Chapter 34
Terry stood in front of the whiteboard in the drug task force conference room, marker in hand, staring at the timeline they'd constructed.
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting harsh shadows across the evidence photos taped to the board.
Baggies of cocaine, designer pills, and crime scene shots from the Blackwood rental house were all displayed.
"Run it by me again," Detective Marshall Peterson said, turning to Jeremy and Pete. "The timeline's bothering me."
Terry capped the marker and turned to face his team and the DEA detective from the Norfolk District DEA office. Jeremy and Pete flanked Marshall, all three men looking as frustrated as Terry felt.
Terry began, pointing at the timeline. "Claire Smith says it was just the five grad students staying at the house. They were there to study, and she said that, other than a few breaks for meals or downtime at the beach, that’s what they did.
Although she did mention that she studied alone best and wasn’t around the others except for meals and beach time. ”
"Then, on Saturday, late afternoon about four o’clock, she came into the house from the beach, heard voices, and looked through the crack of the study door to see a man in a suit talking to Robert. She slipped back out unnoticed," Pete added. “She never saw him again.”
"That night, cars started to arrive, and she discovered Robert had invited over some of the guys from the ODU chapter of his fraternity. Mostly guys with some girls. Claire reported she didn’t know any of them,” Jeremy filled in.
"Right. And around midnight, Claire goes down to complain to Robert, and the sheriff deputies show up because of a neighbor complaint." Terry tapped the board.
Marshall leaned forward. "And no one else saw the mystery man? Then when the deputies search the house for more partygoers, they find the case with drugs."
Terry nodded slowly. "The drug analysis came back, and these aren't your typical campus drugs."
He pulled out the lab report and spread it on the table. "This is why we called you in. High-grade cocaine, 90 percent pure. These pills? Designer stuff, pharmaceutical quality. This isn't some college kid's side hustle."
"Price point?" Marshall asked.
"Street value of what we confiscated? Close to half a million dollars." Terry let that sink in. "And that's just what we found. No telling if more got moved before we arrived, but no one had any drugs on them. Nor a lot of money. I don’t think that party was for selling.”
"Gets better," Terry continued. "I ran the drug signatures through the regional database. A similar high-end product has shown up in three other busts across Virginia in the past six months. Norfolk, Richmond, and Virginia Beach."
Marshall nodded. “We’ve seen some of this shit lately.” He sat up straighter. "Same supplier?"
"Same distribution network, at least. The purity levels are identical, and the pill markings match. This isn't random dealing. It's an organized distribution."
Terry moved to the evidence photos, pointing at the baggies. "Look at the packaging. Professional-grade heat-sealing, no fingerprints, consistent weight distribution. Whoever's running this operation has serious resources."
"What's your theory?" Marshall asked.
Terry turned back to the timeline, pieces clicking together in his mind. "What if our mystery man came to the house to conduct business, but didn't know there was going to be a party?"
The room went quiet, except for the hum of the air conditioner.
"Think about it," Terry continued. "The rental house is in an isolated, waterfront location, perfect for a discreet meeting. Robert Whitman was supposed to be there with minimal people, and probably said he could arrange to be alone when they met."
"But then the idiot invited frat bros from a closer university," Pete said slowly. “Was he going to use some of them to take back and distribute? Were they part of the chain?”
“That would get the drugs back to ODU in a less traceable way,” Marshall surmised.
"And when word got out, more people showed up," Jeremy added. "Turning what could have been a discreet business meeting into a party."
Terry nodded. "So possibly one or a few of the ODU kids showed up to meet with Robert privately, maybe to hand off product or collect money. Instead, twenty-plus college kids show up, drinking and making enough noise for the neighbors to call us."
Marshall narrowed his eyes. "The drugs never came out of the study. Too many witnesses, too much exposure."
"And why Robert was so defensive when we questioned him," Pete added. "He wasn't just covering for typical college partying. Was he covering for a drug deal that was discovered?"
Terry pulled out his notepad and flipped to his interview notes. "Remember what Claire said? Robert seemed nervous that evening until he started drinking and went with the flow of the party."
Pete shook his head. "He got sloppy."
Marshall stood and walked to the evidence board. "So Robert Whitman is what, a distributor? Part of this network?"
"That's my guess. College kid from a wealthy family with access to other wealthy kids with disposable income. Perfect front for high-end drug sales."
"And the mystery man?"
Terry considered the question. "Handler. Supplier. Someone higher up the chain who doesn't usually get his hands dirty with street-level stuff."
"But came personally because of the volume or the money involved," Jeremy suggested.
"Or because Robert screwed something up and needed direct supervision," Pete added.
Terry felt the familiar rush as a case began to form a picture from the puzzle pieces. "Either way, we're not dealing with just college kids experimenting with drugs. This was a major bust. Someone has got to be getting nervous and pissed that we confiscated that much product."
Marshall moved back to the table. "What's your next move?"
"We need to identify the mystery man," Terry said. "The deputy who talked to Claire the night of the party just got a basic description. I want to bring her back in. And we need to figure out how deep Robert Whitman is in this network."
"Robert's not talking," Pete reminded them. "His lawyer's got him locked down tight."
"Then we work the other angles," Terry said. "The rental house belongs to Blackwood Luxury Custom Homes. Maybe there's security footage from neighboring properties, or maybe Blackwood has records of who had access to the house."
"Speaking of Blackwood," Jeremy said, "didn't you say Sandra was asking about him yesterday?"
Terry felt a familiar protective instinct kick in. "She's representing a contractor who's having issues with billing discrepancies. Probably nothing related to this. She talked to the son, Harry Blackwood, not the dad, Harrison. Although he’s the owner of the house. "
But even as he said it, Terry couldn't shake the feeling that there were too many coincidences lately. The high-end drugs, the professional operation, the mysterious well-dressed man, and now Sandra asking questions about the man who owned the house and his son’s business practices.
"Let's focus on what we can prove," Terry said. "I want a full background check on Robert Whitman, financial records if we can get them, and any connection he might have to our other drug cases. We’ll also need to get Claire back in for a more in-depth interview.”
"Then we find out exactly what kind of operation we're dealing with," Marshall said grimly. "Someone's running a very sophisticated business in our backyard of the Norfolk jurisdiction. You’ve got our full support."
The room fell silent as the weight of the case settled over them. This wasn't just about a college party gone wrong anymore. They were looking at organized crime, and Terry had a sinking feeling they were only seeing the tip of the iceberg.