26
WILLOW
I watched Markle’s place from the master bedroom window all evening. His fancy pickup truck had been gone all afternoon. My guess was he’d gone to pick up the drugs from wherever Murrieta dropped them. I didn’t take Markle for the kind of guy to go pick up drugs. It was beneath a billionaire to get his hands dirty. But he was the minion now. Murrieta’s mule. Literally. Unfortunately, we didn’t know about that angle of the operation, but if we got Markle in cuffs and in an interrogation room, we’d be able to get the details. Especially if we had him with the drugs. To Murrieta, Markle was a little fish. As for Markle, he only cared about himself, and if he could finagle any kind of deal with the DEA, I figured he’d squeal like a pig.
I kicked myself for not seeing him leave, so
