Free Hotwire by Alex Kava Page B

reached into her jacket pocket, pulling out what looked like bib lettuce in a Ziploc bag. She held on to it, fingering it carefully.
    “I think this is Salvia divinorum . They call it the sage of seers. The non- divinorum is the salvia you find in gardens and flower beds. This is a psychoactive species of mint. It grows mostly in Mexico and some southwestern states. The Mazatec people believed it had spiritual and healing properties. You dry it and smoke it, or you wad it up when it’s still green”—she held up the bag—“and chew it. They say its hallucinatory properties are more potent than LSD. It’s the newest rave for teenagers.”
    She fingered the bag and then looked directly at Maggie when she said, “I found this under one of the dead boys when I was examining him.”
    “And you put it in your pocket?”
    “Sheriff Skylar is a man who means well. Possession, distribution, and sale of salvia is illegal in more than a dozen states. Including Nebraska. There was a young woman whose body was found in the river several months ago. Some say she was tripping on salvia. Thought she could fly and jumped from the Highway 83 bridge. That bridge is a hundred and fifty feet above the water.
    “There were friends with her at the time. No arrests were made. There was no mention of drug use. It was said to be an accident. Sometimes it can be devastating for grieving parents to learn bad things about their dead child. I thought it was important that this didn’t accidentally get lost or misplaced because of good intentions.”
    Lucy set the plastic bag on the side table between them, relinquishing it, handing it over to Maggie.
    “I’ll understand if you no longer want me to participate in this investigation.”
    Maggie left the bag on the table, sipped her tea, and considered what Lucy had done. In most cases it could be viewed as obstructing a federal investigation. Perhaps even tampering with evidence and certainly not following the chain of command. What was it that her old boss and mentor, Kyle Cunningham, would say? “Rules were made for the head to judge when the heart got in the way.”
    Finally Maggie looked over at the woman and said, “I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

SEVENTEEN

     
    WASHINGTON, D.C.
    Mary Ellen Wychulis waited outside her new boss’s office. The undersecretary of Food Safety and Inspection Services hated tardy employees but obviously didn’t mind keeping them waiting. Mary Ellen crossed her legs and let her foot tap out her annoyance.
    She was missing her son’s first official playdate. Her husband had emailed three photos—mostly blurs of babies surrounded by too many toys—but they were enough to make her ache. She had only been back at work three weeks and already she wished she had taken some extra time.
    It didn’t help matters that she returned to a new boss; her old one, promoted up the ranks, had been kind enough to make sure her job was secure before he left. These days that was no small feat. And so she was grateful even if her new boss was obsessive-compulsive, an outsider who Mary Ellen believed was an obvious political pick.
    Mary Ellen felt like she had spent the last three weeks teaching her the nuts and bolts of the job. But she held her tongue even when she realized her husband was, most likely, right. Had she not been pregnant, her previous boss would have recommended Mary Ellen for his old position. She didn’t like to admit that such bias still ran rampant in the federal government, especially at the upper levels. Had she been a man with the same qualifications, age, marital status, and even a new baby, she would, no doubt, be the new undersecretary.
    The door to the office opened so suddenly that Mary Ellen startled. A man in a military uniform marched out then turned back.
    “Keep me posted,” he said.
    Mary Ellen could see that her boss, Irene Baldwin, had followed him to the door. The officer looked familiar but Mary Ellen couldn’t