“Did my phone ring?”
“Nope.” I set the ice pack against my eye. “Oh, I love ice packs.”
“Did the EMTs look at you?”
“No. They were focused on the unconscious perp.”
The phone rang. Reyes answered it. He clicked the row for Brenden Santos. “No, we only have three locations for him. The apartment, the Omega Kappa Nu house, and the student center where he works.” I could hear the voice on the other end of the call. He sounded frustrated, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. “Go ahead and move on to Simon Price. I’ll try to come up with more information on Santos.” He hung up.
“So we need to find a location for Brenden Santos?” I asked.
“Yep. Any chance your murder board will help?”
I dropped my face ice pack on the table. “Let’s find out.” I retracted the screen covering the board. Reyes hit a button to stop his laptop from projecting.
“He’s Omega Kappa Nu,” Reyes said.
I found all the cards that referenced his frat, but they didn’t give me any information. I moved over to the social media side of the board. Duarte had added the handles for all nineteen rapists. Most of them had Instagram. Many had Twitter. All of them had at least one. I pulled out my phone and typed Santos’s handle into my Twitter search bar. He hadn’t posted in a week. I closed that out and pulled up Instagram. Santos had posted four times that evening.
“Call them back. Tell them he was at Royal Oak Tavern on Folsom Boulevard as of twenty minutes ago.”
Reyes blinked at me in surprise, then picked up his phone. “Fenton, he’s at a bar on Folsom Boulevard. Royal Oak Tavern.” He glanced at me and I nodded. “Braddock is looking at his social media. He posted twenty minutes ago.”
“I’ll keep watching,” I whispered and held my phone up.
Reyes nodded at me. “Yeah. Keep me updated.” He hung up. “Okay, that’s impressive. Can we look up someone else?”
“Sure. Who?”
The phone rang again. “Sorry.” He answered it. “You got him? Okay. That’s Jake Ramsey?” He clicked on his laptop. “Great. Your next is Colin Hammond. He’s Kappa Kappa Tau. Duarte picked one of the brothers up there earlier, but Hammond wasn’t there. He’s probably working.” Reyes typed. “Yeah, it’s H and Fifty-sixth. He’s one of the cooks so he’ll probably be in the kitchen.”
I looked up Hammond’s handle and checked it. He’d posted on Insta a week previous and tweeted the day before. No useable information though. I sat back down.
Reyes hung up. “Sorry.”
“Hey, no worries. Jake Ramsey makes twelve.” I held up my good hand and Reyes high-fived it. “Nothing on Colin Hammond’s social media.”
“Oh, yeah. Will you check Simon Price? He’s next in the lineup.”
I pulled up the pertinent information. He’d retweeted someone else’s photo at Iota Mu. I turned the photo so Reyes could see it. “Is he Iota Mu?”
“No, but that’s him.” Reyes pointed out a young looking guy with no shirt on and a face full of acne. He clearly worked out to make up for his unattractive face. Or maybe he just worked out a lot and hadn’t gotten the memo on properly washing one’s face after a session at the gym.
“It is?”
“Yeah. I think so.” Reyes turned on the projector again. He half stood, but I stopped him.
“I got it.” I skirted the table to pull down the screen.
As soon as the screen was down, Reyes clicked open a file of photos. Simon Price’s driver’s license photo popped up. He hadn’t aged much since his license photo had been taken. Maybe he didn’t just look young. Maybe he actually was that young.
“That’s him, right?” Reyes asked.
His skin was unblemished in the older photo, but it was definitely the same guy. “Yeah.”
“So he’s at a party at Iota Mu?”
“He was when the photo was taken.”
“How long ago was that?”
I checked when the photo had been posted. “Three hours ago. I mean, the photo could have been taken before that.”
“Well, it’s at least somewhere else for them to check.”
Within the hour, twelve became fourteen. Fourteen became fifteen around one thirty in the morning. I missed that high five because I was stretched across three conference chairs asleep.
“When do we call this?” I asked. My eye was throbbing. My hand was sore. My most recent ice pack had been melty when I started to fall asleep and was now dripping on the floor.
“You can go home. I’m going to try to convince them to come in, but it might take a while to get them to listen.”
“How many teams are still out there?”
“Fenton and Blackford are together as are Kallen and Duarte. Xiao went home. The uniforms went off shift, but we brought on fresh guys to back the detectives.”
“So two teams?”
“Sorry, yes. To answer your question, two teams.”
“And how many rapists?” I asked. Reyes raised his eyebrows. “How many rapists for this case specifically?”
“Four left.”
“Okay. I’ll stay for one more.”
“We’re not talking baseball innings. Go home, Braddock.”
“Come on, Dad. One more rapist. Just one.” I stuck out my bottom lip.
“You are so goddamn weird.”
I shrugged. “Hey, if I go home, the patriarchy wins.”
“Wouldn’t want that.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
The next morning, I sat on the back porch drinking coffee and studiously not checking the news. I knew I needed to go to bed, but I was paralyzed by a combination of exhaustion and anticipation. I didn’t know exactly what I was waiting for, but I was waiting for something. I needed to know the final three rapists had been rounded up. I was equal parts concerned and scared to find out whether or not Laurel was ready to admit the line she’d crossed was a big fucking deal.
