Free Through the Evil Days: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery (Clare Fergusson and Russ Van Alstyne Mysteries) by Julia Spencer-Fleming Page B

smurfing.”
    “Yeah.” Since the Feds had starting restricting access to pseudoephedrine, meth cookers, who needed the drug to create methamphetamine, had gotten creative. The bigger operations switched to hijacking barrels of the stuff off Chinese cargo ships. The smaller manufacturers hired smurfers, who traveled from pharmacy to pharmacy buying the legal limit with fake IDs. Smurfers usually worked in teams, making their purchases over a half hour or so, then hitting the next store.
    “This is a lot for one just one person to buy,” Hadley said.
    “I was just thinking that.” Kevin gestured toward the narrow hallway. “Any sign there’s someone else living here?”
    “One bedroom is set up for a little girl. I’m guessing it was Mikayla’s before her mom lost custody. I didn’t see any men’s things in the other bedroom.”
    “She could have a female roommate.”
    “Maybe. One way or the other, she’s got people helping her with this.” Hadley looked up at Kevin. “Which means one of them might be holding Mikayla for her.”
    *   *   *
    She let Flynn make the call to the deputy chief. It was cowardly, but after twelve hours on duty, she just wasn’t up to personally hearing what MacAuley thought of her brilliant police work. As it was, she winced every time Flynn said, “Yes, but—” and “I know, but—” Clearly, the dep was in rare form. When he hung up, Flynn looked a little green around the gills.
    “He’s calling in the state CSI van to take pictures and secure the evidence.”
    “We’re gonna need a bigger van,” she misquoted.
    Flynn’s face creased into what would have been a grin if they weren’t both so tired. “He wants you to stay here and see they get it all loaded. Then you can clock out.”
    “What about you?”
    “I’m going to write up the report and put in a records request to Children and Family Services and Johnson’s bail bondsman. Eric’s already heading over to the grandparents’ to get their initial statement. We can follow up tomorrow.” He gave her a sly look. “After you put in some track practice.”
    She wound up staying another hour and a half. Sergeant Morin, their usual CSI tech, brought enough coffee for four. She drank hers and the one meant for Flynn as well, and left, after helping to load the van, with a great deal more energy and a warm glow of appreciation for the staties. She could make it home in time to put Genny to bed and check over Hudson’s homework.
    Her heart sank when she saw the rental car in Granddad’s driveway. She adored her grandfather and was grateful he’d given her a home after her divorce, but at least once a month he had some old navy buddy up to visit. They would stay up until all hours drinking, which was bad for Granddad’s diabetes, and smoking, which was bad for his heart. She squared her shoulders as she mounted the kitchen steps, readying herself to play Health Cop.
    The door opened before she could grasp the handle. “Honey!” She stared at the man in the doorway. He opened his arms wide. “Come on in, babe, let me give you a hug!”
    It wasn’t a navy buddy. It was much, much worse. It was her ex-husband.

 
    14.
    “What the hell are you doing here, Dylan?” Hadley stomped past him into the kitchen. She unzipped her MKPD parka and hung it on one of the coat hooks. She kept her back to him, struggling not to explode into a screaming fit. She had left California and moved across the country to get away from Dylan and everything he stood for. Now here he was, in her granddad’s kitchen. She chafed at her nose. Maybe she was having a bad dream.
    “That’s it? Not even a hello? I haven’t seen you for two years!”
    Hadley took a breath and turned around. “Exactly. Two years. During which time, the kids have gotten four phone calls, three postcards, and one Christmas package from you.”
    “I was broke! You’re going to bust my balls because I couldn’t afford to shower the kids with