medical Examiner won't release the bodies and they can't start making funeral arrangements."

"Matt, I asked. Does your Department have a Chaplain?"

I guess my question threw him a curveball.

"Actually, we do. Reverend Poole from the Congregational church is our unofficial go-to person when we need clergy. Why do you ask?"

"I just thought perhaps he could speak with both sets of parents and offer to provide some spiritual comfort as they work through the next few days," I explained.

"Daryl, that's a great idea", Matt said. Our Chief Deputy and Mr. Valens are friends, I believe. I'll run this by the Chief and see what he thinks we can do."

"Good Matt. What else is going on? I asked.

"Well," he answered, "We've had two surveillance teams the past three days watching the Pain Clinic in Lenox. They're logging plate numbers of cars going into the lot and photos of the patients going inside. They're trying to ID any known drug dealers that are hanging around there. The Lee clinic is pretty busy from what they're seeing."

"Any results?" I asked.

"Sadly, nothing of value. They've seen a few suspicious characters leaving and we've had an unmarked chase car available to follow them, but we're coming up dry."

"Matt, I'm beginning to think that the Clinic may not be the illegal distribution site," I said.

"What?" he asked. "How can you be sure?"

"Matt, I have a hunch that perhaps a Clinic employee may be involved in the distribution scheme, but I've come up with some information that leads me to think that the Clinic itself isn't the direct distribution source of the drugs involved in the ODs or the street sales."

Sergeant Matt Holcomb was silent for a long half-minute.

"Daryl, it sounds like you know a lot more than you're telling me. Don't you trust me?"

"Of course, I do. It's just that this information I have is very recent. I think that we should get together for a briefing. Tomorrow's not good, let's see if we can set something up for later in the week. And Matt, I think you can pull the guys off the surveillance detail. If nothing's coming out of it, it's a waste of their time."

"Also, see if you can get a criminal history report on Anna Muranti. I have some information that she may have had some drug arrests out of the area or out of state and may have done some jail time."

"Okay", he answered without comment.

"And Matt, my interview of Deputy Costa was very informative. Thanks for setting that up," I said.

"Okay," he responded," I'll call you tomorrow morning," and he ended the call. I sensed that Matt Holcomb was thinking I was holding back on him. Not what I wanted.

I went and checked on Mandy, and as I entered her office, she waved me off. "Not now Boss'" she instructed," I don't want to lose my train of thought. I think I'll have something for you in a little while." I didn't press the issue, but her reaction confirmed I had created a monster research assistant!

I was in the kitchen foraging for a snack without getting caught by the Warden when my cell phone rang. I looked and saw it was Damian Costigan. I grabbed an apple strudel and answered the call.

"Yeah Boss, what's up?" I asked as I took a bite of my clandestine treat.

"Daryl, we have a problem. Have you been following the news?" he asked.

"No, what news?" I asked, surprised by his direct approach.

"About an hour ago Congressman Petrone held a press conference to announce that the person who shot his granddaughter had been caught by the State Police and was in a coma following a high-speed chase and car accident on the Mass Pike.

"WHAT?" I asked almost shouting. "What the hell is he talking about?"

"You tell me friend." he said flatly.

Damian continued, "He got the facts wrong, but somehow he knows that the guy that hit the truck on the Turnpike is the prime suspect and is in a coma at the hospital. Daryl, I think you have an intelligence leak on your Task Force."

Damian's news left me speechless. My mind raced to think of who could have leaked the information to Petrone.

"Daryl, you there?" Damian asked.

"Yeah Boss."

"Daryl, who knows about the shotgun they found in the guy's car?" he asked.

"The State Police investigating the accident," I answered, "the two Task Force members who wrote up the search warrant affidavit to seize the evidence they found, and Matt Holcomb. I don't know if he briefed the Sheriff or Chief Deputy. But Boss, it's my understanding that the warrant affidavits were sealed. No one else had access to that information."

"Well, obviously someone did," he countered.

"Boss, I think we may have a bigger problem. Now I'm worried about the guy that's in the hospital. Remember what happened when Judge Moran was targeted by two hit men when he was in the hospital a few months ago," I said.

"Daryl, now you're sounding paranoid."

"Boss, I said quietly," I just learned something about Petrone that I think you should know." I started to tell Damian about my conversation with Deputy Phil Costa when I realized Mandy was standing in the doorway.

"Daryl, are you all right? I thought I heard you yelling," she asked.

I motioned with my hand for her to wait and whispered 'Damian," to let her know who was on the phone. She sat down, I put the phone on speaker and motioned for her not to speak. I proceeded to explain to Damian Costa's story about Anna Muranti's father being murdered several years ago, and that at the time it was thought to have been a mob hit."

He responded with his favorite expression of surprise. "Jesus!"

"And Boss, Deputy Costa also told me that there were some that believed Aldo Muranti was murdered to silence him from exposing Petrone's corrupt link to the labor unions, which would have derailed his plans to run for Congress."

Damian was silent. Not even a "Jesus" this time.

After a few seconds he spoke. "You know Daryl, I'm vaguely familiar with that case. It happened before I took over the Boston office and I was briefed when I got here that Aldo Muranti's murder was investigated but the case wasn't solved. I signed off to suspend the investigation after I read the file."

"Boss, I've had Mandy doing some background research on the case for me and she's here. Is it okay if I put her on speaker?"

He paused for a minute and answered, "Sure."

"Hi Damian!" Mandy greeted him cheerfully.

"Hi Sweetie, he answered with equal cheer." I hope he's paying you well for your assistance. Rumor is that he can afford it!"

"He is!" She answered, "The first of every month in my checking account!"

Getting us back on track I asked, "Boss, you said you signed off to suspend the investigation. Is there a chance you can have someone retrieve the file?"

He thought for a minute. "Well, archived files are in a warehouse across town. It will take some doing to find the case number. But wait! I just had a thought! Danny Iaeillo was the case agent, he retired shortly after I took over but he's still in Boston, in fact I see him regularly at church on Sundays. I can give him a call to see what he remembers about the case."

"That would be great, Boss. Thanks."

"But Daryl, what are you going to do about the information leak," he asked.

"Boss, I have to think on that, I'll call you tomorrow." I said, and I ended the call.

"Daryl?" Mandy asked, "what information leak?"

I got up and took her by the hand. "Let's go to your computer and see if you can bring up the news conference Petrone had earlier today."

We went into Mandy's office and I pulled a chair up next to her.

"Daryl, what did Damian mean when he asked what you were going to do about the information leak?" she asked again.

I leaned back in the chair. "Mandy, apparently Petrone held a press conference and said the State Police had caught the person that killed his granddaughter. That's why I need to hear exactly what he said."

She didn't ask any more questions and after bringing up Google she found a link to a news site. I was surprised that Petrone had attracted such a large gathering of media, and from the start it was obvious he was making himself out to be the victim.

His speech was as Damian said. Where his information came from about a high-speed chase I didn't know, but what struck me was that he again never mentioned his granddaughter by name.

What Damian had left out was Petrone's attack against the President and a long speech on why he was running for Speaker of The House after only one term in office, and his ultimate political goal; the Presidency. I had seen enough and asked Mandy to close the program.

"Daryl? What are you eating?" she asked. Subconsciously I had been munching on the strudel that I had neglected when Damian called. The Warden had caught me. Fortunately, she didn't pursue the issue.

"Seriously Daryl, are you worried that the guy in the hospital isn't the murderer?" she asked.

"I don't know Hon. We don't know if the shotgun the State Police found in his car is the murder weapon, and if it is, we still can't link him to the crime scene." I explained.

She thought that over for a minute and said, "Gee, this detective work isn't so easy, is it?"

"No Hon, it's not."

"Do you think I should learn how to shoot a gun?" she asked. Where that came from I hadn't a clue. My fear of creating a monster was getting stronger, but I didn't dare answer. I just shrugged my shoulders.

"Okay," she said, "While you're here, this is the printout I made of articles about Congressman Petrone. By the way, after reading this I don't like him."

Again, I didn't answer.

### CHAPTER 10

Mandy's research had found that Congressman T. James Petrone was born in Boston fifty-nine years ago to Italian immigrant parents. The 'T' stood for his given first name, Tommaso. As a young man he got his start in the building trades as a union laborer, rising through the ranks to become a foreman on crews that specialized in large retail construction projects. He ascended to the role of shop steward, and over several years achieved a leadership role over several of the larger union locals in metropolitan Boston. He gained notoriety and significant media exposure for his efforts to challenge other trade unions he believed were performing work that the Carpenters union either considered its own members' exclusive right to perform or saw as a threat to their trade. A true firebrand, his Union won many lawsuits and court actions to defend his people, emerging as a hero to the blue-collar workers. His efforts to achieve higher wages, benefits and pension improvements had him on track to become the Union President.

After only a few years in his executive role he shocked his followers when he abruptly resigned from the Union, moved from Boston and announced the formation of his own construction company based in Pittsfield. With his son-in-law Aldo Muranti he used his former union project client base to acquire his own contracts, ultimately becoming the largest commercial developer in the western part of the State.

To keep his former trade brothers in line he made sure his projects used mostly union workers as well a cadre of lower wage non-union independent contractors.

Over time, rumors began circulating that he was manipulating Union policy from the sidelines, cutting deals for no-show jobs, developing his own chain of materials and equipment suppliers who reportedly were generous in awarding him 'rebates.' He acquired significant wealth and seemed unstoppable, but apparently, he still wasn't satisfied with his station in life. As an Independent candidate he ran for and was elected as a State Representative with a landslide majority victory.

After two terms in office he announced he was running for the US Congress. With his son-in-law Aldo taking over the day to day business operations, any suspicions of illegal business practices were overshadowed by Petrone's vitriol attacking the Federal government's 'big brother' actions and its impact on personal freedoms and a growing tax burden on workers. His ambition seemed limitless until word of a growing conflict with Aldo Muranti leaked out.

Unnamed sources quoted in the news media suggested that Aldo was attempting to curb the business practices that thrived under his father-in-law, fearing they were attracting regulatory and law enforcement interest.

The alleged conflict exploded onto the front page of the news when Aldo was murdered in his driveway one morning as he was leaving for work. Local law enforcement and later the FBI investigated but no arrests were made, and the investigations quietly faded away. Petrone won the US Congressional seat easily, reportedly with strong backing from the trade unions.

Within a year he sold off his construction company and according to news reports pocketed tens of millions of dollars. Not bad for the son of immigrants I thought to myself.

Mandy had done a great job of research to help me understand the man.

My decision to allow her a minimal role in the investigation hopefully was helping to calm her fears about my work. As I was sitting thinking about what she had found, I received a call from Sergeant Matt Holcomb.

"Daryl, Hey, I hope I'm not interrupting anything but, we need to talk." The tone of his voice was telling me something was wrong.

"No, you're not. What's going on?" I asked, surprised by his call.

He spoke rapidly. "About an hour ago Pittsfield PD assisted EMS with an ambulance call. Reported overdoses. Daryl, we have two more dead kids. And this time they were high school kids, a girl and her boyfriend, and once again it was from pills."

I was speechless. This case had become a nightmare. High school kids? I knew the public outrage would be devastating.

"Daryl, I need your help!" Matt Holcomb was now frantic. "EMS brought the two kids to the ER and my wife is working today. Apparently, the girl's brother came home from his job early and he found the kids were unconscious. The dead girl's mother was at work in Pittsfield and a neighbor called and her alerted her that her daughter was being taken to the hospital by ambulance. Both kids were D.O.A. and when the girl's mother arrived at the hospital and was told her daughter was dead, Daryl, she attacked my wife! The mother apparently recognized her and knew she was my wife. She was screaming at Kristin that it was my fault her daughter was dead, that I hadn't caught the guy who killed the four kids or caught the drug dealers. Daryl, Kristin is a basket case. A doctor examined her, and they've given her some medication to calm her down. They want to hold her for observation, but she insists on going home. I'm headed over there now to get her, but Daryl, I don't know what to do."

"Okay Matt, give me your home address. Mandy and I will meet you at your house. We'll help you and Kristin." He gave me his address and I wrote it down.

"Daryl, I feel sick over this," he said his voice starting to break.

"Matt, you need to be strong. Work through this. Go get Kristin and we'll see you in a little bit." I heard the call disconnect on his end.

I went into Mandy's office and saw she was still on the computer.

"Hon, something has come up, two more kids were found dead from overdoses a little while ago, and Matt and Kristin need our help."

"Matt and Kristin?" she asked." What do you mean?"

I told her Matt had said the mother of the dead girl had attacked Kristin in the ER. "OH NO! Daryl, I need to go to Kristin." She literally jumped out of her chair and headed to the bathroom.

"Exactly Hon, Matt's picking her up at the hospital to take her home and he gave me their address. We need to go there as soon as we can. Don't bother changing clothes you look fine," I said as I started down the hall after her.

As I neared the master bedroom, I heard her crying in the bathroom. She turned and saw me watching and quickly splashed water on her face. She dried her eyes with a towel.

"I'm sorry, Daryl," she apologized. "This is such a shock. Kristin is a sweetheart, she doesn't deserve this. Is she going to be okay?"

I explained that a doctor had given her a sedative and suggested that what she needed right now was some rest and comforting to help her process what had happened. She nodded that she understood. After quickly fixing her hair and make-up and changing into a sweater top, Mandy and I were on the road twenty minutes after Matt's call for help.

I entered Matt's address into the Challenger's GPS and saw the house was an eighteen-minute drive from ours. I took my time driving, thinking that Matt's drive from Pittsfield to West Stockbridge would take him twenty minutes once he got Kristin into the car.

I turned onto their road and saw the neighborhood was mostly raised ranches on acre lots. Matt's house was easy to find, as I saw his unmarked car in the driveway. I parked our car and Mandy and I went inside. From the front door I could hear Kristin crying. Matt greeted us and said to Mandy, "She's in the living room. She's a wreck. I don't know what to do for her."

Without a word Mandy rushed into the other room and I heard Kristin cry out her name. Matt and I went into the living room and saw the women on the sofa, Kristin's head was buried in Mandy's arms as she gently stroked Kristin's hair. I could feel my eyes getting glassy, but I fought it. Matt wasn't as strong, he crumpled into a chair and buried his face in his hands.

I took a seat across from him and we didn't speak for the next few minutes. I heard the front doorbell ring and Matt looked up. "I'll get it," I said as I stood and headed for the door. I opened it and was surprised to see it was Sheriff's Chief Deputy Caswell.

"Daryl, I heard what happened at the hospital. Is she okay?" he asked.

I nodded and directed him to the living room. Matt quickly stood up and wiped his swollen eyes. He started to apologize, the Chief waved him off and gave him an embrace, motioning for him to sit back down.

He looked over to the women on the sofa and I explained Mandy was my fiancée. He acknowledged her and sat down next to Kristin, resting his hand on her shoulder.

She looked up at him and whispered her thanks for his being there. After a moment he said, "Gentlemen, is there somewhere we can speak privately?" Matt stood up and answered the kitchen, and we followed him out of the room.

"I don't have to tell you that this whole mess has become a nightmare," the Chief said. The tone of his voice was angry. "Today's ODs makes thirteen drug related deaths of young people in the past six months. Thirteen! This time they were high school kids. What's next? Grammar school kids? This is bad." Looking at me he said, "Word of the overdoses this afternoon has already reached the high school. The students know who the victims are, and one of our school resource officers notified the shift supervisor that kids are telling him the dead girl, Karen Miller and her boyfriend have been selling pills to their friends. One of the students told the officer Karen had been saying she could get pills any time she wanted from her brother who works at the pain clinic."

I looked over at Matt and could see he was listening to what the Chief was saying, but his blank look told me at this moment his only concern was his wife.

"Chief," I said as I pulled out my notebook and wrote down the dead girl's name, "we need to get the word out to Pittsfield PD and your department to locate the dead girl's brother and bring him in for questioning."

"We're already on it, Daryl," he replied. "And as I speak, I have deputies putting together a search warrant application for the girl's house. I want to get us in there ASAP."

Matt looked up at the Chief. "I'll bet her brother has already cleaned the place up if he had his stash there," he said shaking his head.

"You're probably right Matt," the Chief countered, "but we have to do it."

The Deputy Chief turned and focused his frustration on me. "Daryl, you're in charge of these investigations, what are our next steps?"

I had to think quickly. "Chief, I'm concerned about the high school kids learning about this. We need to ensure that there are grief counsellors available for them."

"Yeah," he said acknowledging my thought. "The Sheriff is on his way over to meet with the Mayor to put together a press conference. I'll get word to him to mention the counsellors but I'm sure the school is already on that. What I need to know Daryl, is where do we stand on identifying the source of these pills. Matt briefed me and said you don't think they're coming out of the pain clinics. Now, we have information that a kid who works there is a supplier. I need to know why you thought the clinics weren't the source."

I motioned for the Chief and Matt to take a seat at the kitchen table and explained to them my theory that the pills were being manufactured by a clandestine lab, possibly in a Southern state, and being transported up North for distribution. I told him the attempts by the undercover officers to feign illness to get pills had not been successful, the surveillance of the clinics had not produced any leads, and my interview of the health system CEO satisfied me the injured Dr.Spiegel had prescribed pain killers appropriately.

The Chief appeared to be considering my theory and asked, "But who is behind all of this Daryl?"

"Chief. I've been trying to identify the source and now, with this new info that the dead girl's brother may be a street dealer, we may learn who his supplier is."

I continued, "I have a theory that one physician, a highly placed physician in the pain management group, is the distribution ringleader."

The Chief rested his chin on folded hands. I continued, "I think there's a connection between him and a company called Marlana Pharmaceuticals. I believe that Marlana is a pill mill and I also think that one of the four murdered kids, the one with the pilot's license..."

Matt interrupted, "Balentine," he interjected. Yeah," I said, "Balentine, may have been involved in the transport and distribution of Marlana's product here in the Berkshires."

"So, let me get this straight," the Chief said. "Are you saying that Balentine was the target of the murderer, and the three other kids were just at the wrong place at the wrong time?"

I hesitated before I spoke. "No Chief, I think the target was Anna Muranti."

" _WHAT_?" both men exclaimed!

"I know it sounds like a wild theory but, you need to know that from the onset I was troubled when I learned that Anna's grandfather, Congressman Petrone, was notified of her death as quickly as he was," I explained.

The Chief deputy shook his head. "I'm not buying it."

"Well Chief, maybe you would if you were aware about seven or eight years ago in a small town outside of Pittsfield Anna's father, Aldo Muranti, was murdered in what was believed to be a mob hit. Another theory was that Aldo had suspicions that Petrone, his father-in-law, was on the take from unions and suppliers doing business with their construction company, and if Aldo exposed Petrone, his aspirations for election to Congress would have come to a screeching halt. It was quietly suggested that Aldo was murdered to remove him as an obstacle to Petrone's political plans."

"Wait a minute," the Chief said again shaking his head. "Are you saying that Congressman Petrone had his own son-in-law murdered? I don't believe it. It's my understanding that Petrone was notified by the FBI agents that were at the murder scene that morning. And are you forgetting that the State Police found the possible murder weapon in the accident on the Mass Pike, and the driver, a validated organized crime figure, is our prime suspect?"

"I know that Chief," I responded in defense of my theory." And I'm sure you're aware that someone leaked information to the media, although the story is bogus that the accident was caused by a high-speed chase."

Chief Caswell looked over to Sergeant Holcomb. "What do you think, Matt?" he asked.

Matt Holcomb was silent for a few moments. "Chief, my gut is telling me that Daryl is on the right track. I know it sounds crazy, but when I think it through, it could all come together, like he's saying."

This time it was Deputy Chief Caswell's turn at silence as he tightly folded his hands together. The quiet was broken when Mandy came into the kitchen.

"Excuse me for interrupting," she said, "but Kristin said she'd like a cup of tea. Matt, do you have any tea bags?" she asked.

He stood up and found the tea bags and set out two cups and saucers. Mandy started the water in the microwave and stood there waiting. I was uncomfortable with the awkward silence between the men.

"Chief, Mandy's my research assistant," I explained. "She did all the background work on Congressman Petrone and developed the information about the suspected pill mill down South."

"Good work young lady," the Chief complemented. "And who do you work for?"

She turned and looked at me. "Daryl!"

"Don't go there Chief!" I said and waved him off.

"Seriously Chief, Mandy is up to speed on the case. Do you have any other questions?" I asked.

"Yeah, he answered. "Who's the mole in our Task Force?"

I hesitated. "Chief, at this point I'm not sure," I answered.

I saw Mandy's eyes widen for a second, but she quickly regained her composure. She nodded her head in confirmation of my statement as she turned to take the water from the microwave and pour it into the cups. I'm sure in her mind she was saying, "Barden, I know it!" She put the cups, some teabags, sugar and creamer on a tray and went back to Kristin.

Turning to me the Chief asked, "Daryl, do you know what you're saying? That a US Congressman is involved in four, maybe five murders? And possibly the FBI is complicit?"

"I'm saying yes, that's correct, but not the FBI, per se. Just one rogue FBI agent," I answered.

"You do realize Daryl, I need to brief the Sheriff on all this," Chief Caswell said shaking his head in disbelief.

"I do Chief, but I can't stress strongly enough that this information is highly confidential. We have one leak that we know of, we can't afford any more."

"Understood," he said. "But Daryl, what are you going to do to prove this theory of yours? It's a tough sale when you consider the guy involved in the Turnpike accident. What's his name?"

"Tony Banacci," Matt Holcomb interjected.

"Yeah," the Chief acknowledged, "Banacci. How are you going to connect him to the Congressman and more importantly the murder scene?"

I turned to Matt and asked, "Did you get a search warrant for the evidence that the State's holding for us?"

"I did, late this morning. The warrant is on my desk and I had the affidavit sealed as you instructed. I received an inventory of everything the they took out of the car. They listed a cell phone and I included it in the warrant. By the way," he continued, "The State Trooper in charge of evidence told me it's a pre-paid wireless phone and password protected. Sounds like the State guys tried to unlock it. I don't know how we're going to deal with the password problem, my Department doesn't have any experts in that field. You may have to send it out for examination."

"Matt, first thing tomorrow morning I want the warrant executed. Get the shotgun and the shells your Department seized up to Steve Bentley in the State CSI Unit. Tell him we need ballistics done as soon as possible. He knows what we're sending him. I want the phone, don't worry about sending it out. I have experts available that can solve the password problem, and they'll come here to do it."

"Okay Daryl, I understand. Anything else?" he asked.

"Yeah, make sure that all the items your guys seize on the search warrant are listed on a chain of custody. We can't afford any mistakes in the evidence process. Now go into the living room and give your wife a hug for me." Matt didn't hesitate to go to his wife.

Chief Caswell and I sat quietly for a moment and I could see he had something on is mind. "Anything wrong Chief?" I asked.

His facial expression turned serious. "Daryl, do you realize how explosive this case will be if you're right about Petrone. I mean, a sitting freshman US Congressman somehow involved in murders?"

"I do realize that Chief," I answered. "But I can't worry about that. I need to link the shotgun to the crime scene and then link the crime scene to the murderer."

"And if I may ask, do you have any suspects other than this Banacci guy?" he asked.

I leaned back in the kitchen chair and thought for a few moments. I answered, "I'm working on that." Fortunately, Deputy Chief Caswell didn't press the issue.

We heard a knock on the front door, we both stood up to see who it was and as it opened, we heard a woman's voice call out Kristin's name.

We saw three women dressed in surgical scrubs come in, one was carrying a food tray, the other two small flower bouquets. Matt Holcomb greeted them in the entrance hallway and directed them to the living room. The Chief said he had to leave and would call the Sheriff from his car, adding that he wouldn't tell him about my suspect theory until they could speak privately in person. He gave Matt another embrace and pat on the back and instructed him to contact the Department if he need anything at all. After shaking my hand firmly, Deputy Chief Caswell left.

"These girls are ER nurses that Kristin works with," Matt explained. "Come on in, I'll introduce you," and I followed him into the living room. Mandy came over to me and wrapped her arm around my waist. As Matt introduced me to the women, I saw that one was taking Kristin's blood pressure. When she finished, she turned to Matt. "It's still a bit high," she said," but much lower than at the hospital. Kristin just needs to stay quiet and rest. We brought you guys some dinner, pointing to the covered tray."

"Daryl, I think Kristin is in good hands now, I think we should head out," Mandy said. The three nurses each hugged Mandy and thanked her for her help. One of the gals commented that Kristin had told them about our house and said she would love to see it sometime.

Mandy didn't hesitate for an instant and responded, "Absolutely. If it's okay with Kristin, I'll check on her tomorrow morning and maybe we can set up a lunch date at our house." The nurse said that would be great, and in fact all three of them were now on two days off.

Mandy confirmed that she would set something up very quickly and we said our goodbyes. I shook Matt's hand and told him to keep me posted on Kristin. He agreed as he hugged Mandy.

We went out to the car and the bitter air hit us, but as cold as it was, I couldn't feel it. The puzzle swirling in my mind was clouding my senses. As I started the Challenger, I looked at my watch and saw it was almost six thirty and we had missed lunch. I suggested to Mandy that we stop at the Red Lion to have a light dinner. I didn't have to twist her arm.

At dinner, I avoided talking about the case as best I could, which worked, as Mandy talked excitedly about planning a lunch and house tour for Kristin's nurse friends.

Once we got back into the car for the drive home, that changed.

"Daryl," she said, "I only did a little research about Aldo Muranti's murder but the articles I found pointed to the suspicion that he was killed by the mafia, or whatever you legal people call those guys. Why did you tell the Sheriff Chief that you thought Petrone had him killed? The only person who said that was the Deputy who came to our house."

"It wasn't so much what he said, Hon," I answered, "as much as who he heard that from."

She thought on that for a few seconds. "I don't understand that at all."

"Sometimes experienced investigators get a gut feeling about a case," I explained. "Sometimes their ideas sound far-fetched, but in the end, it comes out that they weren't too far off track. Sometimes they get lucky and can prove their theory, but in Aldo's murder case, that didn't happen."

"Little Boy," she said shaking her head, "sometimes I think your brain hasn't just fallen off the tracks, I think it has derailed!"

I took that as a complement and thankfully, we drove home in silence.

Once at the house, Mandy said she was going to take a shower and I went into the family room and sat in my recliner. I didn't feel like lighting the fireplace, and worse yet, I didn't feel like a drink.

### CHAPTER 11

I called Damian's office at nine-thirty the next morning and luckily, he was in and answered quickly.

"Hey Daryl." he answered. "I was going to call you this morning. One of my intelligence techs forwarded me a news article that you had two more OD deaths yesterday. What the Hell is going on down there?"

"This is bad Boss," I answered. "Have a few minutes for a briefing?"

I filled him in on the most recent deaths, Mandy's research on Congressman Petrone, and the theory that one of the four murder victims was a pilot and may have been the courier bringing the pills into the area. He listened and interrupted before I could continue.

"Daryl, I went to visit Danny Iaeillo at his house. Remember? I told you he was the agent who worked on Aldo Muranti's murder case years ago." I answered that I did remember.

"Well, Danny's pushing seventy and his memory is a little fuzzy," he continued, "but he remembered there was talk about bad blood between Petrone and his son-in-law, primarily over money. He said Petrone was living like a king; big mansion, fancy cars, fancy clothes. Apparently, Aldo was a more down-to-earth family man type and led a modest lifestyle. Danny recalled he had heard that Aldo's daughter was a wild child as a teenager and was a headache for the family. Danny said the local PD murder investigation was very thorough, and he himself thought they got it right when they called it a mob hit."

"How did the investigation end up getting closed?" I asked.

"Danny talked to my predecessor about convening a grand jury to look into the labor racketeering angle but was told there were too many political implications and not enough facts to justify the probe."

"So, his boss took the easy way out," I said not hiding my disappointment.

"Daryl, I'm not going to Monday quarterback anyone, but when you think this thorough, there were a lot of politics involved. Petrone had just announced he would run for Congress and many viewed him as a savior for his efforts to promote construction projects that brought hundreds of jobs into the area. Interestingly, Danny said he did back-channel research and learned that it wasn't just the labor unions that were backing Petrone for Congress, the pharmaceutical industry was also on board."

I thought about that angle for a few seconds. "Boss didn't the AG tell you that Petrone was on a Congressional sub-committee dealing with the VA hospital system, and that he was a staunch advocate for medication therapy for post-traumatic stress patients?"

"Yeah, he said that," he answered. "Speaking of medical treatment, where does your Task Force stand with the investigation they're doing on those pain management clinics? Logically I think we should look at that."

"I don't agree Boss," I said flatly, hoping he wouldn't take offense.

There was silence on the other end of the conversation, so I took up the slack.

"Boss, in a nutshell my theory is that the clinic docs are prescribing drugs by the book. Undercover efforts to seek treatment for feigned injuries and surveillance of the clinics have come up dry. I'm looking at the clinic's Chief Medical Officer, who is a retired VA hospital psychiatrist."

"Okay, I'm listening," he said.

I explained, "We know the guy who was in the accident on the Mass Pike had in his possession a shotgun that may be the murder weapon, but he's in a coma, and I can't question him."

" His rap sheet and police intelligence say he's mob connected, reportedly a hitman. If the murders were a contract job, I've been struggling to figure out who the intended victim was. I narrowed it down to two of the victims."

"Which two?" he asked tersely.

"The kid who we believe is a pilot," I paused for a few seconds, "and Anna Muranti," I responded. I waited for Damian's trademark "Jesus," response, but it didn't come.

"Why the pilot kid?" he asked, sounding puzzled.

I explained the clinic Chief Medical Officer was a pilot himself, owned a private plane, and was an owner behind the shadowy Marlana Holdings. The empty pill containers found at the murder scene came from Marlana Pharmaceuticals, a subsidiary of the holding company. I explained we learned from the parents of one of the other murdered kids that the pilot victim and Anna Muranti may have been in a relationship, and that the pilot seemed to have a lot of money for someone whose job was to fly a plane every two weeks.

"So, Daryl, you have all these theories, but what I need are facts I can prosecute," Damian said. "And the clock is ticking, and you have two more dead kids, this time high school kids as I understand it. How the hell, and more importantly, when the hell, are you going to connect all your theories?"

"Boss, if in fact our hit man did the murders, I need to connect him with the person who ordered the hit. The State Police recovered his cellphone. It's a pre-paid and is password protected. We're seizing it from the State on a search warrant and I need to have someone break the password to see the call history. That's why I was calling this morning."

"Okay, I follow you," he said." I gather you need a visit from my tech agents again. Well, Frank Parris is supervising a wiretap we have going, but I can send Pat Collins down there. That goofball has invented some off-the-wall computer program that he claims can break any password. The kid's an absolute genius, but as squirrely as ever. Just yesterday morning I went down to his lab and he was working dressed in his pajamas! You can have him, I can use a break! Tell me when and where you need him."

I told Damian that I would need Pat immediately for at least a few days and would put him up at one of the local inns and would take care of all his expenses, meals, everything.

"Friend, you are a glutton for punishment," Damian said with a laugh. "After his visit I hope that they'll let you back in the place. Anything else you need from me?"

"Yeah! In your desk drawer do you still have that bottle of scotch I sent you a few weeks ago?" I asked.

"I sure do," he answered.

"Good! I suggest you take a healthy belt and go down to Pat's lair and give him my cell number. I need to talk with him right away. I need to know what alias name is on his driver's license and the plate number on the car he'll be driving so I can pre-register him at the inn."

"Okay, got it. I think this will require at least a double scotch!" He answered. "I'll see to it that he has one of our undercover cars and we'll match the registration to his alias and input it to the DMV database. You know Daryl, you're damn lucky that I have an unending number of staff assistants to take care of all your little requests."

"I appreciate it Boss, thanks."

Fifteen minutes later Pat Collins called me. I gave him a two-minute summary of the case. He said he had no questions and assured me that he would crack the phone password. He gave me the name 'Fred Morton" as his current faux ID name and added, "You can call me Freddy, though." I agreed and ended the call. I shook my head and thought to myself this was going to be an adventure working with this guy. Damian was right about one thing; Pat Collins a/k/a Freddy Morton was brilliant.

Mandy came into the room and I saw that she was stylishly dressed in jeans, a heavy wool turtleneck sweater and her knee-high boots. She looked gorgeous this morning.

"I just got off the phone with Kristin Holcomb," she announced," and she sounds much better this morning."

"That's good news," I replied as I got up and went over to her and gave her a hug."

"Kristin and her nurse friends are coming here for lunch at one this afternoon, so I have to go into town and get some groceries from the market. Is there anything you want me to pick up for you?"

I told her I was all set and was glad she would have company today.

I explained I was going to call Matt Holcomb and would be going over to the Sheriff's Department to do some work on the case.

"Do you need my help with anything?" she asked as she found her keys in her purse. I told her no, and that Damian was loaning me one of his forensic techs to examine some evidence that was recovered by the State Police.

"Is it one of the young guys that helped you up in Vermont?" she asked. "The two guys you said were very smart but a little odd?"

"Yeah, and odd is an understatement," I answered. "You'll get to meet him, he'll be staying in town while he's here helping us." She let that pass without comment, gave me a kiss goodbye and told me to be careful as she headed out the door. I was happy for her that she had made some new friends and hoped they could occupy her time while I worked the murder case. I had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I was going to be walking through a minefield and I didn't want Mandy to be holding my hand if I got blown up in the process.

I called Matt Holcomb and when he answered he said he was getting ready to drive over to the State Police Barracks in Westfield to execute the search warrant. He asked if I wanted to go with him; I agreed to meet him there. I went into the bedroom and strapped on my gun and grabbed two extra loaded clips. I found my leather bomber jacket hanging in the closet and slid the clips into the left sleeve pocket. I locked up the house and ten minutes later I was on the road to Westfield.

I entered the Mass Pike Eastbound at exit one in West Stockbridge and pulled the toll ticket from the dispenser. As I settled in for the forty-five-minute drive to exit three in Westfield, I glanced at the ticket I'd placed behind the edge of the passenger seat sun visor. As I was cruising along at sixty-five miles per hour, it stuck me. The toll ticket! The murderer suspect's SUV had to have entered the Mass Pike somewhere, and toll tickets are location and time stamped.

I stepped up my speed to keep up with traffic and was cruising along at seventy-five as I passed the Blandford service plaza. I had a thought to stop for a cup of coffee and use the rest room, but I checked my watch and realized I didn't have time.

I noticed a car passing me on the left slow down and was cruising side by side with me. I looked over and saw it was Matt Holcomb.

He gave a wave and continued his pass, pulling into my lane ahead of me. I followed him off the Pike at Exit Three. I saw him flash his badge at the attendant who leaned out and examined it before waving him on. I opted to stop and pay the two dollars and five cent toll. I have an EZ Pass but had followed Matt into the cash lane!

A few miles up the road we pulled into the barracks' parking lot visitor area and I greeted him with a handshake. "Daryl, we need a few minutes to talk so I can bring you up to speed on some information I got this morning." I nodded and motioned to the lobby door, as it was too cold and windy to chat outside. Once inside Matt slid his credentials under the bullet-proof glass window protecting the desk trooper and told him we had an appointment with Trooper Morris. The Trooper motioned to me and as I approached the glass he asked for my ID and I slid my credentials to him. He seemed surprised when he noticed the Department of Justice seal, looked up at me, and slid them back to me. He said he would call the Trooper and instructed us to have a seat. Matt and I moved to a set of nearby chairs and sat down.

"Daryl, The Chief Deputy met with me first thing this morning and said that he personally will lead the execution of the search warrant at the Miller house where yesterday's overdoses happened. The Chief said we won't be notifying Karen's mother of the search. She was admitted to the hospital after she assaulted Kristin and she's in the psych ward. He's hoping they'll get lucky and Karen Miller's brother will be home when they search it."

