“Yeah, let’s watch that. I want to see if Nicole and Azan actually get married.” He gives me a sad smile. “Sorry if I scared you before, Marissa,” he tells me before turning his head and watching the show.
Two hours later, they are still watching the show, but he has dozed off. Looking at him from the kitchen table while I look through the fliers, the hair on my neck rises, thinking about him outside all night waiting for us. I make a note to ask Daniel more about him and his story.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Mick
I drive away from her with a smile on my face. Life is fucking good. By the time I get to the precinct, I’m fucking whistling. Jogging up the steps, I see Jackson already at his desk with Thomas at his and Chris typing away.
“Morning, guys,” I say, whipping my sunglasses off.
“Morning? You mean afternoon,” Thomas says, smirking at me. “I see you got over that bullshit.” He leans back in his chair.
Jackson, who is also leaning back in his chair, snickers at his desk.
“Assholes.” I sit at my desk, opening up the case file on my desk. “Okay, boys, what do we have?” I ask, reading through the notes.
Chris looks up. “What do we have? A fucking clusterfuck. I can’t believe that Lori was caught there. I told her it was not a good idea.” He opens his drawer, taking his keys, then slamming it back, and walking out.
“What the fuck was that?” Thomas asks, and Jackson just looks at me with questions in his eyes. Questions we will ask later.
“So the toxicology came back. The kids were slipped Flakka.”
“What the fuck is Flakka?”
“According to the reports online Flakka, also known as gravel, the drug is a mix between potent hallucinogens like LSD and stimulants like ice,” Jackson says.
“So how strong is it?” I ask, confused.
“It can be as strong as crystal meth and cocaine. It’s a new drug just hitting the street. Called the cheap man’s crack. Actually, crack smokers are now buying this because it’s a five-dollar insanity. That is what the kids are calling it.” Jackson rocks back and forth in his chair.
I look over at Chris, who just walked back in with a coffee in his hand. We look over at him, all of us asking silent questions. He looks at us and shakes his head no. I nod at him, hoping he knows we are going to definitely have a talk about this.
“So the kids are either smoking it, snorting it, or drinking it. From what we suspect it was slipped into the punch that Farah made. We took a sample and forensic toxicologists have said it’s a match to Flakka,” Thomas throws in.
“We need to get a statement from Anthony, who is the last kid in the hospital. He just woke up yesterday. His body had a reaction to it, and it almost shut down. Two other kids ended up having delusions at the hospital. One thought if he went on the roof he could fucking fly. Got on his bed to show the nurses and fell flat on his face. Broke his nose and his cheekbone. Another kid thought the machines were talking to her. She said they were putting ants into her brain,” Chris says. “We are missing one statement and the kid hasn’t called me back. Trevor White.”
Jackson and I both look at each other, but I speak first. “That is the kid that brought Lori to the party. They go to school together.”
Chris moves the papers on his desk. “Yeah, I have nothing on him. I heard he was in the sobriety meeting. He has a juvie record, but it’s sealed, so we are trying to get a warrant to get it opened. But till then I want to speak with him.”
“Okay, first thing first, let’s get to the hospital and speak with Anthony. Thomas and Chris, you can see if there have been any other Flakka outbreaks recently in the area. If this shit is hitting the streets it’ll be just a matter of time till it’s in the fucking schools,” Jackson says, getting up.
I get up, grab my glasses, and stop by Chris’s desk. “We need a minute later. Yeah?” I tell him before following Jackson out.
When we get into the car, I slip into the passenger side. There’s an envelope on the seat. “What is this?” I ask him.
He looks over at me. “That’s from Jason. Dropped it off this morning. I didn’t think you would want to open this with everyone around.”
I look down at the brown manila envelope, my heart beating a little bit fast. Opening it up, I pull out pictures of Sandie and who I assume is Jason’s best friend. Jason’s best friend, who is clearly not Caucasian. I laugh and show Jackson the picture of both of them in a park with no one else around while he holds her stomach and she laughs at him. “She’s a fucking idiot. Did she not think I would realize that this isn’t my child?”
