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Despite running into a drug dealer, being knocked to the ground by Officer Justice, and enduring questioning as if she were a common criminal, Haley had been feeling relatively upbeat while in the woods. After all, she’d found a huge marijuana patch, the biggest lead she could imagine in her mission to avenge her fiancé’s death. Even the nagging dread that the police thought she’d planted it failed to dampen her spirits.
By the next morning, however, her euphoria was gone. She woke up and automatically reached across the bed, her hand falling flat against the sheets exactly as it had every morning during the past four months. She was alone again.
The solitude made her chest feel as though it had been hollowed out, her internal organs replaced with a gaping hole. She’d hoped a new environment would at least justify the familiar sense of displacement, but the emotion exceeded the sensation of awakening in unfamiliar surroundings. Haley felt lost in her own body.
She wondered if this was how Michael had felt when the drugs took hold. Before marijuana had entered her fiancé’s life, she had never classified it as a serious drug. She certainly hadn’t believed it to rival heroin or cocaine, the use of which would have been immediate grounds for her to call off their engagement, kick Michael in the nuts, and move out of his condo. But after witnessing his slow decline of ambition over the years, she began to resent the drug as much as she did her fiancé.
Haley sighed and rolled out of bed, shuffling into the living room where she could stare at her unpacked boxes. After driving into town yesterday morning she’d gone as far as unloading her car and the little moving trailer she’d rented, but she had yet to unpack anything except an almost-depleted roll of toilet paper and her cosmetics, promptly using both in preparation for her hike.
She had only brought items she didn’t feel any sentimental attachment to. Anything that reminded her of Michael or their life together she’d left in his Seattle condo for his parents to deal with. This decision had left her with a hodgepodge of things that didn’t have much use without its match. For example, she’d taken the DVD player she’d purchased before meeting Michael but had left the television they’d picked out together. She had saved a handful of utensils abandoned by her college roommate years ago but lacked any dishes because she’d once witnessed Michael rolling a joint on one of their dinner plates.
Her illogical collection looked even more pathetic given the size of her rental. This three-bedroom house spanned almost double the square footage of the Seattle condo, spreading her sparse furnishings out so the items looked more like detritus left behind by the previous tenant.
Haley glanced around, wondering why she had bothered bringing anything at all. She doubted she’d keep on expecting to wake up next to Michael if she slept on the floor, regretting even the guest bed she’d struggled to drag across state lines.
What she should have done was left everything except her extensive collection of makeup, clothes, and shoes, and driven to Sobaco armed only with the papers she’d gathered in preparation for her mission. The papers fit in just one box, the one marked with her late fiancé’s name.
She grabbed the box and sat in her desk chair. Her heart beat faster as she flipped open the lid, exposing all the information she’d accumulated on Michael’s vice.
“I buy it from an old high school buddy,” Michael had told her when she’d asked where he got the damn stuff. “He gets it from a guy who picks it up in Sobaco.”
“Sobaco?” Haley had never heard of the dinky town before then.
“Sobaco, Oregon.” Michael’s eyes had glazed over as he lit another joint and the drugs numbed him to the injustices of the world. “That’s where this stuff grows.”
Haley had stared at the joint he held up, his arm looking like an overcooked spaghetti noodle. She had felt like ripping the doobie from him and throwing it in his face, but she knew that would only start another one of the fights starting to define their relationship.
“But you can’t tell anyone,” Michael added breathlessly, trying not to exhale too soon. “I’m only telling you this because you said we should be open about everything.”
Haley couldn’t explain the fire that had seared through her then. After all, she had said those exact words, months ago when she was livid after discovering Michael had secured a job interview he’d never bothered to tell her about. When she’d confronted him, he had justified the omission by claiming, “Those bastards weren’t going to hire me anyway,” a sentiment that had Haley itching to scream that of course they wouldn’t, not with the cloying smell of marijuana clinging to him like kudzu.
Rationally, she knew he chose to abuse drugs, but she found herself shifting more and more of the blame to the drug’s allure. If she hoped to salvage their relationship, she needed something to pin her ever-present anger on besides her fiancé.