At that moment Trooper Stan Morris came into the lobby and introduced himself. We followed him to his office and as we entered, I saw a shotgun, ski-mask, gloves, wallet and a few other items on a conference table."

The Trooper pointed at the items and said "This is everything you said is listed in your warrant. Do you have my copy?" he asked Matt. As the Trooper and Matt examined the warrant, I visually inspected the shotgun without touching it. It was a Remington Model 870, and the barrel had been cut down to less than eighteen inches if I had to guess. I leaned over for a closer examination and noticed that the serial number had been filed off.

The Trooper approached me and said, "In the wallet you'll find two Mass driver's licenses, both have the same operator photo."

"We learned that the one in the name of Jonathon Burl was used at car rental offices to rent the SUV and a Chevy Impala. That license is fraudulent. A Jonathon Burl who lived at the address in Boston listed on the license died about five years ago. We had our forensics people look at the license and they swear that it was printed on a legitimate Massachusetts DMV blank. We don't understand how he was able to get ahold of one." I looked at the Trooper but didn't ask any questions.

"The second license, issued to Antonio Banacci, is legitimate. The ER nurses at Bay State Medical found it tucked inside his sock when he arrived at the hospital," he said. The photo and his date of birth match him.

I stroked my chin in thought as I was processing what the Trooper was telling us. "You said two cars were rented, didn't you? What's that about?" I asked

Trooper Morris explained. "Yeah, the Tahoe SUV was rented at a Hertz lot in Boston, the Chevy Impala was rented at an Enterprise office in Cambridge the following day. Both were rented under the name Jonathon Burl and paid for with a high limit pre-paid VISA debit card. We know the SUV was wrecked in the accident, and the Impala was found abandoned in the Holiday Inn lot in Lee three days after the accident. Apparently, it sat there until the hotel maintenance people realized it hadn't moved in few days."

"Trooper, where are the cars now?" I asked.

"We have the SUV in the impound lot around back," he answered pointing toward the rear of the building. My department sent out a bulletin for area PDs to attempt to locate the Impala and a few days later our Lee barracks notified us it had been found in their area and released to the rental agency as a recovered stolen vehicle. They had no idea it may be connected to your murder case."

The Trooper looked over to Matt and said, "You listed wallet and contents, cash, credit cards, and checks, on your search warrant. The hospital found this guy Banacci was carrying five thousand dollars stuffed into his pocket when he was searched at the ER. They turned it over to us," as he handed Matt a sealed Manila envelope.

"The cash is in here," the Trooper said, "five-thousand in hundreds and fifties." Matt looked over to me wide-eyed, but I didn't respond.

Trooper Morris spread out the chain of custody forms for the items and Matt reached for his pen to fill out his information as the receiver. I glanced at the list over his shoulder but didn't see what I was looking for.

"Trooper, I'd like to take a look at the SUV you said you have out back," I said.

"Geez Detective," he answered," It's freezing outside, you don't want to go out there. I have some photos if that will help you."

"No, I need to physically inspect the car for something," I answered. The Trooper looked at Matt who just shrugged. "Okay," the Trooper surrendered, "let's take care of this paperwork first."

I watched as Matt meticulously verified each item that he signed for. I was glad to see that he opened the cash envelope and counted it in front of us, re-sealing and initialing the envelope when he finished.

Trooper Morris directed us to follow him as he grabbed a heavy parka from a wall rack." I'll lock the room and we can go out to the lot through the back door," he said leading us out.

"One more thing Trooper," I said pausing my walk," I need a pair of exam gloves."

Trooper Morris stopped abruptly and grunted. He went over to his desk and roughly pulled open a side drawer, coming out with a handful of exam gloves. He slapped them into my hand and walked past me without comment. Matt gave me a perplexed look, but I didn't explain.

As we stepped outside, I realized Trooper Morris was correct with his weather forecast. It was wind whipped bitter cold! But I had to look.

As we approached the SUV, mangled was the best description I could come up with. The front end was crushed up against the dashboard, the engine was pushed downward buckling the driver's floorboard. I wasn't an accident reconstruction expert, but I guessed it had slammed into the back of the truck at seventy or eighty miles per hour. I couldn't believe that Tony Banacci survived. I noted the rescue team literally cut the car apart to remove the driver, and as I peered inside, I saw the roof had been cut and folded back, lying crumpled on the rear passenger area.

I looked over at Matt and the Trooper and saw that they were dancing up and down, stamping their feet and patting their arms for warmth.

I went around to the passenger side and craned my neck to look at the edge of the damaged roof panel. And then I saw it! Miraculously, wedged between metal and the padded cloth off what remained of the passenger visor, was a small rectangular piece of cardboard. I put the exam gloves on and carefully pulled on the cardboard. It offered resistance at first but as I moved it back and forth it came free. I carefully removed it from the car and stood up. Despite the crash and the weather, it was still readable. The car had entered the Mass Pike eastbound in Lee at twelve-thirty-seven AM the night of the four murders, a twenty-minute drive east from the murder scene west of downtown Pittsfield.

Matt and the Trooper moved closer to inspect the card in my hand. Matt started to reach to take it for a closer look and I quickly moved it away. "No Matt, we need to preserve this for processing," I calmly explained

Trooper Morris laughed and said, "If you think you're going to get prints off of that, you're crazy!" By now he was shaking uncontrollably from the cold.

I carefully slid the ticket into a clean exam glove to keep it out of the elements. "Not just fingerprints Trooper, DNA. I could see from the look on both men's faces that they never would have thought of that.

I turned to Matt. "This card puts the SUV close to the murder scene around the time the first call came in reporting the fire," I explained.

"And if we can get DNA off it, we may get lucky and match it up with a suspect."

"Trooper, I need the exact time that the first call came in reporting the accident on the Turnpike, I said to Morris."

"I can get that for you," he said. "Let's go inside, I'm freezing," pointing to the rear door of the barracks. As we walked, I looked at my watch and saw that it was one-twelve PM. I made a mental note to document the time I took possession of the ticket.

We had just entered the Trooper's locked office when I turned as I heard a knock on the door.

Trooper Morris came to a semblance of attention and remarked, "Major Prince, how can I help you Sir?"

The man smiled and told him to relax. He reached out and introduced himself as Major Richard Prince, explaining that he was the State Police Zone Commander. Matt and I introduced ourselves by name and title.

As we shook hands, the Major motioned for us to have a seat at the conference table. When we were seated, he looked over to Matt.

"Sergeant, I called your office this morning and was told you were on your way up here with a search warrant. This works out better for me, we can talk privately in person. Matt remained quiet, and I was sure he was as confused. as I was. Major Prince asked Trooper Morris to excuse us, he complied and left the room.

The Major explained, "This may sound a bit odd at first, but please hear me out. After the SUV and truck accident the other night my Department posted on social media to see if we could come up with any witnesses who might have seen how the SUV was driving before it hit the truck." The Major smiled. "I'm a dinosaur when it comes to technology but, many of our younger Troopers swear by social media and we've found that by reaching out to the public on Facebook and our website we've received information that's been helpful in quite a few of our investigations. I think that's exactly what's happening with this case."

Major Prince paused and looked at Matt and me. "Gentleman, we received an anonymous phone message on our tip line from a male caller who said that he didn't want to get involved but suggested that we check out the Blandford rest area."

"The caller said he had seen an SUV pull into the lot and pull up next to a white car; the SUV was driving fast as it entered the service road and almost hit his truck as it passed him."

"He said he watched as two men got out of cars and it looked like they were arguing or something" The Major looked over his shoulder and saw no one was listening to our conversation.

"The tipster said he saw the guy who had been in the white car get into the SUV and the SUV driver took the white car. He said they both headed out eastbound driving very fast."

I leaned back into my chair and thought about what the Major had said. The SUV accident happened east Blandford, the Impala was found abandoned west of the service plaza. I needed to look at a map. And I needed DNA evidence.

I asked Major Prince who else knew about the tipster, he answered the Trooper who took the call and himself. I asked him to treat the call as highly confidential and he agreed.

He said he would contact the call-taker and ensure he not divulge the information to anyone else. I looked over and saw Matt Holcomb fumbling for his cell phone from inside his heavy coat. He glanced down at the screen. "Excuse me, but I have an urgent text from my office. I need to call them as soon as possible"

My first thought was that something had happened to Kristin, and

from the look on Matt's face, that was his concern also. Major Prince

pointed out a nearby empty office cubical and Matt headed over to it.

The Major said he had to leave for a meeting as he reached out to shake my hand. "Daryl, I'm little concerned that there is only one State Police detective assigned to your ask force," he said. "Given these recent developments perhaps you could consider adding some more State detectives."

"Major, Matt's Department set up the task force but, for what it's worth, I agree with you completely," I said. "I'll speak with him and ask that he extend a formal invitation to your office." He nodded and headed out the door. Trooper Morris saw his boss leaving, excused himself, and left to catch up with him.

I was worried about Matt's phone call and hoped that Kristin was okay. I called Mandy and she picked up on the fourth ring. She sounded good, bubbling over with energy. She said that Kristin and her friends were still at our house and they were having a great time with girl talk. I told her to enjoy and that I hoped to be home in about two hours. She was quick to end the call and return to her new friends.

Trooper Morris returned and asked how I wanted to handle my taking possession of the toll ticket from the wrecked SUV. I thought for a minute, this was a critical piece of evidence and I needed to get this right. I said I would take a few photos with my cell phone and asked him to handle it with sterile gloves, write up a chain of custody flow sheet, seal it in an envelope, and log it into his evidence room.

He agreed, and as he was filling out the paperwork It thought to myself, I would need to consult Damian for his opinion on whether we could issue an administrative subpoena rather than a search warrant to take possession.

I turned as Matt came back into the office and saw he had a look of relief on his face. "That call was from my office," he said. "I guess you know my first thought was Kristin, but I just called her, and she said she's at your house having a great visit with her nurse friends and Mandy."

"That's what I hoped to hear, Matt," I responded. "Everything all right at your office?"

He shook his head no, and sat down at the conference table.

"Two of my detectives found Billy Miller and took him into custody for questioning. His sister Karen was the OD victim yesterday, with her boyfriend Bruce Hanson. My office said that Billy freaked out at first and demanded a lawyer. My guys were asking him if his family had an attorney when he became belligerent with them. One of my detectives apparently was blunt and told him that we suspected his sister and her boyfriend overdosed on pills he had stashed at his house and if that was true, he was looking at a manslaughter rap and ten years in prison. I guess that was enough to make the kid snap. He went crazy and tried to force his way out of our station. Ultimately one of our deputies had to use a Taser on him. He's at the hospital being examined and they want to admit him to the psych ward, but there's a problem."

"Right," I said." His mother is a patient there."

"Yeah," he answered, "and that's a problem."

Matt, that's the hospital's problem, not ours. Let's get out of here."

We said goodbye to Trooper Morris and thanked him for his assistance. He assured me that the toll ticket was logged into evidence and he'd wait for my instructions on releasing it.

Matt and I stepped out into the cold and felt that the wind had kicked up making the windchill well below zero. We didn't talk, and both headed back to our cars.

As I warmed up my car, I checked my phone messages and saw a text from FBI Covert Operations Specialist Pat Collins, a/k/a Fred Morton.

He provided me with a description of the car he was assigned and the license plate. As I drove into Stockbridge I stopped at the Red Lion and pre-registered him. I watched as the clerk noted that all his charges would be billed to his room, and I presented by Amex card as payment.

When I finished, I headed home and pulled into my garage a little after three-thirty. I went inside and saw Mandy was in the kitchen cleaning up some dishes. I gave her a kiss and asked how her day went. She became a chatterbox, excitedly telling me how the women gushed about our house, gossiped about everything, laughed, and had some wine and cheese in the afternoon. It was a nice feeling to see her so happy, given she was suffering from the dark cloud hanging over me since I accepted the murder case assignment.

She said she wasn't hungry and asked what I wanted for supper. On the spur of the moment I decided on tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. She gave me 'the look' and asked if I was serious. I told her I was and went into the family room. I was tempted to make a drink but thought better of it. Somehow VO, Coca Cola and tomato soup seemed like it could be life threatening, or at the least, a gastric disaster.

I pulled off my holster and placed it and the gun on a shelf behind the bar. I turned on the TV just in time to catch the local news.

Not a surprise, the lead stories were all about the overdose death epidemic.

Much to my dismay, the police had become the media's whipping boy based on the station's assessment of community sentiment toward the perceived lack of progress with the overdose investigations.

The news anchors and reporters were on the attack, beating the death issue into the ground. Sadly, they were effective in stirring up community hysteria. Just what I needed, I thought.

After the first commercial break the next segment featured Congressman T. James Petrone and his chest beating, feel sorry for me, sideshow, press conference. I lost count of how many times he referred to his granddaughter's murder as an attack against him personally because of his aspirations for higher office, and true to form, not once did he ever mention her name.

The camera zoomed out from Petrone's face and I was surprised when I saw who was standing just behind his left shoulder. The sneer on his face was unmistakable; FBI Agent Tommy Barden.

I switched the TV off and leaned my head back into the recliner. I felt I was closing in on the person who pulled the trigger and killed the four kids, but I wasn't making much progress on the pill distribution network. What was I missing? What could I do to get the drug case going? And what the hell was Tommy Barden's actual assignment for him to be attached to Petrone's hip like he was? I didn't have the answers, and apparently my brain had given up the battle for the day. I drifted off to sleep.

I was jolted from my unplanned slumber by being shaken. "Daryl? DARYL? Are you okay?" Mandy asked loudly. I opened my eyes and saw she had a frightened look on her face.

"Yeah Babe, I'm okay," I answered as I rubbed my eyes." I guess I'm just a little more run down than I thought I was." She pressed the back of her hand against my forehead. "You scared me when you didn't answer. Your head feels a little warm and you look pale. Are you sure you're not coming down with something?"

I told her I was okay and said I would probably feel better after I ate something. She gave me a kiss on my forehead and headed back to the kitchen to make my comfort food dinner.

As I waited, I tried to forget about work, but it was a losing battle. Maybe I was looking at things wrong, but it seemed like Matt Holcomb's task force had been well intended but was just spinning its wheels. After two months of investigating the pill trafficking issue before the four murders, they hadn't even come close to what we needed. I had to get these guys motivated, but how, I thought?

I ate my soup and sandwich at the kitchen breakfast bar, and when I finished, I told Mandy that I was going to bed early.

"Daryl, it's only six-thirty. Do you want me to make a doctor's appointment for you? This isn't like you."

I told her no, that I just needed a good night's sleep. I went and retrieved my gun from the family room and headed down to the bedroom. In five minutes, my head hit the pillow and I was down for the count.

### CHAPTER 12

I woke up at six-thirty the next morning, and aside from feeling stiff all over, I felt rested. I looked over at Mandy and saw she was still sleeping. I got out of bed as quietly as I could and decided that rather than run the risk of waking her, I would take my shower in one of the guest room baths. I gathered a change of clothes and started for the hallway when I heard her call my name.

"Daryl are you okay?" she asked sleepily. She rolled onto her side and rested her head on her hand. I said I was fine, that I had slept soundly and was going to take a shower in the other bedroom. She answered "okay," and went back to sleep.

After I took a long warm shower, shaved, and dressed I went out to the kitchen and brewed myself a coffee in the Keurig. I poked around the kitchen counter and found the last apple strudel from a few days ago. I squeezed it and found it still had life, so I claimed it as mine. As I was eating, my phone vibrated, and I saw a cryptic message from Freddy Morton. 'At Red Lion. Nice crib. I'm up. Going down for chow.' I thought to myself even his cell phone has an alias.

I text responded, 'On my way to join you.' I found Mandy's kitchen notepad and left her a note telling her where I had gone. Fifteen minutes later I walked into the Red Lion.

I hadn't seen Pat Collins, I mean Freddy Morton, for about six months, but as best I could recall, his hair wasn't the golden blond it was today. I must admit, he wasn't wearing his pajamas, and in fact he looked pretty good. He acknowledged me with a wave and I joined him at his table.

"Good Morning Boss," he said with enthusiasm. "Thanks for setting me up in this place. This is first class. I appreciate it."

I assured him it was nothing but the best for Freddy Morton, and he laughed as he stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth, drawn from the stack of six large pancakes he had on his plate. I looked and saw he had sausage, some bacon, toast, a large orange juice and coffee. Obviously, Freddy had found a home.

I wanted to give him an overview of the complexities of our case, but he beat me to the punch. He exaggerated his chewing, and after taking a long sip from his juice, he swallowed.

"Damian told me that you're working on a multiple homicide of some druggies, and you need me to crack a phone password," he said as he maneuvered another pile of vittles to balance on his fork.

"They were kids," I answered. "In their early twenties, all killed with a shotgun before the house they were in was set on fire. It looks like their drug preference was pills."

He appeared to ponder that for a few seconds before he replied. "Burned, that's nasty." He delivered the waiting shovel-full of food to his mouth. I nodded and caught the attention of the waitress. I ordered a coffee and declined her offer to see a breakfast menu. Freddy looked at me and motioned to his plate. "Want some? There's plenty here, we can share."

I fought off the urge to laugh and politely declined his generous offer. I sat back and studied him for a few seconds. I had no words to describe him. He was one of a kind. Between mouthfuls, he chatted about some of the cases he and his partner Frank Paris were working on for Damian, and the places they were sneaking into and planting covert surveillance equipment. It was obvious that this young guy had no fear of anything.

He cleaned his plate and leaned back in his chair. "Daryl, I get the feeling that you need me for more than just a simple phone hack. Am I right?" he asked.

I answered truthfully. "Yeah. I have a list of suspects in both the murder case and a major drug distribution case. I need access to background information that I can't get through...uh..."

Freddy interrupted. "I think the term is normal channels," he suggested.

"Exactly," I responded.

He wiped his face with his napkin and caught the waitress's attention, signaling that he wanted his check. She responded promptly and leaned over to tell him that all he had to do was sign the tab. He thanked her, and I watched as he studied the bill and calculated a generous tip. He signed his name with a flair and slid the check presenter to the edge of the table. Our waitress returned, picked it up, and thanked him with a warm smile and a wink.

"Okay Boss, where do we start?" he asked.

I looked at my watch and saw it was a few minutes before nine. I told him the cell phone was the priority and that I would call the Sheriff's Department to set up an appointment to work on it. He nodded and said he wanted to get his coat and car keys from his room and would be back down to the lobby in fifteen minutes. As he stood up, I saw that he was neatly dressed in clean jeans, a warm flannel pullover, but was wearing slippers! I pointed to his feet and remarked that it was only ten degrees outside and suggested that shoes might be more appropriate for the outdoors. He looked down, then up at me and said, "Okay," as he walked toward the elevator.

I called Matt Holcomb's cell phone and after he answered I asked how Kristin was. He said she was much better and that she had a great visit with Mandy at our house. I told him the FBI tech had arrived and I wanted him to get us into Banacci's cell phone as soon as possible. Matt said he would be tied up until ten-thirty, and I agreed to meet him at the Sheriff's Department then.

We had some time to kill so I thought I would have Freddy follow me to my house and I could introduce him to Mandy.

I called her to make sure she would be up and dressed. She answered and said she had seen my note. I explained the appointment at the Sheriff's Department and that Freddy and I would stop by our house first. She assured me that she was dressed and looked forward to meeting him.

A few minutes later Freddy appeared in the lobby and much to my surprise I saw he was wearing a pair of LL Bean boots. I explained we were going to my house first and he said he would follow me.

As I sat in my car waiting, I saw him pull around from the back lot in a shiny new black Land Rover. I was impressed. Damian had also set him up first class.

After we parked in the driveway at my house Freddy stepped out of the Land Rover and, with his hands on his hips, surveyed the property. The bitter cold and wind didn't seem to affect him as he nodded his head in approval as he took it all in. I motioned for him to follow me and we went inside through the kitchen door. Mandy stood up from her stool at the breakfast bar and greeted us with a smile.

I made the introductions and as she reached out to shake his hand he bowed slightly as he took it and said, "Your Highness, an honor to meet you." Mandy gave me a confused look, I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders. She asked if we wanted coffee, we both declined, and I ushered him into the family room. "This is like a palace," he said, as he walked over to the slider and looked out onto the snow-covered meadow and distant mountains. I heard Mandy's cellphone ring and as she was talking, she came into the room.

"Daryl, I have the computer store on the phone," she said. "They want to deliver our new home office system tomorrow afternoon around two. Will you be able to be here when they come?"

I hesitated with my answer for a minute as I didn't know what my schedule would be. Freddy must have sensed my dilemma and quickly spoke up.

"Daryl, I don't know what plans you have for me tomorrow, but I'd be glad to help out with the delivery and I can even set it up for you if need be." I saw Mandy was nodding her head, "Yes! Yes!" and I took Freddy up on his offer. Mandy confirmed the delivery and ended the call.

"Thanks Fred," she said, "I really don't know how all these computer things go together. Do you want to see where we're going to be setting it up?" Freddy agreed and followed Mandy into our home office. I took advantage of the few free minutes we had before heading out to the Sheriff's Department to call Damian and update him on the case. Thankfully, he answered my call.

I told him Pat Collins had arrived, was settled in at the Red Lion, and that we were heading over to the Sheriff's Department for him to unlock the cell phone we had seized form the State Police.

I explained how I linked the SUV in the Turnpike crash to the murder scene using the recovered toll ticket, and. that I needed to have it processed for DNA. He said he would have to check on how that process worked.

"Daryl, I don't know if you've had the time to watch or read any of the news the past few days, but we're getting our asses kicked by Petrone and the media", he said. "And friend, I'm getting impatient with the lack of progress to identify the source of these killer pills."

I was tempted to remind him that in a week and a half I had made more progress than the local task force had in months but, I thought better of it.

"Boss, I agree, and I take responsibility for that. I feel the murder case is the priority and is the key to exposing the pill distribution scheme."

Damian didn't respond for a few seconds, but I could hear his deep breathing on the phone. Finally, he spoke. "Okay, I get your point. But before the end of this week we need to start coming up with arrests of dealers. I don't care if they're low level street sales, we need something to show the public that we're working on the problem. Can you understand where I'm coming from?"

With that statement it was obvious to me that Damian was feeling pressure from higher-ups, and in his position, higher-ups meant Washington.

"I get it boss, I'll put some pressure on the guys to get things moving."

"You do that friend," he said ending the call abruptly.

Mandy and Freddy came back into the kitchen. "Daryl, I showed Fred the list of office equipment we bought, and he has some great ideas on how we should lay it out, she said. "I need to call Erik and see if he can come over tomorrow, Fred may need some tools that he didn't bring from Boston."

"Sure," I said," if we need to buy anything else, just do it. Whatever he needs." I saw Freddy grin and nod his approval.

"Okay," I added looking at my watch," We better be heading out to the Sheriff's Department. Freddy, do you need any equipment? Do you want to ride with me?"

"I'll have to follow you," he answered. "I have a ton of my equipment in the car. I didn't know what I would be working on besides the phone, so I brought enough to cover whatever comes up."

I acknowledged his preparedness and we headed out, arriving at the Sheriff's Department ten-minutes before our appointment with Matt Holcomb. Freddy grabbed a briefcase and laptop from his car and followed me inside

Matt greeted us, and I introduced him to Freddy. He ushered us into a conference room adjacent to the detective offices where we found Chief Deputy Caswell and two of Matt's detectives waiting for us. I made the introductions and Freddy set up his laptop as Matt went to retrieve Tony Banacci's cell phone.

We watched as Freddy removed the SIM card and inserted another card he had brought with him. He connected the phone to his laptop with a patch cord and brought up a computer program none of us had seen before. The title page appeared on the laptop screen in glowing blue neon letters. It read PINPROBE.

Freddy looked up at all of us, grinning from ear to ear. "I love that!" he said. We bystanders looked at each other, and I just shrugged. He turned on the phone and waited until the login screen appeared. With a dramatic free fall motion of his right index finger pressing the enter key, Freddy launched the program. I can't explain what the program was doing or how it was doing it, but Freddy seemed confident it was working as he watched the lines of computer code scrolling down the laptop screen.

After about a minute his computer pinged and, by looking over his shoulder, I saw that a dialogue box had opened, and the number 4 had appeared. Every few seconds there was another "ding" and another number appeared in the box. In less than two or three minutes the laptop screen flashed "QUERY END." The password "46249" appeared in the box.

Freddy had a look of self-admiration on his face and asked one of Matt's detectives to turn on the large flat screen monitor mounted on a nearby wall. He typed some commands into his laptop and the phone's login screen appeared on the wall monitor.

With hand motions an orchestra conductor would have been envious of, he entered each number onto the login screen. As soon as he entered the number "9" into the phone's login, the phones desktop page appeared on the monitor. "TA-DAH!" Freddy announced to his audience. We were impressed.

He clicked the phone icon and then recent calls. To my surprise they were still listed. Freddy scrolled down the list and commented that none were associated with a contact list., but there were only three different numbers listed, with multiple calls to each.

"Can you reverse search these numbers?" the Chief Deputy asked.

Freddy leaned back in his chair and looked at me over his shoulder. I nodded my approval and he brought up a publicly available search engine and entered each phone number. The first two numbers were identified as assigned to a widely used pre-paid provider, not an individual subscriber. The third number query returned a "not found" message. I looked at the others in the room and saw the disappointment on their faces. I glanced at Freddy and caught his quick wink and side to side movement of this eyes signaling me he wasn't done researching the numbers.

With a few keystrokes he launched the laptop search program to locate a nearby printer and printed four copies of the phone's call history. I saw his effort was successful as a printer across the room came to life. One of Matt's detectives retrieved the copies and handed one to me. I noted in an almost illegible tiny font at the bottom an icon that read "more." Freddy hadn't clicked on that.

I saw him discretely type a few more commands into his laptop and again looking over his shoulder I saw that he was downloading everything in the phone's memory. He quickly looked at me and signaled not to acknowledge what he was doing. As I said before, this kid was brilliant.

"Sorry if you're disappointed with what we found guys, but I did get us into the phone," he said. The group acknowledged his efforts and thanked him. Matt's detectives and the Chief Deputy excused themselves and returned to their duties.

"Now what?" Matt asked.

I told him of my conversation with Damian about starting to make some arrests of dealers. I stressed that his group's efforts needed to ramp things up and start making some controlled buys. My direct criticism seemed to bother him.

You're asking for a miracle here, Daryl," he protested.

"Not a miracle Matt," I countered, "Just results. What about your assault suspect, Manny what's-his-name? You said he has street credibility. Why not bring him in and convince him to do some work with us to get us into some of these dealers. If he agrees, we can work out a plea deal for him, maybe keep him from going back to prison. But he needs to earn it."

I added, "And you need to act on the info your school resource officers developed on dealers inside and out of school." I didn't want to alienate Matt, but he needed to take charge of his team.

We stood by as Freddy packed up his equipment and signed the cell phone chain of custody flowsheet sending it back into evidence storage.

As we prepared to leave Matt pulled me aside. "Daryl, I hear what you're saying. I'll track down Manny and see if he's interested in working with us. And I'll meet with my narcotics team this afternoon to put together some controlled buys." I thanked him, and Freddy and I went out to our cars. After he put his equipment in the Land Rover, he turned to me.

"Daryl, I have a feeling that these local guys aren't as aggressive as we are. I copied the phone's entire memory system, and those numbers that came up as having no information? I can run them through some

dark web sites and I'm pretty sure I can come up with some useful information. But I need a place to work. This place isn't good for me," he said as he turned to look at the Sheriff's headquarters.

"Pat..., I mean Freddy," I said," You told Mandy that you'd help set up her new system tomorrow. If you can do that you can work in her home office the next few days. I can't remember what she bought but if we need any other equipment just speak up and we'll get it. I can't stress enough how important it is for us to quickly solve these cases."

"It's a deal," he said as he closed the hatchback. "I'll go back to my hotel and see what I can find in the phone's memory. I'll text you later."

It was a little before noon and as I was driving home, I received an incoming call from Berkshire Law. I answered, it was Judge Moran.

"Daryl, can you talk?" he asked.

"Yes Judge, I'm driving, but I'm alone," I answered.

"Daryl, I received a call from Ira Grossman, one of my former law students. He was a few years ahead of you in school, do you remember him?" he asked.

I thought for a moment, but the name didn't ring any bells. "No Sir, I can't say that I do."

"No matter. Ira is with a small firm in Great Barrington and he told me he was contacted by a woman who said the police had notified her that her son was murdered with three others at a house outside of Pittsfield. She said a detective tracked her down and was pressuring her to tell him where her son had been living before he was killed. The woman lives in Sharon, Connecticut and said she found Ira's name on the internet."

Judge Moran's call had taken me by complete surprise. I saw a gas station convenience store up ahead and I pulled in to park and give him my full attention.

The Judge continued. "Ira told me your murder case has been all over the news and he put two and two together. He said he recalled your name was mentioned as heading the Federal probe and he had heard that Lyndsey and I opened our practice in Stockbridge. He called us on the chance we could help him contact you."

"Judge, as far as I'm aware the Sheriff's Department was working on notifying the dead kids' next of kin. They had positive IDs on the two girls and one male victim, and the last I knew they were trying to confirm the identity of the second male victim who was badly burned in the fire. They believe his last name is Balentine, that he was a private pilot, and lived in Great Barrington."

"Daryl, that's the last name the woman gave Ira. Her son is Michael Balentine, however the woman said she divorced Michael's father years ago and she's since remarried. Her married name is now Suzanne Parker."

"Daryl, I'll have our secretary text you Ira's cellphone number and I ask that you give him a call to see if we can help him out." I agreed and called Matt Holcomb.

When he answered I filled him in on my conversation with Judge Moran. He denied the detective who visited Mrs. Parker was from our task force.

"Daryl, we still don't have a positive ID on him", Matt explained. "The day after the murders I had Deputies go to the Great Barrington address listed on his driver and pilot licenses and they reported back neighbors had said he moved from the condo he was renting about two or three months ago. No one seemed to know his current address. I apologize for not telling you that. We're still trying to locate some dental records."

"No apology necessary Matt," I told him." It looks like we now have a lead on next of kin from a Great Barrington lawyer. I'll call him and see if he can arrange for me to speak with the woman that called him. I ended the call and decided to wait until I got home before I called Ira Grossman.

As I went inside the house, I saw that Bernie and Erik Nichols were there. I hadn't seen Bernie for at least two weeks and went over and gave her a hug. She said with the snow and bitter cold they weren't straying from their house next door, except for Erik, who insisted on maintaining our driveways. I asked what they were up to and she answered they were helping Mandy clean up her office. I looked over at Erik who was sitting at the breakfast bar and he just shrugged.

"Excuse me Sir," Bernie said as she muscled her way past me juggling a small pail of sudsy water, Windex and a large roll of paper towels. I followed her into Mandy's office and the strong scent of Pine Sol cleared my sinuses.

"What are you doing, Hon?" I asked Mandy as she turned from wiping down the windows on the room's outside facing wall.

"Clearing out the old computer system and washing everything down for tomorrow's delivery," she answered as she used a paper towel to wipe the perspiration from her forehead. I was smart enough not to press the issue; this was her domain.

"Freddy's coming over tomorrow to help me, right?" She asked.

"Yeah," I answered, "and actually he may be working out of your office helping us with some research for a few days if that's okay with you."

Mandy didn't hesitate to agree, saying that Freddy was a fun guy to work with. I let that assessment rest in peace without comment although I admit Freddy Morton had been on his best behavior today.

I went into the Family Room with Erik and lit the fireplace. I offered him a drink and as usual, he politely declined. I turned on the TV and handed him the remote. He tuned to HGTV and appeared to settle in.

About a half hour later my cell phone beeped, but I didn't recognize the incoming number. I took a chance and answered. It was State Police Major Richard Prince. Erik asked if he should leave, I said I no, I would go down the hall.

"Daryl, Rich Prince here. I got your number from Trooper Morris, I hope you don't mind me calling."

"Of course not, Major, what's up?" I asked.

"A few things. First, don't be formal. My name is Rich. I tried to get ahold of Sergeant Holcomb but was told by his dispatcher that he was in a meeting. I want you folks to be aware that I was informed Tony Banacci has regained consciousness."

"That's incredible," I responded. "After looking at that SUV he crashed I thought for sure he would never recover from his injuries."

"I agree," he said. "I was told that they took him off the respirator early yesterday, and although he's still groggy from time to time, he can speak and is relatively lucid."

"Rich, how did you manage to get a condition update? We tried and were turned down by the hospital for patient privacy reasons," I explained.

"I tracked down his parole officer, a fella I happen to know fairly well," he said. "He told me that Banacci doesn't have any next of kin that they can identify so as his Court ordered parole officer, legally he can access his medical record."

"He said he filed some paperwork with the hospital lawyers and they agree with him. My problem is two-fold Daryl. We could apply for an arrest warrant charging him with criminal possession of a firearm and theft of a motor vehicle, something I haven't decided on yet."

"Secondly, I'm not worried about him escaping, he has a broken pelvis among other severe injuries, but on the outside chance he wasn't a lone wolf and in fact killed those four kids I'm concerned that a co-conspirator might want to prevent him from talking. That's a huge problem as I'm sure I don't have to tell you."

"Right," I said. "Been there done that, don't want to do that again!"

"He's down at the trauma center and apparently they're already looking to see where he can be placed somewhere else. It sounds like they believe that with the severity of his injuries, his days are numbered," he said. "And from what I gather the cost of his treatment and care could easily approach a half-million dollars if not more. There are discussions at a high State level whether we taxpayers should be on

the hook for those costs because he's on supervised parole."

I thought about the Major's statement. I had never been involved with a so-called death-bed confession but recalled from law school the concept is complicated and almost always subject to objection if it's used in a prosecution. I would have to ask Damian for some guidance on that one.

"Rich, do you think his parole officer could get Banacci to consent for us to interview him?" I asked.

"I don't know Daryl, but that's what I was thinking. Let me meet with his parole officer and discuss it. I'm also curious to know how he was paroled given his history of violent crimes"

I thanked the Major for his information and asked him to let me know either way as soon as possible.

I checked my phone and saw that Judge Moran's assistant had texted me Ira Grossman's office number. I dialed it and a receptionist answered "Grossman, Shapiro and Goldstein, how may I help you?"

I identified myself and said I was with the US Attorney's office returning Mr. Grossman's call. She put me through to his office. He answered, "Ira Grossman."

"Daryl Richardson calling, Ira," I greeted him.

"Daryl, I wasn't sure you'd remember me from law school but thanks for calling. Did Judge Moran explain the call I received from the woman who believes her son may be one of your murder case victims?"

"He did Ira," I answered. "And confidentially it sounds like the victim is her son. We're trying to get dental or medical records to make a positive ID."

"I understand there was a fire, was the body burned badly?" he asked.

"I haven't seen the crime scene photos Ira, but I was told yes, this victim had significant burns to his face. A driver's license and a private pilot's certificate were found in his wallet, they identify him as Michael Balentine."

"Oh man," he sighed. "That's her son Daryl, I'm sure of it. She said he was working as a pilot for some medical supply company and told me that he seemed to be doing extremely well financially."

"Ira, I can't identify anyone from any of the police departments I'm working with who would have tracked the woman down as she's reporting to you," I said.

"Well, who could it have been then?" He asked. "She said he was a detective and showed her a badge. She said he pressured her to tell him where Michael was living and didn't stop until she said she was going to call the State Police before she said anything more. Apparently, the detective didn't pursue the issue and he left."

