Ashley waited for several moments, listening at the door, until she was sure Nick had gone on. Then she turned back to David Wharton. He was still on the floor; however, color seemed to be returning to his cheeks.
“You’re full of it,” she told him icily. “And I am going to see you arrested.”
“Ashley, think of Stuart.”
“I am thinking of him.”
“There was an attempt on his life. He’s in danger. Real danger.”
“What on earth makes you think there’s a dirty cop involved in this whole thing?”
He hesitated. “I heard someone talking once. But no one would believe me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Why? Look, Ashley, I know how dedicated you are. I know your father was probably a great cop. I know that ninety-nine percent of the guys on the force are honest. But hell, cops are people, too. There are temptations. And there are clever crooks. And where better to hide than behind a uniform?”
“You still haven’t given me one solid thing to go on.”
He hesitated for a second, then plunged in. “All right, let me try to explain. Along with big business, Stuart started looking into weird religion cults, trying to find out how many people really sacrificed chickens and why there were so many bizarre offshoots of established practices.”
“Caleb Harrison said they weren’t a religious cult.”
“Trust me, he’s practicing a brand of religion. A few other guys work that property, but it’s mainly women.”
“David, if he owns the property and they want to live there and work it, I’m not sure there are any laws against it.”
“Probably not—not laws that are enforced, at any rate. There are some oddities still on the books, you know.”
“You better keep talking, because I’m still lost.”
“Stuart got into the commune. Someone had recommended it to him as a modern-day form of ancient living. He became convinced that Caleb Harrison hadn’t bought the place with his own money, and that Harrison himself didn’t really know what was going on. We bought the land next to them to watch what was going on.”
“And what was going on?”
“Boats…at night. But you never knew which nights. They seemed to be random.”
“It’s not illegal to have a boat in a canal,” she snapped.
“It is if the boats are being used for illegal activities.”
“What illegal activities?”
He shook his head. “Can’t be marijuana—the goods are too small. Probably heroin. What I’m sure of is that it’s a bigger operation, but really well handled. Small planes slipping under the radar, coming in from South America and making drops in the Everglades. Then someone picks up the goods, and they’re brought in little by little.”
“You need to tell this to the police.”
“You’re not listening to me! If the police go in, Caleb Harrison will show them his prize tomatoes. Maybe they’ll meet a few people living and working there. They won’t find anything else, because Harrison himself is probably in the dark. Hey, he’s got the lifestyle he wants. Why would he question a benefactor who asked him to do nothing but live on the property and grow produce?”
“The cops—”
“You can’t call in the cops, I told you that! There’s definitely a cop in on it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I told you—I heard talking.”
“All right, just what do you suggest?”
“I want to catch them in the act.”
“Catch them in the act—how? You don’t know when anything goes down, assuming you’re right and someone is smuggling drugs. Why not put the police on the alert, have them stopped before they ever reach the property?”
“No! Not even if you’re sure you’re talking to an honest cop. If you stop the drugs coming through the Everglades, you’ve done nothing but stop some small-timers who don’t know a damn thing. You’re not going to get the mastermind behind what’s going on—the person with enough power and influence to seize Stuart, shoot him up with heroin and throw him out on the highway.”
“David, we’ve got to bring someone in on it. You must know that. You came to me.”
“I came to you because we have to figure out a way to get Stuart out of that hospital before he’s killed.”
“He’s being guarded. His parents are there all the time.”
“He’s being guarded by cops.”
“There’s got to be someone we can trust.”
“Ashley, even if you go to the higher-ups the word could filter down. Don’t you understand? We have to find out what is going on, before Stuart winds up dead.” He fell silent suddenly, then rose, walking toward the door to the outside.
“Someone is out there,” he said softly.
“David, this is a bar on a busy Friday night. There are probably lots of people out there.”
He shook his head. “No,” he mouthed. “There was someone…listening to us.”
“All right, let’s go and have a look. There are always a few cops in the bar.”
“No cops,” he insisted.