Jenna Ryan - Dream Weaver

Fortunately, a minute after that word left Julie’s mouth, the lights popped on. The music Meliana had been playing resumed and the ceiling fan began to grind.

“You like blackouts, don’t you?” Charlie asked while the mini-hubbub continued around them. “I bet you’re a fan of old horror movies.”

“I like suspense,” Meliana agreed. “Psychological terror as opposed to blood and gore.”

“Yeah, she sees guts being spilled every day,” Johnny put in from the kitchen.

“He’d have passed out if we hadn’t tranquilized him when he was shot.” Meliana spoke just loud enough for Johnny to hear.

“That’s right, you operated on him, didn’t you?” Charlie shed his jacket as the heater kicked in again.

Meliana’s eyes sparkled. “I was a resident, overworked and exhausted. It was 2:00 a.m. We heard a cop—sorry, FBI agent—had been shot. No one knew how bad it was. I’d just finished stitching up a knife wound, so I was it.”

“I wouldn’t have passed out.” Johnny handed Charlie and Zack a beer, Julie a hard lemonade and Meliana the soft one she’d requested. Someone had to drive the others home—apparently.

“He threatened to faint like a girl.” Meliana moved her glass in a triangle between Zack, Julie and Charlie. “Have you all met?”

Julie hit the sexy button, smiled and shook her hair. “Zack and I introduced ourselves.”

“And I met Zack last year,” Charlie said. “I followed your neighbor up here one day after Christmas. Read him the riot act over doling out samples of his company’s pills to anyone who stuck out his or her hand.”

“Tim Carrick gives sample medications to patients?” Meliana swirled her lemonade while she digested that. “I should be surprised, but I’m not. I imagine he figures if they like what he’s offering, they’ll ask their doctors to prescribe it. Or is he looking to make private deals?”

“He’s not that stupid,” Zack said. “He doesn’t give out samples as such. According to Tim, some thief lifted a bunch of boxes and other containers from his case one time when he was in Chicago.”

“A generous thief, who distributed the packets to anyone he felt needed them.” Charlie shook his head. “Carrick did the deed anonymously, knowing his company’s name was on the label, but my guess is the order to do it came from a higher source within said company. Either that or he’s an out-and-out dealer.”

“Did you mention any of this to the chief of staff?” Meliana asked.

Charlie chuckled. “Every time I see him, although lately I’ve noticed he tends to dart down side corridors whenever our paths threaten to converge.”

Zack perched on the arm of Julie’s chair. “What got Charlie hot was that some poor woman wound up taking an unprescribed handful of antidepressants.”

“They were far stronger than anything she needed.” Charlie made circles in front of his headband. “She was in la-la land for three days. Her husband thought I’d set the dosage, so he called me. It took ninety minutes of questioning for me to figure out that she got the pills from the source—that being good old Tim. I tracked Carrick to his home, couldn’t find him, went to the sheriff’s office.” Charlie chuckled. “The sheriff was having ants exterminated from the jail cells, so he told Zack to deal with it.”

“Sounds like Sheriff Frank. He likes to delegate,” Meliana added in a stage whisper to Julie.

“He’s retiring next year.” Zack arched a brow in Julie’s direction. “If you’re looking to get out of the rat race, Blue Lake’s going to need a new sheriff, and neither Phil nor I are in the running.”

Meliana rested her head on the sofa cushions. “Why not?”

“Because Phil’s too lazy, and I want out.”

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