Above the Paw

by Diane Kelly

  Jasmine offered Brigit a piece of crust with some sauce and cheese on it. The dog scarfed it down in three seconds flat.

  Another crack of thunder told me the weather had gotten worse. It also told me I should round up my umbrella from my dorm room.

  I slid my ID through the skimmer and went into the room to find Emily sitting on her bed, staring into space and looking dazed.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “I feel a little dizzy.”

  “Lie down,” I told her, worried she might keel forward off her bed.

  She obeyed, lying down with her head on her pillow and closing her eyes.

  I stepped over beside her bed. “Should I call someone? Take you to the clinic?” There was an on-campus medical office for minor issues.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said.

  I stared at her for a moment. My concern led me to be blunt. “Did you take some kind of drugs, Emily? Like an ADHD med or speed or something?”

  Her eyes flew open. “You think I’d do something like that?”

  Her tone dripped with insult and moral outrage. I could only imagine how much more insulted and outraged she’d sound if she knew I suspected her not only of taking drugs, but also selling them to her fellow students.

  “I’ve only known you for three days, Emily,” I said in my defense, “and during that time you haven’t exactly opened up much. How should I know what you would or wouldn’t do?”

  She threw her arm back to cover her eyes and lay quietly for a moment. “I’ve been a bitch, haven’t I?”

  Of epic proportions. Still, I’d seen glimpses of the vulnerable human under the prickly exterior. I’d soften things a bit. “A little,” I agreed. “Can you tell me why?”

  Her arm still hiding her eyes, she began sobbing then. “I’m so tired! I’ve been working nonstop and I can barely keep up.” She gulped. “This is so hard!”

  Drama. One of the things I’d detested about college. Yet, I felt for Emily. She’d been putting forth way more effort than anyone else I’d seen.

  “Give yourself a break,” I told her softly. “You can only do so much.”

  A few seconds later she calmed. “Maybe I just need a nap.”

  “Good idea.”

  My phone pinged with an incoming text from Detective Jackson. Got the footage. Come on over.

  “I have to go,” I told Emily as I slid the phone into my pocket. “But promise me you’ll contact the advisor or the front desk if you need help getting to health services.”

  “I promise,” she said.

  Rounding up both my umbrella and my partner, I stepped out of the room and hurried down the hall, eager to see who I might recognize from the mall security recording and Detective Bustamente’s dash cam footage.

  One look out of the glass doors of the lobby told me it was raining cats and dogs outside. I opened my umbrella—shnap!—and wrapped Brigit’s leash around my hand, pulling her close to my leg. I led her out onto the covered steps at the front of the dorm. Another crack of lightning lit up the sky, followed by a loud rumble of thunder, followed by Brigit plunking her butt down on the concrete and refusing to budge.

  “Come on, girl!” I called cheerfully, patting my leg with the hand that held the leash.

  She gave me a look that said I must be crazy if I thought she’d “come on” in that weather.

  “Be a good girl,” I told her.

  The look of disdain remained. She had no interest in being a good girl if it meant she’d have to venture forth in this monsoon.

  I played the only card I had left. “Treat?”

  Even that didn’t seem to motivate her. I finally had to use both hands to pry her rear end up from the cement and use my mean voice to get her to come along.

  I jogged as fast as I could to the parking lot and loaded my partner into my Jeep, feeding her three liver treats before climbing in myself. Great. The car smelled like wet dog. Yick.

  I drove to the W1 station, once again parking a half block down and circling behind the businesses to enter the building. By the time I reached the door, my feet were soaking wet, my shoes sklurch-sklurch-sklurching as I made my way down the hallway.

  Jackson looked up as I stopped in her doorway. “Heard you coming.” Her gaze moved down to my furry counterpart. “Smelled you, too.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “Not much I can do about it.”

  “Heads up,” Jackson called.

  When I looked up, she tossed me a thumb drive. When I failed to catch it, Brigit tossed me a look of disgust that said I could’ve caught that. I fished the drive from the floor under the wing chair where it had landed.

