A few groans rang out and I waited until the crowd of students filed from the room. The noise level escalated as they shuffled about. Finally, when the classroom cleared, Lewis remained perched on the edge of the desk.
"The university is going to start charging you an audit fee, Detective," she said, her voice echoing in the now empty space.
"Do you really think quantum entanglement has been romanticized?" I asked as I stood from the uncomfortable seat and made my way down to her.
"I do. Do you know how many movies and books capitalize on the idea of particle interaction becoming a metaphor for romance?" The way she spoke, deliberate and articulate with nearly every syllable, drew my attention to her cerise lips and perfect teeth. I had to force myself to meet her gaze as I came to stand in front of her.
"Too many, I'm assuming."
"Too many." She nodded, folding her hands between her knees. "How can I help you today?"
"I'm sorry about what happened to your teaching assistant." I said the words that I failed to say the last time I interviewed her. "She didn't deserve that."
"No one does," she agreed, her gaze flickering to the frosted window that streamed daylight into the classroom. She cleared her throat and met my gaze again. "How can I help?"
"Well…" I tugged the bagged bottle from the pocket of my blazer and held it out to her. "We found this on her at the time of death—"
"Uranium." She snatched it from me before I could finish my sentence.
"Um…yeah. Why would she have uranium on her person? Also, am I going to die from radiation poisoning from carrying that around all day?"
"No." She chuckled, her cheeks lifting when she met my gaze. "Uranium itself is hardly radioactive. It's the decay products you've got to watch out for."
"What does it decay into?"
"Isotopes of bismuth and lead bring about the gamma radiation that causes damage." She rolled the bottle around in her palm. "This ore seems low-grade, and a tiny amount."
I stared at her, my mouth slack as I attempted to formulate a question or at least a comprehensible response. The longer I said nothing, the broader her smile grew.
"Sorry. I must sound ridiculous," she said and handed me back the evidence.
"The exact opposite, actually." I let out an uneasy laugh, but her amused smile remained. "So, what would a college senior need with a jar of uranium?"
"Not sure. Dinah was exceptionally smart. She worked with some of the other physics professors here on experimental modalities as her concentration was in nuclear physics. My focus at present is theoretical physics." Her shoulders lifted in a mild shrug.
"But your background is extensive. Nuclear physics, working at the Columbia Generating Station. M.I.T. Why theory over research?" My brow furrowed as I pocketed the ore again.
"Did you Google me, Detective?" And there went her arms, folding over her stomach again, warning me to back off. With it, her thick brows narrowed and embodied the spirit of danger as her energy surged.
"Your biography is on the university website." I held my hands up in front of me. "That's all."
"All right," she said, shifting her weight on the desk and uncrossing her legs. "Fair."
"Can uranium be used for something menacing? I mean, other than at a nuclear power plant?"
"Sure." She dropped her arms, gripping the edge of the desk. "It has explosive potential because of how it can sustain a nuclear chain reaction. Fission bombs. Hiroshima. Anything like that could be dangerous."
I pondered the notion, turning to lean against the desk as well. "Could it be used for small bombs?"
"Perhaps. But the kind of sample you have there is nominal. It might've been a sample from a lab or something she bought off the internet."
"How well did you know Dinah Simon?"
"Well enough to trust her as a T.A. Beyond that, I can't say I knew her well at all." She scrunched up her face. "Does that make me sound horrible?"
My chuckle echoed in the huge classroom. "No. It makes you sound like a teacher with five billion students."
"Sounds about right." She slid from the desk and her heels clacked on the floor as she righted herself. "Speaking of, I have another class in half an hour."
"No worries. Thank you, Professor. I appreciate the help."
"Mira," she corrected, holding up a single finger as she reached around the desk for her briefcase. After a moment of searching the pockets, she plucked out a business card. "If you have other questions, please feel free to give me a call."
"All right. Thank you, Mira." I accepted the card and tucked it into the breast pocket of my jacket. "Don't torture your class too much," I said as I made my way up the stairs toward the double doors.
