Page 16 of The Smart Killer (High Peaks Murder, Mystery and Crime Thrillers #4)

I t was downright magical. The night air in High Peaks was thick with anticipation as Zeke Lawson stepped out of Big G’s bowling alley for a cigarette.

He lit the end and took a hard drag. The tip glowed bright orange as smoke swirled up into his eye.

He squinted as his gaze darted around, scanning the familiar faces of the teens loitering outside.

The neon glow from the bowling alley sign reflected off Zeke’s sharp eyes. It was business as usual, yet tonight felt different, charged with an unspoken tension.

Inside, clattering bowling pins and laughter masked the clandestine operations behind the scenes.

Zeke went to the back of the alley, where Gavin, the shrewd owner of Big G’s, was waiting.

Gavin was a middle-aged man with a sloppy exterior.

Everything about him screamed disgusting.

His gut hung over his jeans, his belt was always hanging loose, and yet he was every bit likable, offering free drinks, letting teens off without paying at times for snacks if they didn’t have enough.

He was the kind of guy no one suspected to be running a drug operation in a small town.

Like many others, Zeke had been lured into his web of deceit through dangling money in front of him.

“Zeke, my man,” Gavin greeted him with a wry smile. “We’ve got another big shipment coming in tonight. The demand’s been crazy. Folks in this town can’t get enough.”

Zeke nodded, his mind already strategizing the distribution process. He knew the drill well — take the drugs, hand them out to the teens, let them do the dirty work, and collect the profits. It was a dangerous game, but one Zeke had mastered over the years.

“We’re going to need a few more recruits. You think you can handle it?”

“I’m already ahead of you. I got four more this week. One of them has already sold a crap load.”

“Yeah, what kid?”

“Some scrawny punk Davis vouched for.”

“He vetted him?”

“Apparently.”

“Apparently? What’s his name? Do I know him?”

“He hasn’t been to the bowling alley, but I trust Davis.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ethan Sutherland, I think he said.”

Gavin’s demeanor changed in an instant. He grabbed hold of Zeke by the collar. “Are you fucking kidding me? How often have I told you that we don’t bring anyone into the circle unless I meet them?”

“You told me to handle things. That you were overloaded.”

A shot of fear went through Zeke. He’d never seen Gavin lose his shit. He was always composed, even on his most stressful days when he received a shipment. “Overloaded but not reckless. Shit, Zeke!”

“What?”

“If he’s the kid I think he is, we are in deep shit.”

“Why?”

“Because his father is a cop.”

Zeke’s stomach dropped.

“Yeah. You dumbass.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Shit,” Gavin said over and over again as he paced back and forth, running his hands through wild grey hair. The tips of his fingers were yellowed from having smoked cigarettes back-to-back.

Zeke shrugged. “Look, it doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it does.”

“Gav, son of cop or not, he’s sold more in the past week than some of our guys have in a month. If his father had sent him in here, they would have busted us by now. He’s cool.”

“He’s cool. If I say he is. Is he on it?”

“No.”

“Then get him on it. We need to ensure he doesn’t speak. From now on, anyone who is distributing must be using.”

“But you said they need to be clear-headed.”

“I know what I said, but it’s easier to control someone who relies on us for more than cash. And from now on, you bring them to me. I’ll vet any newcomers. In the meantime, you speak to this kid, find out more about his relationship with his father, and get him hooked on this shit.”

“I don’t feel good about this, Gav. I say we just give it some time.”

“Time?” Gavin spun around and pushed him up against the wall.

“You calling the fucking shots now, Zeke? Do you remember where you were when I pulled you out of the shithole you were in? You didn’t have two dimes to rub together.

I’ve given you everything, and I can take it all back.

Don’t forget it!” He jabbed a stiff finger into his chest. “Now take this, and get to work!”

As he left the dimly lit back room with a duffel bag of narcotics, Zeke’s thoughts swirled.

He strolled back into the central area of the bowling alley, his eyes scanning the crowd.

Among the bowling lanes, groups of teenagers huddled, whispering and exchanging secretive glances.

Zeke recognized the signs — anticipation and restlessness — tonight was a big night.

He approached a group of well-known teens — Sarah, Hunter, and Lily.

They were the ones he trusted the most, the ones who had repeatedly proven their loyalty.

They were his top-level distributors, the ones responsible for getting the drugs into the hands of other teens and, ultimately, eager customers.

