Van grimaced. “That sounds like work. How about I escort you around and tell you all the dirty secrets about the art collectors.”
“That sounds much more fun.”
Van led Robin upstairs where they leaned against the railing and looked down. He pointed someone out and leaned close to tell Robin a story. She started laughing.
“Is she going to be okay?” Laurel asked.
“What? Yeah. Why wouldn’t she be?” I looked away from Van and Robin and realized Laurel was watching Lane across the gallery. “Oh. Yeah. She’s a strong kid. She can get through this.”
Laurel slid her hand into mine. “Thank you.”
Chapter Six
Nate looked like shit. He had a scruffy beard that didn’t look cultivated. His hair was still wet from the shower, but it wasn’t styled. But the ultimate sign of dissonance was his inside out varsity jacket.
“Hey, man.” I pulled the coffee I’d gotten him out of the cup holder.
“Oh, God. I love you.” He wrapped his hands around the paper cup.
“How’s the dissertation going?”
He groaned. “Would you ask a pregnant woman at eight and a half months how the pregnancy was going? No. So don’t ask me how the fucking dissertation is going.”
“Right.” I pulled out of his parking lot and turned back the way I’d come. I couldn’t believe I’d driven to Davis just to pick him up. But then I saw how pathetic he looked and remembered how sad he had sounded on the phone. “When’s the last time you went outside?”
“What’s today?”
“Monday.”
“Hmm. Is it still October?” he asked.
“Wow.”
“I will accept pity or tough love from you, but judgment and scorn are not approved.”
“Okay. Did you know your jacket is inside out?”
He screwed up his face and made a strange sound. “That explains a lot.” He put the coffee back in the cup holder and shrugged out of his jacket. One of the big patches caught on his sleeve and it took him way too long to disentangle it. He wrestled it right side out and pulled it back on.
“I didn’t know if you were going for a look or something,” I said.
“If that’s a look, I’ve been inside for way too long.”
“If it is a look, I think you’re too old to pull it off.”
Nate flipped me off. “I don’t suppose you know why we’ve been summoned?”
“Sac State has had a recent increase in sexual assaults. All the victims had ketamine in their systems. So I’m guessing they are looking for a ketamine connection.”
“Huh. Ketamine is back in vogue?” he asked.
“Apparently.”
“It’s good we are up on trends.”
“Between that and the jacket, I feel like you might be too advanced for this world.” I wove through traffic to hit our exit. Nate did that grandma thing where he pressed his foot to an imaginary brake until I got off the freeway. “It’s good they called us in to consult on a drug we don’t sell that we didn’t even know was being used,” I said.
“Yeah, I mean, we probably are going to learn a lot. I love when they put on these private seminars for us,” he said.
“I just wish they would take requests.”
“Hey, you’re sleeping with a detective. Shouldn’t that garner you some influence? Can you tell Kallen I’d like one on trying to get out of the drug business while on the homestretch of finishing a PhD?” Nate’s phone beeped and he wiggled it out of his pocket. “Also maybe stress management.”
“Sure. No problem.”
“Are you getting texts like these?” He held up the phone for me to read. I was driving so I didn’t read it.
“You know I can’t see that, right?”
“Oh. Got it.” He pulled the phone away. “It’s one of my Sac City kids. Haven’t heard from him in months.”
“I assume he’s one of the customers Jerome poached? I’m getting texts too.” I finally pulled into the parking lot of the Sacramento Police Department headquarters.
“Have you responded at all? What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only had enough product to fill the few customers who didn’t stray. I wanted to see if you had enough demand to justify a larger order.”
“I do. I’m just not sure how long they will stick around,” he said.
I parked. Nate took off his seat belt and grabbed his coffee, all at half speed. I got out and waited for him at the back of the car. We were never going to make our meeting on time. I wasn’t mad about it.
“I feel like we should take advantage of the situation, but I’m not quite sure how,” I said.