"Ira, how did she end up calling you?" I asked.

He laughed. "Dumb luck on my part, I guess. She said Michael was renting a condo in Great Barrington, but that she hadn't heard from him in weeks and thought maybe he was busy travelling for his job."

"As more time went by, she became worried. She said she Googled lawyers in Great Barrington and liked my firm's name when it popped up."

I was tempted to say something but decided not to go there and we ended our call with my telling Ira I would be in touch again soon. I went back into the family room and the concerning news I'd received from Ira Grossman must have shown on my face. Erik took notice.

"Daryl, everything all right?" he asked. "You looked troubled."

I had very few memories of my natural father before he died and while I was being raised by my Great Aunt over the years by default Erik filled in as a surrogate father figure. He didn't speak his mind often, but when he did, his advice was sage.

I sat down in the recliner across from him and didn't speak. He turned the TV volume down and asked, "If you need a sounding board, I'm here."

I didn't go into much detail about the murders and drug cases but made my point that I felt I was close to identifying the killer but was still a long way from figuring out who was trafficking the flood of pills into the area. I told him I needed a breakthrough, something that would tie everything together, but it wasn't coming.

I could see that Erik was processing what I had told him. After a minute or two he spoke.

"Daryl, Bernie and I have followed your career for many years now, and it's seems to me that you've been successful because you always plotted your course and went for it. You never seemed to wait for others not as perceptive as you to catch up. You've been successful following your instincts. From what little I know about your new case I think that's what you're doing. Waiting for others to catch up."

I sat and looked at him, no words came into my mind.

"Daryl are you holding yourself back because Mandy's in your life now?"

I looked over at him, and again I didn't know what to say. I admit though, he had pushed a button with that last question.

He leaned forward toward me in his recliner and folded his hands in his lap. "I've spent a lot of time with Mandy and look at her as another daughter," he said.

"I know your work has scared her but, understand that she's a strong young woman and she truly is in awe of how dedicated you are. She said she feels blessed you want to share with her the wonderful opportunities that life has presented you. You know, she told me the other day that what she loves most about you is that you're humble. That's an incredible complement. She said you've given her opportunities she never dreamed of, yet you seem to keep your feet firmly on the ground. And Daryl, I agree with her. Your feet are on the ground. I think you're ready to run. Don't wait for the others to catch up, just run this case down."

I stood up and offered my hand in thanks without speaking. Erik's grip was firm. He nodded and said, "Follow your instincts."

I headed for the kitchen but stopped mid-way. I was ready to run. I walked down to the East guest bedroom, sat on the bed and called Major Rich Prince. He answered and seemed surprised.

"Daryl, everything okay?" he asked.

"Yeah Rich. I've been thinking about that call you got on your tip line, the guy that thinks he saw the SUV at the rest area and the driver switching cars with another guy. Rich does that rest area have cameras?"

My question apparently took him by surprise, judging by his silence.

After a few seconds he answered. "I'm sure they must have cameras. Over the years the service plazas have had some crime issues. I recall the State had a Federal grant from Homeland Security and made security upgrades at all the plazas and the crime rate significantly went down. Why do you ask?"

"I want to see if there's video that captured what the caller described," I answered.

"Okay, when I have a few minutes I can look into it and make some phone calls," he offered.

"No Rich, I need to check this out immediately, I was thinking tomorrow morning. Can you get me into their Admin offices or whatever area they have their cameras' control system?" I asked.

"Give me a few minutes Daryl, I'll call you back." I thanked him and ended the call.

I went down the hall toward the kitchen and saw Mandy and Bernie in the family room with Erik. Mandy said she was ready for tomorrow's delivery and reminded me that Fred and I needed to be home when it came. I promised her we'd be here and excused myself, telling her I was expecting an important call. She said nothing, and I went out to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and pulled up a seat at the breakfast bar. Erik came in and I saw him use the remote starter to warm up his truck.

"Bernie and I are heading home in a few minutes Daryl. The poor girl had a workout cleaning!" he explained. As he turned to go back to the family room I called out, "Erik!" He turned, and I said," Thanks again" He nodded he understood and joined the women. My phone beeped, and I saw it was Major Rich Prince. I answered quickly.

"Daryl, I made a call. Yes, the Blandford Service Plaza has an extensive camera system. I spoke with the manager and told him what we wanted to do; he said they should have about twenty days of video stored on their server. I can meet you there at ten tomorrow morning. Does that work for you?"

"That's great Rich. I'll bring Fred Morton with me. He's not just a password hacker, he's a highly skilled FBI Covert Ops Specialist in the Boston office. I've used him before to retrieve video evidence. We need to know approximately what time the SUV was at the plaza, I said, adding, "I should be able to narrow down a window of time if I use the time someone reported the accident and closest mile marker to where it occurred."

"I can tell you tell you now the accident reports came in at one-forty AM. February twenty-first," he said. "My guess is if he was going seventy miles an hour when he hit the truck, he was probably at the plaza between one and one-thirty."

I thanked the Major, told him I'd see him at ten tomorrow, and ended the call. I called Freddy Morton's cell phone. After several rings with no answer, just as I thought it would go to phone mail, he picked up.

"Yeah Boss?" he answered.

"Freddy, I need your help tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. I need to look at some video from a service plaza on the Mass Pike."

"Cool!" He said enthusiastically, "which one?"

"Blandford," I answered.

"Wow! I know that system," he commented, "I did a case for our office involving hijacking of trucks out of the plazas. They have great video coverage."

"Excellent!" I said. "What we're looking for is footage that may show the driver of the SUV we think was involved in the quadruple murder swapping cars with another guy."

"Man, that's slick," he commented. "Tell me what you're looking for; the cars, the date and time, and I'll get on this right away."

I pulled out my notebook and found the entry I had made. "Between one and one-thirty in the morning on February twenty-first. A Chevy Tahoe and a Chevy Impala. The Tahoe was involved in an accident further up the Pike at approximately one-forty AM. Our info is that the Tahoe came into the Plaza at a high rate of speed and almost hit a truck in the lot. The drivers switched vehicles, and both left the Plaza eastbound. By the way, what do you mean, you'll get on this right away?" I asked, not sure I wanted to hear his answer.

"Don't go there, Boss," he replied. "Hey! Don't forget we have to be at your house when the new office system is delivered tomorrow."

"Yeah, I know," I assured him. "And Freddy. We'll be working with a State Police Major, Rich Prince. He said he'll meet us in the parking lot a little before ten. I assume you'll drive yourself up there?"

"Yeah, I may need equipment I have in the car. Hey! Where do I get on the Pike from here?" he asked.

I gave him directions to the entrance at Exit 1 in West Stockbridge. He may be a genius but apparently, he couldn't remember where he got off the Pike when he arrived in Stockbridge. Despite his memory lapse, I had the feeling that Covert Operations Specialist Freddy Morton was already at work pulling the rabbit out of a hat for me. I just didn't want to know how he was doing it

Late in the afternoon Matt Holcomb called me, and for a change, his news was encouraging. The task force executed a search warrant at the house where Karen Miller and her boyfriend Bruce Hansen had died from overdoses.

The house had been cleaned up, and as they suspected after a thorough search no drugs were found. Matt reported that a neighbor noticed the police activity and came over to investigate. He told the officers that late in the afternoon Karen and her boyfriend were taken to the hospital he saw her brother Billy acting suspiciously in the backyard. When questioned by the officers the neighbor said it looked as if Billy had hidden a shiny metal box in a woodpile.

The officers searched the yard and found a small strongbox hidden as the neighbor had reported. Inside they found a plastic bag with what appeared to be hundreds of white pills. They crushed one tablet and it field tested positive for opioids. Matt said the team would be counting the pills and submitting them to the State Crime Lab for analysis and hopefully we would get a priority examination.

Tying up another loose end, he reported the State Police CSI team confirmed through fingerprints received from the FAA that the unidentified male murder victim was in fact Michael Balentine.

Even more important, Matt reported suspected drug dealer Billy Miller had retained an attorney and was released from the hospital. The lawyer had contacted the Sheriff's Department and suggested his client would be willing to talk to investigators on the condition his cooperation would be taken into consideration if he was arrested for contributing to his sister's overdose death.

Things were starting to come together I thought to myself. Now I needed the results of examination of the shotgun found in the crashed SUV to establish it as the murder weapon that killed Anna Muranti and her friends.

As it turned out, I didn't have to wait long. Just before five pm I received a call from State Police Master Sergeant Steve Bentley who reported the CSS examination of the shotgun and spent shells found at the murder scene determined they matched. Two of the shells recovered the night of the murder and samples the crime lab test fired were compared, and the firing pin and extractor marks were a textbook perfect match in the Sergeant's words. I was feeling more confident my theories were playing out.

I went looking for Mandy and heard the shower running in the master bathroom. I went back to the family room and a little while later Mandy joined me.

"And what have you been up to Little Boy?' she asked as she dried her hair with a towel as she took a seat on the hearth in front of the fireplace that was cranking out comfortable heat.

"Things are starting to fall into place," I told her, and reminded her that in the morning Freddy and I were going up to the Blandford Service Plaza to investigate something. I reassured her that we'd be back home before her new computer system was delivered.

### CHAPTER 13

Mandy and I were up early the next morning and after I showered and dressed, I went out to the kitchen and found her cooking French toast and frying bacon for our breakfast. "You look nice this morning," she said, commenting on my choice of black trousers and a heavy cable knit tan turtleneck sweater. "The weather forecast this morning said we're in for some warming this week. It will be in the upper thirties!" she added with a laugh.

"And what are your plans for the morning?" I asked.

"I'm going to the market to pick up some sandwich meat and rolls for lunch. You said that Fred likes to eat. Is there anything special I can get for him?"

I laughed and told her about the morning I met him for breakfast and warned her to be prepared for his seemingly bottomless pit of an appetite. I suggested a variety of cold cuts, as I envisioned Freddy to be a connoisseur of combo-style edibles. She laughed as she plated my breakfast and set it before me. With the encouraging news I'd received from Matt Holcomb yesterday afternoon, I felt energized and ate heartily. I couldn't help but think Mandy was in for a laugh marathon when Freddy arrived to help her.

I left the house at quarter after nine to allow for the forty-five-minute drive to the Blandford Service Plaza. As I pulled onto the entrance ramp at Exit one of the Mass Pike it struck me that I needed to see how the toll ticket came out of the dispensing machine. I was curious how the driver of the murder suspect's SUV would have handled the ticket. Was it possible it might have fingerprints and DNA?

As I reached for the ticket with my left hand, I saw the it came out face up, with the printed point of origin visible. I grasped it, noting my left thumb was place on a blank spot on the cardboard. As I studied it, the driver of the car behind me honked the horn and I looked in the mirror and saw him waving his hand for me to move along. Still holding the ticket, I pulled out and moved over to the shoulder of the road and stopped. I fumbled for my cellphone and pressed the camera icon, snapping two photos of how I was holding the ticket.

Traffic on the Pike was light, and I exited onto the plaza service road at five minutes before ten. I noticed Freddy's Land Rover parked alongside a black Ford Taurus and saw he was talking with the driver, Major Rich Prince. I parked, and the men exited their cars and greeted me. Freddy retrieved two metal equipment cases from his car and we followed the Major into the Plaza office. The secretary seemed surprised to see the uniformed State Trooper and after being asked to summon the manager she promptly called him on a walkie-talkie. Five minutes later we met with the manager, Dave Wilton. He greeted us cordially as Major Prince explained he had spoken at length on the telephone about the purpose of our visit. Mr. Wilton led us to his office and motioned to the camera monitor system work station. My quick glance showed me there were four monitors, each rotating through a series of views of the plaza grounds and buildings.

"We have thirty-six cameras." Wilton informed us. "All are color with night vision lenses

Freddy nodded and set his equipment cases on the floor next to the workstation. As Wilton started to sit down to operate the video recorder computer, Freddy politely informed him that he would take it from here and took the seat.

"Don't you need me to show you how this works?" Wilton asked." I think I can help you find the time segment you're looking for."

Freddy smiled and thanked him but declined his offer. He looked up at me and remarked, "Camera nine, one-seventeen AM, February twenty-first," as he entered some strokes to the keyboard and brought up the camera on one monitor.

Major Prince and Dave Wilton looked at me in bewilderment. I shrugged and remarked, "Don't ask."

A few seconds later Freddy commented, "Okay watch the service road entrance, here comes the SUV."

We saw an SUV speed across the lot, almost hit the front of a box truck, and continue until it was out of view. "Now, camera ten." Freddy announced as he switched views. We saw the SUV slow and noticed the headlights of a parked car flash on and off twice. The SUV pulls in next to the car and we could see both drivers get out and approach each other. Surprisingly, the lighting from the plaza street lamps provided us a clear view.

"Now, this is where it gets tricky," Freddy said as he took a USB flash drive and inserted it into the system computer. "I'm downloading the video to load it into my laptop. I wrote a program that will enhance the view and give us closeups without distortion. It took less than five minutes for Freddy to set up his laptop and load the flash drive. As the video we had just viewed came up on his display he froze the image. He clicked an icon and a new menu appeared, superimposed along the right margin of the screen. "Now watch this magic," he said with a grin. He cropped the video several times, each effort enlarging the two figures standing next to SUV and car. We could clearly see the face of the car's driver, the SUV driver presented only a profile.

"Damn," I said," I can't make out the SUV driver's face."

"Well, I can't have a dissatisfied customer," Freddy said. "Surprise, surprise, surprise," he chirped in a voice eerily mimicking Gomer Pyle as he advanced the video frame by frame maintaining the close-up view. We could see the SUV driver start to turn, exposing more of his profile. As a car drives past the men, the SUV driver turns to watch it, causing his full face to come into view.

I could feel my heart starting to beat faster. Freddy cropped the frame and the next view almost sent me into cardiac arrest. I knew that face! FBI Special Agent Tommy Barden.

I felt my knees buckle and I stepped backward to maintain my balance. Major Prince took notice. "Are you alright, Daryl?" he asked as he reached over and grabbed my arm.

I could feel the perspiration break out on my brow. I looked at him and motioned him away from the other two men and we went over to some chairs across the room and sat down. "Rich, I recognize the SUV driver. "That's FBI Agent Thomas Barden," I whispered in a low voice.

" _WHAT?"_ the Major burst out, raising his voice before recovering his composure "Did you say FBI Agent? Are you sure, Daryl?" I nodded the affirmative and looked over to see plaza manager Wilton staring at us.

I got up and walked over to Freddy as he turned and asked, "Did I make your day or what, Boss?" I patted him on the shoulder. "Yes, you did my friend," I answered. He reached down to his equipment case, pulled out a manila envelope and removed some photos. He handed me a color photo of the frame we were looking at on his laptop. It showed Thomas Barden. He produced another photo that was a closeup of the car's driver, presumedly he was Tony Banacci. I didn't want to know how Freddy had accessed the service plaza video system last night.

"Hey! Where did you get those pictures?" Dave Wilton asked. "I mean, how did you do that? "What's going on here?" he demanded. I ignored his interruption and thankfully Major Prince intervened. He took Wilton by the arm and as he moved him away, I could hear that he was explaining how much we appreciated his cooperation, the importance of our visit remaining extremely confidential, and that we would notify his supervisor of our sincere gratitude. Thankfully, that seemed to appease the man.

"There's more," Freddy said. "Watch." He backed the closeup view out a few enlargements and started the video moving in slow motion. We could see the SUV driver hand the other man an envelope, followed by a brief interaction that appeared to be an argument.

After about thirty seconds each man walks to and enters the other's car and they drive onto the Pike re-entry lane. The video clearly captured the vehicle switch.

"Okay," Freddy said, "Now I'm going to download from the server the actual un-enhanced video from cameras nine and ten. That will be our seized evidence. You're the lawyer Daryl, so correct me if I'm wrong, but we can seize this under exigent circumstances. For public safety reasons we can't shut down the surveillance system while we apply for a search warrant," he said as he started the download.

"If we let the system run, new video may overwrite our evidence. I looked at the system storage and it's saving ten days of video before it starts the overwrite. We're close to that now."

I thought about what he was saying and agreed. He reached down to his equipment case and after rummaging through it he produced a blank chain of evidence form. "I'll fill this out, but I need you, the Major and Mr. Wilton to sign as witnesses to the seizure." I was glad that Freddy had the experience to cover all the basis to protect the integrity of our evidence. Damian had taught him well.

"Well, I'm not sure what I just saw Daryl, but my guess is you've found your murderer," Major Prince remarked." Now what's your next move?" I motioned him away from the others to speak privately. I told him I had recovered the toll ticket from the SUV and it was critical evidence to put the SUV near the scene of the murders. I explained my hope to have it processed to prove who the driver was. He was surprised by this development, and I acknowledged that I had recovered the ticket before I met with him the first day, and I neglected to inform him.

"Daryl, if you're thinking our crime lab can process the ticket for DNA, forget it. There's a six to nine-month backlog on DNA testing in this State, and the only cases that are getting priority treatment are those involving violent acts of terrorism. That's pretty much the backlog nationwide."

"Damn, Rich, there has to be an alternative or private lab we can use," I said.

"Daryl, before I was promoted to Major, I was the Commanding Officer of the Major Crime units for seven years. I have a lot of contacts in the forensics field. Where's the ticket now?" He asked.

"In the evidence room at your Westfield barracks," I answered.

"What kind of shape is it in? Was it damaged in the accident? Did it get wet?" he inquired.

"It looked intact to me, Rich. I handled it without contaminating it and it didn't look like the weather had damaged it. Why?" I asked.

"There's a process to develop fingerprints on objects without being destructive of the DNA," he explained." I don't know the scientific aspect on how they do it, but I have a contact I can call and see if they can help. It's a private lab in Cambridge, and the State has a contract with them to provide emergency forensic evidence testing. I think a quadruple homicide qualifies as an emergency."

I thought about what he was saying, and in my mind, I was plugging in the fact I now had a suspect; Tommy Barden. I knew his fingerprints were on file with the Bureau, but I didn't think the FBI had DNA sampling as a condition of employment.

"Call your forensic contact, Rich," I said.

"Hey! I'm hungry!" Freddy said as he approached us carrying his equipment cases. Pointing to the food pavilion he said. "Let's hit McDonalds before we head back to your house, Daryl. We have time."

I would have bought Freddy the thickest steak on the planet for what he had done for me this morning, but if his heart was set on a Big Mac, who was I to argue. Rich Prince said he wanted to make a call to the forensics lab we discussed and said he would try and get back to me within the hour. We shook hands, and after Freddy locked his cases in the Land Rover, we went for an early lunch. I settled on a cheeseburger and chocolate milkshake. Suffice to say that Freddy's two Big Macs, large fries and two milkshakes reinforced my theory his digestive system included a bottomless pit.

I headed back to Stockbridge and as I was driving, I called Damian Costigan. I caught him at his desk. I told him the examination of the service plaza video conclusively proved that Tommy Barden was driving the SUV before he switched cars with Tony Banacci. This time his response to the news was," Holy Christ!"

"When this hits the Justice Department, Washington will explode!" he exclaimed. In my mind I wondered what would happen when I linked Congressman Petrone into four or possibly five murders.

"Daryl, you've got to take him down, the sooner the better. How quickly can you put together an arrest warrant application?" he asked.

That wasn't my plan and I argued that before I applied for a warrant to arrest Barden, I wanted to have the toll ticket I had recovered from the SUV tested for fingerprints.

Damian stuck to his guns. "Daryl, ballistics say you have the murder weapon, you have him on video driving the SUV away from the crime scene and you can back that up with the toll ticket. You have video of him switching cars before the crash. You have him Daryl and I'm not going to have him out there running around with a badge and a gun. Do you hear what I'm saying, Daryl? You must pull the plug on him. Now!"

I protested Damian's order. "Boss, I want Barden as bad as you do, but my greater target is Petrone. I think he ordered the hit that resulted in the four kid's deaths to eliminate the embarrassment he thought his granddaughter was causing him. To do that I need to interview Tony Banacci in the hospital. I have evidence he conspired with Barden to commit the murders, and I need Banacci to acknowledge that."

"Daryl, you're asking me to put my entire career on the line to back you up and allow a cold-blooded murderer, an active FBI agent, remain loose on the street when we have enough evidence to arrest him. I can't do that."

"Boss, when we started this case you said we were going to investigate everything, the murders, drug trafficking, billing fraud. I'm working to tie everything together, and I'm close. I just need forty-eight hours to do it. If we arrest Barden now, I may lose that opportunity."

Damian was quiet, and I let his silence run its course. Finally, he spoke.

"Daryl, I've never done this before, but I'm ordering you to prepare an arrest warrant application for Barden. I want your signature on the document and in my hands within twenty-four hours."

"You're obsessed with Petrone and I get that. But I think you're overlooking the position Barden will be in when he's facing the possibility of a Federal death penalty. I'm willing to roll the dice and gamble he'll give up Petrone. Do you understand me Daryl?"

I didn't want a war with Damian, and I knew I owed my career to him.

"I understand Boss. I'm on my way home now and I'll start working on the arrest affidavit. I'll drive it up to you tomorrow."

"Good," he responded, "Daryl, you have to trust me on this. You did a brilliant job and I appreciate it. I want you to know I'm not bailing out on the drug trafficking problem. Tell me where we stand on that."

I told him Matt Holcomb's team had found a large quantity of pills at the house where the most recent overdoses occurred, and that the girl victim's brother was the suspected drug dealer. I told him the brother's lawyer was making inquiries about consideration for his client if he cooperated with the drug trafficking investigation. I asked Damian if an agreement regarding an arrest was reasonable. He opined that this was a decision for the Commonwealth Prosecutor, but if it were his to make, given the magnitude of the crime, an arrest should be made but he would be inclined to offer a deal on sentencing. We ended the call with both of us knowing where we stood.

Freddy and I arrived at my house before one, and fortunately, the computer store delivery had not yet arrived. We went inside, and Mandy's excitement was obvious as she greeted both of us with hugs.

She asked Freddy if he wanted something to eat and it shocked me when he said he could go for a snack. Mandy said she would fix a tray of mozzarella sticks and pizza bites and heat it up. Freddy looked as if he had died and gone to heaven. I decided that I would wait until later to tell Mandy that I was inches away from having enough to arrest Tommy Barden for murder.

I declined the invitation to partake of the snacks Mandy had prepared and went into the family room and started the fireplace. My mind was racing as I processed today's case developments. My phone beeped, and I saw it was Major Rich Prince.

"Daryl, I spoke with my contact at Commonwealth Forensic Labs. They're nationally accredited. He said they use a process of cyanoacrylate fuming with a colorant agent and luminescent photography that was developed in France a few years ago to uncover fingerprints on paper," he explained. "My contact said it isn't destructive to DNA, and they could have examination results for us within forty-eight hours from the time they receive the evidence."

"Rich, that would be excellent. Is that something you can help with?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "We're holding the evidence, but my questions for you are will the prosecution be on the Federal level and if so, how do we transfer the evidence to you?"

"Yes Rich, Federal prosecution. I checked with the US Attorney and he said I can issue an administrative subpoena to transfer possession. My suggestion is for your department to submit the toll ticket to the lab ASAP to get the exam started. I'll serve the subpoena on you. When the lab has the results, I can get another subpoena for them to provide me with the exam results. Ultimately, the toll ticket will need to be physically transferred to the US Attorney. We'll also need a statement of the examiner's professional credentials. From what you've told me about the process," I continued," It sounds as if they don't lift the prints but photograph them. If that's the case, I'll need the original photos and we can use your State Forensic Lab to make a comparison with Barden's prints."

"Okay Daryl, that's a plan. I'll have the toll ticket hand delivered to Commonwealth Forensics first thing tomorrow morning."

"Rich, I want to shift gears if you have a few minutes," I said

"Sure, go ahead."

"I need to interview Tony Manacci to really lock in Barden as the murderer. Can you check on his condition with your parole officer contact and see if that's possible?"

"Yeah, I can do that, but I don't know how Manacci will take it."

"Just give it a shot Rich," I suggested," let him know that I'm assigned to the US attorney's office and if Manacci wants to cut a deal, I have the authority to bring it to the US Attorney. And Rich, if you're okay with it, I'd like you to be with me in uniform at the interview."

"Daryl, that would be my pleasure to have a face to face with Mr. Manacci. I'll call his PO right now. Keep your fingers crossed my friend."

I told him that I had to go into Boston late tomorrow afternoon and would be staying there overnight. I said I would touch base with him when I returned to Stockbridge, thanked him, and ended the call.

I heard laughter coming from the kitchen and it sounded like Mandy and Freddy were hitting it off. The doorbell rang, and Mandy ran to answer it." Hooray!" She called out excitedly." They're here!"

I didn't want to intrude, this was Mandy's project, so I discretely peered through a side window and saw the box truck backed in and two deliverymen unlatching the doors.

I sat down and called Matt Holcomb. When he answered I asked for a update on the case. He said he had a lot to tell me, and I pulled out my notebook to document the highlights.

He said the autopsy reports indicated all four victims were struck with double-o buckshot, their wounds to the chest supported the finding that their deaths were immediate. Preliminary screening of blood samples indicated the presence of opioids in three of the four victims. More detailed examination reports would take weeks to complete.

The Sheriff's Department ex-officio Chaplain had contacted the three families interviewed by the detectives, and that seemed to calm them.

Matt stated that the Valens and Ross parents wanted autopsy results, and he was concerned about how they would react when they learned drugs were found in their kids' blood systems.

He continued, he had spoken with assault suspect Manny Rodriguez and he agreed to come in and talk with detectives about working with them to identify area drug dealers. The problem Matt was facing was that Manny's reputation as a gang-banger was so bad, many of his detectives had dealt with him before and didn't trust him.

The lawyer for overdose victim Karen Miller's brother Billy had called several times trying to negotiate an interview in lieu of arrest for possession of the pills found during the house search, and more importantly, charges connecting him to his sister's death.

Matt's last point was a question for me. He wanted to know how we would handle notification to Michael Balentine's mother that fingerprints had confirmed her son was one of the murder victims. I didn't have an answer for that.

I got up and looked out the window to see that the unloading process of Mandy's office equipment was continuing. I stood there referring to my notes and addressed Matt's concerns.

I told Matt that State police Major Rich Prince had offered additional personnel support to the task force. I suggested that we ask the Major to assign three or four of his undercover troopers to work with Manny. Matt agreed, and I said I would contact the Major to call him.

Regarding Karen Miller's brother Billy, I went out on a limb and told Matt to inform his lawyer that I was considering Federal charges against Billy but could be swayed to allow the State system to deal with him if he cooperated and disclosed the source of his drugs. At any rate, I anticipated he would be arrested. Again, Matt agreed.

Matt asked me if there were any developments on my end, I told him I was making some progress on the murders and would be going up to Boston tomorrow afternoon to meet with Damian. I said I would have more information to share when I got back. His silence tipped me off that he was thinking I was holding out on him. I was.

I heard Mandy calling my name and I answered as she stepped into the family room. "Daryl, they delivered a lot of stuff. Is a forty-dollar tip for each of the deliverymen too much," she asked.

I told her forty was fine and asked if she needed cash. She said she had gone to the bank and was all set. Five minutes later I saw her at the door and the deliverymen left. She looked over at me and must have recognized something had upset me. She came into the room and asked if I was all right. I told her that I had to write up a report for Damian and bring it up to Boston tomorrow afternoon.

"Daryl, what's going on. Why do you have to go to Boston?" she asked. "Can't you email your report to Damian?"

I told her Damian needed me at an important meeting and I would stay in Boston at a hotel overnight, returning home early the next day.

"Daryl, what is it you're hiding from me?" She asked in a demanding tone.

"Hon, I'm not hiding anything. I need to prepare an arrest warrant application tonight and deliver it to Damian. He needs a document with my original signature."

"An arrest warrant for who?" she asked.

"Tommy Barden. Four counts of murder," I answered.

She looked shocked and it took a few seconds for everything to sink in. "You did it!" she shouted, "Barden's the murderer, and you caught him. I love you," she said excitedly as she leaned in and kissed me. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?" she asked.

"Hon, I wanted to hold off for another day or two, but Damian feels we can't risk having Barden out on the street, so he wants him arrested as soon as possible.

"Daryl are we in any danger?" she asked in a hushed voice, and I could see the joy in her eyes had turned to fear. "I mean, I'll be here alone. Am I in danger?"

"No Hon," I answered as I pulled her close. "Damian's plan is for us to arrest Barden quickly, get him off the street and I expect Damian will ask a judge to order him detained in custody without bond. Freddy will be here with you during the day and if you feel scared to be alone tomorrow night, I can ask him to stay here in one of the guest rooms until I get back."

"Do you think he would agree to that? she asked. "He's an FBI agent, right? And he has a gun, right?" she asked.

I honestly didn't know if Freddy always carried a gun, so I avoided answering. I told Mandy that I wanted to fill Freddy in on what was going on in private; she agreed and said she would wait in the kitchen.

I went into her office and found him entangled in a mass of wires and cables. As he continued to work, I explained my conversation with Damian. He listened intently and held his normal devil may care persona in check.

"Daryl, the accusation against Barden scares me," he said when I finished. "I think Damian is right. Take him out now. I'll stick around to help you with the drug trafficking case for however long you need me. And I get it that this case scares Mandy. And if you're wondering, I do carry a gun, I keep it out of sight, right now it's in my tool bag over there," he said pointing across the room

.I hanked him and asked if he would mind spending tomorrow at the house in the guest room to give Mandy peace of mind that she was safe. He said he would if she was comfortable with that. I went back to speak with her thinking that despite his quirks, Freddy Morton had his head screwed on tight.

Mandy was sitting at the breakfast bar, her head in her hands. I told her yes, Freddy was a real FBI agent and had a gun, and if it would make her feel safer, he agreed to stay at the house with her until I returned. She thanked me with a hug. I felt my Mandy crisis had been averted but, I didn't think the timing was right to tell her his real name wasn't Fred Morton.

I went into the family room, added logs to the fire, grabbed my laptop, settled into my recliner, and typed the warrant application.

The words came easily, taking a little over two hours to write the document. As I read it over for typos, I was satisfied as a story it flowed well, and presented a strong case against Barden. I hoped that Damian was correct with his gamble that once arrested Barden would turn on Congressman Petrone. Time would tell I thought to myself.

After finishing the warrant application, I called Attorney Ira Grossman's office; the receptionist transferred my call promptly. I explained to Ira fingerprints had determined the previously unidentified male murder victim was in fact Michael Balentine. His momentary silence suggested to me that I was giving him news he didn't want to hear but, he wasn't surprised.

"Oh Daryl, I feel badly for his mother. On the phone she sounds as if she's a gentle soul, but to be honest, I think after that detective visited her, she realized her son was dead."

"Well Ira, we need to formally notify her. How do you want to handle that?" I asked. He paused for a few moments before answering.

"She called me this morning asking for an update and I told her who you were and that I had contacted you," he explained. "I told her I would represent her in any legal matters that may come up and that I wasn't seeking any payment for my services. Daryl, I think that's the right thing to do. Agree?"

"I think that's extremely generous of you, Ira," I responded, "and I don't want to blindside you. I suspect her son Michael was a drug courier flying drugs into the area from a southern state." Again, his silence suggested he wasn't expecting to hear that.

"Oh Man, I thought all I had to deal with was helping her understand her son got involved using drugs, not that he was part of any drug dealing scheme."

"Ira did Michael's mother elaborate on anything the detective said to explain why he was asking were Michael lived?"

"She mentioned something about the detective was trying to locate some medical equipment he said Michael had been transporting for his employer. Does that make any sense?"

"It may, Ira. Our task force detectives went to his last known address in Great Barrington and learned from neighbors he had moved out a couple of months ago. I'm beginning to think that he may have moved in with his girlfriend in Pittsfield."

"I can ask his mother about any girlfriends," Ira offered, "but as you said we need to notify her we've confirmed Michael is dead. And out of common decency that should be done in person."

"I agree, as I recall Judge Moran mentioned Michael's mother lives in Sharon, Connecticut. Is that correct?" I asked.

"Yes, correct. She gave me her address. Daryl, if you're thinking of driving down to see her, I can make myself available to join you. I'd like to be there if she's going to be interviewed."

"I have an appointment in Boston tomorrow morning Ira, and plan on staying overnight. I'll be back mid-morning on Wednesday. If you can arrange for her to speak with us in the afternoon we can drive down together," I suggested.

Ira said he would call Michael's mother and if she agreed to our visit, he would text me. I thanked him for his help and ended the call.

I dialed Matt Holcomb's cell and when he answered I asked if he could confirm Anna Muranti's last known address in Pittsfield. He responded that he could not; he was relying on the address on her driver's license being accurate. He asked if I needed him to do anything.

I explained I had information that the person who tracked down Michael Balentine's mother in Connecticut claiming to be a detective tried to get Michael's address from her by saying that Michael's employer was attempting to locate some medical equipment he had been transporting. I told Matt we had a report Michael and Anna may have been living together and if they were, it could have been at Anna's place.

I instructed Matt to assign officers to verify Anna's address, note a description of the premises and prepare a search warrant application for drugs using the standard language drug warrant descriptions of property to be seized, and adding aircraft routing documents, maps, charts, fuel and repair receipts, and money.

"I see where you're going with this," Matt said. "You're thinking Michael had a drug stash somewhere.

"Yeah, it's a hunch," I responded, "but a strong hunch. When your team finishes the warrant application text me and email it for me to review before they take it to a Judge. Matt said he understood, and I ended the call.

I went and checked on the progress Mandy and Freddy were making setting up her equipment, and judging from Mandy's laughter, everything was going well. As I entered the room Mandy came up to me and wrapped her arm around my waist. "Well, how does it look so far?" she asked. Before I could answer she pointed out the two separate work areas she had designated for us, hers being the one facing the large windows that overlooked the magnificent view of the back meadow, mine was a corner desk facing the wall. Discretion being the better part of valor I told her it looked great.

Freddy finished up for the day by explaining tomorrow he was going to add a new circuit to accommodate additional electrical outlets. Reaching for his wallet he pulled out a card and handed it to me. "Did I neglect to mention that I'm a licensed master electrician in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts?" he asked. I examined the card and handed it back to him, feeling confident that there was less likelihood he would accidentally burn our house down.

Mandy asked him if he wanted to stay for dinner, he declined saying that he wanted to do some computer research on a case he was working on and pack some fresh clothes for his stay at out house. He told us he would be back tomorrow morning at nine-thirty and headed out.

"How does a pastrami or roast beef sandwich and some potato salad sound for dinner?" Mandy asked as we headed back to the kitchen. "I'm too tired to cook and I don't feel like getting cleaned up and changed to go out." I opted for the pastrami and fifteen minutes later we were enjoying our light dinner in front of the family room fireplace.

As we ate, she asked if I was going to be the person who would arrest Agent Barden. I didn't have that answer and explained the decision would be up to Damian. I didn't go into detail with her but as much as I wanted the satisfaction of putting him in handcuffs, I still had a lot of work to do on the drug trafficking aspect of our case, and I couldn't have anything distract me from that.

Suddenly, our deli-infused romantic dinner was interrupted by the front doorbell, startling us. I motioned for her to stay put and looked at my watch and saw it was twenty-past six. As I headed to the door, I saw a Sheriff's Department cruiser in the driveway and upon opening the door I was greeted by Deputy Phil Costa.

"Daryl, I hope I'm not interrupting your dinner, but I came across some information I thought you may be interested in. If you're eating, I can come back tomorrow."

