Friday Edition, The by Betta Ferrendelli Page A

almost embarrassed by his attention. The black turtleneck she wore deepened the new color, making it look rich and silky. She had highlighted her hair the day after Robin’s funeral, and for no particular reason other than she had grown tired of looking fat and old, and feeling homely when she looked in the mirror. She had been leery about having it done. Now she was glad she had. It refreshed her image and made her appearance softer. She liked what she saw today. She was grateful for the compliment, even if it was from him.
    “It looks good, like you used to wear it,” he said.
    “Thank you,’ she said softly. “I don’t know what made me decide to do it. Time for a change, I guess.”
    Jonathan fidgeted with a paper clip for a moment as an awkward silence hung in the air. “You didn’t come to talk about highlights, I guess. What brings you here?”
    Sam had been hesitant to come. She wasn’t certain she could trust Jonathan. She wouldn’t tell him that she had been in Robin’s office last night, but she knew she could ask certain questions without raising his suspicions. She had called Todd and wanted to tell him about her findings and the mention of Grandview National Bank. She wanted to ask about Roy Rogers, but something about their conversation didn’t feel right either.
    “The last day Robin and I spent together we went Christmas shopping.”
    Jonathan nodded.
    “We had a conversation that, well, surprised me.”
    “Oh?” Jonathan said and leaned forward in his chair. “What about?”
    “About smuggling drugs in and out of Denver.”
    “Why were you talking about something like that?” Jonathan asked.
    Sam shrugged her shoulders, trying to act indifferent. “We were having coffee when she brought it up.”
    “What did she say?”
    “Not much, but enough that I wanted to know more. I had planned to talk with her again after that, but, well...” she paused, taking a moment to composed herself. “Robin made a comment about how easy it was for drugs to flow in and out of Denver. You’re in charge of the drug task force unit, Jonathan, is it true Denver is an easy city in which to smuggle dope?”
    He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes considering how to answer her question. “Actually Robin was right. Metro Denver’s a Mecca for meth-pushers. We’re here in the middle of the country. Lots of little county airports. Interstates running in every direction. It’s a perfect distribution center.”
    “Obviously it’s big business,” Sam said.
    Jonathan nodded. “And getting bigger. Methamphetamine use continues to rise in Colorado and the heroin chic is alive and well. Denver used to be about five years behind California and Arizona where meth use is already out of control. Everybody around here expected the worst and it happened—a meth avalanche hit Colorado pretty hard.”
    She leaned forward in her chair with interest. “I’ve heard so much about meth, but was is it exactly?”
    “Methamphetamine is a stimulant that has a lot of street names: meth, speed, well, it used to be called speed, crank, and ice,” he said and gestured with his hands as he spoke.
    “It’s also highly addictive,” Sam added.
    “Right,” Jonathan returned. “And it’s poisonous and it destroys the human body rapidly. You can spot a user almost immediately, rotting teeth, open sores on the skin and extreme emaciation. Meth has always been the drug world’s bottom feeder. Want to know what makes it such a dirty, trashy drug? The people who make it like to throw things like diet and cold pills, antifreeze, drain cleaner and corrosive acids into the mix.”
    Her eyes widened with interest. “How long has Denver been a major meth manufacturing center?”
    He shook his head. “It started a few years ago. The speed scene here was more a clique than a cartel. In fact, there are quickie meth labs all over metro Denver. These labs can crank out methamphetamine in thirty minutes by using a mixture of cold