“Are…” He hesitated, eyes darting from me to Ollie. “Are you gonna kill me?”
“What?” I asked, surprised by his question.
“I know Lincoln has powerful friends. Did he find out what I did? Is that what this is? Am I gonna get found in my cell with a makeshift noose around my neck?”
I placed my hands on the table and gave him a grin. It wasn’t friendly. More like what a rabbit might see right before a wolf pounced.
“You need to listen to me very carefully, Eric,” I said. “My name is Nate, and if I wanted to hurt you, it would go very badly for you. So, as long as you answer my questions honestly, you’llget to live out your miserable life in a comfy minimum-security prison. Deal?”
His chin moved back and forth, almost like he was chewing something as he thought. Finally, he nodded.
“What do you want to know?” he asked petulantly, like a spoiled child who was finally being punished.
“Roughly twenty-five years ago, while Lincoln Masters was building his drug empire?—”
“Alleged empire!” Eric blurted.
Sighing, I bit back a retort. “Look at me, Eric,” I said. “Remember what I said? Do you want this to go the easy way or the hard way?”
Eric lowered his eyes again. “Sorry. Uh, old habits die hard. You were saying?”
“Thank you,” I growled through clenched teeth. “Twenty-five years ago, some detective was looking into Lincoln and hired a chemical pathologist to investigate the crystal methamphetamine he was making and selling. His name was Callum Donaldson. Does any of this ring a bell?”
Eric nodded at once, not even hesitating. “The chemist guy?”
Ollie and I shared a look. The steady tremble of butterflies in my stomach roiled within me. Were we getting close?
“The chemist guy?” I prodded. “Who’s that?”
Eric studied the ceiling before answering. “He was a real egghead. Had a degree in chemistry and a doctorate in chemical pathology. Real nosy son of a bitch,” he spat, furrowing his brow. “Almost as bad as the damn cops. It’s why Lincoln conned him into joining the crew.”
Ollie and I sat in thunderstruck silence for a moment. Ollie regained his composure first.
“He worked for Lincoln?” Ollie asked.
Eric gave a casual shrug and smirked. “Not willingly, but yeah. Lincoln said he either worked for us, or he’d kill him, thenhead down to Mexico and put a bullet in his pretty little lady’s head, and smash his baby’s skull in with a hammer.”
Knowing who he was speaking of sent me into a rage. My wolf growled, and I didn’t bother suppressing it.
Eric flinched back in surprise at the sound. “Jesus Christ!” he yelped. “You sound like Lincoln when he gets pissed. What the hell?”
Swallowing my anger, I did my best to stay professional, but I couldn’t stop seeing the mental picture of a young Lincoln Masters walking into Cameron’s nursery, holding a hammer in one hand, her mother dead on the floor behind him.
“How did Lincoln find out about Callum’s family?” I asked through clenched teeth.
Recovering from his fright, Eric still looked unnerved as he responded. “Well, that part was easy. A few bucks slipped under the table to the right people. Simple as that. We never actually found them, though.”
“Wait,”I said, slapping my hand on the table in frustration. “You said you were going to kill them. If you were ready to do that, then you had to know?—”
“It wasn’t like that. We were still small-time back then. We didn’t have the funds to go globe-hopping and assassinating people.Jesus. No, we only made him believe we were going to do it.
“The guy folded like a card table. Must have really loved those two. He begged us to kill him instead of going after his family. Lincoln told him we needed a good chemist.” Eric shook his head. “Lincoln was always going on about tweaking the drugs to do something special forhis kindandpeople like him. Never did figure that out. After over twenty years, he never explained it. Callum agreed, as long as we assured him that his family would be safe.”
I recalled the scent of the drugs, how something was not quite right about them. Somethingoff. Then the strange and manic effect they’d had on Rick. Had Lincoln altered the meth to specifically target shifters? It would explain how he’d turned people like Lenny Nash into controllable ferals so fast.
“Where is he now?” I asked, urgency taking hold. “Where is Callum Donaldson? Is he still alive?”
Eric gave another one of those nonchalant shrugs, and it was all I could do not to drag him across the table and beat the shit out of him.