  “That drive has both the dash cam and mall footage on it,” Jackson said. “Take it with you and have a look-see.”

  “How many hours of footage are there?”

  “Ten hours of dash cam,” she said. “Bustamente rolled from the time Tio’s opened at eleven in the morning until it closed at nine last night. He checked the restroom right before closing last night and the money was gone.”

  In other words, the dealer had picked up the funds some time yesterday.

  “We’ve got three full days of footage from the mall,” Jackson added. “Chances are the money was picked up the first day. The dealer probably wouldn’t want to risk someone else finding it and taking it. But I had the mall management give us the additional footage just in case.”

  Even at four times the usual speed it would take me two and a half hours to review the entire dash cam footage. Chisholm Trail Mall was open from ten A.M. to nine P.M., providing eleven hours of footage each day, thirty-three total, over eight hours’ worth at quadruple speed. Blurgh. While the other kids in my dorm would be binge-watching their favorite television shows on Netflix, I’d be scouring footage of a parking lot and a hallway outside a restroom. But if I did the work without complaint, showed my dedication to the job, it could only help my career. So I’d suck it up like the dutiful police officer I was.

  “By the way,” Jackson said, “I made a call to the cell phone and sent an e-mail to funtimemolly this morning. The response told me to leave my cash under a trash can at a Texaco gas station on Berry Street. The one that’s just a couple of blocks from the university. I’m sending one of the rookies over there in plainclothes to make the drop this afternoon. The station has both interior and exterior cameras, and I’m going to put eyes on the place, as well.”

  “Another dash cam?”

  She nodded. “I put it in a beater car that’s been left in the impound lot for three months. We left the car at the back of the gas station’s lot. It looks nothing like a law enforcement vehicle, and the station’s got an attached repair shop so it shouldn’t raise any suspicions being parked there all day.” As she turned back to her paperwork, dismissing me, she said, “Let me know if you recognize anyone.”

  “Will do.”

  THIRTY-THREE

  RAINING CATS AND DOGS

  Brigit

  Large raindrops pelted Brigit in the face as she and Megan ran back to the car. While Brigit enjoyed a nice swim in a lake or river or swimming pool, especially on a hot day, Brigit hated rain. It was like being poked at random by dozens of wet fingers.

  The only thing worse than rain was being forced to take a bath. All that peachy-smelling shampoo. Ew. Every time Megan bathed her Brigit ran right outside and rolled in the grass and dirt. She’d much rather smell like the earth than fruit.

  When Megan opened the door to their new car, Brigit hopped inside. Why weren’t they driving their usual cruiser? Brigit had spotted it sitting in the parking lot at the police station. Brigit liked riding in the cruiser. It had a nice flat space in the back just for her, and she didn’t have to try to balance herself on a seat that wasn’t made to canine specifications. Like this one, for instance. She turned five times, trying to find a comfortable angle before finally giving up and flopping down sideways.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  FOR SALE

  The Dealer


  The shame made him feel tainted. Regret gnawed at his insides like a starved, rabid rodent.

  He’d sold out.

  Traded his self-respect for a few measly dollars.

  It had been an impetuous, stupid decision. And he hated himself for it.

  He only hoped that, in the end, it would prove to have been worth it.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  BINGING

  Megan

  On the drive back to the campus, I swung by the post office to check my PO box. It was probably too soon for the dealer to have sent any drugs to me, but it couldn’t hurt to check. As expected, the box was empty.

  As I started the engine in the post office parking lot, I glanced at the clock on the dashboard. If Brigit and I hurried, we could make our afternoon class. While I wasn’t worried about Morgan Lewis’s grade, I was concerned that skipping classes and leaving early too many times could blow my cover. Best to play the part as closely as I could.

  We made it to class in the nick of time. Looking around the room, I spotted an unusual number of empty seats. Looked like many of my classmates had used the downpour as a convenient excuse to skip class. A bad decision, given that the professor decided to surprise us with a pop quiz. Those who’d skipped today would earn a big, fat zero that they’d have to work hard to overcome.