"Phil, we're just having a light sandwich dinner tonight. Please, come in." I motioned to the family room and as he entered Mandy looked surprised but greeted him by name. Turning to me he said," I'm on the evening shift this week and have this patrol. I stopped by the Great Barrington airport and had an interesting conversation with the chief aircraft mechanic, Wade Lewis."

Mandy interrupted, "Deputy have you had your dinner? We're eating light tonight, but I have plenty of ham, pastrami, and salami. Can I make you a sandwich?" He declined at first, but I could see Mandy's offer was tempting him. "I insist," she said "I know you'll get busy and probably won't get time to eat. I'll make you a sandwich, just sit down and you and Daryl can talk."

She asked what meat he preferred, he opted for a combo of all three, on rye, with mayo, light salt and pepper. Mandy gave a quick look at me and I saw she was trying to stifle a grin, as was I.

Deputy Costa settled into a recliner and turned the volume down on his walkie-talkie. He leaned over toward me.

"Daryl. Wade told me the word on the street is that Mike Balentine was one of the kids who was murdered in Pittsfield. I told him I hadn't heard any names of the dead except for the Congressman's granddaughter. Wade said that Balentine worked for Doctor Howard Levi as a pilot, flying Levi's plane down south to a warehouse he owns and would bring back what he told Wade were medical supplies for distribution in New England."

"Wade said Mike's trips were like clockwork, every two weeks. He would fly out on a Tuesday morning and return Thursday afternoons. Wade said Mike started working for Levi about a year ago, and the first trips he made, Levi went with him, assumedly to check him out on the plane's instruments. After a month of that Mike made the trips by himself. Anyway, Wade said he started getting suspicious of the guys who would arrive at the airport on Thursdays and wait for Mike to land. Once the plane was on the ground, they would drive a van up to it and unload boxes and put them into the van and their cars."

"Phil did this Wade fella say what made him think the guys with the van were suspicious?" I asked.

Before he could answer Mandy came into the room carrying a tray bearing a thick sandwich, potato salad, chips and a coffee mug, setting it down on the coffee table in front of him. His eyes widened, and he thanked her with a broad smile. He took a bite of the sandwich and I waited for an answer to my question as he dabbed his mouth with a napkin. He said Wade told him the van would sometimes arrive and be joined by two cars a few minutes later. He said it was always the same van driver, but the guys in the cars were people he didn't know. He added that Wade said just looking at them he thought they were drug dealers or gang members. Deputy Costa's information interested me.

"Phil, do you know if the airport has a camera system?" I asked.

"They do," he replied, "they had some vandalism last year and decided to upgrade their security system. Wade told me he adjusted one of the cameras to get a good view of the visitor parking area where the van and cars would wait."

I asked Phil if he thought Wade would let me look at some of the video, he assured me Wade would cooperate. Deputy Costa finished his dinner, thanked Mandy, and went back on patrol.

.

### CHAPTER 14

The next morning, I was up early, showered, and dressed in a dark pinstripe suit, tan shirt and maroon tie. As I walked into the kitchen, Mandy was at the breakfast bar drinking coffee and scanning the local news on her tablet. "You look handsome this morning," she commented as I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Breakfast?" she asked. I told her no and poured myself a coffee and dropped an English muffin into the toaster. She stood and went to the refrigerator, took out the butter, and said she would fix the muffin for me, as she motioned for me to sit. I glanced at her tablet and saw she was reading the headline article of the morning's Berkshire paper. "After Two Weeks, No Arrests in Quadruple Murder Case" read the headline. I scanned the article, noting it said police had identified three of the victims, listing their names, hometowns and ages. Further along in the story there was speculation the prime murder suspect remained comatose in an area hospital. The article devoted a paragraph to Damian's office not willing to comment, followed by several paragraphs that read like a treatise emphasizing the public's right to know. It relieved me to see no mention of my name.

Mandy brought me my buttered muffin, sat down, and motioned to the tablet. "Boy, are they in for a surprise! When are you going to announce that Barden is the murderer?" she asked.

I explained that Damian's office would handle all the press releases, but it probably would be a day or two before Barden was in custody.

"Do you think he knows you're going to arrest him

"Not if he read the morning news," I answered, pointing to her tablet.

"Mandy, Freddy will be here in an hour, he'll stay until I get back from Boston. You're safe," I assured her. "I'll call you when I get settled at the hotel this evening and I plan on being back home before noon tomorrow. You'll be busy setting up your office and I'll be back before you know it."

"Yeah, we'll be busy," she acknowledged. "I already called Erik this morning and he's coming over with his toolbox. Freddy talked to him yesterday about running the new electrical line and said he'll need Erik to help him. I didn't understand what Freddy was talking about, but Erik seemed to."

"Well, you're in good hands Hon," I said as I finished my muffin. On a good day it was a two-and-a-half hour drive to Boston, and I wanted to get on the road as soon as I could. I grabbed my laptop and slid it into my briefcase and was on the road ten minutes later. As I expected, traffic was heavy as I passed through Chicopee and Worcester, and after driving for almost three hours I pulled into the underground garage at the John Joseph Moakley Courthouse, a magnificent building overlooking Boston Harbor.

In the lobby I presented my credentials, was cleared through the security checkpoint, and took the elevator to Damian's offices on the ninth floor. I was greeted with hugs from the women reception staff and promptly escorted into Damian's office where he was at his desk doing paperwork. He stood to greet me and motioned to sit at his conference table. After a brief chat about traffic on the Pike and filling him in on Mandy and Freddy's home office makeover, I reached into my briefcase and handed him the arrest warrant application for FBI Agent Thomas Barden. He read it slowly, intently following the chain of events I had documented.

I got up and helped myself to a bottle of iced tea from his office refrigerator and stood drinking it as I gazed out the window at the harbor below. Even in the dead of winter there was marine traffic on the water.

After almost five minutes Damian spoke.

"Daryl, this is brilliant work," he said." Brief, concise, and it strongly establishes probable cause for the murders and conspiracy. Thank You." He motioned for me to join him at the table.

"This guy in the hospital, Banacci. We have him for conspiracy on the murders," he said, "but I've been speaking with the State Police. They can charge him with weapons possession, defaced firearm serial number, fraud for how he rented the cars. I want to wait until we have Barden in custody before I make the decision to prosecute Banacci in Federal court. Holding off may give you some leverage to cut a deal with him if he'll talk. And by the way Daryl, I met with Judge Taylor first thing this morning and briefed him on the case."

"How did he react to it, Boss?" I asked.

"As I expected he would. Initially a look of surprise, but he followed up with the comment life presents us with many challenges, and we would manage this one. He said he understood why I wanted to wait on the warrant for Banacci and told me to contact him when you arrived. Are you ready to do this?" he asked. I nodded I was, and we took the elevator down to the Judge's chambers on the seventh floor.

His secretary said the Judge was on the bench but had instructed her to notify him when we arrived. She picked up the phone and called the Chief Bailiff who arrived within a few minutes. She handed him a note and five minutes later the secretary told us the Judge was in chambers and would see us now.

The Honorable Judge Emerson Taylor was one of Boston's most revered, and feared, Federal jurists; his reputation borne of his many years on the bench presiding over major and often sensational criminal cases. Mobsters and lawyers alike struggled to hide their feeling of intimidation when they appeared before him. I was one of the latter, standing before him as a prosecutor, especially during my career defining human trafficking case trial that rocked Boston when thirteen powerful and wealthy men were convicted of sex crimes against children.

Judge Taylor greeted us cordially and motioned for Damian and me to take seats in front of his desk. Without speaking, Damian handed him my affidavit.

He leaned back in his desk chair and rotated it to face the massive window behind him. He put his glasses on and began to read. After five minutes he turned and faced us, setting the document on the desk. He looked up at us.

"Daryl, I have always enjoyed reading your command of the written word, and I credit you, Sir, for your suggestion that this was more than a drug dispute. However, it strikes me there is more to explain in terms of motive, specifically, who was the murder target?"

I didn't answer, and his look at me was piercing. "I trust that when we get to trial you will have resolved my concerns," he added. I looked over to Damian, who remained silent.

"With that said," he continued, "given that it is reasonable to believe the underlying cause of these crimes is drug trafficking, the egregious circumstances of the manner of Congressman Petrone's granddaughter and the others deaths, and the accused being an active agent of the FBI, I am issuing an arrest warrant charging four counts of murder and four counts of conspiracy, with an order the accused be detained without bond until he is presented before me at a future date to be determined."

I heard Damian exhale in relief.

"And gentlemen," Judge Taylor added, "I understand your strategy not to seek a warrant at this time for the accomplice, Mr. Banacci as Damian and I discussed. I do however suggest you make that decision promptly."

"Damian," the Judge said, "I'm sure you realize the sensational aspect of the case because of the FBI and political relationships. I suggest you make notification to The Department of Justice prior to the arrest."

"I will Your Honor. I was assigned this case directly by the US Attorney General. I'll notify him this afternoon," Damian answered. I caught the brief look of surprise on the Judge's face when he heard Damian refer to the Attorney General, but he recovered quickly.

Judge Taylor looked at us and asked if there was anything else to discuss. Before Damian could tell him there wasn't, I reached into the folder I was carrying and pulled out a document, handing a copy to Damian. He was visibly surprised.

I had drafted a search warrant application for Agent Barden's cellphone and any computer equipment he had at the condo in Worcester he listed as his legal address. I hadn't informed Damian I had done a background investigation of Barden, and without consulting him, I had entered Damian's name as co-affiant on the warrant application.

"Yes, Your Honor, one more thing," I said.as I handed him the original document. "To your point of clarifying motive, I'm requesting a search warrant to seize Agent Barden's cellphone and any computers he has at his residence." Judge Taylor read the application and noted it essentially presented an abbreviated version of the arrest warrant application, and added verbiage suggesting the murders were part of a conspiracy that logically required communication between the actors. After reading, he asked Damian and me to swear to its veracity and he signed the warrant and ordered it sealed.

As we stood to leave, Judge Taylor said he would have one of his clerks draw up the arrest warrant and deliver it to Damian within the hour. We thanked him and went out into the hall.

"The search warrant took me by surprise, Daryl," Damian said as he leaned toward me. "Is my name on the affidavit payback for my decision to arrest Barden before you think we should?"

"No, Boss. You just moved the goal post on me and I had to punt."

As we stepped out of the elevator, he said he wanted to discuss how Barden would be arrested. We entered the reception area of his office suite and I noticed a casually dressed man sitting in the corner. He looked up at us for a few seconds and went back to reading his magazine. He looked rough around the edges in his appearance and attire, certainly not a lawyer I surmised.

Once inside his office Damian motioned for me to sit down. "Daryl, I need to put together a plan very quickly," he said. "But I have a concern that when I tell the Attorney General we have the warrant to arrest Barden, the information is at risk of being leaked."

He continued. "That fella in the waiting room is a US Marshal in charge of a Violent Fugitive Apprehension Task Force team based in Philadelphia," He and three of his team were flown into Logan on a government jet this morning. I'm giving them the warrant to arrest Barden."

This took me by complete surprise, and I was confused and angry.

"Boss aren't you going out on a limb here?" I asked. "I get it you don't want the FBI to have to arrest one of their own, but flying in US Marshals? Don't you need authorization to do that?"

"Daryl, I'm not at liberty to explain that to you, but be assured I have authorization," he said. "Let me introduce you to Marshal Dan Burke," he added as he opened his office door and beckoned the man to come in.

We shook hands and I quickly learned Marshal Burke was a man of few words. Damian produced a manila envelope from his desk, pulled out several copies of Barden's FBI identification photo, and gave them to him. Damian also had several photos of Barden's FBI assigned car, a new Buick Lacrosse, the license plate, and photos of a condo at the Worcester address I had used for my search warrant application.

Damian's desk phone intercom buzzed, and his secretary announced Judge Taylor's law clerk had arrived. He went to the door, looked over the documents the clerk had brought, and asked his secretary to make copies.

After the secretary brought us the copies of the warrants and Damian distributed them, Marshal Burke asked me if Damian had left anything out.

"Only that I need Barden alive, Marshal," I said. He looked at me and I saw coldness in his eyes as he shook my hand without speaking and left. I hoped Damian knew what he was doing.

I declined Damian's invitation to have dinner with him and Maggie, using the excuse I wanted to get some rest and head back to Stockbridge very early in the morning. We shook hands and he said he would contact me when Barden was in custody.

I decided I would stay the night at the downtown Harbor View Inn, a luxury hotel in the heart of Boston's waterfront historic district, ten-minutes from the court house. I checked in, was shown to a beautifully appointed suite, changed into jeans and called Mandy.

She answered quickly, and from what I gathered her time with Freddy and Erik had been as she described it a laugh marathon.

After a ten-minute conversation with her describing how our home office was being set up for comfort and efficiency, we ended the call when I told her I would be home in the morning. She was holding up well, I thought.

I called Matt Holcomb for a status report. He filled me in that his investigators had located the condo in Pittsfield where Anna Muranti was living and learned from neighbors that a young man had moved in with her about two months ago. I was satisfied my hunch she and Michael Balentine were living together had paid off.

"Daryl, another neighbor told us soon after the guy moved in with Anna there was an unusual number of people coming and going at the condo almost every day and evening, Matt said. "The neighbor said that she suspected Anna's new boyfriend was a drug dealer."

I told Matt to expedite putting together a search warrant for the condo and to send me a draft as soon as he could."

I checked in with Major Rich Prince and he confirmed the toll ticket I had seized from the wrecked SUV had been delivered to Commonwealth Forensics and the fingerprint exam was underway. He added that he had contacted Master Sergeant Steve Bentley from the State Police Crime Scene Unit and arranged to have an immediate search of FBI fingerprint records check performed if the forensic test developed prints.

My last call was to Attorney Ira Grossman. He told me this morning he had received a call from Michael Balentine's mother, whom he described as distraught and highly emotional. He said she asked him over and over if her son was dead. "Daryl, I couldn't lie to the woman, she was begging me to tell her the truth. I finally relented and said Yes, he was dead. She is devastated."

"I'm sorry you were put in that position, Ira, but you did what you had to. Did she say she would speak with us if we drive down to see her?" I asked.

"Yeah, she was almost incoherent but did ask me to call her tomorrow morning and confirm a time we could be there. She said she needs to talk about Michael. I cleared my calendar for tomorrow afternoon, so let me know when and where I can meet you and we can go down there together. At the least I feel I need to apologize to her for not giving her the sad news in person."

I agreed and reminded him I was currently in Boston. I said I would call him tomorrow when I got back to Stockbridge and ended the call.

I had a few hours to kill before dinner and decided it was time to put together a plan to go after Dr. Howard Levi and Marlana Holdings. My theory was that Marlana Holdings was importing opiates in powder form from outside the country and processing it into pill form at a clandestine lab somewhere down South. Now packaged under the trade name Marlana Pharmaceuticals, the pills were flown into the Berkshires by Michael Balentine.

I didn't have any leads on how the opiates were entering the country, but I did have Dr. Levi's plane based at the Great Barrington airport, and luckily, FAA aircraft registrations are searchable on the internet. I learned a 2015 Beechcraft G58 Baron, was registered to a Howard. S. Levi reporting an address of Riverview Plantation, Forest Springs, West Virginia. I wrote down the plane's registration number in my notebook and Googled Forest Springs. I saw it was in the northeast corner of the state, with a listed population of four hundred residents. From what I could see on the map, the area appeared to be rural and heavily forested.

I did some calculations and found Forest Springs was approximately six hundred miles south of Great Barrington. I recorded the information in my notebook and marked it with a question mark. I wanted to know the flight time between the towns if the twin engine Beechcraft was used.

As a Hail Mary hunch, I Googled private and/or abandoned airfields near Forest Springs and was shocked to see the town had a three-thousand-foot paved runway that had been decommissioned from use by the West Virginia National Guard in the late sixties. I brought up the airfield on Google Earth and saw it was almost hidden from view by deep forestation on the northeast edge. The paved surface was visible, as were several out-buildings. The buildings looked old, but I noted what appeared to be a newer free-standing structure at the north end of the airfield. I bookmarked the page for reference.

Looking at my watch I saw it was coming up on five o'clock and decided on an early dinner. One of my favorite spots when I lived in Boston was the nearby Broadside Tavern, a contemporary Irish pub.

I took a shower and shaved, put on a heavy sweater, strapped on my Sig Sauer, grabbed my leather bomber jacket, and headed down to the hotel lobby just before six.

It was a short walk to the pub, and despite the wind and cold, the pedestrian traffic was robust as the nearby offices closed business for the day. Upon entering I saw the place was crowded, especially the bar, but I found a small unoccupied table against the wall. I ordered a light beer, and after my waitress brought the menu, I settled on the steak tips dinner.

As I waited for my meal, I surveyed the crowd and surprisingly, I recognized a few faces from my last visit more than six months ago. I thought to myself they didn't seem to have changed, but I had. Perhaps my melancholy was driven by not having Mandy at my side.

My dinner arrived and was served with a side basket of fresh warm rolls. I tuned out the occasional raucous laughter from the bar, ate heartily, and when I finished, declined the offer of dessert. As I had experienced in past visits, the cuisine was excellent. After I paid my check I headed back to the hotel and realized the pedestrian traffic had diminished, but not the blustery wind. It was bitter cold, and I hastened my walk, hugging the building fronts whenever I could to deflect the numbing cold. As I turned the corner to Broad Street and approached the hotel, I could see there were two uniformed Boston patrolmen standing just inside the Lobby entrance, and further down the block two television news vans.

The hotel activity appeared normal, and I had the thought a VIP had arrived for a stay or perhaps a major social event was scheduled. As I entered the lobby the doorman gave me a visual once over and I acknowledged him with a nod and smile. Across the lobby at the entrance to the ballroom I noticed the crowd that had formed; not exactly Boston's high society, they appeared to be a cross section of business leader types, with two news crews with cameras in the mix.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw what appeared to be an entourage exit an elevator and a young preppy type carrying a walkie talkie who appeared to be the leader loudly announced, "He's on his way down, ladies and gentlemen."

The second elevator arrived with a seemingly unending parade of bodies that burst through the door even before it fully opened. Applause and cheers erupted from the crowd, and through the commotion of bodies jockeying for position, Congressman T. James Petrone stepped into the limelight.

As the assembled audience moved closer to extend greetings, I saw them being forcibly moved back by one of his entourage, a business suit attired male, brusquely barking out orders for the crowd to get back. He turned in my direction and from across the lobby our eyes met. It was Agent Tommy Barden. I saw his jaw drop.

Suddenly to my left I saw four burly men rush directly toward Barden. A news crew cameraman filming the event spun around to capture the action. As the men came running up to within ten feet of him, I heard a man shout, "US Marshalls. Thomas Barden, you are under arrest for murder, don't move!" I recognized the man giving the command; US Marshal Dan Burke.

Chaotic is a gross understatement to describe the next sixty seconds in my life. Barden leaped backward, almost tripping over his own feet, pushing bystanders aside. He looked directly at me and I heard him scream, "Richardson, you're a dead man!" and saw him reach inside his suit coat. One of Burke's Marshal's shouted "Gun!" and before I could react and pull my gun, I saw Barden turn in my direction, raise his arm, and heard a gunshot. Instinctively I jerked my head to the side and shielded my face as a decorative column next to me spewed shards of plaster in my direction. I dove to the floor and heard the screams from the now panicked crowd who were trampling each other to get out of the line of fire. I looked across the lobby and saw Burke's Marshals forcibly knock Barden to the floor with one of them disarming him. Waving the gun high in the air as he shouted "Clear." As I stood, a hand reached over and pulled me up. I looked and saw it was a face I was familiar with; Boston PD Uniform Division Captain Pat Finnegan.

"Daryl, are you all right?" Pat asked as he brushed the plaster debris from my jacket. "Are you hit? You OK?"

Thankfully, the bullet had missed, and I assured the Captain I wasn't injured.

Across the room I could see The Congressman's entourage had rushed him into a side room and I could hear him shouting, demanding to know what was going on.

Amid the confusion and hysteria in the lobby I heard the wailing sound of sirens outside. In a matter of minutes almost a dozen Boston PD officers rushed into the hotel lobby that was now in full chaos.

"Daryl! Daryl!" Pat Finnegan yelled to get my attention. "Do you have Federal ID on you? Clip it onto your jacket so my people can see your law enforcement." I reached into my rear pocket and did what he told me.

"Daryl, what the hell did you guys do here tonight?" he asked. "Was all this planned? Couldn't you have picked a safer place to make the arrest? And murder? Isn't that guy an FBI agent?" His questions flowed more quickly than I could come up with answers.

"Pat," I said," I'm not part of this arrest. I mean, yes, it's my case involving the four kids who were murdered in Pittsfield. Petrone's granddaughter is one of the victims. Damian Costigan and I got the arrest warrant issued today and he turned it over to these US Marshals to make the arrest. He flew them in from Philadelphia to track Barden down. And yes, Barden is an FBI agent. I was just spending the night here before I head home tomorrow. I had no idea that Petrone or Tommy Barden would be here, or that any of this would happen. I'm as much in the dark as you are."

"Daryl, you're not making much sense," the Captain said as he turned me to look at the back of my head. "Are you sure you didn't get hit or bang your head when you dropped to the floor? Did you say these Marshals are from Philadelphia? What the hell is going on here?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's what I said Pat." I reached into my pocket for my phone and told him I had to call Damian. I stopped when I saw Marshal Dan Burke approaching. He had a half-smile on his face." What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"I think the question is what the hell are You doing here Marshal?" I asked, not making any attempt to hide my anger.

"Following orders", he answered.

"Orders? Whose God-damned orders?"

"I'm not at liberty to disclose that. Sorry."

"What do you mean sorry. You think I'm a God-damn fool? This cowboy wild west performance you guys put on tonight could have got someone killed." I could see Marshal Burke was at the end of his patience with me.

"Richardson," he snarled, "You said you wanted Barden taken alive. He's alive." With that comment, US Marshal Dan Burke walked away.

Captain Finnegan took me by the arm and guided me to a couch. "Daryl, you stay put. I need to get my guys organized. This is crazy, I don't even know who's in charge here." I heard his cell phone ring and as he looked at it, he grimaced and remarked, "Great! It's the Deputy Chief. What the hell am I going to tell him about all this?" I didn't have any answers for him.

I called Damian and immediately was diverted to his phone mail. I left him a terse message to call me ASAP. As I ended the call two paramedics came over to me and asked if I was injured. I told them I was fine, but they insisted on taking my blood pressure and I reluctantly submitted. Thankfully, they pronounced I was within normal limits. "Like hell I am," I muttered.

I saw the two news teams heading at me and they were on a mission. I got up to make my way to the elevator to go up to my room, but they blocked my path.

"Mr. Richardson," the young woman newsperson called out. "Can you tell us what happened here tonight? Was all this police presence at the hotel related to Congressman Petrone's claim that he had received a warning that he would be assassinated tonight?"

"WHAT?" I asked incredulously.

Sticking the microphone close to my mouth as her competitor reporters jockeyed for position to record my comments I pulled back, afraid she was going to break my teeth. I started to feel lightheaded, the glare and heat of the camera lighting was blinding and unbearable."

"Mr. Richardson, Congressman Petrone just told us he received death threats because of his announcement he's planning a run for the Presidency, and just before tonight's rally he was warned he would be assassinated."

I still didn't comment.

"Mr. Richardson? Mr. Richardson? Will you comment Sir?" she pressed.

"I have no comment," I replied, again attempting to make my way to the elevator. Another reporter and cameraman stepped in front of me.

"Mr. Richardson what did the suspect mean when he shouted that you're a dead man?" she asked.

Without thinking I fired back, "I don't know, ask him," and muscled my way toward an elevator that had just opened its door.

The news crew started to follow but I was saved by Captain Pat Finnegan and several of his officers who appeared out of nowhere and moved the crowd back as Pat hurried me into the elevator and the door closed.

"Christ, they're like a bunch of sharks in a feeding frenzy You all right, Daryl?" he asked.

"Yeah, but I don't think I can stay here tonight," I answered dejectedly. "They're not going to give up."

"What are you going to do?" he asked as the door opened and we stepped into the hallway on the fourth floor and walked to my room. As we entered my cell phone erupted with incoming calls. First on the list was Damian, and I answered immediately,

"Daryl! How the hell did you get caught up in the middle of this?" he asked, raising his voice in an accusatory tone.

"Me?" I countered. "Explain to me why your Federal Marshals pulled a dangerous stunt in the middle of a campaign rally. Somebody could have been killed." I was mad as hell, and there was nothing Damian could say that would appease me. "How did your boys know Barden was going to be at the hotel, and why didn't you tell me they were coming here before I took a room for the night?" I asked, not masking my indignation.

"Just take it easy, Daryl. I can't go into details but suffice to say this was all mapped out by others at a higher pay grade than mine. I just follow orders," he replied. "We, I mean you, got the arrest warrant. That was our part. Anything that happened after that, I had no control."

My phone was beeping every five seconds and I glanced down and saw I had incoming calls from Mandy, Matt Holcomb and Major Rich Prince.

"What do you mean you had no control, Damian?" I asked, my anger increasing with every word. "Are you telling me this was all planned in advance? That this was a set-up?"

He hesitated before he answered. "Yes."

"Great!" I shot back sarcastically. I had a lot more to say but held it.

"I have an incoming call from Mandy, she probably has already heard what happened. Just what I didn't want, Damian. I'll call you later," I said and ended the call without waiting for his response.

I called Mandy, the phone range several times before it went to her phone mail. No one had to tell me, I was in trouble.

I called Matt Holcomb, he answered and sounded excited. "The Boston TV stations are broadcasting a live feed from a hotel up there. They just showed a film clip of Thomas Barden being arrested at a political rally, and him firing a shot, and it was you he was shooting at. We saw you on TV. What the hell is going on?" he yelled. He was pissed.

"Matt, I'm all right." I answered, and explained, "And I want you to know that I had no knowledge beforehand that Barden would be arrested like this. You have my word on that. I wrote the arrest warrant application and a Judge signed off on it this afternoon. Without my consent the warrant was turned over to the US Marshals. This all went down in the hotel where I had booked a room for the night. I had no idea Petrone and Barden would be at the same hotel."

Matt Holcomb was silent for a long time. I didn't blame him if he was thinking I had gone behind his back to arrest Barden. It wasn't my fault, but the damage was done. He finally responded, saying he was glad I was safe, and I told him I would be back home in the morning and we needed to meet and talk. He agreed and ended the call.

I called Mandy again, this time she answered quickly. "Daryl! We're watching on TV and saw you getting shot at. My God! I almost had a heart attack," she yelled loudly and rapidly. "You said you were going to Boston for a meeting, not going to Boston to get in a shootout. Why didn't you tell me the truth?" she asked as she began crying. Between sobs she explained. "Fred and I were watching TV and they broke into the program with a news bulletin and there you were, on TV, and I heard Barden scream you were a dead man, and then he shot you!" "Daryl, I can't live like this! I can't do this anymore!" Her crying was on the border of hysteria.

"Mandy. MANDY!" I called out to get her attention. "Hon, I'm all right, I didn't get shot. He missed. Hon, I'm coming home tonight, I should be there in about three hours. Put Freddy on the phone."

A few seconds later I heard Freddy. "Boss, what do you want me to do?" he asked calmly.

He had dropped his mad scientist alias persona of Fred Morton and I was grateful the real Pat Collins grasped the seriousness of what had happened in Boston. "Mandy's a basket case. Should I call Erik and his wife to come over?" he asked.

I told him yes, that would be a big help, and said I was coming home tonight.

"And Pat, I have a concern that the media is going to be all over me and our task force until they get the answers they aren't getting tonight. I'm worried about them coming to the house. If that happens it will send Mandy over the edge. I can't have that."

"What do you need from me, Daryl?"

"I'm going to call Matt Holcomb and ask for a Deputy to standby at the house until I get there," I explained. "And I'll call Major Rich Prince and see if the State Police can back up the Sheriffs. If it's okay with you I'll give them your cell number, you can coordinate things until I get there."

"I got it Boss," he acknowledged. "Just take it easy driving back. I'll have it under control here"

I thanked him, and as an afterthought said, "Pat, I think you better wear your badge and gun."

"I'm way ahead of you, Boss," he replied. "See you when you get here".

I called Matt Holcomb again and after I explained my concerns, he readily agreed to assign a deputy to my house. I gave him Fred's phone number and thanked him for his help. If he was put out by the end run to arrest Barden, he didn't show it.

I called Major Rich Prince and after he answered he had the same questions as everyone else tonight.

I assured him I was all right and explained my concern with the media coming to my house. Without hesitation he said he would assign two Troopers to my house immediately.

I explained that the Sheriff's Department was also sending a Deputy, and they could coordinate with Fred Morton who was staying at my house with Mandy. As I started to end the call he asked, "Daryl, did you plan on this going down like it did tonight."

"No Rich, this wasn't my plan. But I'm going to find out whose plan it was," I responded and ended the call.

Boston PD Captain Finnegan who had been quietly sitting in a chair in my room got up, adjusted his gun belt, and started to the door.

"Daryl, here's my business card with my cell number. When you're ready to head out call me and I'll have some officers escort you past the media." I thanked him and shook his hand. He reached for the door handle, stopped, and turned to me.

"Daryl, you need to know that for a long time Petrone has been steering the gravy train for a lot of powerful people, from both sides of the tracks. His supporters are in it for the money they think he'll make them; his detractors are worried if he gets jammed up, he'll squeal like a pig. He knows where all the bodies are buried if you get my drift. He may be new to the scene in Washington, but here he's the King. He's a dangerous man, Daryl. I suggest you watch your back my friend."

I nodded I understood and packed my travel bag. I looked through the window blinds and saw there was still a crowd outside, flashing red and blue strobe lights lit up the night. Getting out of here was going to be easier said than done I suspected. I called the desk and asked for the night manager. When he got on the phone, I explained I wanted to close out my bill but was concerned my presence in the lobby wouldn't be good for me or the hotel. He readily agreed and explained he would close the bill and send me confirmation by email. I thanked him and asked if the elevators went down to the basement parking level. He said they did, but it required a key to override the standard elevator program. I explained the police would escort me to my car, and asked he send a steward to my room with an elevator key. Again, he agreed without question.

I called Captain Finnegan and told him I was ready. He, an officer, and the hotel steward arrived within five minutes. My plan went off without a hitch, and fifteen minutes later I was driving out of town.

Two and a half hours later I pulled into my driveway in Stockbridge and saw five parked police cars and Erik's pickup truck. My house was lit up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. I glanced around, thankfully I saw no reporters.

I went into the house through the kitchen door and Mandy, who had been sitting at the breakfast bar with Erik's wife Bernie, leaped up and ran into my arms. For a small girl her hug was crushing.

She whispered in my ear she was sorry for how she acted on the phone, and she didn't mean the things she said. I told her everything was all right now, and we would get past this.

We went into the family room and joined the crowd; Freddy Morton, Matt Holcomb, Rich Major, Deputy Phil Costa, Erik, and two Troopers I was meeting for the first time. I thanked them all for their concern and saw that despite the late hour Mandy and Bernie had been generous in their supply of food to the troops.

I didn't share much information about Barden's arrest with the group, and thankfully they didn't pursue the issue. We decided that since I was home, the extra police presence was no longer needed and within half an hour the house had cleared out and Freddy said he was going to bed. Mandy and I made the rounds, checked that the doors were locked, and the fireplace flames were dying down. We turned off the lights and walked down the long hallway to the master bedroom, her arm tightly wrapped around my waist, her head resting against my chest. Once in bed she curled up next to me as I drifted off into a sound sleep. Today was a day we both wouldn't forget.

### CHAPTER 15

I slept late in the morning and after I showered and dressed, I went out to the kitchen and saw Mandy and Freddy were in the adjacent newly re-designed home office. I looked around and had to admit; they had done a first-rate job, but I couldn't help but feel all the new computer equipment seemed intimidating. They had mounted two new large flat screen monitors on a side wall, one was scrolling the stock market ticker above what looked to be charting software. Mandy came over and gave me a hug and a kiss and said she would bring me my coffee, motioning me to sit down on a plush new loveseat.

I saw Freddy was intently watching a second flat screen tuned to Fox news. I looked up just in time to see Congressman Petrone step up to a podium in front of a packed roomful of media. Mandy groaned., "Oh No! Not him first thing in the morning," as she waved him off and headed in to the kitchen.

Petrone was on fire this morning as he delivered a scorching assault against the President, the FBI, and both political parties. He accused the FBI of providing him a psychotic agent as a bodyguard after the recent murders he referred to as a personal attack against him, neglecting to mention it was his granddaughter among those killed.

He accused Agent Thomas Barden of making up the report of an assassination plot against him, and then accused Barden of being the assassin. The man was completely out of control.

He claimed as an Independent, the established political parties and their leaders viewed him as a threat to their good old boy networks, fearing he was the people's favorite candidate capable of winning the Presidency. Freddy looked over at me and remarked, "This guy is off his medication."

Mandy came into the room with my coffee and I saw she was on her phone. She mouthed the words, "My mother," and went back to the kitchen.

Petrone's vitriol moved on to attack the US Marshals, describing their actions as reckless, nearly costing him his life. He demanded the President order an immediate investigation and bring the Marshals up on criminal charges. I had heard enough and walked out to the kitchen.

Mandy was still on the phone, I heard her say at least three times, "Yes Mom, we're safe. Daryl is fine. Yes Mom, we have police protection here at the house." She looked at me as she shook her head and looked up to the heavens in frustration.

My eyes caught Erik Nichols walking up to the kitchen door and I went over to let him in. He stamped his feet to clear the snow from his boots before he entered, his face was red from windburn, crystals of ice covered his eyebrows. I quickly closed the door to keep out the bitter cold.

"Erik, what the hell are you doing outside in this weather?" I asked as I brushed the light traces of snow off his parka. He sniffled as he took the coat off and rubbed his arms to stimulate warmth. He wiped his nose with a handkerchief as I took him by the arm and guided him to the kitchen table. "I'll get you a coffee," I told him as he sat without any argument.

"I was up early," he explained. "I had some private property and no trespassing signs in the garage, so I posted them at the end of the driveway. You said you were worried about the news people, maybe that will keep them away."

"I doubt it," I responded as I set his black coffee in front of him, "but thanks for thinking of that."

I watched as he raised the mug to his lips, his hands were shaking but he didn't spill a drop as he took a sip. Mandy ended her call and went over to him, rubbing his shoulders to help warm him, leaning over and whispering, "Thank You," before mildly scolding him for being out in the weather. He looked at me with a forlorn smile and shrugged his shoulders. I knew the feeling.

Mandy asked me what I thought of the office remodel, I assured her it had come out perfect and hoped she now had everything she needed to do her work. Freddy came into the kitchen and freshened his coffee, I thanked him for everything he had done for us; he waved me off and sat down next to Erik.

He said he was working on the reports documenting his work to unlock the cellphone and the recovery of video from the service plaza. He added when he was finished, he would head back to the Inn.

Mandy asked me what my plans were for the day. I had an idea and hoped she wouldn't think I was patronizing her.

"You and I are going to spend the day together if you're up to it."

"What are we going to do?" she asked, obviously not expecting my invitation.

"I want to go down to the airport in Great Barrington where Dr. Levi keeps his plane. Deputy Costa told me it's a small private airfield and suggested I try to get the manager to let me view some video he has."

"And what do I need to do? She asked.

"Keep me company!" I answered. She was not amused, and I sensed she was disappointed she wouldn't be investigating anything. I had a fix for that.

"And later this afternoon I'd like you to go down to Sharon, Connecticut with me. I need to speak with one of the murdered kid's mother. Michael Balentine was the pilot working for Levi, remember?"