"I'll try. Bye, Detective." Her voice echoed and when I glanced back at her, she'd returned to her spot on the desk.
"Billie."
"Bye, Billie." She smiled when she said it and I bolted before the heat in my face gave way to a blush.
Back at the station, I reported my findings to Moreno and one of the FBI agents. Donovan, he called her, as she dropped into a chair at his desk. Only the three of us loitered about while everyone else remained in the field.
"Useless uranium on a serial vic," Donovan said, spinning around in the chair once as if bored. "Just what we need."
"How many victims are there so far?" I asked, turning to face them.
"Six in the Pacific Northwest. One in Oregon," answered Donovan, her eyes narrowed. "Who are you again?"
"Olsen."
"Oh. Do I know you?" She cocked a brow at me, then glanced to Moreno. "Do I know her?"
"Uh, doubt it. Not from work anyway." He shrugged and tossed open a box of donuts on his desk. "And shut up. I'm mad at you for taking my case."
"Please, dude-bro. We've had this one for six months." Donovan kicked him in the shin and I burst out laughing. "Are you gay squad?" she asked me suddenly, pointing in my direction. "Wait. Shit. Wildrose."
"Er…yeah—I. What?" I nearly fell out of my chair at her lack of professionalism in the moment.
"You've been to Wildrose. I remember you. You were one of Jordan's girls, then you dated that tattoo artist for a hot second. Right?"
"Yeah. Frankie. How'd you know?" My brows lifted and the conversation relaxed my shoulders some.
"You know Maya Brody?"
"Yeah. She's in the D.V. unit and we used to hang out at Wildrose a few years back," I told her as the fond memories of Maya returned to me. "She was always cool."
"Her cousin is my fiancée. And now the pieces make sense. You guys dated for a hot second." Donovan cocked a brow at me. "Are you a hot second girl? That's the second time I've said that."
"Are we allowed to have this conversation here?" I looked to Moreno who laughed around his mouthful of cruller.
"I don't give a shit." He pointed at Donovan. "She's my housemate."
"Wait—you two live together?" I slouched in my chair. "Now I'm confused."
They both laughed at me and shared an amused glance.
"It's a long story," said Moreno, shaking his head. "In an excessively large house."
"And Stiles lives next door to you?" I asked.
"Yup," they both said.
"I don't think I want to know the story." I held my hands up while shaking my head.
"It'll take more time than we've got anyway." Donovan yawned, slouching in the chair and crossing her legs at the ankles. "Being in charge is boring."
"Said the ineffectual leader." Moreno shook his head. "Where's Wilkinson?"
"In Tacoma with the other half of the team. The subdued half with his near-retired ass."
I had no idea who these people were, but I listened to them. It wasn't often that I had an audience with an FBI agent from the Behavioral Analysis Unit coupled with my superior officer. If I could survive the intimidation of this moment, I could survive anything.
"So, we're off this case, I take it?" I asked, glancing between them.
"Off it like pan
ties on a hooker." Donovan snapped her fingers and Moreno threw his last bite of donut at her.
"You spend too much time with my sister-in-law. Quit being a bad role model in front of one of my best detectives," he said, scoffing after.
"She can handle it." Donovan tossed me a grin. "Right, pretty?"
"And don't hit on her!" Moreno lost his shit, gripped the back of her chair, and pushed her across the room. Donovan cracked up all the way through the ride. I wasn't a beat behind.
"I'm giving her a compliment!"
"March your ass down to Human Resources, Olsen, and file a complaint." Moreno pointed to the door and his brows narrowed in my direction.
I couldn't stop laughing at the comedy duo at this point. "I'll pass. Too much paperwork."
"See? She gets it. She knows she's pretty." Donovan flipped him off and Moreno rolled his eyes.
"Thank fucking God," he said suddenly, pointing to the door. "Lubbock is back with your crew. Now maybe you'll shut the fuck up."