“And by situation, you mean what?”
“Jerome obviously doesn’t have a secure supply line. He will get one sooner or later.”
“So you want to take him down?” he asked.
“Yeah, but the customers will go back to him when he starts selling again. He’s selling cheap to intentionally undercut us.”
“And his product is cheap crap.”
“That too,” I said.
“So what do you want to do?”
“I want to undermine him.”
“That sounds fun.” Nate tripped over his own feet. He barely noticed. When we were finished with this meeting, I was going to feed him and force him to sleep. “That wasn’t sarcasm, by the way. It really does sound fun.”
“Agreed. I don’t have much going on. It’s kind of pathetic.”
“Well, if you want to help me compile data, I can show you a good time,” he said brightly.
“That seems more pathetic than unemployed drug dealer.”
Nate held the door for me and I led the way upstairs. We were far too acquainted with this building. The squad room was loud, busy. The first month we were CIs, the detectives were intentional assholes to us, which basically meant they only called us in at the most inconvenient times. Looking at the current population of the squad room, I was suddenly feeling nostalgic for those days.
We headed for the desk Laurel and Reyes shared. Laurel had gone home the night before, which had a positive effect on the range of her wardrobe. She was wearing a thick, cable knit sweater with a blue collared shirt under it. The pop of blue brought out the cool tone of the sweater and the brightness in her eyes. Not that I was cruising her.
I glanced around for Duarte. I didn’t think I could handle indulging Detective Junior and his protectiveness yet. I hadn’t had enough coffee. I doubted there was enough coffee for me to reach the threshold of tolerance.
“Hey, guys. Reyes said you were coming in. Can I escort you to the conference room?” Duarte asked.
I turned. I’d been looking around the squad room so intently, I’d missed Duarte coming up behind us. “Yeah, that would be good. Thanks.”
“Sure. Of course.” He bounced a couple of times on the toes of his Adidas. “Want me to get Blackford and Fenton for you? Reyes didn’t say who all you were meeting.”
“I have no idea who we are meeting with. Nor do I know who Blackford and Fenton are,” I said. He nodded a lot. “I just know Kallen said jump so we’re here to jump.”
“You know how we love to assist law enforcement in any way possible,” Nate said.
“Right.” Duarte ignored the obvious sarcasm. “Well, let me get you set up and then I’ll figure out who needs to know you’re here.” He led the way to one of the conference rooms. After asking if we wanted coffee no less than three times, he left.
Nate sat and pulled out his phone. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
“I’m going to need some context.”
“Texts from customers who abandoned us, then came crawling back when the cheap guy turned out to be unreliable.”
“Not that you’re bitter about it or anything,” I said.
“Nope. Definitely not irritated at those inconstant assholes.”
I couldn’t disagree with him. We both knew we needed out, but we wa
nted it to be a choice, not the result of Jerome St. Maris managing to unseat us. That was just insulting. I opened my messages to show Nate. It only took a minute of scrolling to find an obvious pattern. Jerome didn’t have Adderall. We didn’t get to discuss said Adderall paucity because the door opened and a line of detectives filed in. Nate and I stood while they sorted out seating.
Reyes took the seat across from me. Laurel took the seat next to Nate. That was good. Very inconspicuous. No one would suspect we were fucking if she sat next to someone else at the conference table.
Two guys sat next to Reyes. The one on his right was slender and tall. He wore dark, stiff jeans and had his shirtsleeves cuffed to his elbows. The other was also tall but stocky. His beard was gray and full. Impressive, if you were into that sort of thing.
Reyes spoke first. “Xiao, Braddock, this is Detective Travis Blackford.” The younger, slim one. “And Detective Lyle Fenton.” The heavier, bearded one. “They are from the Sexual Assault and Child Abuse unit. Blackford, Fenton, this is Cash Braddock and Nathan Xiao.”
“Good to meet you.” Fenton leaned over the table to shake both our hands.
