"The account was set up by Detective Seely eight months ago," Nigel reported to Bug as they stared at the lab computer. "The deposits are all the same - $500,000. There is no way in finding out who was buying with this account. All of the transactions were done in cash."

Bug shook his head, trying to figure out the motives. "So, Seely got the drugs from our suspects and then sold them to who?"

"Dr. Townstead?" an intern said, poking his head into the lab. "I've got those reports for you."

Grabbing the files, Nigel immediately began flipping through them. "Thanks," he mumbled as the intern silently left. "I think we've got something here." He laid the file open on the table in order for Bug to follow. "We analyzed some of the cocaine that Detective Dickson recovered from the storage facility. This stuff is nowhere near to being pure. There are high levels of cheap street drugs. The amount of cocaine would be worth an eighth of the account deposits."

Bug caught on to Nigel's training of thought. "So, instead, Seely is selling this stuff to our suspects. They must have found out about the street value."

"No wonder they're awfully pissed," Nigel retorted. "I'd want my money back too."

Woody's voice could be heard in the hallway. "I think Woodrow would like to know about this little tidbit of information," Nigel said, grabbing the file and heading into the hall with Bug close on his heels. "Woodrow!" he called. "Seely has been lying to more than just his colleagues." The two doctors reached Woody where he was standing speaking with Detective Dickson.

"Guys, I'm just in the middle of something." Woody nodded towards his company.

"But you've got to hear this," Nigel continued. "The drugs from the storage locker contain all types of impurities. Seely was hustling the dealers. He was taking their money and giving them something worth a fraction of the cost."

They had Woody's attention. "Okay, so our guys figure they are entitled to their cash. But how do they know about the account?"

"Maybe because they are the only ones who bought from Seely," Bug suggested. "Maybe the five million dollars is theirs."

"Do we give them what they want?" Woody wondered aloud.

Dickson looked incredulously at the three men. "What do you mean, 'give them what they want'? You're gonna fork over all of that money?"

"It's what they're demanding," Woody explained.

Dickson became irate. "And we're gonna just give it to them? C'mon here…"

"Now I didn't say we were just going to give it to them. We have to be careful, start strategizing…" Woody tried to continue.

"And for what? Some chick that Seely was banging? Give me a break!"

Dickson's words rang in Bug's ears. He looked to Nigel and Woody, who just stood there, a little shocked. Dickson was waiting for a reaction and got one as Bug lunged towards him. He grabbed the detective by his collar, bringing the taller man down to his height. "If you EVER refer to her like that again, I will personally ensure that you never 'bang' another woman again," Bug hissed, his grip on the detective's shirt tightening with every word.

Dickson pushed the smaller man back, looking at him with disgust. "You doin' her too?" he said. Nigel grabbed Bug as he threw himself back at Dickson.

Woody pushed the detective back into the wall. "Watch it. You don't know who you're talking about here."

"Well, I know for damn sure that we're not just going to give these jerks all of this money." Dickson backed away, glaring at Bug.

"Let's just try and deal with this one step at a time," Woody assured. "We have about 18 hours until these guys call again. We need to decide how we're going to set up the drop, whether it actually happens, will be up to us."

XXXXX

Lily hurt. As she lay against the cold, dirt wall, she began to take inventory of her own well-being. Her capturers were less than gentle and in the midst of the phone call, she had received a large gash on her cheek from being thrown into the nearby staircase. Her fingers were numb as were her toes. For being November, the basement was unsurprisingly cold. As a result, she knew the fact that she had stopped shivering was not a good sign.

Lily heard the large steel door open at the top of the stairs. Two sets of footsteps came down and voices were muttering once again about the money. She recognized one of the voices, the man everyone referred to as Ricky. The other voice was new. She had heard all three men speak. This male voice was different and she cringed at the possibility that this new person brought.

The men stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Lily closed her eyes, hoping they would think she was unconscious. "So, what are they gonna do?" Ricky said, slightly angry. "We've got what they want. They're gonna have to pay for it."

"It ain't gonna be that easy, Ricky," the other voice said. "You know it's police protocol. We have to deal. It doesn't mean we're not going to kill you guys in the process."

"Well, just keep your nose in everything and we'll make sure you get your cut. We ain't leavin' here without the money."

"Don't worry about it," the voice assured. "I'll take care of it. Now where is she? I wanna get a look at Seely's flavour of the week. I mean… he talked about her enough."

Lily heard footsteps approaching her, the flick of a flashlight being turned on. As she lay still, she opened her eyes slightly, hoping to get a glance of the new person she had to fear. The flashlight beam brightened her vision and before her stood Detective Dickson, a slight grin on his face.

"Now I know what all of the fuss was about," he slithered. Lily shivered once again.

XXXXX

"All of the phones have been tapped," Jordan relayed to Garret. "Woody has the equipment in the conference room. He said that we should probably wait there for the next phone call."

"If they're true to their word, we've got at least 8 more hours. I want everyone to stay around here. Just in case these guys decide to jump the gun." Garret pushed open the door to his office. "Did Nigel get anything else off of that account?"

"Nothing. It's just a standard offshore bank account, as standard as a five million account can be."

There was a slight knock on the door before Bug came barreling through it. "Dr. Macy! We've got something here with the shoe prints." Bug threw down a file that he was carrying and opened it to reveal its contents. "I spoke with the salesman at the store, asking him if he knew where Ricky Waynes could possibly be. Unfortunately, he had never seen Ricky before the day he bought the boots. However," Bug said, flipping over several pages, "the gravel we found in the prints came back with a hit. The limestone is localized to rock formations along the coast. The shop is two blocks from Boston's east shore."

"Okay," Garret said, processing the information. "Can we run possible cabins or shore property for any of these guys? Parents, relatives?"

Bug shook his head. "Nigel has already run those. We've come up with nothing."

"What about abandoned housing?" Jordan suggested. "Maybe these guys are squatters."

Bug nodded, considering her comments. "This is a pretty exclusive area. I would be surprised to find any abandoned homes."

Woody suddenly entered the office. He looked at his three colleagues. "Try the name Dickson."