by Diane Kelly
“Only the campus police and the top-level administrators will know you’re a cop,” Jackson continued. “To the professors and other staff, you’ll be just another student. Keep that in mind. The registrar’s office is expecting you this morning. They’ll get you a student ID and direct you to the housing department to get your dorm assignment.”
“Registrar’s office. G-got it.” I continued to dig around in the envelope and pulled a set of keys from the bottom. The fob attached to them told me they were car keys. “What am I driving?”
“Twenty fifteen red Jeep Renegade. It’s in the lot out front.”
“Nice ride.” It would fit right in at TCU, where the majority of the student body came from wealthy families and could afford nice cars.
“Be sure to bring it back it one piece.”
“I’ll do my best.” I slid the keys into the pocket of my shorts. “Did you find out anything yesterday?”
“Little bit. I spoke with Colby Tibbs and the friend from out of town. Her name’s Shae. Both said that Ashleigh White had gotten the Molly from someone else—they’re not sure who or how—and they’d each paid Ashleigh for a single pill. They said she’s not regularly a dealer, though, that she’d bought the drug for them, and I’m inclined to believe them.” The detective leaned forward in her chair, intertwining her fingers on her desktop. “Ashleigh’s family has lawyered up and her attorney says that, barring an immunity deal, she’s pleading the Fifth. I’m going to check with the prosecutor and see if we can’t work something out. But in the meantime we’ve got to keep moving on this.”
Our business concluded, I stood. “I’ll be in touch once I learn something.”
She looked up at me, her gaze pointed. “I hope you’re a fast learner, because lives are in your hands, Officer Luz.”
The lifeless eyes of Miranda Hernandez flashed in my mind, and I swallowed hard to force down the strain now choking me. “I’ll do my best, Detective.”
* * *
“Say cheese!” called the female student working the camera in the registrar’s office.
I smiled at the camera, opening my eyes wide, hoping to make myself look more youthful on my student ID. There was a click as the camera snapped my pic.
A moment later, the card printed out and the student handed it to me, still warm. “Here you go.”
I looked down at my photo. Not bad. My class schedule, on the other hand, was horrible. One of my classes was at eight o’clock every morning. Ugh. I’d decided to major in political science, with the alleged intention of going on to law school one day. After all, as a law enforcement officer, I knew a lot about criminal law already and had taken a number of government classes in my undergraduate studies in criminal justice at Sam Houston State University in Huntsville. I figured studying political science would be relatively easy for me, and give me the most free time to do my real work—tracking down a drug dealer—while still providing some new intellectual fodder for me to ponder.
The girl glanced around to make sure her supervisors weren’t looking, and whispered, “Let’s make an ID for your dog, too. You said her name was Britney, right?”
I gave her a grin and nodded. “Sit, Brit,” I instructed my partner.
The girl aimed the camera down at Brigit and snapped another pic. The printer whirred again and spat out another card. The girl handed it to me, smiling conspiratorially. The student ID featured the name Britney Lewis alongside Brigit’s photo. If Brigit’s performance during K-9 training was any indication, she’d make the dean’s list here.
The girl reached over to a stack of parking decals and handed a numbered decal to me. “Put this on your back windshield. Make sure you only park in the designated student areas or you’ll get towed. The university cops are Nazis when it comes to parking.” She rolled her eyes.
“I appreciate the warning.” Though I did not appreciate the dig at law enforcement. Cops and lawyers had a lot in common. Nobody liked them until they needed them.
“One last thing.” The girl reached under the counter for a copy of the extensive student handbook. “Some light reading.”
I took the handbook from her. “C’mon, girl.” I gave Brigit the signal to follow me and raised a hand in good-bye to the girl behind the counter. “Thanks!”