“Yeah, thanks for coming down today,” Blackford said.
“Sure,” I said. Nate nodded. Our excitement was palpable.
Fenton unlocked his iPad. “I’m not sure what Kallen and Reyes have told you, but we have had five reported rapes at or around Sacramento State in the last two weeks.”
Fenton stopped talking when he caught me looking at Laurel. I was pretty sure she’d said four rapes when we spoke on Sunday. I wondered if she had finally told them about Lane. Or maybe her labs finally came back and the hospital had contacted Blackford and Fenton. Forty-eight hours could be a long time. Someone else could have been assaulted over the weekend.
Blackford picked up the thread when Fenton didn’t continue speaking. “All five victims were young women who attend the college. The circumstances around the assaults are similar. All occurred at parties at Greek houses.” He flipped open a notebook. “All have similar time frames.”
“The most notable similarity, of course, is the use of ketamine,” Fenton said.
“Aside from the ketamine, why is this unusual? Greek organizations are literally known for being rapey.” Nate was clearly not into participating today. I knew he was stressed over writing his dissertation, which was probably why he was short-tempered, but I was also thoroughly enjoying watching him be dismissive.
“Sac State’s campus averages two or three reported rapes per year. That’s obviously a small percentage of the actual sexual assaults on campus,” Blackford said. A muscle below his eye started to twitch. The faster he spoke, the faster it twitched. “Five reported means there are potentially double that amount. Regardless, the increase is unusual.”
“Maybe it’s just a combination of school being back in session and the recent political climate. More people might be reporting than in previous years,” I said. I thought Nate made a good point. Frat boys being rapey was pretty on brand for them.
“Honestly, we thought the same thing. It wasn’t until we found out the victims were dosed with ketamine that we connected the cases,” Blackford said.
“That’s why we brought Kallen and Reyes, and subsequently you two, in on the case. We’ve seen ketamine used previously, but it’s not common,” Fenton said.
Reyes spoke up. “I’ve barely seen any ketamine use in the last few years. And that use was strictly as a party drug, not to facilitate sexual assault. We thought you guys might be able to offer some insight.”
Nate looked at me and shrugged. “I haven’t seen much ketamine use recently. Molly is more popular for recreational use. And I rarely get requests for date rape drugs.”
“Same here. But most people know better than to ask either of us for date rape drugs,” I said.
Nate poorly hid a smile. Two summers ago, some dude had asked him for roofies and Nate just bitch-slapped the guy. No explanation, no warning. Just an open-handed slap.
“Sorry we couldn’t be more help.” Nate stood. I hastened to stand with him.
Fenton and Blackford looked up at Nate, their confusion evident. “But we haven’t asked you any questions,” Blackford said.
“We didn’t deal ketamine or any similar drugs. I don’t think we have much insight to offer.” Nate shrugged. I did my best to look appropriately saddened that we couldn’t help.
“We know. You two focused on prescriptions.” Fenton glanced at his iPad screen. “Primarily opioids and stimulants. We still think you’ll be able to help us. That’s why we asked to interview you.”
“Oh.” We sat down. It had been a good try. We carefully didn’t make eye contact with each other. I knew he had been fucking with them, but the detectives seemed unaware.
They spent a good twenty minutes quizzing us on local dealers who might sell ketamine. They seemed to be under the impression that we didn’t understand their line of questioning and if they phrased the question in a specific way, we would suddenly get it. Tragically, they were incorrect. After that, we spent ten minutes reviewing the witness statements from the victims in an attempt to identify the perpetrators. The running theory was if the perps bought drugs from someone else, they might have also bought them from us. The witness statements had all been recorded between midnight and four a.m. and were from twenty-year-olds who had all just been raped while on ketamine. They weren’t heavy on specifics.
Laurel finally intervened. “Let’s take a break, guys.”
Blackford’s eye finally stopped twitching. “Good idea.”
