Exotica (Episode Two: The Nightshade Cases)

by Larsen, Patti

“Shut up, Mother, won’t you.” Kendall looked up at last, met Gerri’s eyes. “Jesus.” Darkness hid in her gaze, in the bright blue of her contact enhanced eyes. The small bow of her mouth pursed as she shrugged. “I was there. So what? I didn’t kill Tash.”

  When Kendall looked away again, Gerri noted the two, faint pink punctures on her neck. She’d almost laughed out loud when Kinsey confessed, shame faced, it wasn’t vampires after all. If only she knew Gerri’s investigations told her the same thing.

  Gerri tapped at her own neck, watched Kendall’s hand lift to protect the spot on reflex. “Maybe you didn’t,” she said. “But you seem to have the same marks as the dead girl. Girls.” Gerri slipped one more photo out of the file before slamming it shut. Almost tossed the picture of Myra in Kendall’s face. This time, the girl gasped, grasping the image in both hands with huge eyes.

  When she looked up again, there were tears Gerri’s gut told her were real trickling down Kendall’s face.

  “She wasn’t supposed to…” she trailed off while the lawyer tried to shush her, mother retreating visibly toward stone faced and silent father. Kendall shoved off the older man’s hand and slammed the photo down on the table. “She wasn’t supposed to die.”

  “Myra?” Gerri paused, long enough for Kendall to crumple a little more. “Or Tasha?”

  “Either.” Kendall slashed impatiently at the tears on her face, both hands smearing through the mascara tracks. “It’s just a thing, everyone’s doing it.”

  “Drugs.” Her mother’s voice sounded dead while her father looked away. “You’re doing drugs.”

  Kendall’s look held so much venom as she turned to her mother, Gerri was surprised the woman wasn’t physically scorched by it. “As if you give a shit.”

  Mrs. Walsh turned away, spinning in her prim suit, half turned from her glaring daughter.

  Gerri almost felt sorry for Kendall as the girl went on.

  “Yeah, I talked Tash into taking some viper,” she said. Her gaze fell to the pictures of the first dead girl. “But I swear, I didn’t know she died.” Kendall’s eyes tightened as she sat back. “For all I know, the loser killed herself.”

  Defense mechanism. Nastiness to hide some old pain. “What did you have against Tasha?” Gerri already knew. Or, at least, thought she did, thanks to Kinsey’s intel.

  Kendall shook her head, refusing to answer.

  “Garret Jay isn’t worth killing over.”

  That made her jump, meet Gerri’s eyes with guilt at last. “He was my boyfriend first.” So sullen, so angry. And yet, Gerri didn’t believe she killed anyone. At least, not on purpose. “Now he’s as much a loser as Tash was.”

  Hurt. The voice whispered to her and Gerri believed it. This girl was so damaged, she doubted Kendall could ever have a normal relationship. And, looking at her two parents, silent now and with their body language clearly rejecting their daughter, Gerri could understand why.

  The door opened beside her, breaking the bond Gerri and Kendall had over the photos of the dead girls. The whole room sighed, the parents finally in motion, standing, Mom pulling the girl to her feet with a powerful grip. The lawyer heaved to his feet, briefcase between his private parts and Gerri, a sure sign he was afraid of her.

  She loved unconscious body language.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” he said in his Southern drawl, “my clients are leaving now.”

  Gerri let them go and didn’t even bother to glare at Jackson who’d interrupted her interrogation so rudely. She knew where to find Kendall if she had more questions. For now, she was certain enough the girl didn’t kill her so-called friends. No, Gerri was more interested in having a chat with the co-boyfriend again.

  But, when she turned to Jackson, her gut twisted in a knot at the grim expression on his face.

  “Unis just called in,” he said, acting like a real cop and not a dickhead for once. “The ones you sent to pick up Garret Jay?”

  Gerri was positive she was going to like what he had to tell her about as much as she enjoyed hearing Myra’s body disappeared from the morgue.

  “Found the door open,” he said. “Busted in. And the kid dead.”

  God damn it.

  ***

  EXT. – WICKLOW ST. and MERCER AVE. – EVENING

  Gerri closed her car door, tossing her red hair back from her shoulders as the last of the daylight and heat settled around her. What the hell was she thinking moving to California? She was an East Coast girl, all seasons and chilly nights you didn’t need AC to sleep and shit.

