The whole thing just felt off kilter somehow. His gut told him he was sitting right on top of it, but it also told him it wasn’t her. She certainly didn’t need the money, unless he had missed something. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Hopefully he could follow her around today to see if this place really was a drug operation masquerading as something benign. Because if it wasn’t, he had just wasted valuable time—time they didn’t have now that the drug cartels in Atlanta were looking for the source as well.
But nothing fit. She didn’t look or act like any meth cooker he ever met, and with that skin and hair she certainly wasn’t a user herself. And now here she was up at an ungodly hour to start her day—the woman literally radiated good health. It wasn’t unheard of for distributors to la