He looks over, his eyes bulging out, and then starts laughing. “Not the sharpest tool in the shed.” We make the rest of the ride in silence.
Once at the hospital, we check in with the doctor about Anthony. From what they said his brain activity is back to normal, but he’s stuttering, which is new. They are watching to see if things change. When we knock on his door and go in he’s sitting in the bed with both parents on the side of him. The feeling of dread and fear is marked all over their faces.
“Hi, sorry to interrupt. My name is Detective Fletcher. This is Detective Moro. I’m here to ask Anthony some questions about the party,” Jackson says.
Anthony looks at his parents and nods his head. I see some fear on his face, so I tell him, “Would you feel more comfortable just the two of us?”
His father starts to get up objecting, but Anthony stops him. “It’s okay, Dad. I want you guys here.” He looks over at us. “I mean, how much worse could it get, right?” he says.
“Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?” Jackson asks.
Anthony shrugs. “Not really, no. Not in like a circle or anything. There were different conversations going on.”
“Did anybody stick out?” Jackson asks, trying to get a lead to find out who brought the drugs in.
“Not really. I didn’t know many people. Farah is dating one of my friends, and he invited me. Um, Marco said it was just going to be a chill party. I’m already on probation, so I don’t want to get into any more trouble. So he said everything was going to be low-key. Besides, he said Farah was ‘a good girl.’”
“What are you on probation for?” I cut in.
“Assault with a weapon,” Anthony says, and his father chimes in.
“He beat up a kid at school and had a knife in his backpack.”
We both nod at him. “Have you ever done drugs, Anthony?” I ask him.
He looks at both his parents.
“It’s going to be a lot worse if you lie to us than tell the truth.”
He looks down at his hands. “I do weed occasionally. I did ‘molly’ last year, but I didn’t like it.”
“Can you tell us how you knew you were high?” Jackson asks.
“Yeah, I was sitting next to this girl Anna. We just met and we were checking out each other’s ‘snap stories,’” he says and right away I’m lost.
“Snap stories, what is that?” I ask him, and Jackson cuts in.
“I know what it is. What else happened?”
“Nooootttthing really. Farrrrah said she would be mmmmaaking this huge zombie mix. I sssttutter now. She got started mixing the alcohol but was missing something, so Zack and Trevor went to get the stuff. But she added other stuff in it, so we just started drinking it.” He looks down at his hands that have started to shake.
“Who added the stuff to the punch?” I ask.
“Not sure. I wasn’t really paying attention. There were about ten or so around it, so it could have been anyone really.”
“When did you realize something was off?” Jackson asks.
“After Anna took two sips or maybe thrrreee. She started looking around like she was paranoid. She said something was in her head. I laughed at her, thinking she was a lightweight, so I continued drinking her drink till it was like I wasn’t there anymore.”
Jackson and I look at each other, each of us trying to piece toge
ther the puzzle.
There had to have been someone to slip something in the punch. Someone who had access to it, someone who was slick and sly.
“Okay, I think we are good for now. If we have any other questions we will give you a call,” Jackson says, getting up and shaking hands with his father and mother while I do the same.
Walking out of the hospital, we don’t say anything till we get in the car. “So we have a bunch of kids getting together for a party and someone slips some drugs in the punch. Nothing we haven’t heard before except it’s a new drug,” I say, looking at him.
“It could have been a test to see how they react to it before bringing it on the streets. It could be just to fuck with them, or it could just be a fucking shit thing gone wrong,” Jackson says, starting up the car.
“We need to go to Farah’s house and ask her more questions on the ‘guest list.’” Jackson guides the car that way.
Once we pull in and walk to the door ringing the doorbell, I look around the neighborhood. It’s the typically white picket fence area. High-end as they say.
The door opens and Maci, Farah’s mom, is the one greeting us. She stands there dressed in her haute glam clothes. “Oh, fuck, are you guys ever going to stop coming by?” she asks.