Nate shot out of his seat and headed for the door. I followed him. Partially because I wanted out of the room, but mostly because I was afraid he wasn’t coming back. He headed for the stairs. I started to follow him, but stopped when Laurel grabbed my arm.
I did my best to not fall into Laurel’s baby blues because we were at the police station where she would definitely be fired if anyone figured out that we were sleeping together. It didn’t work. She still looked hot.
“Got a second?” she asked.
“Maybe we could speak privately?”
“Sure.”
Chapter Seven
“Let’s go in here.” Laurel led me to one of the dark observation rooms that looked in on an interrogation room through one-way glass.
As soon as the door closed, I pressed her back against it and kissed her. She gripped my shoulders. She started to restrain me, to push me away. And then she gave in. Her hands shifted to wrap around my wrists. I pressed my palms into the door harder. If I touched her, I wasn’t sure I’d stop.
Having Lane around wasn’t a problem. Being afraid to touch my girlfriend because her sister was pretending to sleep in the next room apparently was a problem.
Laurel whimpered. I pushed the length of my body against hers. Her breath caught. She tilted my head back and kissed down my neck. Her mouth was open, sucking, biting. It felt really fucking good.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I was thinking about walking back into the conference room with bite marks on my neck and a flushed Detective Kallen. That would probably be bad. But that thought wasn’t enough to slow me down. She had my pants unzipped before I realized it. I couldn’t stop her. I didn’t want to. She slid her fingertips under the elastic of my waistband.
Her phone started ringing. Her hand stilled.
“Fuck.”
“Shit.” Laurel dug into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Hello.”
I was close enough to hear Janice Kallen’s voice come over the line. Laurel curled her hand into a fist, seemingly not realizing that it was still wrapped around the top of my underwear. I only caught half of what her mom was saying, but I didn’t have the desire to hear the whole thing. Janice was still angry that Lane wasn’t taking her calls or responding to her texts. Her desire wasn’t irrational. Her youngest child had been assaulted and she hadn’t been there for her. That had to sting. But I was fascinated by the logic that ma
de Lane not answering her phone Laurel’s responsibility.
Janice’s tirade played itself out in only a few minutes. Laurel made a lot of non-committal noises.
“Are you even listening to me?” Janice asked.
“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” Laurel’s voice was tight with anger.
“Bring Lane home.”
“I can’t do that.”
“We are not the enemy,” Janice said.
“No one said you were, Mom.” There was a flash of pity in her tone that quickly shifted into authority. “Lane needs to be able to control her own life, her own body, her own decisions. Right now more than ever. I’m just following her lead.”
“So she doesn’t want to see us.”
“I don’t know. At the moment, she wants to watch documentaries and eat salt and vinegar chips with M&Ms.”
Janice started yelling about Lane’s health. I didn’t think she was talking about physical. I lifted Laurel’s fist away from my waistband and took a step back. She looked at me with an apology as I buttoned my jeans.
“Mom.” The yelling continued. “Mom.” Laurel pulled the phone away from her ear and shook her head. “Why did I answer this call?” she asked me.
“Because you’re the child who answers calls?” I offered a half smile. Laurel gave far more weight to duty than I ever had. It was a quality I didn’t understand, but maybe it was admirable.
Laurel sighed and put the phone back to her ear. “Mom, I’m trusting Lane to know what she needs. If she needs help from us or her therapist or her friends, she will communicate it. But I’m not going to assume she’s broken just because the first thing she asked for wasn’t her mother.” There was blissful silence as Janice processed that. When she finally spoke, it was low enough that I couldn’t make out what she said. “No, I’m not trying to be hurtful. I’m just trying to get through the day. Listen, I’ll tell Lane you’re worried about her, okay?” Janice said something else. Laurel’s jaw tightened. “I’m at work. I need to go. We’ll talk later.” She hung up without waiting for a response.
Cash and the Sorority Girl Page 6