  After class, I went back to my room. Emily snoozed and snored in her bed, dead to the world. I kicked back on my bed and booted up my laptop, situating myself so that Emily would not be able to see my screen if she happened to wake up.

  I slid the flash drive Detective Jackson had given me into the USB port and pulled up the dash cam video from the day before. An image of the parking lot at Tio’s Taco Stand popped up, the readout in the bottom corner indicating the date and time—yesterday at 11:37 A.M. I played the dash cam video on ten-times speed until it showed me entering the restaurant. Once I’d left, I slowed it down to quadruple speed. When I realized that was still too fast to get a good bead on the people coming and going from the restaurant, I slowed it even more, watching it at double speed.

  The traffic in the lot picked up, cars driving in and out, people traipsing into and exiting from the restaurant. On high speed, the effect was somewhat comical. A man with two bags of takeout in his hands tripped over an uneven spot on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant and stumbled, frantically swinging the bags and somehow managing to regain his balance only to drop his keys when he reached his car. A strong and unexpected breeze lifted the skirt of a woman on her way in the door, treating me to a view of her lower buttocks and polka-dotted panties. A group of birds hopped along the roof, swooping down on occasion to pick at an errant tortilla chip someone had dropped on the small outdoor patio at the end of the building.

  An hour in, I hadn’t spotted anyone who looked familiar and Emily began to rouse, eventually sitting up.

  I glanced over at her. The bags under her eyes were less dark and puffy, and her skin had a healthy pink glow. “Wow,” I said, giving her a friendly smile to let her know I was only teasing. “You look almost human again.”

  She stretched out her arms and smiled back. “I feel almost human, too.” Her nose crinkled as she sniffed the air. “What’s that moldy stench?”

  “Britney,” I said. “Sorry. That’s what wet dog smells like.”

  She hauled herself out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “Wanna grab dinner downstairs?”

  “Sure.” I tugged the flash drive from the port, closed my laptop, and slid both back into my backpack.

  As we entered the dining hall, my eyes scanned the space. There was no sign of Paige, Alexa, Logan, Hunter, Ruby, or Ruby’s as-yet-unidentified brown-haired male friend. I did spot April, however, and introduced her and Emily. The three of us sat together to eat our meals.

  It was barbecue night. I’d filled a plate with sides for myself and sliced brisket for Brigit.

  April scooped up a forkful of baked beans. “How are your classes going?”

  I tore a piece of brisket in two and fed one half to my partner. “Pretty good. We had a pop quiz in my campaigns and elections class today. I think I did pretty well. There was only one question I wasn’t sure about.”

  “I’m having trouble in calculus,” April said. “I just don’t get it. It’s like my brain has hit a wall and can’t go any farther mathwise.”

  Emily perked up. “I used to tutor in calculus when I was in high school, and I could use some spending money now. Would you be interested?”

  “For sure!” April said. “How much do you charge?”

  “Twelve dollars an hour.”

  “That’s a bargain,” April said. “When can we start?”

  “I’m free after dinner,” Emily said.

  “Works for me,” April said.

  Sounded like the arrangement would be a win-win.

  When I’d finished my potato salad, cole slaw, and beans, and Brigit had licked my plate clean, I excused myself from the table. “I’m going to the library. See y’all later.”

  Fortunately, the afternoon storm had blown over and, while the walkways were still wet, at least no rain was falling from the sky. Brigit and I headed to the library. First, I made a surreptitious sweep by the dealer’s hidden cell phone. Yep, the charger is still plugged in.

  I ventured down to the first floor, finding a perfect table where I could put my back to the wall and hide my computer screen from passersby, while keeping an eye on the elevator and stairwell to monitor the comings and goings.

  I was another hour into the dash cam video when Alexa entered the library alone. She didn’t spot me hidden in the corner, walking directly to the elevator and pushing the up arrow button. When the car arrived, she stepped inside and pushed a button.