“I’m sorry to disturb you again, but we would like a word with Farah. Is she in?” Jackson says calmly.
“She better be. She’s grounded for life.” She moves away from the door, allowing us to walk in. I take in the house. It’s back to normal, nothing out of place. “Farah, get your butt down here.”
We wait a couple of seconds before a young girl comes down, same age as Lori, or at least I think so. “Hey, Farah, I’m Detective Moro. This is Detective Fletcher,” I introduce myself to her.
“I know you. You were the one who ran in here for Lori.” She rolls her eyes. “Girl is so fucking dramatic.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “No one even cared she was here except Trevor, who treated her like glass. I mean, she spoke to the girls, but the minute a guy went near her she would start panicking,” she continues, but I stop her.
“So you decided it was a good idea to serve underage kids alcohol. That would make you the cool kid?” I ask her.
“It wasn’t even my idea.” She looks at her mom. “I swear, I have no idea.”
“So you weren’t the one who got the recipe online?” I say while she pales. “You weren’t the one who started pouring the mixture into the bowl?”
She licks her lips.
“You weren’t the one who sent two kids to the store to buy more alcohol?” I finally say.
“But I didn’t want to,” she whines.
“But you did.” I point out. “Who else had access to the bowl while you were pouring?” I ask.
“I have no idea. I didn’t pay attention. There was a bunch of us,” she says.
“So did you hand out the cups? Who handed out all the cups?” Jackson asks.
“No one. People just came and got their own.”
“Who brought the cups?” I ask.
“No one. We had them in the pantry. It was high, so I had one of the guys get them.”
“Who, who got you the cups?”
“Trevor. He was one of the tallest ones, so he got them down for me. He then dropped them all in the punch and we had to rinse them off. That’s why he said he would go get more for us.”
I look over at Jackson. This is the second time that his name has come up. We need to talk to Trevor, sooner rather than later.
“Is there anything else you can think of?” Jackson asks while I look around. No one sees it, but my eye catches a small plastic bag stuck under one of the kitchen chairs. Going to it, I pick it up and see that it’s a small baggie. “Get me a napkin,” I ask Maci, who runs to the other side to come back with one. I pick it up with the napkin and see that small white residue is stuck inside. “I assume you don’t know anything about this.”
Maci’s face turns white, and Farah just shakes her head no. “Do you have a ziplock bag?”
She gets me a small bag where I put the other plastic bag in it.
“Okay, ladies, we will be in touch,” Jackson says, and we walk out of the house.
“Who is this fucking kid Trevor?” he asks once we get in the car.
“No clue. They met at Lori’s counseling from what I understand. Fuck, you probably heard more about him than I did,” I tell Jackson.
“I met him once when he came to pick up Lori, but didn’t stay long. He made sure to take care of her, opening her door for her and everything.”
“I’m going to ask Marissa about him tonight. I know he hangs around there often.”
By the time we make it back to the precinct and do the paperwork for the plastic bag it is well over eight p.m. I know that Marissa has to work tomorrow, so I call her before she falls asleep. She answers on the first ring.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asks. I hear covers being ruffled in the background.
“Not much, just finishing up at work. I should be about another hour. Did you eat?”
“I did. I made chicken steak, not like Phyllis, but passable. I set a plate aside for you on the stove if you want.”
“Oh, you cooked for me. Look at that.”
“No, I cooked for me and Lori and Trevor. I just made extra for you,” she says with a laugh.
“Is Trevor still there?” I ask her, sitting up.
“I have no idea. He usually just takes off after they finish their show. Those two have watched every single series available on Netflix of any type of reality show. When I came upstairs they were watching Toddlers and Tiaras,” she says with a yawn.
“Okay, baby, go to sleep. I’ll try not to wake you when I get home,” I tell her, but I’ll be waking her with my mouth.
“Hmmm, okay,” she says. “Be safe.”