We ventured on to the housing department, where a gray-haired woman programmed my ID to give me access to my new dorm room. She returned the ID to me and gestured to the handbook tucked under my arm. “You’ll find the residence hall rules in the handbook. It’s the usual commonsense stuff. No smoking. No space heaters. Quiet hours from ten P.M. to ten A.M. Administration can search your room at any time if they have reason to believe there’s a safety risk or criminal activity taking place, so no funny business, young lady.”
She gave me a stern look, preemptively reprimanding me for an offense I had no intention of committing. Looked like I was pulling off this college kid act pretty well.
“Thank you,” I told the woman. “I’ll behave.”
With that, Brigit and I moved our new Jeep from the visitor parking area to the student parking lot and headed over to our dorm, getting lots of looks and smiles from our fellow students as we made our way across the campus. Brigit’s pink-painted toenails and the big bow I’d added to the new pink harness took the edge off her, making her appear more friendly than ferocious. Looked like Detective Jackson was right about the whole hiding-in-plain-sight thing. Some of the students even stopped and asked if they could pet Brigit. To her delight, I let them. She could be ferocious when she needed to be, but she was well socialized and friendly, too.
As we walked, I considered how I would approach my investigation. Often, the key to figuring out who had committed a crime was figuring out why a person would do it. With drug dealing, the why seemed fairly obvious.
Money.
Lots of it.
Quick.
In this case, the motive might also reveal the person behind the dealing. Any student spending a lot of unexplained cash would be a potential dealer. Conspicuous consumption could provide a clue. Unfortunately, given that TCU was a private university with tuition costing four times the rate at the state schools, students by and large came from wealthy families. It might be difficult to tell how much of the money being spent was daddy’s money, and how much the student had earned via dealing Molly. Another problem was, who didn’t like money? And lots of it? Quick? Heck, wasn’t that the reason people bought lottery tickets? I’d certainly have my work cut out for me on this case.
I rolled my suitcases into the dorm, located the elevators, and wound my way down the hall until I found our room on the second floor. I ran my new ID through the skimmer and the door unlocked with a click.
We stepped into the room. Nobody was inside. Looked like my roommate was out at a class, or maybe studying at the library. Her bed, which bore a faded Hello Kitty bedspread—ironically, I hoped—was made, and her desk and dresser were neat. Several textbooks sat on her bookshelf, including one entitled Exploring Chemical Analysis and another called Microbiology with Diseases by Body System. Ew. The books, along with her poster of Bill Nye in cartoon form above the words SCIENCE RULES, pegged her as a premed major. Yep, the bedspread had to be ironic.
While Brigit sniffed her way around the room, sticking her nose under and between pieces of furniture, I unpacked my clothing, hanging some in the small closet on my side of the room and stashing the rest in the dresser. I made my bed with the twin sheets I’d bought yesterday, topping it with the girlie striped comforter, the pillows, and the oversized teddy bear Seth had bought me. Brigit jumped onto the bed and settled down to watch while I continued to make the place our own. I tacked my Thor poster to the wall over my bed where Chris Hemsworth could keep watch over me as I dreamed.
Moving on into the bathroom that connected our room to the one next door, I hung a hand towel on the rack by the sink and stashed my shower caddy, which contained my shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, and a razor, underneath i
t. My toothbrush and toothpaste joined three other such sets on the shelf mounted beside the sink.
The sound of the door opening in the bedroom met my ears, followed by a high-pitched shriek, and a BAM as the door was slammed shut. “What the hell?” a girl’s voice cried from outside the door.
“Sorry!” I called, rushing to the door.
Brigit hopped down from the bed to join me. I opened the door to find a girl with honey-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail. The wide blue eyes and gaping mouth told me that opening the door to find a big, furry beast inside had freaked her out. Who could blame her?
I stuck out my hand. “Hi, I’m Morgan.” I angled my head to indicate Brigit, who stood beside me, wagging her tail. “This is my service dog, Britney.”
The girl ignored my hand and gave her head a good shake, as if forcing the information into place in her mind. “You’re my new roommate?”
