Chapter 8

“THIS IS DEA AGENT Brisco,” the voice answered the phone. “Who’s speaking?”

“Um ... This is just someone who wants to report suspicious drug activity,” Amy whispered into her phone. She’d planned this carefully and was at Rosie’s house for the night.

The three freshmen girls planned to have an overnight together and then go to Natalie’s party. She’d been debating what to do with her information. She reviewed all the photos she’d taken and, while not always clear, they definitely showed a drug transaction taking place in her opinion.

“It’s helpful if I know who you are. We need to test the validity of your information,” Brisco said.

“I don’t want anyone to know that I’m a ... What do they call them? ... a narc.”

“I understand. You sound young. Are you reporting classmates for using weed?”

“No, sir. It’s my ... a guy I know who is dealing drugs out of the back of the C-Store.”

“I see. That’s a lot more serious. How do you know about this?”

“I snuck up and watched them. I have pictures.”

“Can you send me your pictures?”

“Um ... I’m going to have to tell you who I am, aren’t I?”

“Well, I could find out by tracing your phone anyway. I know already this call is coming from Bartley. Why don’t I give you my cell number and you can text me the photos? When I’ve looked at them, I’ll give you a call back.”

“Okay, Mr. Brisco. I’ll do it. It’s just that I think some of my friends might be hurt by this. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called.”

“You’re a good friend,” he said kindly.

They disconnected and Amy began sending the photos from her phone. Then she sent a message that just said, “That’s it.” A few minutes later her phone buzzed.

“Hello?”

“This is Agent Brisco,” the man said. He sounded disappointed. “Amy, the pictures you sent certainly look suspicious but they aren’t clear enough to actually warrant an investigation. I’ll keep them on file and would like you to keep track of any suspicious activity. Don’t try to do anything about it yourself. If that is really a drug drop, these guys could be very dangerous. If you happen to get better pictures, send them to me right away.”

“Okay,” Amy said. She was definitely disappointed.

“You know, you could just report this activity to your County Sheriff. He would have more grounds for investigation than I have since it’s in his jurisdiction,” Brisco said.

“That’s a problem,” Amy said. “I think he’s in on it. He always stops in at the C-Store when my ... when those guys are working. We think he’s on the take from the local moonshiner, too. A friend of mine was attacked by these guys on his way home from school a few weeks ago. The sheriff didn’t do anything about it at all.”

“That’s a very serious accusation, Amy. Call me if you see or hear anything that is more convincing. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Amy disconnected, wondering if the agent was in on it like the sheriff was and whether she’d just gotten herself into trouble.

Brisco sat at his desk and went through the pictures again. Kids with cellphones were an up-and-coming witness program. They recorded everything, always had their cellphones in hand. It was too bad Amy’s was such poor quality and that she had such lousy lighting conditions.

The pictures looked like a deal was going down. Or it could be a handicapped person coming to the back door to pick up groceries. No. He knew what it was, it just wasn’t good enough to use as evidence. He checked his calendar. This week, they’d be focused on a crack house in Ames, selling and distributing to students. But he’d try to work in some time to do his own surveillance out in Bartley. It was worth looking into.

“I’d like to have you attend an officials’ clinic,” Ardith said before practice Monday. “I think you have the stamina and even if you don’t ref actual games, we’re going to be scrimmaging shortly and I’m going to be watching players and plays, not rules violations. I need you to help with that.”

“Um ... If you think so. When is it?” Dennis asked.

“This Friday afternoon in Ames. I’ll be going as well so, with your parents’ permission, I’ll drive you.”

“Isn’t it kind of late to become an official? How much does it cost?” Dennis was concerned. His father wouldn’t have an income until after snow flies and his mother’s job barely covered expenses.

“I registered you and paid the fee as soon as we started down this road. I wasn’t sure you’d need it, but it is a great way to review the rules and get ready for games. Here’s the web address for you to read the rules and take the test. You need to have it before the clinic,” Ardith said. She was thankful that Jim had recommended the process early on. The varsity used two other coaches to officiate their scrimmages, but girls’ basketball was still a redheaded stepchild as far as the rest of the department was concerned.

Dennis knew the rules pretty well, though he wasn’t familiar with the 35-point continuous clock rule. He needed to make sure his scorers and timekeeper were aware of it before their first home game. The clinic was mostly refs telling about their experiences, and rule changes to be aware of. Dennis enjoyed the time riding with Ardith and talking basketball. They planned to start scrimmages on Monday.

She dropped him at home and Dennis spent a quiet weekend entertaining his sister and reviewing the calls and hand signals for the game. As was usual, his dad wasn’t seen much when he was between jobs. He mostly watched TV in his bedroom and occasionally came out for meals.

This weekend, though, Dennis thought his Dad looked strange. Maybe more alert than usual when he was drinking.

“They say we’re headed for an early snow according to the forecasts,” Will said at dinner. “Can’t come too soon to please me. I’ll need to be ready to head for the county depot at the first sign of it.”

“It’s neat that you’ll drive one of those big snowplows, Dad,” Dennis said. “Is that a safe job?”

“Well, any job can be dangerous if you don’t pay attention. But I’ll pretty much be the biggest thing on the road, so people generally make way for plows. I took all the training last spring, but there was no more snow after I was approved to drive. All I’ll need is a sandwich and a big thermos of coffee and I’ll be ready at any time.”

Dennis was proud of his Dad. That explained why he was looking more alert and had a better appetite than usual. He was drying out. Peg squealed about the big truck Daddy would drive and pretended to steer with her knife and fork. All in all, it was a pretty good evening at the Enders’ house.

Will wasn’t drying out to drive the snowplows, though. The story was plausible but no one had called him about a possible early snowfall. He’d been slipping out late at night to park in the darkness and watch the routine of the Smith boy. When he wasn’t guarding the alcohol, he was over at the C-store with his two cronies. Sometime Will would get his opportunity. He knew it was coming.

He took a couple of practice swings with the aluminum baseball bat he’d picked up at a Goodwill in Des Moines. The time was coming.

Amy decided she needed more and better pictures. She usually took any photos she wanted on her cellphone but she’d looked through all the photos and decided the agent was right. They just weren’t good enough or focused enough to be used as evidence. She’d have to go back the next time she heard her brother talking about deliveries being made. She’d figured out that it wasn’t bread that was being delivered at midnight on Saturday.

Her father was a Luddite and had only just upgraded his old flip phone to a smart phone. As a result, the pocket-size digital camera he’d been using was tossed in a drawer in the kitchen. Amy retrieved it and started experimenting with taking higher quality pictures, including pictures taken at night. The first thing she’d discovered was that she needed a memory card. When her mother announced she was going to the mall that Friday afternoon, Amy was quick to volunteer to ride along. That wasn’t unusual. A trip to the mall was always a treat since it was forty miles away.

Her mother talked about miscellaneous family things and Amy excitedly told her all about the basketball team and the planned scrimmages. Coach had said she’d try to get all the players into the game for a little playing time. Of course, that was going to be based on all the players showing they were competent with the ball, even if they weren’t at the level of the Armor sisters. She and Brenda were the smallest on the court and Amy watched carefully to see how Brenda handled herself against the bigger players. She was definitely getting better.