And after his fatal heart attack four months ago, the drug remained the only thing left to blame. Neither Michael nor anyone in his family had a history of heart disease, giving merit to her suspicion that something in the pot had contributed to his weakened heart.
She desperately needed to believe his damaged heart wasn’t her doing.
She had gone so far as to have some of Michael’s pot tested. The results hadn’t surprised her. The street substance was laced with a mishmash of pesticides. The lab couldn’t conclusively say that four years of inhaling the tainted stuff had contributed to Michael’s premature heart attack, but she knew.
That day marked the beginning of her obsession to track down the people responsible for Michael’s pot—the same people who had destroyed her life.
Then, one day, she began to craft a plan. The first step of that plan required her to move to Sobaco and locate the marijuana.
She still hadn’t figured out the second step of her plan.
Sighing, Haley forced her attention away from the papers detailing more about marijuana horticulture than she’d ever wanted to learn. Besides, she already knew every last detail of every paper in the box she’d brought with her. And, after her find in the woods, she needed to concentrate on identifying the culprits.
She glanced at her BlackBerry, surprised to note that an hour had passed since she’d woken up. She wondered if the press had gotten word of the drug bust in time to report the latest in the Sunday paper. Perhaps they’d printed something that would help lead her to the organization responsible. With any luck, the previous tenant had forgotten to stop his subscription and today’s newspaper lay waiting on the doorstep.
Guided by a burst of energy, Haley threw open the front door. Her jaw fell open when her eyes alighted on the police officer who had questioned her yesterday. After his interrogation, she had considered that Officer Justice—if that was his real name—would track her down and arrest her before she’d unpacked, but she hadn’t really treated the idea seriously.
Yet, now, here he was.
Justice eyed her up and down as he approached. Haley tried to smooth out her clothes, wishing she had changed out of her pink pajamas dotted with tiny reindeer. If she had known she might be carted off to jail first thing this morning, she would have taken the time to put on some makeup.
Her self-consciousness didn’t abate any when she noticed that Justice looked pretty sharp dressed in his black work uniform. At least his eyes were bloodshot, she thought, although that might only mean he’d been working all night to convince a judge of Haley’s viability as a drug suspect.
After what felt like an eternity, he dragged his gaze back up to her face. “I didn’t realize you were my new neighbor, although I should have guessed as much.”
“Excuse me?” Haley’s eyes darted toward his hands in search of an arrest warrant.
“We don’t have a high turnover in Sobaco. When you mentioned you’d just relocated here, I should have figured you were the one who’d moved into this house.”
Haley gazed past his shoulder. She realized now that he must not have been standing in her yard but his own.
She jumped as Justice thrust his hand out.
“I’m Luke,” he said. “Luke Justice, your neighbor.” He attempted a smile but it fell flat. “And local law-enforcement officer.”
She stared at his open palm for a moment before grabbing his hand. Then she shook vigorously to make it clear she hadn’t had anything to do with planting that marijuana in the woods. After all, would a drug supplier greet an officer on their doorstep with such enthusiasm?
“Haley Winequest,” she said, her breath catching from the effort required to maintain her end of the handshake.
Justice disentangled his hand and slipped it into his pants pocket. “I know. I took your statement yesterday, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” Haley spat, recalling how he’d looked at her. She immediately regretted her tone. “I mean, yes, I remember, Officer Justice.”
“Call me Luke.”
Haley hesitated to think of Justice by his first name, but seeing as how she was stuck with the guy as her neighbor she figured she might as well get used to it. Besides, “Luke” seemed a more appropriate moniker for the police officer standing on her doorstep than the ridiculous “Justice.”
Luke rose to his toes as he tried to peek over her shoulder. Reminded of the marijuana printouts scattered all over her desk, she shifted a little to better block his view. She’d have to remember to keep the papers out of sight. She viewed her next-door neighbor’s profession as an extension of her bad luck and silently cursed the foolish impulse that had spurred her to sign a six-month lease.
“You didn’t happen to see the Sunday paper on your way over here, did you?” she asked. She looked around, hoping Luke would abandon his doorway inspection to do the same.