“Hey, Zeke,” Sarah greeted him, her eyes wide with excitement. “We’re ready to roll. Got a list of orders and everything.”

Zeke nodded, exchanging the duffel bag for a wad of cash. “Remember, keep it low-key. We don’t want any unnecessary attention.”

Sarah handed off the bag.

“You seen Davis?” Zeke asked.

“I think I saw him in the parking lot a few minutes ago.”

With a shared understanding, the teens dispersed, blending seamlessly into the crowd.

Zeke watched them go, his heart pounding with anxiety.

He knew the risks involved, the danger of dealing with heavy narcotics in a town where everyone seemed to know everyone else.

But he also knew the power he held, the influence he wielded over the youths, and Gavin’s connections.

He’d yet to see who fed him the narcotics. A blacked-out vehicle would pull in at the rear, always at night, once a month, and Gavin would get in, and they would drive away. Where he was taken was anyone’s guess. Zeke’s job was simple, his cut fair, far above what the boots on the ground received.

“Mark. Can you take over? I’ll return in about half an hour.

If Gavin asks, I’m over at the hive.” The house owned by Gavin was nicknamed the hive simply because teens came and went on a steady basis like bees.

Cops had been sniffing around, but everyone who used the place knew the deal.

They had those who watched out for 5-0 from upstairs windows and easy ways to get rid of the drugs if they were ever busted.

The thing was, cops were too busy breaking doors down in crack houses, not an upscale home owned by a reputable local who was known for using the house to give teens a place to stay.

Gavin had been clever and used it as his home.

He was married. Had two kids of his own.

The whole damn family was in on it. He was as crooked as they came.

Zeke headed out, eyeing the crowd of adults and teens preparing to enter the alley.

Among them, Richy Davis, a sixteen-year-old punk he knew through a buddy of his, was leaning against a dated Mustang.

Multiple teens sat on the hood, and others leaned against it, shooting the breeze and smoking cigarettes.

“Richy,” he said, motioning with two fingers to draw him away.

Richy unslung his arm from around a girl wearing clothes that left little to the imagination. He approached, all smiles. “Wassup?”

“Your boy Ethan. Things good with him?”

“Yeah. Nothing unusual. Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you didn’t fucking tell me his old man is a cop.”

Richy glanced over to Ethan, who was perched on the back of the Mustang. “He never told me that. I swear. If he had, I wouldn’t have…” he trailed off, realizing his mistake. “Look, you want him gone?”

“No. I want you to introduce me to him.”

Richy stared back, studying Zeke as if trying to gauge his thoughts. “Yeah, sure. Hold on a second.” He strode over and spoke briefly with Ethan who glanced over before they returned.

“Ethan. This is Zeke.”

Ethan replied casually, “Hey.”

“Walk with me.” Zeke turned and Ethan fell in step as they left the group behind. “Richy told me you have been doing a good job finding buyers.”

“I guess.”

“You seem to have a knack for this.”

“Appreciate that.”

“Is he treating you well?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, listen, it hasn’t gone unnoticed. We like to take care of our own here. Those who perform are given access to extra perks and additional cash. You need cash, Ethan?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

Zeke chuckled, slinging his arm around him. “Good response.”

They went around the back of the bowling alley and cut through the trees to Gavin’s home. “Richy taken you here before?”

“A couple of times.”

“Well, you get to the top floor today, my friend. C’mon, follow me,” he said.

“I, uh, I’ve got to be home soon.”

“Oh, this won’t take long.”

Gavin’s home behind the bowling alley was alive with music, laughter, and muffled conversations.

The space, once meant for storage, was now a sanctuary for those seeking escape — from troubled homes and everyday life pressures.

Zeke stood amid it all, observing the scene with pride.

He had created the haven for these teens, where they felt a sense of belonging, even if it was built on deception and illicit activities.

As he moved through the crowd, Zeke’s eyes met those of a young girl, barely eighteen, her eyes glazed over from a mix of substances.

He recognized the desperation in her eyes, like he had once felt.

Lost. Confused. Uncertain about the future.

Here, they could forget all that and zone out.

In that moment, Zeke knew he was playing a dangerous game that could either elevate him to unimaginable heights or drag him down into the abyss of a jail sentence.

“Darla. Hey, I want you to meet someone,” he said, gesturing for her to join him. “This is Ethan. A good friend of mine. He needs a little company.”

“Oh, hey, I’m good. I…”