Mercy Kill_ A Mystery - Lori Armstrong [85]
“Not bad. With a couple of exceptions. One, the DEA turned the cases involving reservations over to us—the multigroup task force—early this year. We’ve maintained a low profile, even while we’ve been tracking the movements of the suspected key players on this specific case. Two, we haven’t kept Eagle River County Sheriff’s Department out of the loop. Sheriff Dawson is cooperating with us fully.”
My jaw dropped. I must’ve misheard him. “What?”
“Sheriff Dawson is aware of our multiagency objective. He’s not happy about us taking over all aspects of investigation of this case.”
“All aspects of it?” I repeated inanely.
“Every bit. He’s not allowed to discuss this case with his deputies or anyone else. He cannot proceed with any line of investigation he initially started. He cannot issue a statement of any type about this case without contacting me first.”
The breath whooshed from my body. I’d jumped in the race for sheriff because I believed Dawson hadn’t been doing his job clearing up J-Hawk’s murder. When in reality, Dawson had no choice. He hadn’t been slacking in his investigative duties at all. The feds had tied his hands and his tongue.
Fuck.
My thoughts raced back to Dawson chewing out Turnbull for showing up at the crime scene at Clementine’s. It must’ve rankled Dawson, knowing he’d lose out on investigating the case before the victim’s body had cooled. Knowing his investigative techniques would be questioned again. Knowing I’d be his harshest critic. Except this time, I’d taken my concerns public, setting out to prove to the community that I was better qualified to be sheriff than Mason Dawson.
Now I really felt like tossing my cookies.
The almighty Mercy Gunderson, who prided herself on her cool-headed, rational approach, had gone off half cocked. The thought of losing the election wasn’t nearly as excruciating as the suspicion that I’d lost something even more important.
Agent Turnbull stared at me. “You all right?”
No. I wasn’t in the mood to play nice. Or to reveal my insecurities on any level to a fucking fed. “As I’m a candidate for sheriff, you should’ve told me about this task force earlier.”
“Why?”
“Because if I win the election, I’ll be in Dawson’s position, looking like an idiot when it appears I’m not doing my job, when I’ve sworn I’d handle things differently than he does specifically for that reason.”
“I warned you not to make blanket statements.” He rested his elbows on the table, the picture of earnestness. “Look, this caught you off guard. I’ll tell you what I know, but I’ll need your word it won’t go farther than you.”
“Fine.”
“Early this year, across North and South Dakota, four Intertribal Co-op Health Hospital storage facilities were hit, and their inventory of OxyContin was stolen. The problem is, no one knew when the thefts occurred, outside of a general time frame.”
“Why not?”
“The ICHH buys in bulk twice a year, based on the previous six months’ sales, then distributes to the individual hospitals’ storage facilities. The pay-in-advance business model has been standard practice for years.”
“Why?”
Bitterness flickered in his eyes. “From the advent of the formation of the ICHH, none of the pharmaceutical companies trusted the tribes to pay their bills. They refused to offer them credit and required advance payment and advance orders. No exceptions.”
“Even now?”
“Yes, except if an individual hospital needs additional prescriptions, it can reorder in small quantities. Cash up front.”
“Is the bulk-ordering mandate common knowledge within the ICHH?”
Agent Turnbull shook his head. “Just among the key adminis-trators, and they’re subject to nondisclosure.”
I held up my hand. “Interesting, but what does this have to do with Jason Hawley? He’s not Indian. Chances are slim he’d know about this arrangement.”
“Major Hawley received the information about the separate storage facilities at ICHH and delivery of pharmaceuticals from his Titan Oil coworker, Ellis LeFleur. Near as