Oh, yes. Heavens, yes. So sweet, that moment of reveal, one I hadn’t had the chance to spring on any living soul until this very moment, imagined and dreamed of and delighted over in the dark of my deepest nights when I finally found a thought to comfort me. That thought being, of course, how delicious the sound of those very words spoken at the perfect moment in time could be.
Magical. And worked exactly how I imagined, can you believe it? My statement of identity left both women gaping at me like I’d told them I used to have two heads and came from Mars.
Freaking. Awesome.
“I’m working with the police,” I said, still with that calm, level Dad tone that worked wonders, weaving in a little Detective Elle Gordon for good measure while my insides danced a delighted tap routine of utter joy and childlike exuberance I fought to contain so I didn’t blow my cool. “They hired me to infiltrate your program, Catherine. To ensure taxpayer money was being utilized fairly and that the program was worth funding.” I tsked softly, living for this entire experience, knowing it was wrong, so wrong, to soak in the clean perfection of it, but loving every single second far more than was healthy for a woman in my position.
Annie hugged herself, Catherine blanching even whiter than before. Some ghosts or skeletons lingering in your closets, Mrs. West? Ah yes, I could just see it now. Took everything I had in me not to grin. “Imagine my surprise when I found out you are complicit in a drug trafficking ring, funneling marijuana through your supposed fallow greenhouses and storing for distribution here on the main farm. I’m assuming the stashes are set up for easy packing onto trucks for removal?” Yes, I was making some of it up, pulling threads to weave new cloth, but it made sense, so I ran with it to see if she’d chase me.
Catherine, meanwhile, shook her head over and over again, free hand over her mouth, eyes bulging faintly, mute but clearly in denial. Well, one way or another, I’d have an answer from her, though it seemed to be leaning toward the not guilty side I had expected. Despite her accusations that could be a cover for her own activity, Catherine West didn’t strike me as the type to create such an elaborate ploy, nor to have gang ties with which to sell contraband.
“Did you kill her, Mom?” That question hung with its own mortality wrapped in darkness and lingering in the air between mother and daughter. Annie’s dead tone and intense stare did more damage to her mother than my chatter, however. Visibly, like blows, each word, slaps to her cheeks that darkened and brought more tears to her eyes. The way Catherine looked at her daughter might as well have signaled the end of everything between them and possibly did, though the mother shouldered the bulk of the blame in my opinion. I hoped she knew what she created, and how. Maybe down the road she would look back on this and regret instead of playing a victim accused as she had accused all along. “Did you set me up to be put in prison and then devise this,” Annie waved one hand around at the greenhouse operation, “so you could grow drugs,” she spit that word out, “and blame me?”
I thought her mother might keel over when Annie finished her blame disguised as questions. Catherine choked, coughed, bent in half. I had to thump her between her shoulder blades to encourage her to breathe, to keep her lungs and heart pumping while she gasped for breath around soft moans of what had to be hurt. When she straightened again, she was weeping openly, mouth gaping with the air finally exiting her locked chest, free hand now reaching for Annie who dodged it, sullen and darkly dangerous.
No love lost here, between these two. No sweet reconciliation pending. Just blame and shame and all kinds of rage that layered over Annie’s usual sweetness. In a way that actually made me fear for her mother. While likely not a violent girl? I could see murder in Annie’s eyes and wondered if I’d have to save Catherine before her daughter did something she’d regret forever.
“Sweetie, never.” Catherine managed to speak, her voice cracking, breath coming in heaving ins and outs. “I would never.”
Annie wasn’t buying it, though I was. Maybe she was too far past her threshold of acceptance, or maybe anger blinded her to the pure and genuine grief her mother was living, breathing, spilling out over all of us in a rush of sorrow so powerful it clenched my stomach in a knot. “Someone set me up,” Annie said. “You never believed me, never listened. So, I had to assume it was because you were part of the problem.”
Catherine stared at her, hopelessly, helpless to say anything else at the moment. Was she finally getting it? That Annie was innocent?
“I have to agree with your daughter,” I said, backing her up though I didn’t have evidence. “There’s an excellent chance Annie was framed for the crime she went to prison for.” That made Catherine flinch, wobble, a faint wail escaping her. “So, you tell me, Mrs. West. I already know you were aware of the drugs. Were you part of the operation or not?”
She shook her head then so violently she stumbled. “No, I wasn’t. I swear.” She gulped, wiping at the tears on her face, looking at Annie with new eyes, with wonder and guilt. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Is it really true?”
Annie refused to relent, crossing her arms over her chest, half turning from her mother. “Like you care.”
Catherine hesitated, again reaching for her daughter. I was so out of patience for her attitude. It shouldn’t have taken me saying so to convince her to trust Annie, evidence or not. I snapped my fingers in her direction, catching her attention, and she spun to me like a marionette on strings that weren’t quite strong enough to support her.
“The drug operation, Mrs. West,” I said. “Yes, or no?”
“No,” she said then, pulling herself at least a bit together, her wobbliness retreating, though she remained wide open and in shock. “I did find a block, like this one, about a week ago. I thought one of the girls might have smuggled it in, so I brought it to Maria. She promised to take care of it.”
“As in call the police?” Yeah, like that was the plan. Not if it meant in any way or shape putting her precious project in jeopardy. I realized then Catherine cared less for her daughter’s wellbeing than she did her own crusade to rescue her and others.
How screwed up was that?
“I was worried Annie was involved.” She glanced at her daughter then away again quickly when the young woman grimaced in fury. “Maria and I talked about it. We didn’t want the program to be affected.” Yup, I’d nailed it. Sick, really. “She was going to make sure the police took custody but without endangering the work we were doing here.”
“You mean, she was going to hand it over to the gangs who hired her to orchestrate the trafficking operation.” I waited for guilt to show, but none did, Catherine’s shock and denial instantaneous and genuine.
“That’s impossible,” she breathed finally.
“And yet,” I said, “the most likely scenario. And whoever was in on it with her decided to cut out his or her partner to increase their own profits. Or for another motive we have as yet to uncover.” We. I was good at the whitewashing of the truth. Then again, I was working with Elle, so I figured I had a little leeway to push around.
Catherine didn’t say a word to that, though Annie seemed interested at last.
“Any idea who that might be?” She waved off my protest before I spoke it. “I’m sorry, I know. You can’t talk about it. Thank you for sharing as much as you have.” Annie had softened as she spoke to me, looking at me differently, with respect. “You really believe me.”
“I do,” I said. “I’m positive someone in your life set you up to fall. And I’m going to find out who it was because that person is likely either in on the drug trafficking or a murderer. Or both.” I inhaled slowly, exhaled as they watched me. “I would appreciate it if you’d keep this to yourselves and not break my cover. Unless you’re a murderer, Catherine.” I stared her down, watched her crumble before focusing on her daughter.
No evidence to the contrary, but I trusted my intuition. Catherine was innocent and so was Annie.
“We won’t say a word,” the owner told me.
Annie shook her head, mute and staring.
I left them to sort out their mess then, heading back to my room. I had to talk to Elle. Evan’s accusation against Latonya had to be connected somehow. Was he in on the drugs? Why accuse her, however, if he knew she wasn’t guilty? It was easy enough to prove. Maybe he knew about her having the drugs and wanted her caught? But if that was the case, why not just cry weed and be done with it?
I was head down, mind whirling when I entered my bunk room and missed for a long moment, I wasn’t alone. Not that any of my roommates were present, oh no. Instead, I found Latonya standing at the end of my bunk, my covers and pillows tossed aside.
My phone in her hands.
***