"Fat chance," muttered Donovan as we watched Angelina lead two other agents into the office. Donovan stood to greet them, and Moreno followed them down to the conference room just as they'd done this morning.
Angelina returned to her desk, sighing heavily as she sat. "There goes our case." She paused, surveying me. "You look amused."
"I am. Donovan's bat-crap crazy."
"She is. Effective though, I hear."
"As long as you get the job done, I guess." I shrugged and spun around to face my computer. "Better write this up."
"How was your interview with Doctor Hot for Teacher?"
"What?" I stopped typing and met her gaze over the computer monitor.
"I saw you checking out that luscious doctor, professor. Whatever. She's gorgeous." Angelina yawned, then rolled around the corner to sit beside me. "Did you ask her out?"
"Get out of here." I nudged her when she leaned too close to me. "No. She's not gay."
"How do you know?"
"I can tell. Quit breathing on me so close." I shoved her away from my shoulder as she snooped my screen and she laughed.
"I'm meeting Bentley and Eve at Jimmy's after work. You in?"
"Yeah. Why not? Eleanor won't be home until seven."
"Good. Hurry up with the work shit and we can go."
"You're a thorn, Angie. A literal thorn."
"It's my badge of honor." Angelina thumped me on the shoulder before rolling back to her own computer.
Half an hour later, the two of us sat with Eve, otherwise known as Detective Evelyn Grant of Sex Crimes, and her blazen-haired girlfriend, Ciara. Sorensen decided to join us as usual. With beers in our palms and plates of wings between us, we mulled through our annoyance over the FBI taking the case, and other work-related aggravation. For the most part, I didn't have much to say. Despite being officially off the case, I couldn't help wondering why a twenty-something girl toting around uranium found herself a victim of a serial killer. It was too many coincidences to just let it slide.
My phone buzzed on the table and I turned it over to see a text from Eleanor.
Home. Robbie n me getting Taco Bell. Want?
No thanks. At the bar with work people. All okay there?
All good. U don't have to worry, Beej.
The dreaded nickname roared to the surface and it made me scowl. I'll always worry.
Don't. Being here makes me happy :)
Seeing that in text brought a smile to my face. It felt foreign in a way. I'm glad to hear that. It makes me happy too.
Don't get too drunk. See u l8r.
I won't, brat.
LOL
"What you smiling about, Olsen?" asked Sorensen, nudging my elbow with his. "Hot date?"
"It's probably the sexy professor she met the other day. She's hot for teacher." Angelina laughed as she teased me and I flung a chicken bone at her.
"Knock it off with that," I said.
"You've got a girlcrush, Olsen?" Eve smiled as she leaned back in her chair, beer perched on her knee, her tell-tale auburn bob ever-present.
"While I admit that Professor Lewis is attractive, I'm not crushing on her. And I'm sure she's straight." I frowned at Eve as she kept staring at me. An awkward silence fell between us. "Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?" she asked.
"I don't know. Your social skills are different." I turned to Ciara. "What's up with that?"
"We're not sure." Ciara chuckled as she reached over and tucked Eve's hair behind her ear. "But her differences are endearing."
Angelina and Sorensen both pretended to hurl.
While the focus turned to discussing Eve's consistent socially awkward demeanor, Angelina's husband, Bentley, joined us. He kissed her cheek, before taking the seat between her and Ciara. "Hey, babe."
"Hi." Angelina gestured to me. "I dragged Billie here out with us for her annual bar visit."
"C'mon. I show up more than that. Hi, Bentley." I shook his hand when he extended it. "Good to see you again."
"You, too. Are these folks treating you well or should I take them out for ya?" He grinned, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders. "Especially this one."
"As best can be expected." I let out a dramatic sigh which made them all laugh.
"Billie's little sister is in Seattle now, and since she has less to worry about with both of her siblings in a safe place, I forced her to have fun with us," offered Angelina.
"That's good to hear," chirped Ciara. "How old are your siblings?"
"Eleanor is eighteen and Robert is twenty-five. Big age gaps," I said.