So I waited, watching the light slowly change. There was a hint of fog that dissipated with the sunrise. Unseen birds filled the air with indistinct noise.
I finished my cup of coffee, but couldn’t find the motivation to go inside for a refill. The empty mug slowly turned cold in my grip. I set it on the armrest of my chair. The moisture in the wooden planter boxes started to steam in the scant warmth of the sunlight.
The detectives were chasing a rumor at that point. They knew it. That was why they’d sent all the uniforms home. Knocking on doors at six a.m. wouldn’t turn up anything but trouble. But Fenton and Blackford wanted to wrap up the case with a tidy little bow. And Laurel and Duarte were just treating rapists like collectors’ items. So I watched the yard slowly turn in the sunshine because I couldn’t do anything else.
One of the doors behind me opened. “What are you doing up?” Robin asked.
I turned toward her and smiled. “Haven’t gone to bed yet.”
“Honey, what happened to your face?” She crossed the porch and leaned over to inspect me.
“Huh?” I grumbled. She brushed her thumb below my eye, which started the throbbing back up. “Oh, yeah.”
“You forgot about your black eye?”
“Kinda. I’m pretty tired.”
“Maybe you should go to bed.”
“Yeah. I will. Soon,” I said.
“How did you manage to get a black eye?” She angled the other chair so she could see my face when she sat.
“There was an operation last night. Laurel needed to get into some college parties so I went and vouched for her. She and some other detectives were rounding up rapists.”
“Rounding up rapists?”
“Yeah, it’s the newest, hottest game. Round up the rapists. Like a scavenger hunt, but with much higher stakes.” I laughed. I was funny.
“Okay. Time for you to go to bed.” Robin took my arm and tried to haul me up.
“Not yet. There are still three.”
She sat back down, exasperated now. “Three what
?”
“Rapists.” I took a deep breath and tried to find a way to speak lucidly. “You know that case Laurel’s been working on? They ran that story in The Bee?”
“Yeah, the serial rapist on Sac State’s campus, right?”
“Yep. Except it turns out it’s not a serial rapist. Sac State has one of those free ride share type services to prevent drunk driving, Safe Streets,” I said. Robin nodded at me to keep going. “Two of the drivers were stocking their vehicle with ketamine-laced water bottles, installing tracking apps on the drugged women’s phones, and selling the coordinates to ‘guys who need help’ at parties.”
She stared at me in horror for at least a full minute. “What?”
“Yeah. It’s repugnant.”
“How many? I remember the article said there were like five.”
“After the article, it was like ten. By last night, it was nineteen.”
“You’re saying nineteen rapists were arrested last night? That’s impressive as hell.”
“Only sixteen, but still impressive. They are still out looking for the remaining three.”
She nodded. “So you’re waiting for Laurel to come home?”
“Yeah, I guess. I’m not really sure what to do with myself.”
“Bed seems the obvious option.”
“Yeah. I just want to talk to Laurel before.”
“Aww, being in love with a cop is doing strange things to you, Cash Braddock.”
I realized she was focusing on Laurel’s safety, which I was obviously concerned about, but it was everyone else who needed protection. Or maybe I was overreacting. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“You should at least put some ice on that eye.”
“I did earlier. It got cold.”
“Ice does that. I’m still unclear on how you got hurt.”
I shrugged. “One of the guys resisted arrest. It got heated. It was a thing.” I stretched out my hands. My finger hurt.
“Can I re-bandage your finger? It looks pretty pathetic.”
“Do I have to move?”
“No, honey. You stay right there.” Robin kissed my forehead and went inside. She came back out a minute later with her first aid kit. It was much more impressive than the one Reyes had. And it had one hundred percent more glitter stickers on the outside.
Robin slowly unwrapped the tape, careful not to jostle my fingers too much. I’d been picking at the edges of the tape all night so it was dirty and awkwardly rolled in on itself. She set the dirty tape aside while shaking her head in a very mom-like way.
“Reyes said he thought it was sprained, not broken,” I said.
“I agree, but have me check it tomorrow. If the swelling doesn’t go down, I might tell you to go for an X-ray.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She rewrapped my fingers. Her tape was hot pink. Much sexier. “Now, try not to pick at it this time.”
I flexed my hand slowly as she packed up. “Thanks.”
“You want more coffee?”
I moaned and nodded. “You’re the best.”
“You bet I am.” She took my coffee mug inside and returned a minute later with hot, fresh coffee.
“If we weren’t neighbors, I’d ask you to marry me.”
“My straightness isn’t a problem for you?” she asked.
“I try to be open-minded.”
“I have an uncomfortable question and I don’t know how to ask it.”
“Go for it.”
“Is the guy who raped Lane among the twenty-something rapists who were arrested last night?”
I shook my head. “No. Apparently, he’s just a random guy. They don’t have any leads on him.”
“You guys know for sure?”
“Yep.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “I don’t think she’s invested in the legalities of sexual assault. Her approach is unique.”
“That is very true.”
“I like her,” I said.
“So do I.”