"Yeah," she acknowledged. "You think he was the drug courier, right? But Daryl, why do you want me there. I mean, I wouldn't know what to say to her."

"I think it would be easier for her if there was another woman present, I explained." I forgot to mention, she called a lawyer in Great Barrington after she heard about the murders and hadn't heard from Michael in a few weeks."

"The lawyer is Ira Grossman. He said he knows me from our years at UCONN law school, but I don't remember him. He tracked me down and offered to help me with Michael's mother. He asked if we could drive down together, and I agreed," I added.

I could see Mandy was processing what I had told her. "Okay, I'll go, but what should I wear? And how much time to I have to get ready?" I could see she was getting excited.

"Dress warm, I guess. It's bitter cold outside. Maybe wear something that you'd wear if you were going to the lounge at a ski resort. Take your time getting ready, I have to call Ira and see what time Balentine's mother said she would be available."

"Okay," she replied as she started toward the master hallway." Give me forty-five minutes and I'll be ready. Help yourself to something to eat for breakfast."

"That's using your head, Daryl," Erik commented.

"Nicely played, Boss," Freddy concurred.

I called the Sheriffs' Department and inquired if Deputy Costa was working the day shift. I was informed he was, the dispatcher agreed to contact him to call me. Since he knew the airport manager, I thought their acquaintance could help gain his cooperation. In less than ten minutes the Deputy called and agreed to meet me at the airport in an hour. Mandy came into the kitchen, she looked stunning. If Deputy Costa and I couldn't convince the manager to cooperate I was confident that after one look at Mandy, he would agree to re-name the airport after her. I checked in with Freddy who was busy at the computer and asked him to lock the kitchen door if he left before we returned. He agreed and wished us luck.

I went and grabbed my gun and jacket from the bedroom closet and Mandy and I headed out. The bitter cold was brutal. So much for Mandy's earlier prognostication we were in for a warming spell, I thought. As we drove, she was a chatterbox on a myriad of topics, among them, Freddy, whom she described as both brilliant and crazy like a mad scientist. She went on about him being an MIT honor graduate with dual degrees, and the many computer programs he had designed, including a stock screening algorithm. that he loaded into her computer.

"Daryl, he showed me his stock portfolio. Did you know that he is almost a millionaire?" she asked.

I was surprised, but not shocked, I told her. I thought that with his intelligence he had to exhaust his brain energy on something other than video games.

"And by the way, Little Boy, he told me his real name is Patrick Collins, not Freddy Morton. He said that's his cover, whatever that means. Why didn't you tell me? Don't you trust me?" she asked.

I explained the nature of his covert undercover work often put him in dangerous situations and a cover name was used to protect his real identity from anyone who would want to get at him as payback for their legal troubles. She seemed to ponder that and moved on to her next subject.

"You saw the new monitors on the wall, they were Freddy's idea. He drove us to the computer store and they had them in stock, so I bought them."

"Daryl is a Land Rover expensive? she asked out of the blue.

"Some models are. Why?"

"His car is gorgeous. I want one."

"Okay, when we finish this case, we can go look at them," I offered.

"Yippeee!" She shouted as she turned on the radio. "Thank You Lord," I quietly said to myself.

I pulled into the airport and saw Deputy Costa had arrived before us. We walked into the hanger where he greeted us and introduced Wade Lewis, the chief aircraft mechanic and de-facto airport manager. I explained I was with the US Attorney's office and Mandy was my fiancée who worked with me doing case research. I could see that Mr. Lewis was smitten. He briefly showed us around the hanger, giving the brief history of two vintage planes he was restoring, explaining the airfield was privately owned and home to about a dozen planes belonging to local pilots. I hadn't thought to see if Dr. Levi's Beechcraft Baron was parked on the field, not that I would know what it looked like. I asked Wade if it was here.

"It was here when I left work at five last night, but when I came to work this morning, I saw it was gone. He must have flown out before I got here," he said.

"Didn't he have to file a flight plan?" I asked, with the caveat I wasn't knowledgeable about aircraft flight rules.

"Depends on where he was going," Wade explained, "and whether he was flying IFR or VFR." This was Greek to me, and I asked him to explain.

"Instrument Flight Rules or Visual Flight Rules. To make it simple, Dr. Levi used to regularly fly to Dover Delaware on business. He would file the same flight plan each time because he was flying through metropolitan New York and Washington airspace. If I'm not here when they take off the pilots leave their flight plans in a lockbox outside the hanger door. I check it each morning when I get here. Today the box was empty."

"Wade, if Dr. Levi were flying from Great Barrington to say, northern West Virginia, would that be a non-stop flight? I asked.

"Sure," he answered. He has a beautiful Beechcraft Baron, twin engines. He could make that trip easily if he flew shortest route navigation."

"Wade, how well do you know Michael Balentine?" I asked.

"He's Dr. Levi's company pilot. Levi's in the medical equipment business he told me. Mike flies out of here regularly every two weeks, but he didn't show up yesterday as was his schedule. Later I heard he was one of the kids murdered in Pittsfield. Why do you ask?"

I looked over at Deputy Costa and he picked up my slack. "Wade, the authorities are looking into a report that the pill epidemic that's been killing kids may have an aviation angle to it. You told me when Mike comes back from a trip, there's some shady characters here waiting for him. And you said you had them on video. We want to see the video."

Wade balked. "I'm not sure I can do that Deputy. I don't want to get involved."

"Duly noted Wade. Now show us the video," Deputy Costa commanded.

We went into a side room where the video system was housed. I was impressed with the number of cameras in use and the area they covered. Wade looked first at the Deputy, then me, and finally Mandy.

She smiled and said, "It's OK, Wade, we really need to see what you found suspicious." He quickly relented and reached for a clipboard that had dates and times notated.

He logged into the system server and brought up the search menu. He entered a date and time and brought up a view of a van and car parked in the visitor area.

"This van has been showing up every return trip Mike has made for the past five or six months. It's usually the same driver," he explained. He moved the mouse and zoomed in on the rear license plate. The van was registered in New York. I pulled out my notebook and wrote down the plate number, as well as the date and time.

Wade brought up a different camera and advanced the video to ten minutes later. Two cars arrive and park next to the van. Two males, the driver a Hispanic, the passenger white, get out of a newer BMW. The other car, a Lincoln Navigator, carried one occupant, the driver. Wade zoomed in and I wrote down the Massachusetts license plates and date and time.

"Now watch this," Wade said as he switched to a general view of the airstrip. I quickly wrote down the date and time before he advanced the footage. It showed a twin-engine plane taxi to a stop and the pilot open a side door. The van and cars from the prior footage drive across the airfield coming to a stop at the plane. At this point Wade clicked pause.

"What's next is what I think is suspicious, he said as he looked at us, "and this has happened with each of Mike's arrivals for the past couple of months. He used the mouse to zoom in and clicked play.

We watched and saw that in the next seven minutes the men unloaded dozens of packages from the plane, some going into the van, the others divided between the two cars.

"That doesn't look like medical equipment to me," Deputy Costa remarked.

Our attention was distracted by a woman who entered the hanger carrying a large bakery box.

"Wade? Is everything all right?" Turning to the Deputy she asked, "Officer, is there a problem?"

Wade introduced the woman as Barbara Wellman, explaining she owned the airport. I introduced myself and Mandy and showed her my credentials. She looked surprised.

"Didn't I see you on the news? Didn't you get shot?"

I smiled and answered, "It was a close call, but fortunately he missed." I glanced over at Mandy and saw she was having a terror flashback. She recovered quickly, giving the woman a cold stare.

Barbara Wellman immediately apologized. "I'm sorry, how insensitive of me." Mandy acknowledged her with a weak smile.

"I inherited the airport when my father passed away two years ago," she explained. "Wade runs the day-to-day operations for me. How can we help you?"

I explained Deputy Costa's information of suspicious activity, and we were following up on it. Barbara looked over to Wade and asked, "Did you show them the video?" He hesitated for a moment and had a sheepish look. "Yes, he finally answered. "I wasn't sure what to do, but yes, I did."

"You did the right thing Wade," she assured him as she reached over and touched his arm." If Daddy were alive, he would have done the same thing."

Turning to me she asked, "Is this about the four kids who were murdered?" I answered it was.

"I imagine you want all of Wade's videos of those guys that Michael Balentine was working with, is that right?" she asked as she handed the bakery box to Wade. I saw Deputy Costa's eyes widen as he picked up on the fresh baked aroma.

"Áll of Wade's videos?" I asked for clarification.

She walked over to Wade and reassured him he was in no trouble. "I should explain," she said as she turned to me. "Wade brought his concerns to me about a month ago. We started saving video of the guys waiting for Michael to arrive with Dr. Levi's plane. I had Wade zoom in on the video to get their faces and the license plates on the cars. I'm no detective, but I can tell you these guys are up to no good. Wade has been saving still frames on a CD. I assume that's what you want."

"That's exactly what I want," I answered." Will you voluntarily turn the CD over to me?"

"If it will put an end to these senseless overdose deaths, yes I will. Where do I sign?"

I smiled and explained there would be no paperwork, provided all of us agreed the CD was being offered voluntarily. Barbara agreed, and Wade retrieved the CD from a locked drawer. He pushed it into the computer drive and quickly scrolled through the images.

They perfectly captured close-up full-face images of all the men. The driver of the Lincoln looked vaguely familiar to me, but I couldn't place him. Wade removed the CD and handed it to me.

I explained to Barbara we had another appointment in Great Barrington, thanked her, Wade, and Deputy Costa for their assistance and Mandy and I turned toward the door. As we did, I saw Barbara offer the Deputy a donut. I suspected he was going to be there for a while.

When we got to the car, I called Ira Grossman. He said he had spoken with Michael Balentine's mother and she would see us any time after one o'clock. It was an hour drive to Sharon, and if we left within the half hour, we would make our appointment. Ira gave me his office address and Mandy and I arrived there fifteen minutes later.

When I met Ira, I still couldn't place his face from law school. I introduced Mandy and explained our relationship. After I gave him an assurance the evidence against Agent Barden was strong, and glossed over his arrest by the Marshals, we headed out to Sharon, Connecticut.

Despite the winter weather the ride down Route 7 was scenic. A right turn onto Route 4 sent us up Sharon Mountain into the town center, dominated by the historic stone clock tower. Neither Mandy nor Ira had been here before and convinced me to stop for them to take photos, despite the freezing temperature. When they were done, I followed Ira's driving directions and pulled into Michael Balentine's mother's driveway.

We were greeted at the door by Michaels step-father, Willis Parker. I made our introductions and he showed us into the living room to meet with his wife.

Suzanne Parker was seated on a sofa, her face drawn, eyes red and puffy. I knew this was going to be hard for all of us.

Willis sat down next to her and took her hand. Ira Grossman sat on her other side and offered his hand and expressed his condolences for her loss. Mandy and I sat on a loveseat across from them.

"Are you sure Michael is dead?" She asked softly, her voice cracking. All eyes were on me.

"Yes, I'm sorry to inform you that fingerprints have confirmed his identity." She collapsed into her husband's arms, convulsing in her grief.

Mandy reached over and dug her nails into my arm. She was shaking and fighting back her own tears, Ira had the look he wished he was anywhere but in that room. I gave everyone a few moments to collect themselves.

Willis Parker got up, saying he would get his wife some water. She reached out as if to stop him, but he continued to the kitchen. Mandy stood and crossed the room and sat next to Suzanne, who buried her head in her arms.

Mandy amazed me as I watched her gently stroke Suzanne's hair, softly whispering words I couldn't hear. Willis returned with the water, and with shaking hands offered it to his wife. She was shaking too, Mandy took her hands and helped her bring the glass to her lips. Ira came and sat next to me, Willis took his seat. Michael was his step son, and I didn't know what their relationship was, but his grief was visible and sincere. No matter what wrongs Michael had done in his life, his family obviously loved him.

After a few more minutes Suzanne looked up at me and asked, "I knew that girl was trouble."

"What girl, Mrs. Parker?" I asked.

"His new girlfriend. He only brought her here once, a month or two ago, but one look at her I knew she was no good. I knew she was on drugs." Willis Parker nodded his agreement.

"Mrs. Parker, from what I've learned Michael had moved in with Anna Muranti, her grandfather is Congressman Pet..." Suzanne interrupted before I could get the name out.

"I know who he is," she said angrily. "He was on the news this morning saying this was all about him. He didn't care about his granddaughter or my son. I hate that man."

"Mrs. Parker, what do you know about Michael's work? He was a pilot, and I believe he was working for a healthcare company."

In almost a whisper she answered. "Yes, he graduated from Embry-Riddle pilot training in Virginia Beach and took extra classes for twin engine and instrument flights. He got his first job with a company called Marlana and was ecstatic with the money he was offered. He said he was flying medical equipment cargo."

"At first, he would call me very week and tell me how good he was doing, then the calls started to come less and less, and that's when I started to worry. When I met that girl, I knew..." her voice choked up, "I knew he was headed for trouble."

Willis Parker interrupted. "We've been watching the TV news, Mr. Richardson, and they're saying that Michael and his friends who were murdered with him were part of a drug ring. Is that true?" I saw the look on his wife's face was begging me to tell them that Michael wasn't on drugs.

"We don't have the results of the drug tests being done on their blood samples, but I'm thinking for Michael to be flying he knew he couldn't be impaired, especially when drug testing is part of the pilot licensing process. There's no evidence that Michael was using drugs," I explained.

I could see a trace of relief on Suzanne's face.

I continued, "I must be completely honest with you, though. There's mounting evidence that the people Michael was working for are involved in distributing illegal drugs, and I suspect that Michael knew that, and he may have been involved."

Suzanne Parker looked like she was going to faint. "I was afraid of that," she whispered. "I knew something wasn't right. You don't get paid a hundred thousand dollars a year to fly every other week as he told us."

"Mrs. Parker, I need to know more about the detective that visited you. You told Attorney Grossman that he said he was tracking down some equipment for Michaels employer, is that correct?"

"Yes."

"You said you watched the news about the arrest of the man that killed Michael and his friends. Did you see his picture on the news?

"We did," she and her husband answered together.

"Was he the detective that came to visit you?"

"No. It was another man."

Her answer was a curve ball I wasn't expecting.

I said I had no more questions, Ira took the opportunity to ask for a few minutes alone with his client. I agreed, Willis suggested he and his wife speak with Ira in the kitchen.

As they stood up Suzanne gave Mandy a long hug and thanked her for her kindness. After the others left the room she came over and sat next to me.

"I don't know how you do it," she said." You stay so calm when you tell a mother her son is dead, that he was probably a drug dealer. How do you do it?"

I just shrugged. "Speaking of mothers, you said yours called this morning. Everything okay up in Stowe?" I asked.

"No, she and Hansel are worried about us. Your adventure in Boston the other night made the national news, and they saw you get shot at."

Mandy had nicknamed her parents Hansel and Gretel after they retired, moved to Stowe Vermont, and bought a small chalet style house. "She asked me if you were going to keep working for the government like you are. She reminded me this is the second time in the six months we've been together that you've been shot at."

I was tempted to defend myself but figured "the third times a charm" comment wouldn't be in my best interest.

After fifteen minutes Ira and the Parkers returned to the living room. We said our goodbyes, headed back to Great Barrington, dropped Ira off at his office, and were back home in Stockbridge by four. There was no sign of Freddy Morton other than a large manila envelope he had left for me. I opened it and saw it contained the reports describing the assistance he provided to the investigation. As off the wall as he could be on any given day, Pat Collins a/k/a Freddy Morton did his job extremely well.

### CHAPTER 16

The next morning my common sense overrode my anger at Damian

and I called his office. "Daryl! I figured you'd call when you cooled off. I know you're pissed off, and I apologize for getting you upset." he offered as a weak apology. "How is Mandy doing?"

I explained she was frightened and upset when she saw the news stories about Barden's arrest, but she was doing better. I was hard pressed not to go off on him but; I realized there was always more than one side to a story.

"Daryl, I need your help," he continued. "Yesterday I spent an hour on the phone with the County Sheriff. He was livid no one briefed him on the case status before Barden's arrest and accused me of grandstanding and throwing his department under the bus. I apologized to him and explained there were aspects of the case that involved national law enforcement agencies that I wasn't at liberty to discuss in detail." I was tempted to say I knew the feeling, but I fought the urge.

"We talked it through", he explained, "and the bottom line is the Sheriff is on his way up here and we're going to hold a joint press conference at one this afternoon. Our public position will be that once we identified Barden as the alleged murderer, given his position as a

Federal law enforcement officer, and in the interest of public safety, we acted immediately to arrest him." I thought to myself, good luck with that when the local cops hear your explanation.

Damian continued. "We will further explain it was unfortunate the arrest occurred during the Congressman's campaign event and are grateful to the immediate response of the US Marshals when the suspect fired his weapon. We believe their swift action prevented harm to innocent civilians."

"Boss how are you going to reconcile the media's earlier report the prime suspect is comatose in an area hospital?" I asked.

"The Sheriff will announce that his Department's Task Force considers the hospitalized man a co-conspirator, based on their investigation, and an arrest is on hold due to his medical condition," he answered. "I know that's stretching the truth a bit, but it's an appeasement."

I didn't respond, and I still wanted to know specifically what the national law enforcement issues were.

"Daryl, we know the Task Force has a mole embedded, and whoever that is leaked the co-conspirator comatose story. We need to identify the mole. Secondly, I can tell you the Securities and Exchange Commission has been investigating this Marlana Holdings company you uncovered. I had contacted them when you first explained your theory they were a front for a drug trafficking ring, and I also wanted to know if the SEC felt their stock offering was a pump and dump scheme. Yesterday I received a written opinion stating the SEC examined Marlana's press releases and believes they fall under the protection of the Safe Harbors- Forward Looking disclosures. They added they need more time to research sales of the company stock by company directors, but their first impression is that he sales did not violate securities law. I'll email you the letter I received."

"Then Boss, what you're telling me is that the doctor who is the CEO of Colony Family Health, and owned a quarter million shares of Marlana that he may have sold, hasn't violated securities law?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's how it's looking at this point."

"If that's the case," I proffered, "it actually strengthens my theory that Marlana and its pharmaceutical subsidiary under the control of Dr. Levi are our primary drug trafficking target."

Yes," he responded, "I think that's where you need to focus your

investigation."

"I'm way ahead of you on that, Boss. Switch gears. What's Barden's status?" I asked.

"Barden? He's at the Detention Center on suicide watch. He went crazy when they booked him and hasn't stopped ranting since. I want to keep him on ice for another day or two before we try and interview him. And Daryl, the Justice Department is sending two of their Office of Professional Responsibility agents to conduct the interview. I hope you understand for whatever reason Barden has an intense hatred of you, and I can't put the two of you in the same room. In fact, I'm adding against him the charge of Attempted Murder of a Federal Law Enforcement Officer for the shot he fired at you in the hotel."

"Boss, that derails my ultimate objective in the case; Petrone. I know in my gut he ordered the murder of his granddaughter just as he had his son-in-law murdered, and I know why he did it. I don't want to disclose that to the OPR agents and run the risk they will inadvertently tip him off."

Damian was silent for a minute.

"Daryl, I may regret saying this, but I put you in charge of this investigation and I stand by your position. Do what you think is best and I'll hold back from the OPR your Petrone theory. And Daryl, I sincerely mean this, I apologize for the way I may have disrupted your and Mandy's lives."

I thanked him and ended the call. I went looking for Mandy and found her at the computer in her office. I asked what she was up to and she showed me how Freddy's stock screening program worked.

"Fred is brilliant!" she exclaimed. I've been trying to build up the Foundation portfolio to increase revenue and this program he designed has opened up a whole new world for me." I was relieved to see her comfortably back in her element, and suggested she not do anything rash to make Warren Buffet jealous of her. She politely told me to get along on my merry way and dismissed me.

As I was leaving her office, I said I wanted to meet up with Matt Holcomb, she dismissed me again, this time with an exaggerated wave.

I called Matt and he quickly warned me not to come to the Sheriff's Office because the media was camped out in front. He agreed to meet me at the coffee shop in Stockbridge that Lyndsey had recommended the week before.

Half an hour later Matt pulled into the parking lot and we went inside and took a table in a corner. "How are you holding up?" he asked. I told him I was fine, and over coffee and pastries I brought him up to speed, starting with Damian's decision to push forward Barden's arrest, how I laid out probable cause in my warrant application, and my still unresolved concern of who made the decision to bring into the case the US Marshals who made the arrest. He listened intently and asked no questions.

"Daryl, it sounds to me there were some backdoor politics involved. I mean, Barden getting arrested at the rally was sure to enrage Petrone. I don't know if you caught his press conference the day after, but he attacked everybody involved and claimed he had been targeted for assassination, and then he claimed Barden was the assassin sent in by the FBI. The man is out of his mind." I nodded I agreed and added my belief Petrone is dangerous.

I asked where our task force was at in their investigations, he admitted they were at a standstill waiting for direction from me. I was disappointed that Matt didn't have presence of mind to step up and take the lead, but I let it pass. He said he had a search warrant for Anna Muranti's apartment in Pittsfield. I interrupted and explained how I learned from his mother that Michael Balentine had moved in with her, my suspicion Michael may have some drugs stashed at the apartment and more importantly, Michael's computer and personal paperwork may provide us some leads on his activities when he flew down south.

Matt confirmed he had included what I had instructed in the items to be seized description, and said he was just waiting for the go ahead order from me.

"Go ahead!" I said. "Send three or four members of the task force and make sure at least one of them is a Mass Trooper and another the Pittsfield PD liaison. He agreed and said he would give the order today.

I asked about the status of the brother of most recent OD victim, Karen Miller. He said I was referring to Billy Miller and told me the detectives that executed the search warrant at the Miller house had drawn up an arrest warrant application charging Billy with manslaughter for his sister's death, and possession of narcotics with intent to sell for the pills they found stashed in the backyard woodpile He said they were sitting on the application pending working out an agreement with Billy's lawyer to consent to an interview.

Again, I wasn't happy with the task force putting something on hold waiting to be told what to do. I needed to get them involved; quickly.

I explained my concerns about the strategy. We had 'tips' to a high school resource officer that Billy was dealing pills, but not corroboration, and I doubted the tipsters' parents would agree to have their kids provide written statements. We had no proof that Billy provided his sister and her boyfriend the pills that killed them. The best we had was the neighbor who saw Billy hide a box in the woodpile that the detectives later recovered and found the pills. I suggested Matt contact the District Attorney and seek his agreement that our plan would be for Billy to consent to an interview and acknowledge the pills were his and disclose in writing his supplier. In return, the Commonwealth would not pursue the manslaughter charge but accept a nolo-contendere plea to possession of narcotics with intent to sell. I stressed to Matt the importance of getting us into the pill supply chain, but ultimately, it was the decision of the District Attorney. Matt thought about what I was saying and agreed

I asked him to switch gears and explained my visit to the airport in Great Barrington. His eyes widened as I said I had some surveillance photos on a CD-R, and my suspicions the persons pictured were part of the pill distribution chain.

Matt said he had his laptop in his unmarked car and I suggested we look at the photos to see if he recognized the men. He agreed, I picked up our check and we went out to his car. He inserted the disc and after viewing the first three photos he said they weren't familiar. He gasped when he saw the fourth.

"I don't believe it! It can't be," he exclaimed as he turned and looked at me. "Don't you recognize him Daryl?" I said he looked vaguely familiar but couldn't attach the face to a name.

"Detective Ricky Belair. He's on our task force!" Then it hit me. He was at our first task force meeting and was the one who kept rolling his eyes when Damian spoke.

"I think you just put a name to our mole, Matt. Who is this guy?"

"He's from a small upstate PD and is assigned to the Northwest region drug task force. I don't know much about him other than the few times we've spoken he seemed arrogant. I think he originally was with NYPD.

"Daryl, one of the pictures you passed over showed him getting out of an SUV, go back to that so I can get the license plate. I'll run it and see who it comes back to."

"No Matt!" If that's his undercover car it will send a hit message to the drug task force and tip him off. Hang on, I have an idea."

I pulled out my phone and called Freddy Morton. When he answered I asked if he was near his computer, he said he was. I told him we may have made an ID on an intelligence leak in our task force and asked if there was any way he could run the plate without triggering a notice to the assigned PD if it was an undercover car. He laughed and told me he and Frank Paris, his partner in Covert Ops, were on the team that wrote the computer code for the notification program. He said he still had administrator rights as a programmer and he could access the list of all license plates in the system without activating an alarm. This guy never ceased to amaze me. I read him the plate number and waited. A few minutes later he reported his finding.

"Officially, DMV has it coming back to a William Capone, 262 Midway Drive, Fulton, Mass. That's his alias registration. Actually, the 2017 Lincoln Navigator is registered to Mass State Police NW Region UC. That's the coding we used for the drug squad cars. UC stands for undercover."

"Freddy, you're the best," I complemented him.

"I know, scary, huh?" he said. "If you need anything else just call."

After I ended the call, I asked Matt where Fulton was. He said it was north of Pittsfield on the Mass-New York border, about a half hour east of Albany.

"What do we do now, Daryl?" he asked.

"I'm not sure Matt." I need to get ahold of Major Prince. If I'm not mistaken the drug squads are under his command. I'll let you know what he says. In the meantime, get moving on the search warrant and see if you can interview Billy Miller. We need him to roll over on his supplier. That will break this drug trafficking case wide open, and I want the local task force to be the ones to do it." He agreed, and we went our separate ways.

As I pulled onto Main Street, I looked down at the offices of Berkshire Law. On an impulse I decided to ask Judge Moran for some advice. I was setting my sights on Congressman Petrone, but first I had to bring down Tony Banacci and Dr. Howard Levi. I had to get this right.

### CHAPTER 17

I checked in with the receptionist and a few minutes later Judge Moran came into the waiting room to greet me. I explained I wanted to run some things by him and we went into his office.

"Judge, I spoke with Damian this morning, and from information he gave me, I want you to know that I'm satisfied there is no evidence to support a finding that your client Dr. Culhane has any involvement with illegal trafficking of opioids.

"I'm relieved to hear that Daryl, but frankly, I'm not surprised. Related to that, does he have any exposure to prosecution for his investment in Marlana Holdings?"

The Judge's question took me by surprise, but by quickly thinking it through, I realized he too may have wondered if the stock promotion and share price runup was a scam.

"From what Damian told me, the stock was promoted based on the potential to increase value through the affiliation between Colony Health and Everest Behavioral. That occurred, the stock price increased significantly," I responded."

"I understand," he said. "Now what do we need to discuss?"

I explained I was confident we had Barden as the murderer, but I needed to establish his motive.

"And what do you think his motive was," he asked.

"He was paid by Congressman Petrone to murder his granddaughter, whose drug addiction he viewed as a threat to his reputation and a barrier to his seeking higher political office," I said.

Judge Moran looked shocked. "That's an inflammatory accusation Daryl, and I would imagine difficult if not impossible to prove."

"What makes it plausible Judge, would be me getting Barden's murder co-conspirator Tony Banacci to admit Petrone ordered the girl killed just as Petrone ordered him to kill her father murdered several years ago."

The normally stone-faced Judge Forrest Moran now looked stunned and sat staring at me. He recovered a few moments later.

"Daryl, I saw on the news that this man Banacci is in a coma. How do you expect to interview him? And do you really think he'll admit to committing murder?"

"He's out of the coma Judge. The State Police put a blackout on reporting any condition updates so as far as the public knows, he's still comatose and expected to die. He's conscious, but still critical."

"Daryl, from what I read in the paper this man Banacci has an extensive record for violent crimes and is reportedly an organized crime enforcer and hitman. That goes against his credibility on any statement he may make, and I would think that's a tough obstacle to overcome."

"As a judge, would you think his admission he was involved in five murders satisfy you he was credible?" I asked.

After reflection the Judge answered. "It very well might satisfy me if there was disclosure of facts only the murderer or co-conspirator would know."

I stood up and reached over his desk to shake his hand. "Thank You Judge, that's the advice I needed. I started to leave his office when he called out to me.

"Daryl, please be careful. I think you're playing with fire if you go after Congressman Petrone. Be careful my friend."

I thought to myself, not if, but when I go after him, and departed Berkshire Law. I got in my car and sat there as the heater began its work. I needed to decide on who to go after first.

As I waited for the heat, I had an incoming call from the Great Barrington Airport. I answered, it was Deputy Phil Costa. Fate would make my decision for me.

"Daryl, I'm over at the airport with Wade Lewis. He called me with some information you may find interesting."

"What's that, Phil?"

"Wade said Dr. Levi called him from Dover Delaware and said he was forced to land because of a problem with his plane. He said the airport there was making a temporary repair, and he wanted Wade to order a part for him and be available to install it, so he can make a quick turnaround and fly out tomorrow afternoon."

"Is that unusual Phil?"

"It's not the mechanical problem that's unusual. Wade said Levi told him he was bringing in some important cargo his people were expecting, and he asked Wade to tell them when they show up that his arrival was delayed two hours, and he's now expected to land around four-thirty. He said he left them a phone message but he's not sure they got it. Daryl, his important cargo may be what you're after."

I had to think fast. "Phil, put Wade on the phone."

"Hello?"

"Wade, I need you to do what Dr. Levi asked of you. Can you do that for me?" The long pause before he answered told me he was nervous.

"Wade! I need your help with this. Can you do it?"

"Yeah, I'll do it. But I can't get involved, you know. I have a family to think about."

"Okay Wade, great. Thanks. I give you my word once you deliver the message you can go back into your shop."

"Okay Mr. Richardson, I'll do it."

"Wade, one more thing. What time do you think Levi will touch down?"

He thought for a minute and I could hear him thinking out loud. "I would guess around four-thirty", he said.

"Great, thanks Wade. Put the Deputy back on the phone."

"Yeah Daryl," Phil answered.

"Phil, two things. First, does your department have drug detection dogs?"

"We do Daryl. Two of them. In fact, Deputy Reuben Bannon is working the day shift with his K-9, Olex."

"Okay, second, after we hang up I need you to get Wade to clear out some space inside his hanger, I want to conceal a few vehicles inside this afternoon.'

"Will do Daryl."

I pulled out my notebook and looked up the license plate I had noted was on the BMW that Wade filmed waiting for Michael Balentine to land at the airport two weeks ago. I called Freddy and breathed a sigh of relief when he answered.

"Freddy, kick it into overdrive. Can you access the DMV database?"

"I sure can Boss, bringing it up now. Okay, I'm online. What do you need?"

"I need registered owner info," I said and read him the plate number.

After a few seconds he responded, "And the lucky contestant is Miguel Santolo- Alveras out of Springfield Mass." A few seconds later he added, "Uh Oh! Bad Boy! Bad Boy!"

"Freddy, what do you mean, bad boy?"

"Seems as if Miguel has a boatload of warrants out for his arrest. Stand by a second. Okay, Miguel is wanted for possession of narcotics with intent to sell, sale of narcotics, operating a drug factory, failure to appear. Those are Springfield warrants. In Holyoke he's wanted for sale of narcotics, possession of narcotics, possession of an automatic weapon, assault with intent to commit murder. Like I said Daryl, Bad Boy!"

"Got it Freddy, thanks, I'll fill you in later. Keep close to your phone."

I called Matt Holcomb, when he answered he said he was putting together the team to execute the search warrant at Anna Muranti's apartment. I told him I didn't want to postpone that and to give them the go signal.

"Matt, I just got a reliable tip that Howard Levi will be landing at the airport around four thirty and I believe he's bringing in a shipment of pills. I need you to have your drug detection dog and a tactical team if you can put one together to be at the airfield before he lands. I expect the same guys that we have on video will be waiting for him. That would include our mole if my hunch is right. And Matt, at least one of Levi's people is wanted for drug and weapons charges."

"Daryl, it's twelve-fifteen now, I'll call Major Prince and see if the State Police can send over their Emergency Response Team to back us up. Where can we meet to stage and hold a briefing?"

I told him we would conceal the search team inside the hanger and might be able to move the SWAT team in there as well. I added that to be safe we needed to have our teams in place by two pm to avoid tipping our hand, and emphasized it had to be a low-key approach through town into the airport." He said he understood and would get right on it.

I started the drive to the airport, fighting my adrenaline flow to keep my speed within the limit. I settled down and realized I had enough time to set everything up and pulled into the parking lot of a deli and picked up a coffee and buttered Portuguese roll. I figured if I got shot it wouldn't be on an empty stomach. As I walked back out to my car, I thought I should call Mandy and vaguely tell her I had some case developments to work on all afternoon. As I slid into the driver's seat I decided against calling. There would be no fooling Ms. Mandy Simmons if I tried to be vague with her.

I sat in my car eating the roll when I saw an incoming call marked RESTRICTED. I answered, it was Chief Deputy Sheriff Caswell.

"Daryl! I'm here with Matt Holcomb on speaker phone. What the hell are you trying to do to with my Department?"

"Chief, I'm asking them to gear up to dismantle the drug trafficking gang that's been killing your young people," I calmly answered.

His moments of silence told me I had hit home with him.

"What do you need me to do, Daryl?"

"I need you to take command Chief. This is your Department's opportunity to show your communities you aren't going to allow these deaths to continue Your people deserve the chance to do it, and I want them to have it."

"Matt said you identified our mole as Detective Belair?" he asked.

"That's correct Chief. We can't let him get wind of this. If he's what I think he is, he'll show up at the airport to collect his cut of the drugs. I think he's dirty, Chief."

"I agree with that," he said. "But Daryl, I can't have what happened in Boston with Barden happen here. This must be our show. Our arrests. I already spoke with Rich Prince and made that clear. He said I had no argument from him."

"You have no argument from me either. I know this is short notice and is killing your staffing, that's why we need Rich to send down his SWAT team."

"Okay Daryl, we're straight. I tried to reach the Sheriff, but he's in Boston with Damian Costigan getting ready for a press conference about Barden's arrest."

"Right Chief, Damian briefed me on that. You need to know that one of this gang, Miguel Santolo-Alveras, is a real bad ass. Run his rap sheet."

"Where can we meet Daryl? I have my Lieutenant mobilizing our Response Team but that's only five officers, and I need for us to work out the takedown plan."

"I'm heading down to the airport right now Chief, we can meet there."

"All right, I'll be down within the hour," he said and ended the call.

I finished my snack and pulled back onto Route 7. A few minutes later I saw an incoming call from Mandy. I hesitated at first, but knew I had to answer.

"Hi Hon. What's up?" I asked.

"What's up? You tell me Little Boy," she said in an obvious accusatory tone. "I just got a call from Kristin Holcomb. She's off today and said she heard on her husband's scanner the Sheriffs are calling out their SWAT team. I know you Daryl, and I know that you have something to do with this and I want the truth this time." There was no doubt in my mind, she was angry.

"Mandy, I got a tip that a shipment of drugs may be coming into the airport this afternoon. If my hunch is right, we may be able to put an end to the drug trafficking that's causing all the overdoses."

"I'm coming down there Daryl."

'No Mandy, you can't do that, this is going to be dangerous."

"Oh yes I can Mister, and I will. I'm not going to be a widow before I'm even married. I want you to know I'll be watching you and maybe this time you won't put yourself in a situation to get shot at."

"All right Mandy, I'm too busy to argue. If you want to come here, fine. But I'm telling you right now, when I tell you to go somewhere safe, I want no arguments. Promise me you'll do what I tell you."

"I promise, I'm on my way," she said and ended the call.

As I drove, I had the feeling I may have made the biggest mistake in my life, but it was too late now, I just had to deal with it.