He seemed to get the hint. He set his feet flat on the ground again and redirected his attention to her. “Sunday paper?”
“I don’t have a subscription yet myself, but maybe the previous tenant forgot to cancel his.”
Luke frowned. “Sobaco doesn’t have a newspaper.”
Haley’s jaw slipped open. Sobaco didn’t have a newspaper? How could a town exist without a newspaper, even just a thin Sunday missive offering nothing more newsworthy than the latest crossword puzzle?
“News generally travels by word-of-mouth here,” Luke said. He must have noticed her flabbergasted expression, because he added, “Die-hard news junkies can subscribe to Eugene’s Register-Guard.”
“Would the drug bust be in the Eugene paper?” Haley asked.
“Doubtful.”
Her spirits deflated, but she tried not to show it. She didn’t want Luke thinking she harbored more than the natural curiosity of a nature hiker making an unfortunate discovery.
“I doubt the chief will issue a press release until we finish our collection efforts,” he continued. “In fact, I only took a short break to shower and change.”
“So the chief is in charge,” Haley mused, taking heart that someone undoubtedly more competent than Luke Justice would be leading this case.
Luke nodded. “Although you gave me a statement already, if he thinks it’s important enough he’ll want to talk to you himself.”
“What do you mean ‘if he thinks it’s important enough’?” His statement caused what little confidence she had in the local force to evaporate altogether. “Enough marijuana to buzz an entire third-world country exists out in those woods, for God’s sake.”
Luke rocked back on his heels. She took a deep breath, reminding herself to calm down. She was supposed to be an impartial eyewitness. He didn’t have to know that she’d just now vowed to revisit the woods in search of clues leading to the drug organization’s identity as soon as he left. She obviously couldn’t rely on the police to conduct a decent investigation.
Except Luke didn’t seem to be in a rush to leave. He stood on the doorstep, the edges of his mouth twitching as though he had something else to say.
Haley started counting backward from ten as she waited for him to speak. She made it to seven before retreating a step. “Well, I need to hustle if I’m going to get my hike in before it gets too hot.”
Luke’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not allowed in the woods.”
“What? Why not?”
“We have the area cordoned off. Nobody is allowed in until we’ve confiscated the cannabis and combed through the surrounding location.”
“You’re barricading the entire woods?”
Luke squinted at her as if she’d sprouted two heads. “Not physically. But all visitors will be denied access until police seizure efforts are complete.”
Haley’s heart sank. Although she would bet the police would overlook some key piece of evidence, whatever eluded their attention would almost assuredly be rendered useless after Luke’s cohorts trod through the scene.
“I should tell you, I encountered an individual on the trail yesterday who could be the same person you saw,” Luke said.
Haley’s eyes snapped toward his. “And you didn’t arrest him?”
“I had no grounds to.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d come so close to avenging Michael’s death only to have her efforts result in this: a briefly spotted man who’d gotten away. That disappointment combined with the discovery of an unpleasant, incompetent cop as her new neighbor made her seriously question whether the universe was conspiring against her.
“But I did make a rough sketch of the guy,” Luke added. “You could take a look and confirm whether he’s the person you saw.”
Haley bobbed her head. “Yes. Sure. I’d love that.”
He started across the lawn, and she practically mowed over him in her rush to see this sketch.
He halted, eyeing her down the bridge of his nose. “Stay here, and I’ll get it.”
She froze in her tracks. “Okay.”
After staring at her for another moment, he stepped past her. She watched as he disappeared into the house next door, then decided she’d look less like a psychopath if she waited for his return from her own doorway.
He didn’t take long to reemerge. Haley forced herself not to snatch the sketch from him when he handed it over.
But the drawing wasn’t nearly as helpful as she had hoped. Luke Justice clearly possessed about as much artistic talent as charisma. She could see no resemblance between his amateurish drawing and the man she’d encountered in the woods yesterday.
“The person I ran into was Latino,” Luke said. “That fits with your observation of him being tan.”
Haley presumed the man’s race was what Luke had attempted to capture by shading his drawing. She pointed to a dark circle colored in near the man’s chin, not sure whether Luke had simply lost control of his crayon. “What’s this?”