I hang up and type Trevor’s name in the system, same thing as this morning. I know Chris is working on getting his record unsealed. It’s a waiting game.
I pull up to the house two hours later. It’s almost ten, and the house is dark. I make my way up the front stairs, hoping the front door was left open. When I turn the knob, I’m lucky to find it unlocked. The house is dark, but there is a small light coming from the kitchen.
I walk in, seeing that the television is off and there are some pillows left there. I try to walk slowly as to not wake anyone. The light from the kitchen looks like it’s moving.
Walking into the kitchen, I see that Trevor is playing with the door. His phone flashlight is the only light in the room. I clear my throat for him to know I’m there, and he drops his phone and turns around.
I open the kitchen light to see him fumbling to get his phone. “Can I help you with anything?” I ask him.
His face goes pale. “Um, no, I’m just locking up for Lori. She was tired and went upstairs, so I was making sure it was locked.”
I nod at him. “Thanks for looking out for my girls,” I tell him with a smile. The way he’s walking and fidgeting, I know he’s hiding something.
“No problem. I’ll let myself out and text Lori that you locked up for me,” he says, walking away from me. Picking up his hat from the couch, he waves at me before storming out. I walk to the window, watching him walk to his car which he parked five houses away. Weird since there is no one parked in front of their house.
When he drives away, I take a picture of his plate and send it to Chris, asking him to get me the owner’s name and address.
When I get to the back door, I check the lock to see it is locked but not closed all the way. Pushing the door shut, I warm up my food, eating it standing up in the kitchen, playing the day’s events over in my head.
If had known that it would be my last meal in that house I would have savored it. I would have cherished it. If I had known that my life would change in the next twenty-four hours I would have held on tight and never let go.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Marissa
I heard him com
e in and I’m assuming he’s eating. Knowing he was coming, I never fully fell asleep. My stomach is riddled with butterflies, eager to see him again.
I hear him walk to the front door, locking it. Coming upstairs, he checks Lori’s room then makes his way into my room.
I’m sitting up in bed, reading a book I long stopped caring about.
He leans into the doorframe while he takes me in. “Hey, there. I thought you would be sleeping,” he says. His face looks tired. His body tense, the vein in his neck ticking.
“Gotta say I love seeing you in bed, babe, but not a fan of seeing some other man’s flowers in your room,” he says, his jaw now ticking.
I look over at the vase of white roses that I have been collecting for the past two weeks. Every day after work, I would get one. I would bring it home and watch it blossom.
“You can cut the act, Mick, I know it was you,” I say, sitting up smiling at him.
He looks at me, his eyebrows pinching together. “What are you talking about?”
“You,” I say, getting out of bed and going to the vase. “You put one in my car every day.” I lean down to smell them. “Every single day I would get off work and one would be waiting for me. I looked around to see you, but I could never catch you.” I walk to him smiling, wrapping my hands around his waist. “You’re a sly one, Mr. Moro. And a romantic,” I whisper the last one.
“It wasn’t me,” he tells me, and my hands fall from his waist.
I look over at them, my neck starting to get hot and my body cold until I start to shake. “What do you mean it wasn’t you?” I almost fall, but he catches me.
“Babe, I never left them. I saw you once I drove by the diner. Saw you get in the car, take one out, and smell it and smile. Broke my fucking heart. I thought you were dating.” He walks over to them. Grabbing the vase, he looks like he’s ready to pitch it against the wall.
“There was someone in the house,” I whisper to him. His body turns around almost like lightning speed. “One night I dreamed you, not just one night every night, but this one night I could swear you were here. You touched my cheek, you kissed my lips. I opened my eyes, and there was someone standing in my doorway, but when I went to open the lights, there was no one there.” I start to tremble. “The door, downstairs, it wasn’t locked. I thought it was just my imagination. Oh my God.” My knees give out. I fall on the carpet, my heart beating so fast I think it’s going to come out of my chest.
Pieces Of Heaven: Pieces Of Heaven (Heaven & Hell Book 2) Page 21