When I arrived at the airport, I saw there was a second parking area on the far side of the building, presumedly for the employees and pilots. I pulled in and was satisfied it couldn't be seen from the small visitor's lot. Perfect to conceal five or six more cars I thought.

I went into the hanger and saw Wade Lewis talking with airport owner, Barbara Wellman. They acknowledged me, and I saw the serious looks on their faces.

"Mr. Richardson, Wade has explained what you're planning on doing and I must admit, I want to cooperate, but I'm really nervous."

"Barbara, please don't be formal, call me Daryl. I know this is a huge imposition on you and your business, but we have to put a stop to these drug deaths."

"I know Daryl, I know. But will you have enough people here to deal with any trouble that might happen?"

"Yes" I answered, "We'll have both the State and County SWAT teams in place. They're highly trained and professional. The County Chief Deputy Sheriff is on his way down here and we'll put together our plan for when Dr. Levi lands. If you don't want to be here this afternoon I completely understand."

"Oh, I'm not going anywhere. This is my business and I'm not going to allow it to be used by criminals. I'm staying. I can lock myself in the tower and watch," she said with obvious determination in her voice.

Wade spoke up. "Actually Barb, you can monitor the radar and alert us when Dr. Levi starts his final approach." She agreed and said she was going upstairs. I stopped her midway.

"Barbara, I have a small problem. My fiancee Mandy, you met her the other day, well, she got wind of what we're planning to do this afternoon and she insists on being here. After what happened to me in Boston last week, she's been, well, worried and emotionally fragile I guess is the way to describe it."

Barbara Wellman looked at me and smiled. "That's not being emotionally fragile Daryl, that's being in love. You said she works as your assistant, let her assist by keeping me company." I agreed and thanked her as she turned and headed to the tower.

I looked around the hanger workshop and saw Wade had moved the two project planes aside, making space to fit both the SWAT trucks and three or four more vehicles.

I told Wade when the officers arrived if any of the pilots or other visitors saw the police activity and asked questions, he should say it was a police training exercise. I reassured him if Levi's associates arrived early and he had to talk with them, the police would cover him every step of the way. He looked relieved and I had a feeling he was getting into his role better than I thought he would.

Wade and I went outside, he showed me where Dr. Levi would taxi and park his plane. It was closer to the building than I would have thought. I saw a car pull into the visitor lot and park, Chief Deputy Caswell stepped out and walked over to us. After introducing Wade, I explained we needed to put his car out of sight and Wade directed him to the far side lot. When the Chief returned, we went inside. Wade showed him the shop layout and when we finished; we sat down at a worktable to devise our plan. We agreed the SWAT teams needed to be in position not later than two pm in case Levi's associates didn't get the delayed arrival message. Any additional officers needed to arrive quietly in unmarked cars and park on the far side of the building. I didn't want a convoy of police rolling down Main Street.

Wade interrupted and said there was a four-bay garage on the other side of the hanger he used to house his maintenance vehicles. He suggested he would move the vehicles out and stage them to appear they were clearing snow. The police cars could then park inside, out of sight.

Chief Caswell had it in his head he would post SWAT snipers on the hanger rooftop, I was uneasy with that. I turned to Wade and asked, "When a plane lands here, would they normally be able to see the hanger rooftop?"

"Yeah," he answered. "There's really nothing up there for your guys to hide behind. How exactly do you plan on arresting them? I mean, as soon as the plane lands?" Chief Caswell looked over at me and I realized he didn't have an answer. I had a suggestion.

"Chief, I think we should look at the video Wade has of the last landing that Michael Balentine made. We can get a feel for how they unload the cargo and what they do with it."

"I'm interested to see where Michael is standing while that's happening. The last thing we want is for Levi to be inside the plane and try to take off when we move in for the arrests."

"Daryl aren't you forgetting something?" the Chief asked. "We don't have a search warrant. You said, 'When we move in for the arrest.' What are we arresting them for? Removing cargo that may or may not contain narcotics?"

"No, Chief. My plan would be to watch them load the cargo into their cars first. As they start to drive off, that's when we move in. We know there's warrants out for the BMW owner, Miguel Santolo. We have probable cause to detain him to verify his ID. We can search his car pursuant to his arrest. That's when your drug dogs will come into play. If they alert for drugs that's additional validation of our probable cause."

I continued, "If we come up with the drugs I think we will, we'll have probable cause to arrest and search the others and their cars. We can make a strong case they were co-conspirators. Even better, this will all be on video."

"All right." the Chief said, "but I'm concerned if our mole Detective Belair shows up, he'll be armed. We must contain and disarm him quickly."

"Agreed, Chief, and remember this Santolo guy has a history of weapons crimes. If I had to bet, I'd say he'll be armed. In fact, we need to assume they're all armed, and that includes Levi."

Our planning was interrupted when we heard the hanger door open. We looked over and I saw it was Mandy. She was dressed as if she were arriving at a Berkshire winter casual-chic fashion show. I couldn't hide my concern thinking today was going to be an education for her.

"Chief, you remember my fiancée Mandy? She's going to sit with the airport owner in the tower for moral support." I explained. I could see from the look on the Chief and Wade's faces they were impressed by Mandy's look. She came over and gave me a quick hug and smiled as she shook Wade's hand first, then the Chief's.

Behind us we heard Barbara Wellman come down the stairs from the tower and I introduced her to the Chief, explaining she owned the airport. Mandy reached out her hand and greeted her.

I asked Mandy for her car keys and explained I would move to a safer spot on the other side of the building. As she handed them to me Barbara reached out and guided her to the stairs. "We're going to keep each other company in the tower Mandy, I have tea and coffee if you'd like some," she said as they went up the stairs.

My cellphone beeped, and I saw it was Matt Holcolmb. "Daryl, I'm at Anna Muranti's condo with the warrant team. We made entry, but someone beat us to it. The place is ransacked." he announced.

"Ransacked? Matt, I'm with Chief Caswell and am going to put you on speaker. Okay, go ahead Matt."

"It's a ground floor unit," he continued. "Someone kicked in the back door and tore the place apart. Dresser drawers, cabinets, cushions ripped from the living room chairs, closets ransacked. Whoever did this was obviously searching for something. We called the local PD for backup and a neighborhood canvas. Maybe we'll get lucky and find someone who saw something." Chief Caswell looked over to me, his disappointment was obvious.

"Matt, see if you can find anything obvious that the burglar would have touched and left their prints. If it looks like they wore gloves don't waste all day processing the place. We're looking for the things listed in your warrant. Any computers still there?'

"There's a laptop that was smashed on the floor. The screen is broken off," he answered.

"Seize it anyway," I instructed him. "We can still pull the hard drive. And Matt, do a thorough search. I know you said the place is torn apart but look past that. Search everywhere, bedrooms, bathrooms, toilet tank, stove drawers, oven, refrigerator, freezer." Finally, he said, "OK, I'll see what we can do," and ended the call.

A few minutes later Major Rick Prince arrived and greeted me. "I parked out front, is there anywhere I can put my cruiser that's less visible?" he asked. Wade spoke up and said he would show him the side lot and said while he was outside, he would clear out the equipment garage for the others to park.

When he returned, Chief Caswell and I briefed the Major on our plan and he agreed it seemed we had covered the bases.

He took a brief call on his cellphone and when it ended, he said the State SWAT truck was approaching the city business district and he had instructed them to make a low-profile drive through town. He excused himself and stood by the hanger door to await them.

Chief Caswell made a call, when he finished, he advised his Response Team van would approach the airport using secondary roads to avoid the center of town. Twenty minutes later we had both emergency vehicles concealed and a force of twelve tactical officers with us. We briefed the officers on our plan, answered their few questions and placed them on standby. Now all we had to do was wait.

I went upstairs to the tower to check on Mandy, finding it to be more of a large cupola structure reminiscent of a Victorian widow's walk than an airport tower. It did however serve the purpose of providing a wide- angle unobstructed view of the airfield. I went up to Mandy and rubbed her shoulder, asking how she was doing. "This is exciting!" She said enthusiastically. "We saw the SWAT men arrive and we're watching the radar for the plane. There's not much action though." I looked over at Barbara Wellman who was grinning." Mandy and I have been getting acquainted," she remarked. "And from what she's been telling me about your work, you can be a handful Mr. Richardson!" I defended myself my telling her I never said I was perfect. Mandy reached over and squeezed my hand. "No, but I look at you as my work in progress. You're getting there though, Little Boy," she said with a giggle.

I told her to stay put, behave, not to break anything, and went back downstairs satisfied she was safe.

I looked at my watch and realized it was a few minutes past two. If Dr. Levi's associates were going to arrive at his original landing time, they would be here very shortly.

As two-thirty came and went we assumed the associates had received the message he was delayed. At least I hoped that was the reason and not that our information was a false alarm. At twenty minutes past four my growing concern was resolved. The BMV registered to Miguel Santolo pulled into the visitor parking lot, followed five minutes later by a white van and Lincoln Navigator. It was showtime.

Chief Caswell took command and staged the SWAT teams inside the closed hanger door.

Wade Lewis was positioned at the door control panel ready to open it on Caswell's command. SWAT would use their trucks to block the visitor lot exit and extract the occupants from the vehicles. Now it was a waiting game as the women upstairs watched the radar screen.

Barbara Wellman's voice startled us as we heard her announce over the shop intercom, "Incoming aircraft over the outer marker descending from nine-hundred feet." Chief Caswell and I looked over at Wade. "The outer marker is seven miles out from the field, he's coming in on his final approach," he explained. I looked at my watch, it was four-thirty-eight.

Again, Barbara's voice gave an update; "Over the inner marker, altitude three-hundred. I have a visual." Wade interpreted for us. "He's one thousand feet from the end of the runway and descending."

There was a small window in the shop area that looked out at the airstrip. The Chief Deputy and I craned our necks to share the view of the plane touching down. I know nothing about makes and models, but this twin-engine craft looked sleek and brand new. We watched as it taxied and came to a stop in a snow-plowed area just off the runway. The three cars in the visitor lot drove up to it. Chief Caswell called out and raised his hand instructing the lead SWAT driver and Wade to hold their positions. We watched as the side door of the plane slid open and stairs dropped down.

The pilot, a slightly built man I assumed was Dr. Howard Levi, stepped down and waved the men over. We watched as the male passenger from the BMW went inside and moments later started handing packages to the others. From what we could see from our vantage point, the freight didn't appear large or heavy.

The BMW driver carried an armful to his car and opened the trunk placing his load inside. We saw the Lincoln driver take two boxes, open the hatch on the SUV and store them. More boxes were loaded in the van. I tried counting them as they were being removed but lost track. It appeared that at least forty or fifty were unloaded. I could feel my heart was beating faster.

Chief Caswell again repeated his hold command to SWAT and at that moment I realized the shop was filling with diesel exhaust fumes from the SWAT trucks. Wade must have realized the problem as I did and ran over to a control panel and turned on a fan system. Almost immediately we could sense the air was clearing.

As the fan started two of the three men looked over at the hanger, exchanged some words and went back to their unloading. They finished, and we saw the BMW driver hand the pilot an envelope that he quickly pushed into his pocket.

The BMW occupants returned to their car, the pilot I believed to be Levi joined the Lincoln's driver. Both cars backed around and started toward the parking area. Chief Caswell yelled, "EXECUTE! NOW!"

Wade opened the hanger door and the SWAT trucks raced into the parking lot and cut the cars off. They both slammed on the brakes. The action that followed was incredible. The SWAT teams stormed out of the trucks and we heard them screaming, "POLICE! SHOW YOUR HANDS! SHOW YOUR HANDS!" as they rushed the cars with automatic weapons pointed at the occupants. Chief Caswell and I ran out the door toward the confrontation.

The male passenger in the BMW jumped out, started to run, fell in the snow, got up, and started to run again. The Deputy K-9 handler who had run outside behind the SWAT trucks released his dog from the leash. In less than ten seconds the animal overtook the man and with a magnificent flying leap sunk its teeth into his arm, dragging him to the ground. The man's screams of fright and pain were probably heard up in Stockbridge.

SWAT rushed the BMW and violently dragged the driver out, threw him to the ground and quickly handcuffed him. I saw an UZI style machine gun he must have been holding on his lap fall from the car and heard a SWAT Officer scream "GUN" as he immediately secured the weapon and raised it in the air.

The van driver leaped out with his hands raised, screaming "Don't Shoot!" He was quickly thrown to the ground, and cuffed.

The Lincoln driver opened his door with his hand raised waving a badge, yelling "POLICE, DON'T SHOOT." I watched as Major Prince and two SWAT Deputies rushed the man. Prince ripped the badge from his hand and with a fist to the side of his head knocked him to the ground. A SWAT officer quickly handcuffed and patted hm down. He found Belair's gun and raised it in the air, yelling "CLEAR." Dr. Levi was dragged from the car, thrown to the ground and cuffed. I glanced at him and saw he looked as if he was in shock.

The K-9 Deputy calmly walked over to his four- legged partner's prisoner and had to forcibly rip the dog away to release his bite. The man continued with pitiful screams as he was handcuffed and searched, his down filled jacket sleeve torn to shreds, the remnants bloodied and dripping.

I turned around to see who I could get to call 911 for an ambulance and saw Barbara, Mandy, and Wade standing in the hanger doorway. Each SWAT team called out "SECURE" and I was thankful the first part of our plan was successful without having to fire a shot.

I yelled for Wade to call 911 for the dog bite prisoner and started back to the hanger. Mandy was standing there holding her head in her hands, a stunned look on her face. I put my hands on her shoulders and asked if she was all right. She nodded yes but didn't say anything. It was freezing outside, and I ushered her and Barbara into the hanger. I asked Barbara if Howard Levi was the passenger in the SUV. she confirmed he was. Wade walked over and advised EMS was enroute for the dog bite suspect.

The second Sheriff K-9 Deputy approached me and asked how I wanted to handle the drug search as his partner sniffed me up and down. When he licked my hand, I assumed I had passed his scrutiny.

Chief Caswell called for cruisers to contain the prisoners and between the Sheriffs and local PD we had enough cars that each man in custody had a separate vehicle. I was tempted to introduce myself to Dr. Levi but decided to wait.

An ambulance and EMTs arrived at the scene and began treatment of the dog-bite prisoner. After an exam they advised he needed stiches and they would transport him to the hospital. Caswell assigned a Deputy to ride in the ambulance, another to follow behind it.

Major Prince, the Chief Deputy and I conferred and agreed we would search the BMW first. The K-9 officer deployed his dog and as we opened the trunk the animal leaped inside and started pawing the boxes with vigor. "He's alerted," the Deputy announced. The Major removed a package and held it in one hand showing us it was light. He cut it open and revealed it was packed with pill tablets. Another Deputy produced surgical gloves and Prince instructed him to field test a pill.

The Deputy carefully broke off a small piece, dropped it in the tester and shook it. The reaction was immediate and intense in color. Positive for opiates.

We decided the prisoners would all be transported to the Sheriff's Department for processing on the charge of Possession of Narcotics with intent to sell. The local PD agreed to assist.

The suspect's cars would be brought inside the hanger and thoroughly searched. I especially wanted to see what was in the boxes our task force mole Detective Ricky Belair had taken, and I couldn't wait to hear his story.

I went over to Mandy who was inside the hanger warming herself in front of a large propane heater. I looked around and realized she was providing a pleasant distraction to the SWAT teams who had brought their trucks inside to stow their equipment. I couldn't blame them.

I said it was getting dark out and suggested she head back to Stockbridge. To my relief she didn't argue, and I walked her to her car after Wade turned on the outside lighting system. At her car, I fished her keys out of my pocket and handed them to her,

"Thank You for letting me watch this Daryl, I have a whole new understanding of what you do. I'm happy your plan worked." I didn't comment.

She pressed the remote starter, stopped, and turned to me.

"I love you Little Boy," she said as she gave me a soft kiss. "Don't be too late tonight. I have plans for us." I watched as she drove off.

I promised myself I wouldn't be late.

### CHAPTER 18

I started my Challenger and drove around to the visitor parking area. The SWAT trucks had moved out of the hanger and deputies were in the process of bringing the suspect's cars inside. I turned the heater up in my car and checked my phone. I had forgotten I had turned the ringer off and saw I had missed three calls from Matt Holcomb. I called his cell, he answered immediately.

"Daryl! We've been monitoring the radio traffic and heard the news from the airport. You did it! Congratulations!"

"Thanks, Matt, but it was your Department that did it, not me. They did a superb job, all of them."

"Well, it wouldn't have happened without you. Thanks again. I have some news too, but first a question."

"Sure, ask away," I offered.

"How did you know we should look in the refrigerator when we searched Anna's apartment?" His question surprised me, but I had a belief there was some truth in the adage 'history repeats itself.'

"Something I learned the hard way when I was a rookie patrolman and went on my first drug raid. Why?" I asked.

"We found two plastic bags full of pills hidden in the vegetable drawer of Anna's fridge. They were packaged in smaller bags of five, ten and twenty pills, obviously set up for sale."

"The field tests we did were positive for opioids, and we estimate we have a little under three hundred pills. And Daryl, the pills have the same 'M' symbol stamped on them that we found on the pills we seized from the woodpile at Billy Miller's house."

"Excellent work Matt. The dots are starting to connect."

'We also found a few dirty syringes and empty glassine bags in the trash can under the sink. We tested the residue on one and it's heroin," he added.

"Anna," I said to myself, as I shook my head.

"Any luck on witnesses to the break-in?" I asked.

"Maybe. The condo complex across the street has a camera that looks at street parking. The building manager let us look at the video and we saw a glimpse of an SUV passing by three or four times before it parks, a white male gets out, and appears to walk to the rear of Anna's building. We couldn't get a plate number on the SUV but one of my guys said it looks like an Escalade or similar high-end car."

"Matt, we need a copy of that video. I'll check with Fred Morton to see if that's possible. If so, I'll have him go with one of your people to give it a try."

"Okay, great, I'll talk to you in the morning." he said, and we ended the call.

I went inside the hanger and Major Rich Prince called me over to where he was standing talking with Chief Deputy Caswell. "Daryl, we've noticed that all the boxes have markings on them and we think it's a code for the contents."

We walked over to a folding table Wade had set up for us. "Here, look at this," the Major said as he picked up a box. This is marked 'O/C/P- 30.' We crushed a tablet, and the field test for opiates was positive. We're thinking O/C/P stands for oxycodone, the 30 is the strength in milligrams. We don't know what the 'P' means.

"How many pills are in each box?" I asked.

"We haven't counted a bag yet," he answered," but there were five bags in this box, maybe two hundred pills per bag, so my guess is a thousand pills per box."

"And how many boxes do we have, Rich?"

"Marked like these boxes? Thirty-five."

"Thirty-five thousand pills," I said, That's insane."

"It gets better, Daryl," he said as he motioned us over to another table. "These are the two boxes we took out of our mole Ricky Belair's SUV. You can see they're marked with 'F/P.' We opened one and it's a bag with white powder. We made a tiny hole in the bag to get a sample and tested it. It's fentanyl."

"Rich, make sure your guys handle these boxes with care," I cautioned.

"Way ahead of you Daryl. I read where a three-milligram dose of this stuff can be fatal. One of our SWAT team spent a few years with the narcotics task force. He suggested I call our Haz Mat Trooper to get some advice on handling. I left him a phone mail a few minutes ago, he said backing away from the box."

"Any guess on the value for all this?" I asked.

Major Prince called over the SWAT member he mentioned and asked him. He said on the street the oxycodone currently averaged twenty dollars a tab for thirty milligrams. We asked him about pure fentanyl, and he had to think for a moment. He answered the last he knew, the cartels distributing fentanyl were getting about six thousand dollars a kilo, a little over two pounds. The buyer, after cutting the kilo with heroin and a filler substance could reap well over one million dollars in street sales after they cut it two or three times. I looked at Rich and Chief Caswell and saw their looks of disbelief.

The trooper peered at the bag inside the box and guessed it weighed a quarter pound. We opened the second box and found a similar size bag. Chief Caswell did the math for us on his phone calculator. We listened as he talked himself through the calculations. "If two pounds of fentanyl can produce one million profit, then one-half pound of fentanyl after it's added to heroin and mixed with a cutting substance equates to two hundred-fifty thousand, plus thirty-five thousand pills at twenty dollars each equates to seven-hundred thousand. I estimate the total street value at nine-hundred-fifty thousand dollars, plus or minus. Not bad for a day's work," he proclaimed.

"And don't forget the plane," I reminded the Chief. He looked confused. "What do you mean, the plane?"

"You're going to seize it, aren't you? And file for its forfeiture as a facilitating property in drug trafficking," I asked as I waved Wade Lewis to join us.

"Wade, what's your guess on how much Levi's plane is worth?" I asked. He thought for a moment. "It's in excellent condition, I'd guess one million." Chief Caldwell's eyes almost popped out of his head.

I turned to Major Prince. "Rich, I can't believe all these pills were coming in here every two weeks just for distribution locally, in fact, I think it's too much coming in for the entire State."

"You read my mind Daryl. Either the lab that produced this is going out of business and dumping their inventory, or we've stumbled on a major supplier for all of New England."

I didn't have an answer, but it wasn't my problem. The State, County, and local PDs had the ball now. At least that's what I thought.

I excused myself and said I was heading back to Stockbridge. After a round of thank-you handshakes to the Sheriffs and Troopers still working on processing the scene I walked out to my car and slid behind the wheel. "Two down, one more to go," I said to myself.

I was home a little before seven-thirty, Mandy quickly came over and gave me a long hug and kiss. She said she'd built a fire in the family room and taking my hand we went inside where she promptly mixed me a drink, poured herself a glass of wine, and settled in next to me on the sofa with a tray of cocktail sandwiches she had made for us.

We each had two drinks and I was grateful she didn't discuss the airport arrests. She controlled the conversation that ranged from how much fun she had setting up her new home office with Freddy, her plans to change our Stonegarden Foundation's investment strategy, her wish to buy a Range Rover and finally, how she looked forward to calling her mother in the morning and telling her she went with me on a drug bust, as she described it. I was once again at a loss for words, which for the moment was probably a wise strategy.

By eight-thirty she was all talked out and finished with her wine. She stood and led me to my feet.

"Little Boy, I'm so glad your plan worked today and you didn't get shot." She took my hand and led me toward our bedroom hallway." I told you I have a plan too," she said." C'mon."

I did as I was told.

### CHAPTER 19

In the morning after breakfast, my cellphone erupted with calls. I looked at the screen and let the first three go to phone mail. Mandy looked over at me from the kitchen sink and shook her head. "I can tell it will be one of those days for you, My Love. Why won't they leave you alone?"

The first message was from Damian, who asked me to call him. His message was more commanding than cordial. I called; he answered immediately. He brought me up to speed on the media reports which according to him, were front-page headline news from Boston to Washington. He was more than pleased with yesterday's drug interdiction and arrests but hastened to remind me we had more work to do.

He said the DEA and IRS liaisons assigned to his office had already contacted him this morning to report Washington suddenly had an interest in Dr Howard Levi. From my time working in Boston I had learned the importance of inter-agency cooperation and exchanges of information. I had also learned opportunities to enhance their reputations with superiors on the backs of those who had done the heavy work drove many of my colleagues in government service. He asked me to call the agents who had contacted him, I dutifully wrote their contact information in my notebook.

I said I understood, had nothing new to report, and ended the call. I hoped he realized my curt exit was business, not personal. In my mind I had only one thing under the heading unfinished business. Congressman T. James Petrone.

The second message was from Matt Holcomb. He said the County DA had negotiated an agreement with the lawyer for the local drug dealer suspect, Billy Miller, to hold back a warrant charging him with manslaughter for his sister and her boyfriend's overdose deaths if Billy would disclose who supplied him with the pills he had hidden in the woodpile at his house. Matt said he had scheduled the interview for later this morning at the Sheriff's Department. I would call him later.

The third call was from State Police Major Rich Prince. His message said Commonwealth Forensics had completed their examination of the toll ticket I had seized from the crashed SUV and developed a readable fingerprint and DNA. I could feel my heart race. If we could match the print with those on file for Tommy Barden it would be one more nail in his coffin. In hindsight, I should have asked Damian for an update on how Barden was adjusting to life as a Federal prisoner. That call would have to wait as I took an incoming call from Freddy Morton.

"Boss! Good Morning! I'm checking in to see if you need me for anything else or if I should head back to Boston," he said.

"Freddy, where are you now?" I asked. He seemed upbeat this morning, and I was suspicious that still dressed in his pajamas he was ravaging the inn's breakfast offerings.

"I'm at the Guthrie Center. It used to be Alice's Restaurant, can you believe it? It's a real place! This is so cool! You know, I could get used to living around here!" Somehow my mind couldn't wrap itself around the notion of Freddy Morton as my next-door neighbor

"Freddy, I spoke with Damian this morning. We have more work to do and I need your help. Can you meet Mandy and I at noon for lunch at the inn? We can talk then." He agreed, and we ended the call.

I called Major Prince and just as I thought the call was going to phone mail he answered.

"Rich, I got your message about the fingerprint evidence. Can we get photos up to your CSS lab?"

"Being done as we speak, Daryl. I spoke with Master Sergeant Bentley, and while we were on the phone, he checked the IAFIS database and Barden's fingerprints are on file. He said he'll submit our evidence for comparison this morning."

"I have questions for you, Daryl. I want to make sure I won't be stepping on your toes if I have our Internal Affairs detectives interview our mole, Detective Belair. I spoke with his Chief this morning and he's still in a state of shock. He suspended Belair administratively since he can't have access to in person, and at his arraignment this morning I expect they'll hold a dangerousness hearing. My recommendation to the DA was that given his status as a law enforcement officer and being arrested for the drug trafficking charge, he presents a threat to the community. My bet is they will hold him without bond. If that happens, it may give us an edge when we try to interview him. He's facing at least twenty years in prison when he's convicted."

I answered I had no problem with that.

"Okay, great, thanks", he replied. "I also assigned one of my detectives to work with the Sheriff's Department on a search warrant to seize Levi's plane. I thought that when we get the warrant you would want to be there for the search."

"I do Rich, and I think your detective should draw up the asset forfeiture affidavit and submit both at once."

"Can't we wait on that Daryl. We have a lot on our plate as it is."

I explained my conversation with Damian that the IRS would enter the case and was sure they would go after the plane and probably Levi's house as part of a tax evasion vase. My advice was to stay a step ahead of the process. Rich said he hadn't considered that and agreed, asking if I thought they should also apply for a search warrant for the house. I answered yes, thinking Levi would have business records for his Marlana Holdings company somewhere, if not at home then perhaps his lawyer's office in West Virginia.

"And Rich," I added as an afterthought, "I think we should have the airport mechanic Wade Lewis with us when we execute the warrant. I'm curious to know what mechanical issue Levi experienced that caused him to divert and land in Delaware."

"Anything else Daryl?" he asked.

I thought for a moment and re-focused on my mission to gather evidence to arrest Petrone. "Rich is there any word from the hospital about Tony Banacci's condition?" I asked.

"I haven't heard from his parole officer, but I can call him this morning," he answered. I thanked him and stressed it was critical we make the attempt at an interview.

I found Mandy in our home office and judging from the stock charts visible on both her monitor screens I presumed she was waging a battle against the titans of Wall Street. I didn't want to interrupt and after a minute she looked over and asked if I needed something.

I answered, "Yes, I need You!" She looked at me with narrowed eyes.

"I want to take a ride and want you to go with me," I explained. I said I wanted to locate Howard Levi's house and if possible, put together a description for a search warrant. "You want to search his house?" she asked. "Isn't he in jail?" I explained he was, but when he was arraigned in Court this morning the judge might set a bond he could post, and they would release him.

"That doesn't seem fair," she said. "He's a drug smuggler and they should keep in in jail." I smiled and thought one reason I loved her was her honest and innocent view of the legal system.

She asked if she looked all right dressed in her jeans and sweater; I told she looked great and when we finished our ride, we would have lunch with Freddy at the Red Lion to discuss an assignment I had for him. She said to give her a few minutes to close out the stock program and fix her makeup. I went to get my jacket and moved the car out of the garage to warm it up. I went back into the house and grabbed my laptop and found she was ready.

As we pulled up to the intersection of Route 7 and Main street in town, I heard Mandy remark "Uh Oh!" as she pointed to our right. Parked against the curb was a Boston TV news satellite truck. "Humph," I said. "They're probably in town to film the arraignment of Levi and his associates, but the courthouse is in Pittsfield."

"Are we going to go to that?" she asked. I told her no, the last thing I wanted was the news media sticking microphones in my face. She thought on that but didn't comment.

"Do you know where the doctor's house is?" she asked. I told her I had a rough idea from a description Matt Holcomb had given me, but if we couldn't find it, we could try Google." She seemed satisfied with my explanation and let the subject drop.

I turned left and after a short drive entered the Interlaken section of town. A few minutes later we found Dr. Levi's house, admittedly with a little help from the TV news truck that was parked in front. As I slowed down and drove past, the reporter and cameraman, glanced over at us.

I told Mandy that must be the house. "Jeez," she commented. "They don't miss a trick, do they?" I drove up the road a half-mile, turned around, and headed down the hill for a second look.

The area was nice, dotted with small lakes and ponds. As we approached what we thought was Levi's house I noted posted on a stone driveway entrance pillar the number fifty-four. I looked to my left and realized the house was large, but not as grandiose as I thought it would be. This time the news team ignored us, and we headed back into town. My plan to get a description for a warrant wasn't working, Plan B would be for the Sheriffs to research of land records. Hopefully, they were online.

We drove back into town and were inside the Inn at noon, where we spotted Freddy at a table and joined him. After Mandy and I ordered a light lunch compared to Freddy's French Dip and Caesar salad, I asked him if he would go with a Sheriff's detective and look at the video system at the condo complex where Anna Muranti's unit was broken into. He agreed, and I gave him Chief Deputy Caswell's cell number.

As we ate, I asked him if he knew anything about aircraft navigation systems. He admitted he didn't but suggested if the plane had a GPS system as cars did, he could try to hack into its memory.

I explained we would have a search warrant in the morning and asked if he would meet us at the Great Barrington airport. Again, he agreed. We finished lunch listening to him describe his travels around Stockbridge and Lennox and I could tell; as a city boy the area fascinated him.

After lunch we drove home, and Mandy went back to her world of high finance.

I went into the family room and called Ed Franklin in Boston, the Senior DEA agent assigned as support staff to Damian's office. I had worked with him before; he was an excellent investigator, and fortunately, my call caught him at his desk.

Ed told me he had seen the TV news and print media reports recounting the takedown of Dr. Howard Levi and his crew. He asked the million-dollar question before I had the chance to tell him why I was calling; Where did Levi's plane land to pick up the pill shipment?

I explained my research into Marlana Pharmaceuticals and my hunch Levi had landed at the abandoned airstrip in Forest Springs West Virginia. The location immediately struck a chord with him, he asked if I knew of the previous year's pill mill bust involving millions of opioid pills being distributed out of that area. I said I had, in fact, that's what prompted my research. He asked what I had in mind. I told him of our planned search of Levi's plane tomorrow and my hope its GPS would prove he had landed at the airstrip. He said the DEA would jump on the opportunity to raid the location. We worked out the details which included my sending him a case summary he could use as the basis of a search warrant application. I said would send it in an email before five pm.

I went into Mandy's home office and told her what I was working on and set myself up at the new workstation she had created for me. I settled down to work and found we could work independently in the space and by three-thirty I had created the document the DEA would use. I added a note to Ed at the end, explaining I would call him with in the morning with the results of the plane search. I emailed the document to him just as Mandy announced the trading day had ended, and it was a good one for her and the Stonegarden Foundation. I had too much swirling around in my mind to engage in a financial discussion with her, offered congratulations for her successful day, and made myself a drink. I went out onto the family room deck to bring in some firewood and realized it was snowing.

I hoped the large fluffy flakes wouldn't interfere with our planned search of Levi's plane tomorrow as I needed the GPS coordinates for the DEA to search the airstrip as soon as possible.

I lit the fireplace and was sitting on the hearth poking the logs to insure they were burning when I received a call from Major Rich Prince.

He said his Internal Affairs detectives had interviewed our task force mole, Det. Ricky Belair. The Major said the detectives offered him the opportunity to have his attorney present, but he declined. They reported at first Belair said he was doing his own investigation of the drugs being smuggled into the airport and he planned to turn his information over to the task force after yesterday's shipment. That story fell apart when they told him we had video of him receiving shipments at the airport at least twice before his arrest. He denied knowing the others who were arrested with him, except for the doctor, and didn't answer when he was asked what he did with the drugs he received in the prior two shipments. The detectives said that's when Belair broke down and said he wanted to cut a deal.

"What does he want, Rich?" I asked

"Belair knows we have enough to convict him and wants to serve his time in in a Federal Prison. He says because he's a cop he's a marked man and he fears he'll be killed if he's locked up in a State prison," he answered. "He said he wants a deal in writing from the US Attorney before he says anything else."

"Rich, you can tell Belair I'll run this by Damian Costigan, but for any consideration he must disclose everything. How the scheme worked, how often they would get shipments, the amount of each shipment, how he hooked up with Levi and the other guys, who his distributors are, everything. If he tries to negotiate tell him I said our rules or no deal. He can serve his twenty years at Walpole."

"All right Daryl, that's your call. I'll see that Belair gets the message today."

"And Rich, I strongly suggest your people get a search warrant for wherever Belair is living. Even if he sells the pills right after he receives them maybe you'll find he has cash stashed or bank records detailing accounts he may have so you can go after his money."

"That will be a pleasure, Daryl. I'll keep you posted," he replied.

"Daryl, before I forget," Rich interjected. "I spoke with Tony Banacci's parole officer. He's meeting tomorrow morning with the doctor in charge of Banacci's case to see if we can interview him."

"That would be great, Rich. I need that chance at Banacci. Call me as soon as you hear anything," I said and ended the call.

Mandy came into the room and asked what I was working on. I brought her up to speed on getting the DEA involved, and Major Prince's update on Det. Belair's wild excuse for being arrested at the airport.

She listened intently and said, "Then I guess you're almost finished with this case and we can get our lives back to normal."

"Almost Hon," I answered as she got up and said she was going to see what we would have for dinner. I watched her walk away. Normal? I'll never be normal I thought to myself. I sat on the hearth and let the warmth settle my mind. I knew it had become an obsession, but I wanted Petrone.

### CHAPTER 20

The sound of machinery woke me the next morning. I glanced at my watch and saw it was a few minutes past eight. I looked over and saw Mandy wasn't there and assumed she was fixing our breakfast. I got out of bed and peered out the window to see the love of my life plowing our driveway with the Bobcat. Overnight we had added six more inches of snow to our seasonal collection. I saw Erik was sitting by his woodstove inside the open garage door keeping an eye on her.

I took a quick shower and dressed for the outdoors. If all went well this morning Matt Holcomb would have the warrant signed to search Howard Levi's plane. As I was fixing my coffee in the Keurig it struck me, I was coming up on three weeks into this case, and a lot had been accomplished.

I turned as I heard Mandy stomping her feet outside the kitchen door and stepping inside, she pulled her cap from her head. I could see from her rosy cheeks it was another cold day in the Berkshires.

"That was fun," she said with a wide grin. "And I didn't hit anything while I was plowing! Make me a coffee, will you?"

I was doing as I was told when she asked, "And what are your plans for the day. It's stopped snowing, but I don't know how the roads are."

I told her I was waiting for a call from Matt Holcomb to confirm we would search Dr. Levi's plane later this morning.

"Can I go too?" she asked as she unzipped her ski suit and stepped out of it.