“A mole. The man I saw had a very prominent mole on the left side of his chin.”
Haley tried to remember if the person she’d seen had any distinguishing facial characteristics but drew a blank.
Luke pointed to where the man’s ear would be if he hadn’t replaced it with a bulbous tumor. “And the angle here isn’t correct, but I spotted a crucifix tattoo behind the man’s left ear. Here.” He flipped the paper over. On the other side, he’d sketched a stick person centered on a cross. “This is what it looks like.”
Haley tapped her foot, frustrated by her inability to recall the same details. Was she really so unobservant?
The marijuana grower had moved rather quickly, she reminded herself as she turned the page back over. If Luke had passed the guy while strolling along the trail, naturally he would remember more about him. He’d probably had several seconds, maybe even a couple minutes, to study him as he approached.
“Does my rendition jibe with your recollection?” Luke said.
“Kind of,” Haley lied. “I mean, he was tan.”
Luke nodded, as though her words actually made sense. He eased the paper away from her. “I figured he was the same guy. His hands were dirty, like he’d been gardening.”
“What was he wearing?” Haley thought back to the man she’d seen. “Blue jeans and a black T-shirt?”
“One and the same.”
“So what happens now?” She rubbed her palms together, anxious to have one of Michael’s former suppliers in police custody.
“Our first priority is to recover the cannabis from the woods. After that, I’ll write up a report and submit it to the chief. Then we’ll discuss next steps.”
Haley’s hands fell to her sides. She wanted to hear that Luke would post fliers on all the town’s telephone poles, scouting the streets for this man until someone located him and the police placed him under arrest. After spending months obsessing over bringing the drug organization down, she wanted him jailed promptly.
She reminded herself that matters of justice always took time. After all, it had taken her four months to come this far. She could wait another couple days.
Luke’s gaze veered toward his house, his longing clear in his eyes. “The chief will have to decide how we approach this case.”
Haley’s irritation rose over Luke’s evident desire to wrap up this conversation—and therefore the “case,” not that there seemed to be one—so he could return to his own place. “I’m not sure why you bothered to interview me if you don’t intend to spend any time pursuing this guy.”
Luke faced her again. “I didn’t say anything about not pursuing this person. This case is a big deal. In fact, I normally don’t even work Sundays, but we’re anxious to seize the cannabis plants as quickly as possible.”
“Well, I apologize for not waiting until your regular work shift before stumbling upon the drugs.”
Her sardonic statement seemed to roll right off him. “I merely pointed out that I need to consult with my superior before we decide how to proceed.”
Haley pressed her lips together to keep from uttering a tart response. After all, was Luke Justice’s desire to seek another person’s opinion really unreasonable? For all she knew, he spent most of his time trapping opossums. He probably had no idea how to handle a drug bust.
“Are crimes like this common in Sobaco?” she asked.
“Until now, as far as the police department was aware, there were no drugs of any sort in Sobaco.”
Haley figured it wouldn’t earn her any points to laugh at the form response he had touted with deadpan delivery. She wondered if there might be more than one drug organization in town. In that case, she would have no way of knowing which one had supplied Michael with his vice. She’d simply have to bust them all.
Although, she considered, what were the odds of two competing organizations living in harmony in a town as small as Sobaco? About as likely as Luke Justice cracking this case, she concluded.
Luke rippled his drawing between them. “If you remember any more details about this man, I’d appreciate you stopping by. My door is always open.”
Haley glanced at his closed front door and suppressed a snort.
“Sometimes witnesses remember more after the fact, once the initial shock of seeing something unexpected has worn off,” Luke continued.
Haley squared her shoulders. “I’m not shocked. And I don’t remember anything else about the guy.”
Luke studied her. She wondered what he was thinking. The man reminded her of a cougar sizing up its prey.
Haley took a step backward and inched the door shut a fraction, no longer willing to serve as his psychological subject. “Well, thanks for stopping by.”
“See you around,” Luke replied, already heading back toward the neighboring house.
Haley closed the door and sighed. If Luke Justice served as Sobaco’s version of a welcome wagon, this small town had a lot to learn about hospitality.