  Jackson exited the passenger side without a peep, for once. In fact, he hadn’t said a word on the drive down to the Southwest side. His usual litany of whining complaints missing made her hackles rise. The asshole had to be up to something. No way was she buying the falling in line bullcrap, the real partner play. He’d shown her his true colors within moments of her meeting him in the bullpen back at the 9th, the way his blue eyes looked her up and down, his whole arrogant attitude she was prepared to shove firmly up his ass until he screamed for mercy.

  He’d done nothing in the last five weeks to prove he was anything but an utter jackass. And yet, since his announcement of the death of Garret Jay, Jackson seemed willing to hold in his natural propensity for jerkism. Gerri wouldn’t hold her breath until the next instance showed its ugly head.

  But, she did wish he’d hurry the hell up and revert to normal. This quiet, professionalism of his was giving her the willies.

  She followed him, keeping her distance, down half a block and into a narrow alley between a small corner store and a porn video shop. The blinking XXX over the doorway cast red flares across Gerri’s vision, giving her the beginning of a headache. The scent of urine and rotting food making things worse as she crossed from the sidewalk onto the pitted asphalt of the alley. Why the hell did her damned job always involve stink in heat so moist she wanted to throw up?

  Just lucky. Yeah, that was it.

  Jackson minced around a snoring bum, his disgust clear on his face, backlit by a street light at the far end of the alley off Mercer Avenue. There was the partner she’d come to despise. Gerri paused to make sure the homeless man was okay before continuing on, joining Jackson near a tarped up cardboard box where another of humanity's discards sat on a cracked wooden crate, swigging from a bottle.

  His filthy hands reached for Jackson, grabbed at his jacket. “Man, you got money, man?”

  Jackson swatted him away, but without the cruelty Gerri had come to expect from her asshole partner. And, for good reason. As the homeless man’s head turned and he caught her eye, she grinned and nodded to the undercover cop she knew to be a decent sort under all that facial hair and filth.

  “Flash,” she said, voice soft, showing her badge for the benefit of anyone who might be watching.

  Detective Eric Ortega grunted and half turned away, sucking on his bottle again. “Ger,” he whispered back. “No money, no info!” Louder, that time.

  While she knew it was one path to advancement, Gerri couldn’t imagine going undercover like the detective. Code named Flashman, he operated with a vice handler, and was a solid source of info on street crime. Gerri’s investigation into the new drug called viper led her nowhere.

  Well, the middle of nowhere. And Flashman.

  “Heard of viper?” Gerri pulled out her wallet when Jackson didn’t make a move for his. She didn’t begrudge the twenty she handed over. Flash would get it back to her. One way or another.

  The undercover actually started, dropping his act a moment as he stared up at her with clear, brown eyes. “That was fast,” he said. “Just found out about it myself.” He looked back and forth between Gerri and Jackson. “Stuff just hit the streets about a week ago.”

  That he knew of. Kinsey’s mention of Mitchell’s wounds went back about that far, so she didn’t argue. “Have two fatalities,” she said. “Maybe three. How’s it work?”

  Flashman shrugged. “Twin needles, neck inject. The drug has to mix insid
e the bloodstream or no reaction.” He tapped his fingers on his bottle, face tight under his matted beard. “From what I hear, it creates this massive high, like nothing else. New kind of fucked up.” Was that fear in his eyes? No way. Flash had been on the streets for two years now. Nothing fazed him, at least that she’d been told. And, from what she knew of him in their few dealings along the way. Joe introduced them, spoke highly of Flashman. And though she’d only been Joe’s partner a short time, the old detective proved himself to be trustworthy.

  Way more than the jackass standing next to her.

  “What kind of fucked up are we talking about?” Gerri put her wallet away while Flashman tucked the bill into his dirty coat.

  “Kids seem to think it gives them powers. Like superheroes or some shit.” He wiped at his mouth after taking a quick swig. “Invincible, like they can fly or walk through walls. Stuff like that.” He glanced down the alley toward the snoring bum before leaning in to the two detectives. “Seriously. Some of the shit I’ve seen…” Flashman shuddered. “Freaky acts of strength, you know?” He stopped there, as though wanting to say more, thought better of it. Gerri’s gut radar pinged so powerfully she had to hold in her gasp.