“Yep. I just transferred in. Britney is a seizure warning dog. I have epilepsy.” Shh! I admonished myself, remembering Detective Jackson’s warning. Only offer information when it’s asked for! My nervousness had me flapping my gums.
The girl shook her head again, though this time it was in disbelief. “First I get a druggie, and now a dog. I’m cursed when it comes to roommates.”
She shoved past me into the room.
I looked down at Brigit, who looked back up at me, her brow furrowed as if asking Why didn’t that girl pet me?
Because she’s a bitch, I replied in my mind.
The girl plunked down at her desk. “Make sure you clean up her fur. She better not pee on the rug or lay on my bed or I’ll file a complaint. And I don’t want her sniffing around my stuff, either.”
Too late for that. Of course I didn’t tell the girl that.
I closed the door. “So,” I snapped back. “I guess we won’t be braiding each other’s hair, then?” She ignored me, instead stuffing ear buds into her ears.
“C’mon, Brit,” I said, rousing my dog. “Let’s go buy our books.”
On my way down the hall, I kept an eye out for faces from the Facebook printout. A redhead named Ruby Rathswohl had appeared on both Miranda Hernandez’s and Ashleigh White’s friends lists. While Ruby had regularly posted on Miranda’s page, which told me the two were likely close friends, she’d made only one comment on Ashleigh’s page and it had been several weeks ago. I’d squinted at her picture, willing the girl in the static image to open her mouth and tell me if she was the one I’d seen with Miranda at Panther Pavilion. I was fairly certain she was. With any luck, maybe I’d spot her on campus.
A natural introvert, I forced myself to be friendly and outgoing, summoning my former baton twirler persona and acknowledging those we passed with smiles and greetings. “Hey!” “How’s it going?” “Great earrings!” Ugh. Being sparkly is exhausting.
Brigit eyed me suspiciously. She knew me well, and this was not me. I mean, I could be fun and light, but I generally had to get to know people first before opening up. That was something Seth and I had in common, though he was a much harder nut to crack than I.
We made our way out of the dorm and across the campus. With Brigit wanting to stop and explore every bush and greenbelt and post, it took forever to reach University Drive. But it gave me time to read the posted flyers. A bagel place nearby was running a two-for-one special after eight on weeknights. The A Cappella Society was recruiting singers for an upcoming performance featuring the hits of the Beach Boys. Wednesday night, senatorial candidate Essie Espinoza would be having a rally on campus. No way would I miss that, especially now that I was purportedly a political science major.
We reached the intersection, waited for the light to change, and crossed along with a crowd of students, making our way to the strip center across the street that housed the bookstore, a pub, and an assortment of eateries offering cheap food options.
We sauntered up and down the aisles of the bookstore, looking for the required textbooks for my Political Psychology and Campaigns and Elections classes. Finally, we were at the counter buying a couple of books that seemed to weigh twenty pounds apiece and were priced higher per ounce than gold or cocaine. Having no credit card in the name of my alias, I paid in cash.
“Here’s your change,” the clerk said, counting it back to me. “Have a good day.”
“You, too.” My backpack felt like an anvil on my back as we left the store. Out on the sidewalk, I looked down at my partner. “Hungry, Brit?”
A guy walking by snorted in laughter. I’d become so used to talking to Brigit as if she were human I didn’t think twice about it anymore.
We headed back to the dorm, aiming for the cafeteria. Fortunately, the dining hall offered several options, from more traditional meals with vegetable sides to casual offerings like pizza and burgers and sandwiches. I took a spot in the sandwich line.
The guy in line ahead of me turned around. He was attractive in a cute, boyish type of way. He had light blue eyes, pale skin, and soft, curly black hair cut short, like a poodle who’d just come home from the groomers. The fine hairs on his upper lip and chin area said he was trying his damnedest to grow a beard, yet wasn’t man enough to pull it off just yet. When he spotted fur in his peripheral vision, his gaze went from me down to Brigit. “A dog!” He tilted his head to read the words SERVICE DOG imprinted on the side of her vest. “Is it okay to pet her?”