We drank coffee and watched a faint breeze move through the trees. The leaves were just starting to change. Sacramento had more trees per capita than any other city in the US. It was one of those childhood facts we’d all learned in elementary school. I never really thought about it until fall every year when I had to pay Andy to rake leaves for hours on end.
“We have an interesting little family, don’t we?” Robin said.
I nodded. “I like it.”
“Is Lane going to stay here?”
“I don’t know. We kind of talked about it a week or so ago, but it was mostly just me telling her she didn’t need to leave.”
“Do you like having her live with you?”
“I do. She’s a good kid. And she makes good coffee.”
“So why don’t you ask her to stay instead of telling her she doesn’t have to leave?”
I felt like I should understand what she was saying, but I was too tired to make the connection. “What’s the difference?”
“One is an assurance that she’s not a problem. The other is a declaration that she’s an enjoyable human.”
“Right.” I thought through the implications of asking my secret girlfriend’s little sister to move in with me. I couldn’t find a flaw. “Okay. I’ll talk to her.”
“Good.” Robin stood. “I have to get ready for work. You should go to sleep.”
“I’ll consider it.”
She kissed my head again and went inside.
I texted Laurel for an update, but didn’t get a response. I dozed in the sunshine until my phone buzzed.
Still out searching.
I wrote back, You guys all need some sleep. And we need to talk. You should take a break.
Can’t. We’ll get them soon.
I knew better than to push. I suspected she was fixating on the remaining arrests so she wouldn’t have to think about anything else, but I also wasn’t going to judge her defense mechanism.
I collected my coffee cup and phone and went inside. I rinsed the mug and fed the cat. As I walked by Lane’s room to go down the hallway, I heard faint crying.
I tapped on her door. “Lane?”
“Yeah.” Her voice trembled.
“You okay?”
There was a long pause. “No.”
“Can I come in?”
“Okay.”
I opened the door. She was sitting on the floor with her back against the couch and her knees pulled tight to her chest. She rocked back and forth.
“Can I sit with you?” I asked.
She nodded. I sat close to her, our legs, hips, shoulders lightly touching. After a moment, she leaned into me. I put my arm around her shoulders. She turned to thread her arm around my waist. We stayed like that for a long time. Her breathing slowly evened out. When she shifted, cool air rushed against my shirt and I realized the shoulder of it was soaked.
“Sorry,” she said.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Can I do anything?”
She shook her head. “This is helping.”
“Good.” I squeezed her shoulder lightly.
“I had a dream.”
“Shit.”
“Not…that.” She took a long breath. “I was at the Tri Ep house with a group of my sisters. We were just hanging out. It was totally innocuous.” She shrugged, an aborted movement since she was pressed against my body. “But there was a song playing. I don’t know what song it was, but the cadence of it was familiar. It sent me right back there. And then I woke up having a panic attack.”
“How are you feeling now?”
“Still shaky. But I can breathe.”
“Breathing is good. Can I get you some water?”
“In a second.”
After a minute, she unclenched the hand at my waist. She’d apparently twisted it into the material of my shirt. She slowly drew back and sat upright. When she nodded, I stood. I brought back a glass of cold water. She drank it in one go, then handed back the glass.
&n
bsp; “More?” I asked.
“No. I’m good.”
I set the glass aside and sat back down. “What do you need?”
“I’m tired, but I’m afraid to go back to sleep.”
“Do you want to try? I’ll sit here until you crash.”
She looked like she was going to start crying again, but a different sort of tears. “Yeah, okay.” She stretched out her legs and slowly stood. She climbed back on the couch and pulled the blankets tight around her. After she was settled in, she freed one hand. I took it and squeezed.
“I’ve been thinking. And you don’t need to answer right now. But I’d like it if you moved in here. Officially. It can just be for the semester or whatever,” I said.
She chuckled warily. “Even after this?”
“Especially after this. We can’t have you sleeping on a couch forever. We need to get you a bed.”
“Thanks, Cash.”
In a matter of minutes, she’d fallen back asleep. I gently took my hand back.
I left the doors of both our rooms open. That way she’d know I was close by. I changed my clothes and climbed in bed. Nickels jumped up and burrowed under the blankets with me. She started purring. I fell asleep about as quickly as Lane had.
* * *
Lane let me sleep until early afternoon. When I got up, she was spread out in the living room with approximately one thousand textbooks. Laurel hadn’t called or texted.
“Afternoon, sleepyhead,” Lane said.
“Now who sounds like a dad?”
“Fair point.” She nodded at the kitchen. “I just started a fresh pot of coffee.”
I could already smell it. I groaned. “Thanks.” I poured each of us a mug and joined her in the living room. I found it amusing how quickly we had adapted to each other. She purposefully left the chair I liked to sit in untouched, but had no compunction about taking over the couch and coffee table.
“Thank you for this morning,” she said.
I was going to wave her off, but I realized that would minimize her experience. “You’re welcome. I’m glad I was there.” I smiled at her and she smiled back. “How are you feeling? You look much better.”
“I am. I’m showered and hydrated and caffeinated. All of those tend to improve my mood.”
“Good.”
Cash and the Sorority Girl Page 23