  Weird. He was talking about weird.

  “Any idea who’s dealing this stuff?” Jackson’s interruption was welcome for once. Gerri slapped down her instincts while Flashman seemed to shake himself before answering.

  “Not sure yet,” he said. “Been following the dealer trail since it popped up. But nothing solid yet.”

  Gerri’s mind flashed to the one who told her to hunt down the drug in the first place. “Check into Julian Black,” she said, though why a man richer than God would implicate himself by warning her of a drug he might be dealing…

  Flashman nodded. “Thanks for the tip,” he said. “I have a line on a handful of small fish. I’ll text you their sheets when I move on.”

  Gerri backed away as Flashman staggered to his feet, pushing against Jackson. “Gotta piss,” he grunted, wavering away, taking the stink of the street with him. Gerri turned back toward the car, head down, brow furrowed. They needed to identify the drug itself, then find out if it was the mix of chemicals killing the kids or some weird adrenaline boost pushing them over the edge. Could Tasha have died by accident? Thinking she could fly, high on viper, tossing everything—including herself—over the pier?

  Gerri stopped, spun, at the touch of Jackson’s hand on her arm. Startled, she looked up the three inches into his eyes as he grinned down at her.

  “I was thinking,” he said, hand settling on her back, sliding down her waist to the top curve of her ass, “we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe I could buy you a drink to make up for it.”

  Gerri’s fist connected with his stomach, so hard he doubled over. Oddly, she wasn’t angry, not really, not even when her hand came up as he bent in half, knuckles grinding together when they connected with his Hollywood nose.

  The satisfying crunch told her if he’d had work done to it in the past, his surgeon wouldn’t be happy with her.

  Still, no rage, just the softly chuffing happiness of her instincts, the tingle of a job well done as she answered him with a light, almost cheerful tone of voice.

  “I have no idea what the hell is wrong with you,” she said. “Nor do I give a sweet shit at this point.” She really didn’t. “But touch me again,” she said, “and they’ll never find your body.”

  She didn’t bother to check and see if he glared after her. If he was even okay, bleeding, dying in a puddle of his own fluids. Instead, whistling softly to herself, knowing full well it was likely any observing outsider would think she’d lost her nut, Gerri left him there, climbing behind the wheel and driving off.

  ***

  INT. – PHILO’S BAR AND GRILLE – EVENING

  Ray sipped her wine as Gerri finished her story. Kinsey stared, blue eyes huge behind her glasses, but Ray just shook her head.

  “You’re mad,” she said, unable to suppress her grin as her red haired friend finished her first beer, knuckles still pink from their adventure with Jackson’s face. Ray knew she shouldn’t encourage Gerri. She’d hit the man. Her partner. Surely she could get in trouble for that?

  Not, it appeared, that Gerri really cared.

  “I wasn’t, actually.” The detective clinked glasses with Kinsey who grinned in return before offering her empty bottle to Ray. She rolled her eyes with a breathy laugh and toasted her insane friend.

  “Just, be careful, would you?” Ray swirled the dark red liquid in her glass, a mix of worry and pride doing the same motion inside her. “I don’t trust him. Or his motives.”

  “Honestly, what was he thinking?” Kinsey snorted, drinking her own wine a little faster than she usually did. Ray shrugged it off. None of her business, really. And they’d all been through the wringer the last twenty-four hours or so. She was half tempted herself to upend the bottle of wine into her mouth if she thought she’d get away with it. “Dudebro fail, sister.”

  Gerri laughed, sounding happy. So, Ray released her fears and smiled in return. She could handle it. And maybe now Jackson would stop hitting on her every chance he got.

  The redhead sipped her beer. “Any news on the body?”

  Ray lost her moment of calm as Gerri’s mood switched along with her focus. But the freakout she’d expected from the detective didn’t come. Not when she and Kinsey told Gerri about the missing corpse at the precinct moments before she interviewed Kendall Walsh. In fact, Gerri seemed the most put together and unperturbed Ray had seen her in a long time. That almost made things worse. Angry Gerri she understood. This rational and watchful Gerri made Ray feel like a suspect herself. She’d seen her friend handle enough cases at this point to know what Detective Meyers questioning looked like.