  Before the doors closed, a male student climbed on with her. “Could you push two, please?” he asked.

  His question told me that Alexa had pushed the button for the third floor. Was she merely going up there to study? Or was she checking on the cell phone? Could she be the dealer?

  To avoid detection, it would be better if the dealer accessed any voice-mail messages remotely. Text messages could also be forwarded elsewhere if the dealer had downloaded autoforwarding software. Given that the dealer had placed the phone in a public place to avoid being connected to it, he or she seemed to be exercising caution. Still, maybe the dealer thought that putting the phone in the library was enough caution. Maybe the dealer occasionally checked on the phone here. After all, I had been able to access the phone with little risk given that it was behind a bookcase at the back of a quiet floor.

  Hmm …

  I decided to go in search of Alexa, see what my suitemate was up to. Maybe I’d catch her in the act of checking the phone and this case could be put to rest tonight.

  I left my empty backpack on the table to signal anyone who might be interested in the table that I planned to return. Hugging my laptop to my chest, I tiptoed up the stairs, leading Brigit, exiting onto the third floor. While I didn’t catch Alexa in the act of checking the hidden cell phone, I did catch her in the act of sticking her chewed bubble gum under the study carrel where she sat. Not a criminal offense, but perhaps it should be. Ick.

  Fortunately, Alexa didn’t spot me here, either. I led Brigit back down to the first floor and resumed my review of the dash cam footage. The time stamp ticked by at the bottom of the screen, but nobody looked familiar. 4:28. Nobody. 5:06. Nobody. 6:01. Nobody. 6:35. Wait …

  A young man exited the front door of Tio’s. He wore a baseball cap and sunglasses, typical of someone who was trying to hide their identity. With his head and much of his face covered, I couldn’t tell much about him. His T-shirt and jeans weren’t anything unusual. He had his car keys in one hand, the thumb of the other hooked around his belt loop. The skin on his arms was light brown, indicating he could be Latino, as were many of Tio’s customers.

  I paused the frame and leaned in, squinting at the image. The quality was poor. To be expected, given that da
sh cams were intended primarily to capture larger images of traffic stops and high-speed chases where quality wasn’t so much an issue. Besides, higher quality meant higher cost. It was a trade-off.

  Hmm … Something about the guy rang a vague bell, but I couldn’t place him. I started the video up again and watched as he sauntered out of camera range.

  I went back to a few minutes before, searching for the footage of when he entered the restaurant. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get a good look at him going inside. His image was obscured by a group of people who’d hung around just outside the door, having a postdinner chat. All I could see was a hat bobbing up and down behind them and the door of Tio’s swinging open as he entered.

  I made a note of the exact time stamp of when he appeared. It could be something. Then again, it might be nothing. Maybe he only looked a bit like someone else I’d seen. Besides, I knew from my criminal justice studies how unreliable eyewitness testimony could be. A person who’d been shown photos of potential suspects might later identify one of them in a lineup simply because their mind subconsciously connected the person in front of them with a photo they’d been shown. Lighting could make a huge difference. Skin, hair, and eye color looked very different in a well-lit setting than it did in a dim one. Plus, there were only so many different ways a person could look. Unless they had a distinguishing mole or scar or birthmark, they’d likely fall into one of two or three dozen types. The news was full of men who’d spent years in prison, some on death row, due to faulty eyewitness identifications, only to be later proven innocent by DNA evidence. Still, it was a potential lead, however weak it might be.

  As the evening ticked away, I watched the rest of the dash cam video. A group of young men, some of whom wore TCU attire, had dinner at the restaurant, though none of them seemed particularly familiar.

  When I was done reviewing the dash cam footage, I pulled up the security video from the mall. Brigit stood and pawed at my leg, letting me know she needed to take a potty break. I took her outside, where she relieved herself at the base of the closest tree, standing and kicking her legs out behind her afterward as if wiping her paws.