"Sure, if you want to," I answered." It will be cold, so dress warm."

She came over to the sink and fixed her coffee, reminding me to put the milk back in the refrigerator. How did I ever manage without her?

At nine forty-five Matt called and said he was at Court in Pittsfield and a judge had issued the search warrant for the plane. He added Dr. Levi and his associates were scheduled for bond hearings later this morning, and the DA had pulled him aside to talk about their bonds. The DA was requesting a one-million-dollar cash bond for Levi, five-hundred thousand for Det. Belair, and two-hundred-fifty thousand each for Lonnie Brown, the passenger in the BMV bitten by the K-9, and Casmir Pardmar, the van driver employed by Everest Behavioral Health. Miguel Santolo-Alveras was being held on the bonds listed on the outstanding warrants for his arrest. I thanked Matt for the information and wondered if Levi had access to one million in cash. I also wondered who he would retain as his lawyer.

Matt said as much as he wanted to stay for the bond hearings, he would meet me at the airport at eleven. I agreed and went looking for Mandy to tell her our schedule. I called Freddy Morton and learned he was just finishing breakfast. He assured me had not depleted the Inn's morning meal supplies and would meet us at the airport.

As we stepped outside, I saw more snow had fallen than I thought. My Challenger drove well in light snow, but I thought this might be too much for it. Mandy handed me her keys and said to drive her Cherokee. This was a first, and after I got settled behind the wheel she reached over and turned the traction switch to four-wheel.

I took my time driving and along the way Mandy had me pull into a shopping plaza where there was a bakery, saying she wanted to bring some pastries to the airport. She was in and out quickly and we were back on the road, arriving at the airport a little before eleven.

I parked and didn't see Dr. Levi's plane. We went into the hanger and saw Wade Miller had moved it inside. I was grateful we wouldn't have to stand outside in the cold during the search.

Ten minutes later, Matt and Freddy pulled in followed by Deputy Phil Costa.

Airport owner Barbara Wellman came downstairs from the tower and greeted us.

Matt gave her a copy of the search warrant, explaining although she wasn't the owner of the plane it was in her custody and he was touching all the bases. She thanked him and asked Mandy to help her bring some cups and plates downstairs for the snacks we had brought Already, Deputy Costa was munching in a jelly donut, careful not to get the powder on his leather coat.

Wade unlocked the plane's side door and Freddy was the first inside. I heard him say, "Cool!" three or four times as he settled into the cockpit. Matt and I stepped in and I was impressed with the plush layout. After a minute playing with the controls Freddy turned to us. "It does have GPS, looks like an add-on, not built in."

"Is that good?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's better than good," he answered as he removed the unit from its bracket. He said he needed his laptop and left to get it.

"Is there anything Freddy can't do?" Matt asked shaking his head.

"I haven't found anything yet, Matt."

Freddy returned and plugged a patch cord into the back of the GPS. In less than five minutes he turned so we could see the screen. He had retrieved the flight history.

He pointed to the small screen and said, "It looks like he landed here but it's very close to some trees. Down here in the corner you can see longitude and latitude of the location," pointing to the screen.

"Freddy, can you bring up Google Earth and enter the coordinates?" I asked.

"Sure," he answered and brought it up on his laptop. A minute later the screen displayed the airstrip I had identified two weeks ago.

"That's it," I said, not trying to conceal my excitement. Forest Springs, West Virginia I knew It"

"Have you been there Daryl?" Matt asked with a puzzled look on his face.

"No, but I have some friends in the DEA who will be paying it a visit very shortly," I answered. I wrote down the coordinates in my notebook, thanked Freddy with a hearty pat on his shoulder, and excused myself. As I went into the passenger cabin, I saw Mandy and Barbara had made themselves comfortable in the bucket seats.

I sat down and called DEA Agent Ed Franklin in Boston and told him of our GPS discovery and gave him the land coordinates. He said he had spoken with his DEA counterpart in Wheeling, West Virginia and emailed him my draft warrant affidavit. Ed said he would call the agent and send him the property description from the coordinates to be added to the search warrant. He expected Agents would raid the location within twenty-four hours. My heart was pounding. I had cleared the deck of my assistance chores to the Federal, County, and State PDs, now I could focus on Petrone.

I went back to the cockpit and took pictures of the GPS screen and instructed Matt to physically seize it as evidence.

Matt and Deputy Costa searched the rest of the plane, nothing else turned up to link it to the trafficking operation. Wade explained the part that failed prompting Levi to divert to Dover Delaware was a control arm for the windshield wiper system. The temporary repair was good, but not a permanent solution. Mandy and Barbara brought the pastries and a tray of coffee and mugs onto the plane and we all noshed in first class luxury, especially Deputy Costa.

After Mandy and I got home I called Damian and briefed him on the most recent developments. He was more than pleased. He asked what was left to clean up from the Federal prosecution perspective. I explained our mole Det. Ricky Belair's offer to disclose how the trafficking scheme was set up if he could be assured in writing he would be prosecuted and sentenced in the Federal system.

"He wants a written pleas agreement, does he? I have to think on that," he responded.

We agreed that Damian would assign two of his assistant attorneys to map out the prosecution strategies for Dr. Levi and Det. Belair and he asked me to send him copies of all the written documentation I had. I said he would have them in a day or two.

"Well Daryl, you're not finished with your work down there, but you're close. Three weeks since I assigned you. I'm very pleased, he said. "What's next on your agenda?"

I paused, then answered. "Petrone."

"Be very careful, my friend. That man is dangerous," he said as he ended the call.

At seven that evening I got a call from Matt Holcomb, the news he gave me was a surprise. He said while we were at the airport his detectives met with drug dealer suspect Billy Miller and his lawyer for an interview. The DA had agreed to a sentencing deal provided Billy disclosed his involvement in supplying the pills that had killed his sister and her boyfriend. Apparently, Billy disclosed everything and then some.

"Daryl, Billy said he was selling anywhere from one to two hundred oxycodone pills a month in the Pittsfield area," Matt said." His sister was involved delivering some of it into her school, the rest were sold through two street dealers who are his friends. He gave up their names and we'll bring them in for questioning. He said his source for the pills was Michael Balentine, whom he described as a major local dealer. He paid Mike ten dollars a pill and sold them for twenty bucks each."

"I guess our hunch was right. Good job Matt," I said.

"It gets better, Daryl. Billy said the big dealer was a guy named Ricky, who was supplying dealers not only in Pittsfield but into New York and Vermont. Apparently, Billy didn't know that Ricky Belair was a cop, and said he had once gone with Mike Balentine to deliver five-thousand pills because Michael was afraid Ricky was going to rob and kill him. He said Ricky was a psycho."

"That ties in with him being the mole in our task force," I answered.

"Yeah. I'm going to call his Chief and deliver the news. What's your thought on us writing up search warrant for Belair's house?" Matt asked.

"We said when we started, we were going to clean house. Do it Matt," I said. "I suggest you involve his PD with the warrant. They need to assure their townspeople they won't stand for corruption in their police department."

"Understood, Daryl. Will do."

"Anything else Matt?"

"Yeah, tomorrow morning the Chief Deputy is going to Court to get the search warrant signed for us to get into Dr. Levi's house. If you want to go in with us, I can call you when we're ready to go."

I agreed and ended the call.

### CHAPTER 21

Early the next morning Major Rich Prince called me. He said late yesterday he had a phone conversation with Tony Banacci's doctor and parole officer. They gave him news he wasn't expecting. Although conscious and lucid, Banacci was dying.

"I'm not surprised, Rich, after seeing the mangled SUV he was driving."

"Not dying from the accident, Daryl. Dying from end-stage pancreatic cancer."

His statement caught me off-guard. "How long did the doctor say he has?" I asked as I sank down onto a stool at the breakfast bar.

"The doctor didn't want to speculate but said given his other injuries he has concerns for accident related internal bleeding and a high risk of infection. He thinks probably a matter of weeks, maybe less." he answered.

It stunned me. I didn't know the man, but the disease was a death sentence. Karma, I thought to myself. I was looking at him as a murderer, now it was his turn to be a victim.

"Daryl, the doctor is allowing us to visit Banacci to see if he'll speak with us. I'd like to set something up quickly. My schedule is light tomorrow do you want me to confirm it with the doctor?"

"Yeah, please do, Rich. I'll check in with you this afternoon to confirm. If it's okay with you, I'll ride down with you."

After I ended the call, I called Freddy Morton, told him of the plan to search Dr. Levi's house tomorrow, and my commitment to interview Tony Banacci at the hospital in Springfield. Freddy said he was in no rush to go back to Boston and agreed he would go on the house search with the Sheriff's Department. I said I would call Matt Holcomb and set things up and gave him Matt's cell number in case he had any questions.

I called Matt and explained the change in my plans. He liked the idea of having Freddy available to him to access any computers Levi had in the house. He said he would call Freddy and make the arrangements.

Mandy came into the kitchen where I was sitting and remarked, "You've been a busy boy this morning. Everything okay?"

I bought her up to date on the case and said I would spend the day at home putting together the documents Damian had requested. She said she had planned to go shopping with Kristin Holcomb who was off today, but if I needed here, she could cancel. I told her no, and to have fun.

I finished assembling the paperwork a little before noon and after some searching Mandy's office file cabinets, I found a FedEx overnight envelope to send everything to Damian. I headed out and forty-five minutes later dropped the envelope at the FedEx store in Pittsfield.

As I got back into my car, I realized today was the first time in three weeks I had some time for myself. I also realized I didn't have lunch and I was hungry. As I drove out of the lot, I noticed a sign that read 'Patrick's Pub' and quickly convinced myself it sounded good to me.

Inside I was reminded of my almost ill-fated trip to Boston and my dinner at the Broadside Tavern. Like the Broadside, Patrick's had perfectly replicated the Irish pub look and feel. I chose the pork schnitzel sandwich and a light beer. Both turned out to be excellent, as was the service, and by two o'clock I was on the road back to Stockbridge.

I had just entered town when an incoming call identifying as 'Restricted' flashed on the instrument screen. I answered and learned it was Senior DEA Agent Ed Franklin in Boston.

"Daryl, you hit the jackpot my friend!" he exclaimed. Your pill mill in West Virginia turned out to be a huge operation. Our guys hit it this morning. We've got the whole works; the pharmacist, his tech assistants, pill compounds, presses, production records, everything. They kept meticulous records of the compounding mix.

"You just made my day, Ed," I responded as I breathed a deep sigh of relief.

Daryl, these guys were juicing oxycodone 30mg with fentanyl. That's huge! And potentially deadly."

"Ed, did they find anything to link the mill to Dr. Levi?"

"Our guys are going through paperwork now, but it looks like every two weeks they were shipping twenty-five-thousand pills up North by air. They've got their own paved airstrip down there. On the street at twenty bucks a pill that has the potential for over a million a month in sales."

"Ed, that quantity sounds way too much to be just for the Berkshires, any idea as to the scope of the operation?"

"If I had to guess Daryl, I'd say they were one of the largest producers supplying the Northeast, possibly into the central states. You may be interested to know that our guys found some records that indicate a lot of product recently was being introduced into the VA hospital system through what look like legitimate government purchase orders made out to Marlana Pharmaceuticals.

I pulled my car into a bank parking lot, stopped, and pulled out my notebook.

"Ed, two things. First, if you can contact your people down there see if they can take some photos of a couple of the VA invoices and text them to me. Second, my research found there's a lawyer down there who's the agent for service for Marlana Holdings. Somebody needs to check this guy out quickly before the word of your raid gets out and he destroys any business records he may have.

"Daryl, I can do better than that for you. The Agency is sending one of our planes over from New York to fly me down there tonight, and they're bringing two RVs down from the Charlotte office for our guys to sleep in for the two or three days they think it will take to collect all the evidence. I personally will track down this lawyer. Give me his name and address if you have it."

I found the info in my notebook and provided it.

"Daryl, I don't know how you do it, but this case is huge. Thank You!"

"I appreciate that Ed, but I'm concerned about the pills being boosted with fentanyl especially if they're being prescribed through the VA." "Those veterans have enough working against them, they don't deserve to be turned into addicts."

"I hear you Daryl. On the flight down there, I'll formally request the Agency issue an immediate recall of all Marlana Pharmaceutical products in the VA system. But I'm curious about something."

"What's that Ed?"

"Why do you want photos of the VA purchase orders?"

"Just a hunch about something."

"Care to elaborate?" he asked.

"Not yet Ed, but if my hunch is right, I'll fill you in. Have a safe flight and please keep me posted."

"I will my friend. You stay safe."

I drove down the street, parked, and went into Berkshire Law to speak with Judge Moran. Both he and Lindsey were available and saw me immediately. I explained what the DEA raid had found in what I believed was Dr. Levi's West Virginia base of operations. They were stunned, especially Judge Moran.

"What do you need from us Daryl?" he asked as he leaned over with his hands flat on his desk. I sensed for perhaps the first time in his career he was ready to surrender.

I explained my concern the Marlana opiate pills had been infused with fentanyl and could possibly be fatal if ingested. I asked him to contact his CEO client Dr. Culhane and instruct him to immediately remove any Marlana pills from his health system's inventory.

"Consider it done. Anything else we should do?"

"Yes, sequester the products and I'll write up a search warrant. I want to have some samples tested to see if in fact the pills contain fentanyl," I said.

Judger Moran looked over to Lyndsey for a moment then back at me. "Daryl, a search warrant won't be necessary. I will instruct our client to voluntarily surrender the Marlana products."

I nodded, thanked the Judge for his cooperation and excused myself by telling him I had much work to do. Lyndsey leaned back into her chair and looked down at the table as I said goodbye and left. I knew I had just complicated their lives.

I drove home and saw Mandy's car in the garage, went inside, and brought her up to speed on the case. She listened intently, finally she spoke. "I told you two weeks ago these guys are a bunch of crooks."

I called Damian and filled him in on the DEA West Virginia raid, the tampered opiate pills and my conversation with Agent Ed Franklin to quarantine all Marlana products in the VA system.

"Daryl, when word of this gets out, and I'm sure it will, this will set off a firestorm not just in Washington but across the Country. This is not good, my friend. Congress will look to hang somebody for this, this could be another Agent Orange debacle, hell, we could make a case for domestic terrorism," he responded, his voice taking on a forlorn tone.

Damian was right. I wanted the people responsible for putting our veterans at risk, and I wanted them severely punished. This wasn't just terrorism, this was political corruption and greed. I just needed a little more time to prove it.

"Daryl, this will change my prosecution strategy. Are you finished with your investigation?"

"Boss, I believe within the next forty-eight hours I'll be able to give you the person behind all this."

"Í hope you know what you're doing my friend. You know I must brief the Attorney General again tonight. This isn't going to go well."

I said I understood, wished him luck, and ended the call.

I looked over and saw Mandy standing at the sink, her arms crossed.

"Daryl, how on earth are you going to finish this case in forty-eight hours?" she asked.

"I'm going to get Tony Banacci to admit Congressman Petrone ordered his granddaughter murdered just as he ordered her father killed."

"Good luck with that Little Boy," she said as she walked into the family room.

### CHAPTER 22

Major Rich Prince called me at eight-thirty in the morning and said he would pick me up for our trip down to the hospital in an hour. I had dressed casually; dark slacks, beige cable-knit turtleneck sweater and a grey Herringbone sport jacket. The sweater concealed my gun, the jacket secured the two extra magazines. I didn't want to intimidate Tony Banacci by presenting myself as a stereotypical prosecutor. Major Prince in uniform would adequately represent our authority.

I went into Mandy's office and saw she was getting ready for the stock market to open. We didn't talk, other than her telling me I looked nice. I gave her a kiss on her forehead and went out to the kitchen to await my ride.

I called Freddy and learned he was eating breakfast. He assured me he would leave some food for the other guests and said he was meeting Matt Holcomb at ten. I told him where I would be and said I would check in with him when I could.

Major Prince arrived on schedule and a few minutes later we headed out for the hour drive down to Springfield. I filled him in on what the DEA raid had found in West Virginia, the oxycodone pills being doctored with fentanyl and my concern the VA may be administering the tampered meds. The Major made no effort to conceal his anger.

We arrived at the hospital and once inside Major Prince asked for the Security Manager. Turning to me he explained the Manager, Steve Berman, had been a Trooper and retired a few years earlier. When he arrived, I introduced myself and he escorted us to the ICU. As we entered the patient's room Steve took a seat by the door.

Lying in bed, the once feared mob enforcer Tony Banacci was now a shell of a man. He was gaunt, pale, and looked weak as he turned and looked at us as we entered the room. His gaze locked onto Major Prince and I sensed the sight of the Trooper uniform confirmed in his mind that life as he knew it was over. He looked over to me and in a gravelly voice asked, "Who are you?" I identified myself and produced my credentials. I doubted he could see let alone read them.

"The US Attorney sent me to speak with you Tony," I explained. He didn't acknowledge my words but appeared to be studying me.

"I saw you on TV. I don't know how he missed you," he said softly.

"Yeah, me too, I answered. "But he didn't miss those four kids he killed in Pittsfield." He winced at my remark.

"I have questions for you Tony, but you have the right to remain silent. If you want a lawyer here with you, tell me now."

'It took him a minute to answer. "A public defender? No." he quietly said. "Did they tell you I'm dying?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answered, "That's why we need to talk. I want to help you leave this earth with a clear conscience." He looked as if he was weighing what I was saying but didn't respond. Finally, he spoke.

"I didn't kill those kids. I don't kill kids. What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice almost a hush. I glanced up and saw his heart monitor had picked up its pace.

I thought for a moment. "What do you want from us Tony?" I asked.

"I don't want to die in a prison cell. They would just let me rot and suffer until it was over."

I nodded I understood. What I didn't say was he probably was right.

"What do you want from me?" he asked again.

"Petrone," I answered. My bluntness brought a sliver of a smile to his face, and he nodded.

"Tony, I'm going to read you your Constitutional Rights, I must do that. And I want your permission to use my phone to video our conversation. Do you agree to that?"

The gravelly voice responded yes. I set my phone up to record and handed it to Major Prince. He propped it against a rolled-up towel on the bedside table and adjusted it to ensure it viewed both of us and was close enough to record the audio. I read Tony his Rights and he answered he understood them.

"I know you didn't kill those kids, Tony. I have video of the car switch at the service plaza on the Pike. I know Tommy Barden is the murderer."

As sick and weak as he was, I saw a wave of relief sweep over him, his breathing slowed, and he seemed to relax, the heart monitor slowed.

"You already know. What do you want from me?" he asked.

"I want to know why TJ Petrone ordered his granddaughter murdered." I said. He didn't respond, as he turned his head and looked away.

"Just like he paid you to murder her father?" I asked.

I heard a beeping sound and saw the heart monitor display a much faster rhythm. He remained quiet, his eyes shifting between the Major and me.

"President," he finally said." She was in the way."

I looked over to Major Prince, his eyes were locked on Tony, no emotion showed on his face.

"Tony are you saying TJ wanted Anna Muranti dead because he thought her drug use might interfere with his plan to run for President?" I asked.

He nodded and answered, "Yeah."

"Ánd her father?" I asked.

"Politics. Aldo knew too much. He was in the way."

"How much did TJ pay you to kill Aldo?"

Tony looked over at Major Prince and shifted back to me. "Ten" he answered.

"TJ Petrone paid you ten thousand dollars to kill Aldo Muranti?" I asked for clarification. He answered, "Yeah."

"How much did TJ pay you and Tommy Barden to kill his granddaughter?"

"Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five thousand?" I asked. I could hardly believe what he said.

"Yeah," he responded in that raspy voice. "Bastard Tommy gave me five."

"Are you saying Tommy Barden cheated you and only gave you five thousand instead of splitting the twenty-five for killing Anna?"

"Yeah. Bastard," he answered softly.

I could see he was getting weaker, but I needed to nail down one more point about the murder of Aldo Muranti.

"Tony, how can I know for sure you killed Aldo on TJ's orders?

He looked confused and I realized I had to be more specific.

"What do you remember about that morning that only you would know?" I asked. He thought for a long moment, closed his eyes and I was worried he was going unconscious.

"Red hat," he said.

"Are you saying he was wearing a red hat?"

He nodded his head." Tony, I need you to answer with words, do you understand?

Slowly and softly he answered. "Aldo's hat was red, like TJ said."

I looked over at Rich Prince and saw from his look he knew we had Petrone.

"Tony is everything you've told me today the truth?" I asked.

"Yeah."

"Have I promised you anything to answer my questions?"

"No." he answered softly.

I could see he was slipping into a deep sleep and stopped asking questions. I studied his face and had a sense of sadness seeing him lying there, a chill flashed through my body and I shuddered. Death was in the room and had him in its sights. I could feel it.

"Tony, I know in my heart you won't die in a jail cell. I hope your passing brings you peace," I quietly said as I reached over and took my phone from the table and stopped recording. I didn't know if he could hear me.

I looked back at him and saw his eyes were closed, tears slowly ran down his cheeks. I glanced at the heart monitor and saw the rhythm had significantly slowed, but his heart was still beating.

I looked over at Rich Prince and motioned to the door. I had a feeling Tony Banacci was now ready for his journey into eternity.

Major Prince and I didn't talk much on the ride back up to Stockbridge, other than him mentioning his car had Wi-fi if I wanted to call the US Attorney. I couldn't explain the uneasy feeling I had, but I suspected others in government were lying in wait to take down the Congressman, and I wanted to be there when they put handcuffs on him. My mind flashed to the US Marshal crew that Damian said had flown in to arrest Barden. I had a bad feeling about Marshal Dan Burke. His eyes were stone cold, and that bothered me.

Our silence was broken when my cellphone rang and saw the incoming call was marked restricted. I answered, it was DEA Agent Ed Franklin.

"Daryl, I'm at attorney Presley Jefferson's law office in Shepard Springs, West Virginia. He's the lawyer for Marlana Holdings. He wasn't very cooperative at first, but once we explained his potential exposure as a conspirator in a major drug trafficking ring, he changed his tune. I have agents putting together a search warrant for his business records but in the interim he admitted his client Doctor Howard Levi is part owner of Marlana.

"Part owner?" I asked for clarification.

"Yeah, he showed us a partnership agreement that says Levi is the managing partner, a Robert Culhane and an LLC called Revere Two are the next two minority partners in terms of shares owned.

"Ed, I need to know who Revere Two is, I mean the people behind it."

"Are you sitting down Daryl?" I answered I was.

"Revere Two has one Partner, T. James Petrone."

"WHAT?" I exclaimed as Rich Prince instinctively hit the brakes hard in reaction to my outburst.

"Daryl; are you alright?" Rich asked as he pulled to the side of the road and stopped. I pressed the speaker icon on my phone.

"Ed, I'm in a car with State Police Major Rich Prince and I put us on speaker. Did you just say that Congressman Petrone is secretly a part owner of Marlana Holdings?"

"I did Daryl, I have the Partnership Agreement in my hand as I speak."

I couldn't believe what I has hearing, and from his look, neither could Rich Prince. Before we could talk the latest development through, my cell phone beeped signaling an incoming call, it was Matt Holcomb. I ended the DEA call and answered. I put him on speaker and Rich Prince and I listened as he described the search of Dr. Levi's house.

Matt said they had to force entry through the kitchen door and during the house search they came across three boxes of cash stacked inside a locked walk-in room that Matt described as a vault.

"Daryl, Levi had the room's walls lined with steel and a thick metal door was bolted to the inside of a regular wooden door. When we couldn't get it open, we were getting ready to try and break it down when your boy Freddy found a hidden keypad inside a built-in bookcase. He had an electronic gadget in his tool bag and within a matter of two minutes he got the door unlocked. That kid is amazing!"

Matt described the boxes as being wrapped and sealed, when they cut one open, they found it contained what he guessed was tens of thousands of dollars in large bills. He said they were working on an actual count as we spoke.

"Daryl, this looks like Levi's drug business office. We found a money counting machine, notebooks that look like ledgers, but they seem to be coded with initials and abbreviations. Interestingly, we found maps and flight plans from West Virginia to the Dominican Republic."

"Matt, what about drugs, or any business records related to Marlana Holdings or Marlana Pharmaceuticals?" I asked.

Matt explained they hadn't found any drugs, and they were just starting to go through a file cabinet and Levi's desk. He added there were documents related to the Marlana companies, including some recent correspondence between Levi and Congressman Petrone discussing a purchasing contract Petrone had arranged with the VA. He also said they found a stack of broker statements that indicated Levi had recently been selling a lot of his stocks.

"Matt, I'm especially interested in those business documents, especially the broker's statements. Make sure you seize them and keep them separate from the other paperwork," I instructed him. I looked over at Rich Prince and sensed he was reading my mind.

Matt asked me to hold on minute and I could hear him talking to one of his men in the background. After a moment he returned to the call.

"Daryl, two of my detectives just ran the first box of cash through the bill counter. It looks like the box is holding two hundred fifty thousand dollars! I looked over at Rich Prince and this time he was grinning.

I told Matt to call me when they were wrapping up their search, and after we ended the call, I leaned back in my seat as we pulled onto the Mass Pike. I relaxed and listened to the messages on his State Police radio.as the Major cruised the left lane at seventy-five miles per hour all the way to the Stockbridge exit. For the first time in many years I missed my detective days.

As we pulled into my driveway, I invited Rich in for a coffee, he declined and said he wanted to head over to Levi's house, as he had a concern with securing a large amount of cash at the Sheriff's Department. I suggested he make an inquiry to one of the local banks to see if they would store the evidence in safe deposit boxes in their vault, he agreed that would be wise. I thanked him for his help and headed inside.

I found Mandy in her office still busily waging war against the lords of high finance. From the smile on her face I could see she and the Stonegarden Foundation were having a good day. I told her Tony Banacci had admitted he killed Anna Muranti's father years ago and acknowledged Tommy Barden had murdered the four kids. She looked stunned.

"Does that mean it's over Daryl?" she asked softly

I explained I wanted to look over the business documents Matt Holcomb's team had seized in their search of Levi's house before I wrote up an arrest warrant application for Congressman Petrone. She gave me a blank stare, and that worried me but, she turned and went back to watching her monitors without further comment. I shrugged it off and went into the family room and called Damian.

My briefing took about ten minutes, and he listened intently. When I finished, there was a long silence on his end of the call. Finally, he spoke.

"Daryl, again, you've done fine work, but this case is turning into a nightmare for me." I wasn't expecting that response and asked what he meant.

"I spoke with the Attorney General late yesterday. There are many complicating factors at play here."

"Exactly what do you mean by complicating factors," I asked, not hiding my confrontational attitude.

"It's just what I said," he answered." Complicated. The most troubling is your belief that the pills supplied to the VA may be juiced with fentanyl."

"I'm reporting to you as the US Attorney that I have information that may place our veterans' health at risk." I responded angrily. "I would expect someone in Washington would jump on that and if the pills have been boosted, get them off the shelves," I said indignantly.

"It's not that simple, Daryl. Off the record there are deep concerns at the highest level of government that the introduction of these pills was deliberate, intended to cause panic and place the blame on the White House for endangering our veterans. I agree this needs to be handled immediately, but it must be a controlled solution if you get my meaning," he explained.

"I'm sorry Boss, but I don't get your meaning. I'm tired and I don't want to chase you around the bushes to get a straight answer. What the hell are you talking about?"

'Politics, Daryl."

I was at a loss for words and was ready to hang up the phone and made that clear to him.

"Take it easy Daryl, I was informed the VA recently entered into a thirty million-dollar contract with this Marlana company to supply opiate pain medications. The Federal Office of Procurement, Acquisitions and Logistics, or OPAL as it's known, oversees VA purchasing. Obviously, it involves a huge amount of money and oversight is often complicated, but they do a good job. But like anything else in life there are opportunists that try and game the system." I listened but didn't interrupt.

Damian continued. "I was informed last evening that our friend Congressman Petrone did some arm twisting to get the Marlana contract approved, and there is a strong suspicion that there was an exchange of cash involving a high-level purchasing manager."

"But Boss, how could Petrone do that? He's listed as a partner in Marlana."

"He legally can't Daryl. It's that simple." he answered. "But friend, there's more to it than that. There are only two Independents in the House, but Petrone speaks as if he's already leading the majority. The other parties are sitting back and letting him tear into the Administration for the time being, but when his house of cards falls down, they'll bury him."

"Well Boss, if I have my way they'll have to stand in line with their shovels."

"That's where the complications come in Daryl. The Marlana pills have quietly been taken out of the VA inventory and lot samples forwarded to the FBI lab for analysis. The official cover story will be the Marlana pill dispensing is on hold while OPAL verifies the compounding lab's credentials. They'll call it a clerical oversight that was caught at the last minute. If your info is correct, the health crisis is averted. But that opens another door of concern," he said.

"And that is?" I asked.

"Off the record, it has to do with a whistleblower who's reporting a high-level purchasing exec is accepting bribes from vendors to get into the VA logistics system."

"Boss, I hope to hell someone is investigating that."

"Yeah, it's being worked on Daryl, but these things take time. You know that." I wasn't satisfied with Damian's explanation but, I let it drop.

"Boss, I'm telling you upfront, I'm putting together an arrest warrant application for Petrone charging four counts of conspiracy to commit murder, and after I review some documents the local task force seized from Levi's house, I'll probably add violation of the RICO statutes for the drug trafficking scheme. I don't think I can charge him for Aldo Muranti's murder, but I plan on using Tony Manacci's confession to support a claim of Petrone's continuing course of criminal conduct to advance his political career."

Damian was quiet for a long time. Finally, he spoke. "Daryl, you helped the local PDs solve four murders, kept a couple of million dollars of drugs off the streets, and the locals will receive a ton of money for the asset forfeitures. All that will be swept aside when the story of Petrone's arrest hits the wires. Is that what you want?"

"No Boss, what I want is for the guys who've been arrested to end up in prison for a long time, and that includes TJ Petrone."

"Okay Daryl, you win. I can't let this come between us. Write up your affidavit and let me know when you can come up to Boston and we'll go over it. And by the way, how's Mandy handling all this?"

"She wants this over, and so do I. I'll call you in a day or two to confirm my visit. I think this time I'll bring Mandy with me and we can have that dinner I missed on my last visit."

Sounds like a plan my Boy, take care," he said as he ended the call.

I sat there for a few minutes thinking the future of this case didn't rest solely in Damian Costigan's hands. I hoped I was wrong. An incoming call from Freddy Morton snapped me out of my funk.

"Hey Boss! This guy Levi's house was like Fort Knox," he exclaimed. "In his vault room there was money all over the place, in boxes, manila envelopes, stacked on shelves. I bet there's over a million bucks inside that house."

"Great work Freddy. I heard you were able to get through the locked vault door. How the hell did you do that?" I asked.

"Actually, pretty simple considering it was a newer digital locking system. All it took was a frequency signal generator and a little time to trip the lock mechanism," he answered downplaying his efforts. "Anyway, that's not why I'm calling." He continued. "I went with a Deputy and looked at the camera system across the street from the Muranti girl's condo. I pulled screenshots of the burglar's car and a decent photo of him. It's the guy from the airport you said was a detective, Ricky something I think."

"Ricky Belair," I corrected him. "He must have been searching for the Balentine kids drug stash."

"Could be, he responded. "Listen, I'm pretty much caught up with the things you asked me to do. I think I'll head back to Boston tomorrow it's all right with you." I agreed, thanked him for his excellent work, and ended the call.

I went into Mandy's office and told her Freddy would be heading back home in the morning. "I'm really going to miss him," she said. "He's a lot of fun and he's so smart. I wish he lived closer so we all could stay in touch." I didn't answer and went to make myself a drink.

### CHAPTER 23

I woke at five-thirty the next morning and saw that the overnight snow was continuing. It had already been a long winter in the Berkshires, and apparently Mother Nature wasn't finished with us. I glanced over at Mandy and saw she was in a deep sleep. I dressed quietly and went out to the kitchen and fixed myself a coffee. I turned on the kitchen counter TV to catch the news and watched a story reporting the search of Dr. Howard Levi's house. Thankfully, the Sheriff's Department spokesperson was vague with her details of the continuing investigation despite the reporters incessant questioning. I wondered, though, who had tipped the press off about the search. I chalked it up to the small- town New England grapevine.

The story reported Dr. Levi and Detective Ricky Belair had been arraigned in Superior Court and the Judge set their bonds set at one million cash each, adding that although no decision had yet been made for Federal charges to be filed, it was expected in the next few weeks. I had heard enough and switched off the TV.

I took my coffee into Mandy's office and stood there building up my energy to sit down and write up the arrest warrant affidavit for Congressman T. James Petrone. I had tossed and turned most of the night as I ran through it in my mind, now I needed to recall it.

I turned on the new desktop computer Mandy had purchased for me and as I sat down at the desk watching it boot up, I realized I was staring at a wall. This wasn't going to work.

I pulled at the desk and after a bit of maneuvering I moved it to straddle the corner of the wall, facing the floor to ceiling windows that Mandy had chosen for her workspace view. As I turned to admire my handiwork, I saw Mandy in her robe and slippers standing in the doorway, her arms crossed.

"And what pray tell are you doing Little Boy at six o'clock in the morning? she asked.

"Interior decorating," was the best I could come up with for a response.

"Really Daryl, if you didn't like the furniture layout you should have said something," she offered as she motioned for me to lift one corner of the desk to adjust the symmetry with the wall. Thankfully, that ended her critique. She asked what I was doing up so early and I explained I was going to write up Petrone's arrest warrant. She asked if she could help with anything and as I started to answer no, a thought struck me. Marlana had landed a multi-million-dollar contract with the VA and I wondered how that would have affected the price of its stock. I ran that by her, she said she would get dressed and after breakfast would do some research. I settled in and went to work on the warrant.

I worked through breakfast, aside from a buttered English muffin and another coffee Mandy had delivered before she settled in at her desk. I heard my phone beeping and as I answered I glanced at my watch. Ten twenty-five AM. The call was from DEA Agent Ed Franklin.

He reported his agents had seized a treasure trove of documents from the Marlana pill mill lab and lawyer Presley Jefferson's office.

"Daryl, we have evidence that this Levi guy was laundering the drug money through the Dominican Republic to an off-shore account he has in the Cayman Islands. Everything was going through accounts in the name of Marlana Holdings. A quick accounting looks like he has more than forty-million he's been hiding from the IRS."

Agent Franklin said he had notified the IRS and they were opening an investigation, planning to start with a search of the West Virginia plantation estate Levi had recently purchased.

I thought to myself the scale of Levi's operation had to be extreme to accumulate that much cash and mentioned to the Agent there was still a lot of work to do to identify the dealers in the distribution chain. I thanked him for the information, explained that on our end we were wrapping up the local arrests and ended the call. I went back to work on the warrant application and by noon I was finished.

Mandy looked over from her desk and asked if I had a minute. I said I did, and she pointed to the left monitor on the wall.

"About three weeks ago there were some press releases issued by a stock promoter company reporting Marlana's contract with the VA", she said. "The average trading volume went from twelve thousand shares a day to over a million. The price went from forty-three cents a share to five-fifty-eight a share last week. Four days ago, the stock price dropped like a rock, right now its trading at eight-nine cents. I looked at some internet chat forums and see a lot of comments speculating Marlana's mysterious backers were under investigation for drug smuggling."

"The price drop was in line with the timeline of Levi getting arrested," I suggested.

"Yeah, but Daryl, somebody made a killing on this stock just before that when the price went up so quickly", she countered.

"How so Mandy? I'm not sure I understand.'

"Simple. The controlling shareholders, the ones you had me research, flooded the market by putting their shares up for sale. They made their money as the price ran up and then bailed. This was a classic pump and dump scheme," she pronounced with an air of authority."