“Sure. She’d like that,” I said. “But thanks for asking first.”
He bent down and gave Brigit a good two-handed rubdown before standing again. “I’ve got a Boston terrier back at home. We call him Paulie, after Paul Revere.” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and showed me his wallpaper, which featured a photo of the dog. “I miss ’im so much.”
“Anytime you need a fix,” I said, “you can find her in room two twelve.”
A grin played about his mouth. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Sheesh. I’d inadvertently come on to the guy, hadn’t I?
He cocked his head as he eyed her. “She kind of looks like a police dog.”
Uh-oh. Was he feeling me out figuratively after having just felt Brigit out literally? I wasn’t sure. But suspicious or not, he needed to be convinced she was not a K-9 officer. “All shepherds look that way, I guess,” I said with a shrug. “But Britney is much too sweet to ever be a police dog.” I cupped her chin in my hands. “Aren’t you, girl?”
Brigit wagged her tail as if to confirm my statement. Yep, I’m a sweetie, all right.
When the line moved forward, the guy in front of me placed his order. The male clerk assembled the sandwich with quick precision, plunked it down on a plate, and handed it over the counter.
“See ya,” the guy said to me before walking away.
The clerk turned to me. “What can I get ya?”
I moved up to the counter. “I’ll have the veggie s-sandwich,” I told him. “My dog’ll have one with pastrami only.”
“Dog?” The clerk leaned forward to peer over the counter. Seeing Brigit standing next to me, drooling and smacking her lips, he added a heaping pile of sliced meat to her sandwich roll. “Here you go,” he said, sliding the tray onto the counter.
“Thanks.” If only my roommate could be so nice.
I took the tray and glanced around the room, mentally sorting through the Facebook friend pics in my mind, trying to identify anyone who might have been among them. Finally, I spotted a platinum blonde who looked vaguely familiar. I made a beeline for her table, where she sat with another blonde, though the other girl’s hair was more corn silk colored.
I stopped next to their table and threw myself on their mercy. “Hi,” I said, feeling awkward. “I’m brand-new here and I don’t know anybody. Would it be okay if I join you?”
The two exchanged skeptical glances until corn silk spotted Brigit and her face brightened. “Sure!”
I’d been worried that bringing my partner along on this investigation might hamper me, but instead I realized she could o
pen doors. The other students might seem ambivalent about me, but everyone seemed to want to meet Brigit. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. We’d recently arrested a substitute teacher after a chase that ended in the high school’s cafeteria during lunch. After taking the guy down in front of the students, Brigit had become so popular she’d been nominated for prom queen.
I slid into a seat at the table. “I’m Morgan, by the way,” I said, introducing myself to the girls.
“April,” said corn silk.
“Jasmine,” said the platinum blonde.
April hiked a thumb at Brigit. “Is that one of those emotional therapy dogs?”
Way to get personal, huh? “No,” I told the girl. “I have epilepsy. She’s trained to tell when I’m about to have a seizure.”
“Really?” she replied. “Wow, that’s amazing!”
“Yeah.” I stroked Brigit’s head. “She can tell before I can that one is coming on. That way I can make sure I won’t fall and hurt myself.”
“What’s her name?” Jasmine asked.
“Britney.” Brigit looked up at me when I said the name. Good dog. She was a natural at this undercover business.
Jasmine whipped out her cell phone. “My family has a poodle.” She held up her phone. On the screen was an apricot poodle sitting in a kitchen sink, looked dejected, a pile of bubbles on the poor thing’s head. “Her name is Mango.”
“She’s adorable.”
Not to be outdone, April pulled out her phone and showed me a photo of two tuxedo cats. “That’s Leonardo,” she said, pointing at one of them, “and the other one is Clooney.”
No need to ask her where the names had been derived.
Knowing that nothing wins a pet owner over more than showing interest in their dog or cat, I gushed, “They’re so cute!”