"Sure. I need a break and nothing urgent is happening at work. What do you say?"
"Deal. Let me text Clare we're flying. She worries."
"Perfect. Tell her we won't be home until late. I have baseball season tickets. Atlanta is playing Chicago this afternoon."
Erik stopped texting and looked up at him. "Damn man, how much money do you have?"
"Meh, the tickets were a gift from a grateful client." Brody started walking toward the house they were using. Erik fell into step with him and pocketed his phone. "Come on in. I need to grab my wallet and do one last check on the weather around Atlanta."
"Sure." Erik followed him into the house and shut the door.
Brody stopped and turned. "Erik Edelman, you're under arrest for transportation of opioids across state lines.”
Watson and Rayburn walked into the kitchen; their badges hung around their necks on chains.
"What?" Erik's eyes grew huge, and he spun toward Brody. "Is this some kind of sick joke?"
"I wish it was, man." Brody removed his badge from his pocket and motioned toward the interior of the house. "We need to talk."
"I want a lawyer." Erik crossed his arms.
"You can ask for one when we read you your rights. Right now, you're going to sit down in there, and you're going to listen." Brody held up a hand when Erik opened his mouth to talk. "The only question we are going to ask you is, ‘Do you understand your rights, and do you want a lawyer?’ but, let me tell you, Erik, you need to listen to what my boss has to say before you make that call."
"His entire world just shattered." Captain Terrell leaned against the wall and stared into the office where Rayburn and Watson were taking Erik's statement. They'd been up front with Edelman. Told him the facts as they knew them and watched the guy silently fall apart. Faced with the facts and the video of his wife and her lover, he waived his right to an attorney and answered every question they had.
Brody glanced at his pseudo-neighbor. "It did. Fourteen or fifteen trays in the last four months. ODs are going to reach an epidemic level if we don't get the shit off the streets."
Terrell nodded. "That's why we're going to put pressure on Clare and Desoto. We're going to play hardball. They're going away for life. Interstate drug trafficking with intent to distribute." His boss shook his head. "This guy had the world, and his wife took it away."
"He had an illusion. It wasn't real." They both leaned against the wall and, except for a few murmurs from the office, silence settled through the house.
"This thing you have with Swanson. Is it real?" Terrell didn't look at him when he asked.
Brody drew a breath and released it. "It is. I told you we had a past. The way we ended was ugly and difficult for both of us. A myriad of miscommunication and boiling emotions. Now? Hell I have a son and the woman I've always loved. Good is an understatement."
Terrell nodded and stared at his shitkickers. "Keep that. Not everyone gets a second chance."
Brody sent a side eye his boss' way. The man's brows were drawn together, and he looked a million miles away. The professional distance between them lessened in that moment. His captain had always been a bit of an enigma. He was personable, not personal. Professional and distant, making appearances at get togethers, but not staying long. He was tough as nails and someone the entire team respected. In this moment, however, the man behind the badge stepped forward. Brody acknowledged the warning. "I know. I'm one of the lucky ones."
Terrell nodded and pushed off the wall. "What's the ETA on Swanson?"
Okay, so the conversation was over. His boss had shut the door, and he was okay with it. When it came to Terrell, getting to know him was a matter of progress by inches, not miles. He grabbed his cell and glanced at it. "Any time, now."
They'd relocated the van, and Mozinga had assigned two people to monitor cameras on the Edelman residence at the same time he'd set up the trail vehicles. The rest of the team were positioned inconspicuously outside the neighborhood but would move in as soon as Desoto made his way to the house. And that step was the gamble, the long pole in the tent which could keep everything from dropping the way it needed to drop.