"That must be different. Everyone calls me and my sister Irish twins because we're barely a year apart. Mom had me then popped her out like ten months later. Quick turn around." She laughed and Eve gave her knee a pat.
"You're nothing alike," said Eve.
"Not really, no. Saoirse is not very dainty." Ciara perked when she said it and a hint of some sort of accent made its way to her lips.
"How very Irish of you, baby." Eve leaned over and nipped her shoulder. "Saoirse is a little beast. She plays for a local women's soccer team."
"Oh!" Ciara chirped. "She's playing a game up here next weekend. Do you want to come with us?"
"You mean do I want to watch hot women run around kicking a ball? I could be persuaded…" I smirked at the idea. "Is it part of the nationals?"
"Nah. Just local recreational. They're playing a charity event in Seattle this weekend. We'll pick you up." Ciara scooped up her phone from the table, tapped a few things, then handed it to me. "Here. Put in your number and address."
"Er…okay." I glanced from her to Eve who looked on without a concern in the world. She let Ciara lead, and that became quite clear the longer I got to know them.
Sorensen, Angelina, and Bentley carried on a conversation around Bentley's job at the fire department. I could tell that he and Sorensen were actual friends, but casual at best. I wondered how much time this group spent together.
I handed Ciara back her phone after entering my information. "All set."
"Great. I'm sure some of the other Wildrose girls will show up," she said. "Cin and Grace usually come to the games. Alex as well."
"Is Alex still dating Frankie?" Hearing the familiar names brought up old memories of my more free-spirited days in Seattle.
"On and off," answered Eve. "Frankie is a lot to handle."
"She is. I remember." I smirked at the notion. "We dated for a hot second." I stole Donovan's description as it seemed fitting. "Didn't work out. She's moody."
"Extremely. Alex is a little too passive for her and it gets tense sometimes." Ciara slid her hand between Eve's crossed legs to grip her knee. Eve went with it, and stroked Ciara's wrist with her index finger. "I've seen them argue. Or rather, Frankie yelling at Alex while she flinched."
"And there stands the reason why I never pursued anything with her. Short fuse."
"That's putting it lightly," said Eve.
"Well, I
hate to break up the party, but I better get going." I downed the rest of my beer and knocked the bottle on the table twice before setting it down. "Thanks for the chat."
"Aww, Billie. Don't go yet." Angelina pouted at me. "It's only been three hours of drinking and eating junk."
I laughed, shaking my head as I stood. "I should go check on things at home. I'll see you all tomorrow."
"Night, Olsen." Eve nodded in my direction and I returned the gesture.
"Night. Later guys." I waved to them after pushing in my chair.
"We'll text you about Saturday," Ciara called after me and I gave her a thumbs up before heading out into the cool evening air.
For the first time in a long time, I had plans on the weekend that didn't involve kidnapping my own sister. Part of me carried a twinge of excitement, the other part, the one that had fallen into the melancholy of day-to-day life, struggled to align with the other. Whatever the case, I'd give it a whirl. Eleanor had already made friends since coming here. Robert had an entire life he'd built for himself. Maybe I should try something different, too.
Chapter Three
"Are you sure you don't want to come?" I asked Eleanor while she lounged on the sofa in my kimono. She had her socked feet propped up on the coffee table and a giant bowl of cereal perched on her stomach.
"Nope. I'm good." She crunched on a mouthful of sugar-puffed corn. "You have fun." She waved me off, her fingers wiggling in my direction.
I laughed as I leaned over the back of the sofa to smooch her cheek. "Robert's at his man's house all weekend. You sure?"
"Oh yeah. Is it okay if I go out with some friends later, maybe?" she asked, her brows lifted as if awaiting my answer.
"You don't need permission, Ellie. You're an adult here. I'll treat you like one. Except no drugs or underage drinking, but you know that already."
"I don't like that stuff anyway. I can just like, go out?"
I chuckled, and poked her arm. "Yup. Just text me where you're going like I do to you so we don't worry. That's it."
Entanglement Page 3