  “Not yet,” Ray said, reaching for her own training to counter Gerri’s calm. And shook off the need to protect herself. This was Gerri, one of her only friends. Ray was being too sensitive. “But the paperwork hasn’t gone missing this time, so I’m hopeful we don’t have a repeat of our last case together.”

  Kinsey winced, though Gerri just stared into the empty mouth of her beer bottle.

  “I had a preliminary look at Garret Jay,” she went on, cursing her need to be helpful even as she knew this was information Gerri needed. “He had the same punctures, though we’re still working with trace to see if we can identify the drug itself so we know what to look for.” And specifically what it did to the body. She’d detected elevated levels of troponin, the blood marker commonly found in heart attack victims, and adrenaline, leading her to believe he’d suffered massive heart failure. “If I’m right, and if what your undercover friend told you is also true, it’s possible the deaths are accidental overdoses.”

  “Not accidents.” Gerri leaned closer. “Not if this drug kills. It’s still murder.”

  Maybe. More likely manslaughter. But Ray wasn’t going to argue with the detective when Gerri was in an undecipherable mood.

  “At least we know it’s not vampires.” Kinsey’s weak smile actually brought a grin to Gerri’s face. Ray took a sip of wine to hide her surprise. Gerri wasn’t even remotely disturbed by Kinsey’s mention of what the detective referred to as weird.

  “Amen to that.” Gerri sighed, waved off the waitress who stopped with a smile, pointing at her beer. The small bar the three loved to haunt when they had the time felt even more crowded than normal, the tall table where they’d pulled up three stools tucked up against a pillar, keeping Ray’s back from the crowd. Neither of the girls ever commented on her need to have a safe place to hide and she blessed them both for that.

  “How did your meeting at Black’s go?” Gerri leveled her green gaze on Kinsey who squirmed a moment on her stool.

  “You sure you want to know?” Ray could feel the sudden pulse of excitement, see it in her blonde friend. Which meant she likely had something of the paranormal variety to talk about.

  Gerri sighed, shrugged. “I a
sked.”

  Kinsey leaned in, though her tiny burst of energy seemed to sizzle as she spoke, voice lowered despite the noise of the bar. Ray bent her head, tilting it to one side to hear better.

  “You guys remember those symbols we found on Aisling, right? The same ones Curtis and Sterling had?” Ray nodded while Gerri just stared, silent and stiff. “I’ve found more of them.”

  “The same ones?” Ray’s fingers tightened on the stem of her wineglass. Gerri might not like it, but this little mystery wasn’t lost on Ray. Nor the fact she agreed with Kinsey when it came to the paranormal. Her own talent for seeing the deaths of others at the least opportune moments wouldn’t let her deny something weird existed in the world. It couldn’t be just her.

  “Them and more.” Kinsey’s eyes flickered to Gerri before focusing fully on Ray. Safer that way, from the storm clouds finally building on the redhead’s face. “A whole language. I had a hard time translating the six we found, because I didn’t have a base to work from. But the artifacts Simone hired me to translate are covered in them.”

  “So, what do they mean?” Ray sipped, mouth full of warm, buttery wine.

  “I don’t know for sure yet,” Kinsey said. “Simone doesn’t want me to remove anything from where she’s keeping them. It’s all super hush-hush.”

  Gerri’s eyes narrowed. “Are they hot or something?”

  Kinsey looked startled and Ray didn’t blame her. Stolen? “Why do you ask that?”

  The detective shrugged. “I’m a cop, Kins,” she said. “Usually, if someone tells me to keep something secret, there’s a reason. An illegal reason.” Her eyes tightened, lines forming around them. “And I trust her boyfriend about as little as anyone I’ve ever met, so I wouldn’t put it past her.”

  Kinsey shrugged, a helpless look on her face that Ray wanted to soothe with a hug. Why did Gerri always have to be such a bitch?

  “I don’t know,” Kinsey said. “But I managed to sneak a photo of one of the artifacts so I could do some digging of my own.” She hesitated, telling Ray everything she needed to know. Gerri, too, from her sudden angry look. “It’s like the Bible,” she said. “The one Roxy had. Full of references to the paranormal, Gerri.”