I considered her explanation, and part of me wanted to know what Congressman Petrone's cut was from his Marlana investment under the name Revere II LLC. I quickly thought it through and decided that would be someone else's problem. I couldn't lower my sights from TJ Petrone's impending arrest.

I thanked her for her research and printed out my affidavit. I sent a copy by email to Damian, with a note I would call him to set up our meeting in Boston.

I explained my plan to Mandy, her only comment was that she wanted us out of this case. I didn't argue the point.

The next morning, I called Damian at nine AM and he said he would clear his calendar for the afternoon. I told him to expect us about two, and when I finished the call, I booked Mandy and I a suite at a downtown hotel. I checked the weather, it had stopped snowing and traffic reports indicated the Mass Pike was clear with traffic moving normally. Mandy and I packed some clothes and we were on the road in her Cherokee by ten-thirty.

I drove directly to the court house and we were greeted with hugs at Damian's office. I introduced Mandy to the clerical staff and they hit it off immediately, starting with admiration of her outfit and engagement ring and ending with the staffs' consensus I could be a handful, whatever they meant by that. A few minutes later I went in to meet with Damian.

"Daryl, I printed out a copy of your affidavit for Judge Taylor and he called me a little while ago to say he'll sign it," he said as he took his copy from a folder on his desk. "I have to be up front with you Daryl, this case is explosive, but so far, I've kept it under wraps. But I want you to hear this from me. I expect this story will be the leading headline across the country."

"That's not my problem, Boss. Who will be arresting Petrone and when?" I asked, sensing there was tension between us in that office.

"Daryl, the Attorney General advised me he has assigned a team of US Marshals to make the arrest, and it will be done in Washington as soon as the Judge issues your warrant. I expect we'll be reading about it tomorrow morning."

I sat there and studied Damian. He looked troubled, and I noted he didn't look at me when he explained the arrest plan. Something was very wrong.

He reached over and called Judge Taylor's secretary and after a few moments he hung up and said, "Judge Taylor will see us now." He grabbed his folder and stood up and I followed him to the door.

We didn't speak on the elevator ride down to the seventh floor and when we arrived, we were immediately led into the Judge's chambers. He was behind his desk, looking out the window posed as in deep thought. He turned as Damian greeted him and he motioned for us to take a seat.

As I compiled, I saw Judge Taylor was studying me, and I put on my best professional face, not knowing what was coursing through his mind. The Judge folded his hands and looked up at me as he spoke.

"Daryl, I've read your affidavit, your work has been brilliant. I especially appreciate your efforts to work closely with the local authorities and I gave them credit for extending their cooperation. In these troubled times, we need to work together if we expect to have a sense of normality return to our lives. I have to say though, this Petrone affair has me deeply troubled. I'm struggling to control my bias but admit, when I read your allegation, he induced the VA to accept medications that are possibly tainted, I felt a sense of outrage. I will issue the warrant you've requested but ask that you assure me someone in authority will follow-up on the analysis of the pills you said were undergoing laboratory examination. If the pills have been compounded with fentanyl, I want that brought up at trial."

I looked over at Damian, as I felt it wasn't within my role of authority to give that assurance.

"Your Honor," Damian said, "You have my word that the results of the lab tests will be reported to me personally." The Judge acknowledged his commitment with a nod.

I pulled from the folder I had brought with me the original documents of the affidavit and an order to seal the content and passed them over to the Judge for his signature. As I watched him, I realized I had done it. Congressman T.J. Petrone finally would be held accountable for his avarice.

Judge Taylor summoned his clerk and instructed him to make certified copies of the documents and ten minutes later Damian and I headed back up to his office. As we walked to the elevator Damian showed me the warrant and pointed to the section indicating the arrest bond requirement. I almost passed out. Four million dollars.

"One million dollars for each death," Damian mused as he shook his head in disbelief.

When we arrived at his office waiting room, he saw Mandy and asked her to join us. We went into his private office and sat in front of his desk. Mandy had the look of a little kid who had just been summoned to the principal's office. I reached over and smiled as I held her hand. It was cold.

"Daryl, I'll call the Attorney General and let him know the warrant has been issued and fax him a copy. As I said yesterday, the US Marshals will make the arrest and arrange for Petrone's transport to Boston for arraignment. I want to sincerely apologize to both of you by dragging you into this case and disrupting your plans to rest and spend time together. I realize the last six months have been stressful for both of you."

Mandy and I didn't respond, and Damian continued." I'll assign one of my staff attorneys to follow-up on the VA medicine tampering concern and another to work as liaison with the DEA to tie up the loose ends at the West Virginia drug lab. As I understand it, the local and State authorities are following up on their interview of the suspects to identify others involved in the drug distribution chain. So, to cut to the chase, thank you both for your excellent work and patience. I'm confident this is the proper point for you to end your investigation and to start getting your lives back to normal. To get you started, I'm inviting you to dinner with Maggie and I at our house tonight. Does seven PM work for you?"

I looked over at Mandy, she nodded yes, and I told Damian we would see him this evening. After saying goodbye to the office staff, Mandy and I headed to the underground garage and drove over to our hotel. We had dinner with Maggie and Damian later that evening and were back at our hotel a little after ten. The next morning, we headed back to Stockbridge. It was a nice feeling to be home without a major crime investigation hanging over my head.

### CHAPTER 24

It was the second day since our trip to Boston to get the arrest warrant for Congressman Petrone signed, and at seven-thirty in the morning I was in a deep sleep. The sound of Mandy crying out my name suddenly awakened me, and I struggled to comprehend what was happening. As I jumped out of bed, I saw she wasn't there. I was searching for my pants on the bench at the foot of the bed when she came rushing into the room.

"Daryl, you're all over the morning news! Barden has escaped!" she said with hysteria. "I can't believe it. He escaped! They're saying your name, Daryl; that you were the one who investigated him and charged him for the four kids' murders! Daryl, I'm scared!" Her face was ashen, she was shaking with dread fear.

I awkwardly stepped into my pants, almost falling back onto the bed in the process as I tried to grab Mandy by the shoulders and calm her down. I followed her as she ran back out to the kitchen and we watched the morning news on the countertop TV. She poured me a coffee and spilled half the cup with her trembling hands. I got up and physically moved her over to a stool at the breakfast bar.

My mind was racing as I tried to clear the cobwebs and comprehend what was happening.

I turned up the volume on the TV as I wiped the spilled coffee from the counter and glanced over at Mandy who had her hands to her mouth as if to contain her screams. I quickly went over to her and gave her a hug, whispering for her to calm down. After a minute or two she seemed to regain her composure. looking over her shoulder I saw through the kitchen front window Erik Nichols was coming toward the door carrying a shotgun. He knocked and peered through the window. I went over, unlocked it, and let him in.

"You're up," he said as he looked over at Mandy. "I guess you heard the news. I thought you might want this," he said as he handed me the gun. I took it and as I turned to look at Mandy, the sight of the weapon put her back in sheer panic mode. I took the gun and rested it against the entry hall wall, out of her sight.

I motioned for Erik to take a seat and saw him immediately sit next to her and give her a hug. As she was fighting off her tears, I fixed Erik a coffee and brought it over to him.

"Honey, it will be all right," I said. "Every cop in Massachusetts is out looking for Barden. It's only a matter of time before he's back in custody.

"The news reported Barden was being transported to Court by two FBI agents when their car was hit broadside in downtown Boston," Erik said calmly, adding, "The two FBI men were seriously injured and trapped in their seats. Barden escaped from the car after he took one of the agent's guns and keys. He carjacked a woman's car a few blocks away and they're looking for him driving a newer white Chevy Blazer." Before I could respond to Erik, the house phone on the kitchen wall rang, I answered, it was Damian.

"Daryl, I've been calling your cell phone, but you didn't pick up. Have you heard about Barden?" he asked, his voice rushing to get the words out.

"Yeah, I was asleep when Mandy heard the story on the news. I have a major panic issue with her, but I think I have it under control," I said quietly. I looked over at her and Erik and saw he was encouraging her to take deep breaths; I could see her shaking was lessening.

"Okay, we all need to stay calm, Daryl," Damian cautioned, "Obviously, no one saw this coming but we're dealing with it."

Damian explained there was an APB out for Barden, and the FBI and State Police were bringing in reinforcements to help with the search.

"We think he's still in the Boston area, we're guessing he's too smart to get on the Mass Pike to get out of the city without the option of an escape route if he's spotted." he said.

"Okay, thanks for the update. How are the agents that were transporting him?" I asked.

"The driver is critical his partner is in serious condition with a head injury. The driver of the car that hit them was killed," he answered tersely. "Daryl, I called the State Police Superintendent, he said he assigned extra Troopers to the Berkshire patrol zone, has set up a roadblock around the eastbound Stockbridge Pike exit, and has spoken with the County Sheriff to give him an up-to-date briefing. I need to warn you Daryl, Barden has already threatened to kill you once, and he blames you for his arrest. We have to consider he'll come after you." Damian's blunt warning was sobering.

I didn't respond to him as I looked over at Mandy and saw she was staring at me. I knew she was expecting answers; I had none. I thanked Damian for the information and ended the call.

I sat down next to Mandy and explained what Damian had said about Barden's escape, that the two agents transporting him were in serious condition. She looked into my eyes. "Daryl, Damian said your investigation was over. Why is this happening to us?" I shook my head, I was at a loss for words.

I suddenly realized I was barefoot and only had on pants and an undershirt. I said I was going to get dressed, Erik agreed to stay for as long as I needed him. I dressed quickly, grabbed my cell phone, strapped on my gun, and when I went back to the kitchen, I saw Erik's wife Bernie had arrived and she was doing her best to keep Mandy comfortable and calm.

A reflection in the front window alerted me a car had pulled into the driveway. I walked over to the shotgun against the wall and looked out the window to see a Sheriff's Department cruiser pulling in. It was Deputy Phil Costa. He approached the door and I greeted him.

"My Department was notified of Agent Barden's escape," he said as he came into the kitchen, stomping the snow off from his boots onto the entrance floormat.

"The Chief Deputy sent me over to make sure you folks are okay and let you know we've added extra patrols around Stockbridge."

He noticed the shotgun and raised his eyebrows. "I can see that you're taking seriously Barden being on the loose," he commented as he unbuttoned his heavy leather jacket and hung it on the foyer coat rack. I told him we appreciated his concern and support and invited him to stay for a cup of coffee. He agreed and settled onto a stool next to Mandy as Bernie got up to get the coffee.

My cellphone beeped, and I saw the call was from Major Rich Prince. He reported his department also had increased patrols in our area and expressed confidence that Barden wouldn't remain free for long. He explained the measures his Department was taking with the search, when he finished, I thanked him for his concern and ended the call, taking a stool at the breakfast bar.

"Daryl, how do the police track someone down when they escape?" Mandy asked, her composure having returned.

I explained Barden's first need was transportation, and he accomplished that with the carjacking. Next, he would need money. He could get that through robberies or contact with friends or associates he trusted. My last thought gave me pause. Who would Barden turn to if he needed cash? It would have to be Petrone.

I went into the family room and called Damian. He answered on the first ring, my call obviously had alarmed him. I assured him we were safe at my house and asked him if there was any word on the effort to locate and arrest Congressman Petrone.

"I haven't heard anything today from Marshal Dan Burke," he explained. "When we spoke yesterday, he told me the Congressman's staff said he had left his Washington office abruptly telling them he needed to take care of some urgent business back home. The Marshals obtained Petrone's personal cellphone number and they've been pinging it, but they're not getting any location response. They've checked his house in West Roxbury, it's locked up tight and they have a Marshal's team staking it out".

"Boss, with Barden on the run, he's going to need money. I'm betting he's going to try and get it from Petrone."

"You're probably right Daryl. We just have to let the Marshals do their job and hopefully they'll soon have both Petrone and Barden in custody."

"Boss, I'm not so sure about that. When I think this through, Barden can put Petrone in prison for life if he testifies Petrone ordered his granddaughter's murder. And Barden already has nothing to lose, he's killed four kids already, and I think he's snapped. In his warped mind he's probably blaming Petrone for the situation he's in. I have a gut feeling Marshal Burke and his men will come up short on this one."

"What are you saying Daryl?" Damian asked, obviously missing my point.

"I'm saying that both of these guys have a motive to kill the other." Damian was silent for a long few moments. When he spoke, his tone was subdued. "Daryl, as soon as I hear anything, I'll call you. In the meantime, I suggest you give some thought about getting out of your house. Maybe you and Mandy can go somewhere until this is all resolved."

I didn't answer immediately. It wasn't my nature to run from a problem, but I had to think of Mandy. I told Damian I would give it some thought and ended the call.

I went over and fixed myself another cup of coffee and sat down at the breakfast bar next to Mandy. I explained that Damian had suggested we leave the house until Barden was back in custody and asked her what she wanted to do. She looked over at me in silence, as if she was carefully considering an answer. I glanced at Erik and Bernie, their eyes were fixed on Mandy. Deputy Costa's attention was locked onto the plate of breakfast croissants that Bernie had heated in the microwave a few minutes earlier.

"Daryl. if I wasn't here, would you leave your house?" Mandy asked. I hesitated for a moment, but knew I had to be truthful.

"No, Hon. I would stay here and see this through," I answered as I reached over and took her hand. She looked down and I felt her fingers intertwine with mine. "Then that's what we shall do," she said with a firmness in her voice that surprised me. "I trust you, and we'll see this through together."

A few minutes later, after Deputy Costa had enjoyed his croissant selection, he excused himself explaining he had to go back on patrol. He said he would make continuous patrols past our property and I saw him to the door. After a few minutes, Erik said he and Bernie were heading home, adding that he expected me to call him if I needed any help. I thanked him and gave my assurance I would.

After they left Mandy and I went into the family room where I stoked up the fireplace and we settled onto the sofa, her lying with her head on a pillow she had placed on my lap. As I rubbed her back, I realized she was drifting off to sleep. I began to feel some relief from the stress of an hour ago, the mild headache I was suffering abated. After a few minutes she stirred and rolled onto her side to face me.

"Daryl, if Barden comes here after you, will you kill him?" she asked softly as she looked into my eyes,

"Hon, I'll do whatever is necessary to prevent him from trying to hurt us."

"Good, because if you don't, I will bury him.," she answered and closed her eyes. Her tone wasn't a threat, it was a solemn promise, and it sent a chill up my spine. I sat there with her head in my lap for fifteen minutes until I realized she was asleep. I carefully lifted her head and slid myself off the sofa, repositioning her on the pillow, covering her with an afghan from the nearby recliner. I stood and looked at her; her beauty was beyond description. An innocent and gentle soul who I had pulled into my frenetic life would kill to save my life. I couldn't let that happen.

I went out to the kitchen and started to make myself another coffee when I received a phone call from Major Rich Prince.

"Daryl, I have an update for you. We believe Barden is working his way West from Boston using State roads that run parallel to the Pike. There were two holdups of gas stations just outside Framingham last night, the video from both places show Barden as the robber. He's making no effort to disguise himself and he threatened both cashiers with a gun. He's out of control Daryl."

My headache suddenly returned.

"Rich, I appreciate the update, any word on the Marshal's hunt to locate Petrone?"

"I haven't seen any bulletins that he's been arrested, as far as I know his whereabouts are still unknown. What are you going to do Daryl? I think Barden is coming after you."

"I talked with Mandy, Rich. We're staying put, and I appreciate the extra patrols your guys and the Sheriffs are providing. If Barden even comes close to here, I think your guys will grab him."

"And if not Daryl? Have you thought about that?" he asked.

"Then we'll deal with him Rich," I answered and thanked him for his call. I poured my coffee and went over to Erik's shotgun resting against the wall in the kitchen entrance foyer. It was Remington twelve gauge that he had loaded with four shells. I checked that the safety was on and placed it back against the wall. As I started to walk into the family room and check on Mandy, Damian Costigan called.

"Daryl, can you talk?" he asked as soon as I answered. I said I could, explaining Mandy was sleeping. Damian's voice was almost a whisper.

"Daryl, Petrone has been found dead. Murdered. He was at a mom and pop motel on the outskirts of Holyoke. I made a call to the local PD and was told Petrone checked in by himself around nine last night. The maid went to clean the room this morning and found him. He was beaten, and his throat was cut. His wallet is missing. Daryl, I think you were right, Barden is probably the killer. I want you and Mandy to get out of your house. You need to go somewhere safe Daryl. Now!"

"We're not going to do that, Damian," I answered as I quietly walked to the entrance into the family room and looked at Mandy. Damian was silent for a few moments.

"Daryl, I think you're making a huge mistake. Use your head." He paused again." If you won't leave, then I'm calling the State Police to stake out your house, and I'm going to send some agents from my office. They'll be leaving within the half-hour They all heard the news and they're worried about you. Daryl, you can't do this alone, do you hear me? Barden is on a rampage and we think you're his next victim."

I thanked Damian for his update and again told him that we were staying. We ended the call with his repeating his intention to provide us with police protection. I didn't argue.

As I sat at the breakfast bar with my coffee, I saw Erik's pickup truck through the front window as he pulled up to the garage and parked. I went over and looked out, noticing for the first time the overnight snow had added another six inches. I suspected he had come over to plow it clear.

I went into the family room and saw Mandy was sitting up. She apologized for falling asleep and asked what I was up to. I was hesitant to tell her of Petrone's murder, but I knew it would only be a matter of time before she saw or heard it on the news or someone called to tell us.

I told her Erik was out front and it looked like he was going to plow the driveway. "Hey! That's my job!" she said as she got up and folded the afghan, placing it back it on the recliner.

I had to tell her. "Mandy. Before you go outside, we need to talk."

"I know, I know," she said. "I'll be fine, Erik will be watching me. I think he worries that the Bobcat will get away from me. Really, I'll be fine."

"It's not about you and the Bobcat, Mandy. It's about Petrone. He's dead." The news shocked her. She jerked her head back in disbelief, and quickly sat down, her body shaking.

"Dead? How? What happened?"

"He was found this morning in a motel room. He's been murdered."

"My God!" she cried out. "Daryl, who killed him?"

"The police don't know, but they suspect it was Barden," I answered as I sat down next to her.

"Daryl, if Barden comes near us, I swear I will bury him." she said in a rage. "I'm not sorry about Mr. Petrone, he was an awful, horrible man. He got what he deserved. But I mean it. That man Barden will regret it if he tries to hurt us." She jumped up and told me she was going out to plow the driveway and instructed me not to even think about telling her she couldn't go outside. "That bastard Barden will not make me live my life in fear," she said defiantly as she marched down the hall toward the master bedroom.

In the six months we had been together I had never heard one curse word cross her lips. I shook my head as I realized she used the same descriptor for Barden that Tony Banacci had used at the hospital. Barden was a bastard by consensus.

I went into the bedroom and saw Mandy was putting on her snowsuit. She looked at me and said in anger, "Don't tell me I can't go outside. Don't even think about it," she repeated her warning." I'm not going to be a prisoner in this house."

I chose the right course of action. I said nothing as I raised my hands in surrender.

I grabbed my leather jacket and gloves, retrieved the shotgun from the foyer, and went outside to talk with Erik. I entered through the open garage door and immediately felt the warmth from the woodstove fire he had built. He was greasing the fittings on the Bobcat's bucket and turned as I entered.

"I assume you heard the news, someone murdered Petrone," he said matter-of-factly, not allowing the conversation to interrupt his work.

"I did," I answered. "The PD thinks Barden killed him, and Damian Costigan and the State Police think he's coming here after me next. He stopped his work and stood.

I continued, "Mandy knows about Petrone and Barden, and insists she's coming out to help you plow. She's on a mission. I asked her not to come out here, but she warned me to stay out of her way in no uncertain terms." Erik studied me for a moment and went back to his mechanical chore.

"She'll be all right, I'll be here with her," he finally said as he finished his work and wiped the grease off his hands.

I handed him his shotgun. "I hope you won't have to use this. The State Police are sending a Trooper over to guard the house and Major Prince said he was calling the Sheriff's Department for help. If Barden shows up, he'll have a reception party waiting." Erik nodded, but said nothing as he racked a shell into the shotgun receiver and set it against the wall within an arm's reach. He looked up and nodded toward the house and I turned and saw Mandy approaching. As she entered the garage, she gave me a glare more than a look, and turning to Erik she sweetly asked,

"Am I ready for takeoff, Chief?"

Erik grinned and nodded. "You're all set, Sweetie. Just go easy, dump the snow to the garage side of the driveway as I showed you. It's warmed up and the heater in the cab is on high. Just take your time."

I watched as she got behind the wheel and revved the engine a few times as if she was waiting for the starter's flag to drop. Much to my surprise, she slowly backed out of the garage and executed a precision one-eighty degree turn as she lowered the bucket and made her first scoop of snow.

"She's a fast learner," Erik observed as he watched her. "I left the bucket on it instead of the plow to give her a little stability when she turns. She needs to work on slowing her speed down, but I give her a lot of credit for learning so quickly how to drive it.

I went further into the garage where I had my year-old Camaro stored covered with a tarp. I retired it six months after I bought it, having fallen in love with my Dodge Challenger when I saw it on a dealer's lot. The Camaro was a beautiful ride and only had five thousand miles on it. Mandy had her heart set on buying a new Range Rover and I had the thought we could trade in the Camaro and her Cherokee to knock down the sticker price of a Rover. As I pulled the tarp off to start the car, my cellphone beeped. I looked and saw it was Matt Holcomb from the Sheriff's Department.

When I answered, Matt yelled, "DARYL! We spotted Barden coming through Stockbridge. A Deputy started a chase but lost him heading toward the New York line. He had to stop the chase when his cruiser slid off the road. Barden may try to swing around through back roads and work his way toward your place. Are you guys home?"

"We are Matt. Mandy's plowing the driveway and Erik and I are in the garage watching her."

"Get Mandy the hell out of there Daryl! I think this will go downhill fast. Get back in the house and keep your eyes peeled! I'm sending all available units your way; the closest is Phil Costa; he's just clearing from an accident scene over by my house."

"I hear you Matt. Get your men here as fast as you can," I answered and quickly ended the call. I started to run to Erik and to get Mandy's attention, but it was too late.

Erik and I both whirled around and saw the white Chevy Blazer come sliding into the driveway entrance. Its high-speed entry caused it to veer to the side and it came to a stop in the deep snow on the front lawn.

I screamed "MANDY!" as loud as I could, but my warning was lost in the noise from the Bobcat's engine. I saw her brake sharply and come to a stop.

The driver of the Blazer jumped from the car, I saw it was Barden and he had a gun in his hand. He jumped out of the car and tried to run toward the house but immediately slipped and fell. As he rose to his knees, I saw he was looking directly at me. He got up and leaned against the driver's door of the Blazer to regain his balance, aimed, and fired a shot. I heard it hit the side of the garage as I dove to the ground and pulled the gun from my hip holster and aimed to return fire.

Over my shoulder a thunderous boom startled me as Erik fired a round from his shotgun. I saw the shot shatter the windshield of the Blazer as Barden dove into the snow for cover.

As Erik racked another round into the shotgun's chamber I ran toward Mandy. I heard the engine of the Bobcat race as she picked up speed scooping snow into the bucket and raised it, heading directly at Barden. I screamed "NO!" but it was too late.

Mandy closed the gap to Barden and as he turned to run, he slipped in the snow and fell again. I saw the bucket of the Bobcat raise to its full height and watched helplessly as Mandy dumped the load of snow and ice on top of him. At that instant I saw a Sheriff's cruiser race into the driveway and slide to a stop.

Deputy Phil Costa was in full attack mode as he jumped out and ran to Barden, who was trying to stand. In an instant Costa landed two crushing blows from a right hand that knocked him onto the ground. As I ran up to the fight, I saw Costa pounding Barden's face with his fists. He wasn't subduing his prisoner, he was exacting the street justice he hadn't given Barden at the murder scene when he defiled the dead girl's bodies.

Almost immediately more cruisers arrived on scene, and soon the road in front of my house was aglow with red and blue flashing lights, sirens continuing to wail as the officers raced to assist Deputy Costa. I watched as the first responders had to forcibly pull him off Barden. Before I could reach her, Mandy jumped from the Bobcat, ran up to the Deputy and threw her arms around him. The fight was over; Barden had been severely beaten, and we were alive.

I turned and saw Erik was right behind me, he handed me the shotgun as he climbed into the Bobcat and shut the engine off. I ran over to Mandy, she turned and wrapped her arms around me, burying her face in my jacket. She was breathing fast and was trembling uncontrollably. I asked her if she was all right, she nodded yes and looked up at me.

"I told you if he came here and tried to hurt us, I would bury him," she said softly, as she pressed her body onto mine.

"Yeah, you did Hon. It's over now, thank you," I said as I kissed her snow-covered forehead.

I went over and shook Deputy Costa's hand firmly and thanked him for coming to our rescue. "Mandy did the heavy lifting," he said with a broad grin as he massaged his knuckles. "I just cleaned up the garbage. You know, I really like that girl!"

I looked around and saw Sgt. Matt Holcomb had arrived. After he was briefed by his first deputies on the scene he came over and gave Mandy a big hug, telling her how resourceful and brave she was. I was feeling proud of her more than anyone there, but in the back of my mind I knew that later I would have a lot of explaining to her regarding my career choice.

The Deputies called for an ambulance to take Barden to the hospital for treatment, his bloodied face looked as if he had walked into a locomotive. I walked over to him lying in the snow, as I did, a Deputy standing over him showed me the gun. "This is what he took off the FBI agent in the accident," he said. "Your girlfriend should have run him over. It would have saved the taxpayers a lot of money. This scumbag killed four kids. He doesn't deserve to live." I didn't offer a response, but I quietly agreed with his opinion.

"You're finished Tommy," I said as I leaned over Barden. His face and eyes were badly swollen from the beating Costa had given him, but I had a feeling he realized it was me talking to him.

I saw a Deputy speaking with Matt Holcomb and I went over to them. Matt showed me a wallet the Deputy had taken out of the Blazer's console.

"This belonged to the late Congressman T.J. Petrone," he announced. "That makes five murders we can clear with Barden's arrest, and it seems your Mandy made all that possible." I nodded and felt humbled.

Erik said he would put the Bobcat in the garage and go back to his house and bring Bernie over to be with Mandy. Sgt. Holcomb gave his men orders on how he wanted the crime scene documented and we agreed to go into our house for Mandy and me to give statements. She escorted Deputy Costa, her arm linked in his. I heard her promise she would make him a sandwich because he probably had missed his lunch; he was grinning from ear to ear. I had a feeling he would be at our wedding if Mandy would still have me.

By the time Erik and Bernie returned, our house was crowded with law enforcement personnel. Mandy changed into jeans and a heavy sweater top and when she stepped into the kitchen, she was greeted with a round of applause from the gathering. She blushed and waved them off as she came over to me and gave me a strong hug. "I done good, huh?" she asked. I answered she had and gave her a kiss. Another round of applause was given, interspersed with someone calling out, "When's the damn wedding you two?" bringing laughter from the group.

Bernie set to work preparing coffee, pastries and sandwiches, assisted by two of the Deputies. Two of the officers stoked the family room fireplace and had a roaring fire going in short order. Mandy and I went into her home office with Matt Holcomb and typed up statements on our computers. After twenty minutes we were finished and joined the group in the family room where the officers were intently watching the TV. The news was all about Congressman Petrone's murder, fortunately the word hadn't gotten out about Barden's capture, but I knew it was just a matter of time. As I sat and watched the coverage. I heard my cellphone ring and saw the call was from Damian. I told Matt who was calling, and we got up and went out to the kitchen as I answered.

"Daryl, we received a bulletin from the State Police a few minutes ago that said Barden was arrested following a shootout in Stockbridge. Are you and Mandy all right?" he asked excitedly.

I said we were, and explained it wasn't much of a shootout, spending a few minutes explaining what happened. When I finished, he was speechless for almost a minute.

"Daryl, are you telling me after we deployed dozens of Federal, State and local law enforcement resources to capture Barden your Mandy brought him down with a bucket of snow? "Jesus! How do you expect me to explain that to the US Attorney General? Good God, Man! I can't tell him that!"

"It's the truth Boss," I answered.

"Daryl, we have to come up with a better story than that."

"Because I like you, Boss, I'll help you out. I'll email you the statement I wrote for the Sheriff's Department."

"That would be helpful," he acknowledged. "And what does your statement say?"

"It says Barden arrived at my house while we were working clearing snow and he opened fire on us. Sheriff's Deputy Phil Costa, who was in the area on reports Barden had been spotted in town, arrived within two minutes and confronted Barden. After a struggle he disarmed and subdued him. Boss, I want Deputy Costa to get the credit for the arrest, he deserves it." I looked over at Matt Holcomb and saw he was nodding his head in agreement.

"Well, that I can sell Daryl. But tell me something, off the record. The State Police bulletin said Barden was being treated at a local hospital for serious head and face injuries. How did that happen?"

"He foolishly refused to submit to arrest and the Deputy used necessary force to take him into custody," I answered, avoiding any comment of whether the force was reasonable.

"Okay, I can live with that version of what happened," he said. "Now all we have left is to link Barden to Petrone's murder."

"I think I can help you with that too, Boss. The Sheriff's Department found Petrone's wallet in the stolen SUV that Barden was driving."

"Jesus, Daryl! Are you going to tell me that Mandy had something to do with that too?"

"As much as I'd love to completely ruin your day, no. Mandy is innocent on that count!" I answered.

"Praise the Lord for small miracles", he said. "All right. I need to make some phone calls to Washington and get together with my senior staff and work up a statement for the press."

"Petrone's murder is already front-page news coast to coast," he added. "And when we announce Barden is the killer, and the story leaks out about the tampered pills we removed from the VA hospital, the press will go ballistic with their theories. I'll talk with you later."

I ended the call thankful I wasn't US Attorney Damian Costigan.

Over the next hour, the Deputies and Troopers left in groups of two and three, each one hugging Mandy on their way out. I watched her as she thanked them with modesty, and saw she kept looking over at me as if sending a telepathic message 'get me out of this.' I kept my distance, this was her moment.

Over at the kitchen table I saw a Deputy was finishing up a statement he was taking from Erik. I went over and patted Erik on the back, thanking him for stepping up to help me. When they finished, The Deputy thanked him, shook his hand, collected his paperwork, and walked away. I saw Erik had a smile as he shook his head.

"You okay, Erik?"

"Yeah, I was a little shaky before, but I'm fine now. I was just thinking, the Deputy asked me what I was aiming at when I fired the shotgun."

"What were you aiming at?" I asked.

"Obviously, what I hit!" He answered with a laugh. "That's what I put in my statement!" If you'll excuse me, I have to put the Bobcat in the garage and clean my shotgun." He stood, shook my hand again and went to get his hat and coat.

I looked out the front kitchen window and saw a flatbed wrecker had arrived and was removing the stolen SUV from the front lawn. Fifteen minutes later our house had cleared out, Bernie, Mandy and I sat at the breakfast bar with fresh coffees.

Mandy looked over at me and asked, "Daryl, Barden can't sue me for dumping the snow on him, can he?" I couldn't hold back my laugh and reached over and gave her a hug, telling her she had nothing to worry about. Barden's future legal actions were going to involve trying to avoid the death penalty.

She responded with a simple, "Okay," and took a sip from her mug.

After Bernie went home Mandy curled up on the sofa across from the family room fireplace and soon fell asleep. As I watched her, I sensed she was at peace with herself.

### CHAPTER 25

It's been three weeks since FBI Agent Thomas Barden was arrested in our front yard, an event the love of my life fiancee Mandy has dubbed "The Great Stonegarden Estate Snowplow Incident."

News media across the country have been in full frenzy mode capitalizing on the murder of Congressman T.J. Petrone, as documents presented at Barden's court arraignment linked Petrone to hiring Barden to murder his granddaughter and her friends in his psychotic thinking her drug addiction would be an embarrassment when he ran for the Presidency. It would only be a matter of time before other Court proceedings would expose Petrone's links to the opiate trafficking ring that was discovered to have spread its deadly tentacles throughout the New England states.

Although my investigative assistance has ended, others involved in the cases have been busy tying up loose ends and preparing to prosecute the involved offenders. I've been involved in the trial strategy planning for the Federal and State prosecutions.

Damian Costigan was pressing to seek the death penalty for Barden under the Federal guideline he had murdered a US Congressman, and twice attempted to murder me, a Federal court officer.

The mole in our local Task Force, Detective Ricky Belair, was indicted by a Federal Grand Jury for his interstate trafficking of opiates and fentanyl.

Through his attorney Belair is already seeking a deal to plead guilty and be sentenced to a Federal prison, in return for his disclosing the identities of his multi-state network of street drug dealers and his cooperation as a witness against his co-conspirators.

Dr. Howard Levi was indicted by the same Grand Jury, charged with operating a drug factory, interstate trafficking, money laundering, conspiracy, wire fraud, and violation of the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act. He is also under investigation by the IRS for tax evasion related to his multi-million dollar offshore financial accounts. Levi is facing life imprisonment if convicted.

The DEA dismantled the West Virginia pill mill operation, arresting the pharmacist and his two techs. Computerized records of the pill compounding operation revealed the site was on track to distribute close to a half-million oxycodone tablets a year. Lab analysis had confirmed traces of fentanyl in the pills, including those that had been shipped to the VA hospital system. Thankfully, none of those pills had been prescribed to veterans.

Investigation was continuing into how the raw opiate product was being brought in, but it was suspected the airstrip was the conduit. It was learned Howard Levi owned the pill mill site, including the airstrip, and the DEA has filed warrants for its forfeiture.

Despite my numerous calls to Damian Costigan pressing him to disclose who had ordered the US Marshals to enter the case for the arrests on the pretext there were national law enforcement issues at stake, the only hint he offered was that the Executive Branch was heavily involved.

Mandy and I have been keeping a low profile out of circumstance, not choice. I worried about her for the first week after Barden's arrest, she was unusually quiet and withdrawn. I thought her realization Barden could have killed both of us was the problem, and she needed time to sort that out. Thankfully, Kristin Holcomb and a few of her nurse friends have been frequent callers and visitors and I'm seeing Mandy's spirit showing some spunk again. Perhaps contributing to her recovery is last week's purchase of her new Range Rover Velar.

Judge Moran and Lindsey have visited few times and one evening had dinner with us. The Judge pulled me aside privately and asked me to consider joining Berkshire Law as a full partner. I didn't see that coming, and wisely, I answered I would give it some thought. In all honesty, I think I'm a better detective than a lawyer.

We were invited and attended a Sheriff's Department ceremony promoting Deputy Phil Costa to Sergeant. We were surprised when he announced he had decided to continue working to achieve twenty-five years-service. He has kept tabs on us, checking in at our house every two weeks to see how we're doing. Curiously, he seems to always arrive around lunchtime.

This past week we learned of a community fund raiser to pay the burial expenses of Anna Muranti, and overdose victims Karen Miller and her boyfriend Bruce Hanson. The fund drive has been created by our two local churches after it was learned Ana's mother couldn't be located, the Miller and Hanson families couldn't afford the expense and owed the funeral homes a discounted fee for their services.

Lindsey Moran made some inquires for us and learned the fund drive target. Our Stonegarden Foundation, requesting anonymity, has donated the full amount.

I've promised Mandy I'd take some time off and made it clear to the Justice Department I wasn't available for any new consulting assignments. We're staying close to home to avoid the curiosity and questions of our neighbors as the investigation continues to play out in the news.

In the back of my mind though, I know as with all things in life, the unforeseen may be lurking just around the corner.

