Megan
Friday morning, I rolled over in bed. The room was surprisingly bright given that it had to be earlier than five-thirty. I’d set my alarm to go off then.
I lifted my head and glanced over at the alarm clock on my desk. The face was dark, no LED digits illuminated. What the—? Sitting bolt upright, I grabbed my phone from the desk and checked the time on the device: 6:43 A.M.
Shit!
I was supposed to have met up with Jackson at the station at six-thirty to get the dealer’s phone so I could return it to its spot under the shelves in the library promptly when the building opened at seven. Why hadn’t my alarm gone off?
I leaped out of bed and threw on a pair of shorts, a T-shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes.
Though I’d tried to be as quiet as possible, Emily nonetheless woke. She sat up. “Why are you in such a rush?”
“I’ve got a paper due at eight this morning and I need to print it out at the library. I set my alarm but it didn’t go off for some reason.”
She yawned. “Oh. I unplugged it last night. I needed an outlet for my new coffeepot.” She gestured toward a small four-cup unit sitting on top of the minifridge. “I bought it with my tutoring money.”
I could’ve throttled her. “Why didn’t you unplug your own damn clock!?!”
She shrugged. “It was late. I didn’t give it much thought.”
I grabbed Brigit’s leash. “An apology would be nice!”
She rolled her eyes. “Sorry, jeez.”
This inconsiderate bullshit was yet another memory from college I’d hoped to leave behind. I grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulder, leaving the room without a good-bye to the self-centered psycho I shared the space with.
I ran down the stairs and led Brigit outside, allowing her to take a quick tinkle in the bushes outside the dorm. It was more than I’d allowed for myself and, believe me, nature was calling loud and clear. When the dog paused to sniff the foliage, I had to urge her along. “C’mon, girl!” We had no time to dawdle this morning.
I sprinted to my car, loaded my partner in the back, and aimed for the W1 station, doing nearly twice the speed limit. Jackson was already in her office when I arrived.
“Any luck?” I asked as I careened into her office, out of breath from rushing down the hall.
She made a show of glancing at her watch. “You were supposed to be here a half hour ago.”
“I know. My stupid roommate unplugged my alarm clock.”
“You should’ve activated the alarm on your phone as backup.”
I should have. Ironically, I hadn’t wanted to irritate my roommate with two alarms going off at once.
She picked the dealer’s cell phone up from her desk and held it out to me. “Here you go. There was no match for the prints on the phone. Whoever is selling Molly on campus hasn’t been caught doing it before.”
Dammit! That meant I’d have to spend more time with my stupid roommate, living in a stupid dorm room. Why I’d wanted to take on this undercover gig I could hardly remember. But speaking of my roommate … “Did you get the fingerprint analysis back? On the vitamin C bottle?”
She gave a quick nod. “The only prints were Miranda’s.”
While this news didn’t implicate Emily, it didn’t exactly exonerate her, either. She could still have her own stash somewhere. Maybe she had a PO box, too, and left her pills there until she wanted them. After all, PO boxes were accessible twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
Jackson handed me another flash drive. “Dash cam footage from the gas station. Take a look and report back.” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Now get back to that library and put that phone back where you found it before you blow this case!”
I turned and ran back out of her office, cursing Emily the entire drive back to the campus. Stupid, selfish girl. She’d made me look unprofessional to my mentor. She was lucky I didn’t have my police baton with me or I’d give her a nice, solid whap with it.
It was 7:42 by the time I put the phone back under the shelf. I’d just returned the Ottoman art book to its place, stood, and taken a couple steps in the direction of the stairs when Emily rounded the end of the row.
“There you are,” she said.
“And here you are,” I snapped. Was she coming to check on her phone? Had she spotted me putting it back? Was she on to me? If so, why not get it out in the open right now? I was sick of her, sick of this case. I just wanted it to be over. I had no weapon or handcuffs with me, but if she was the dealer I’d tie her wrists together with Brigit’s leash and take her in anyway.
“Look,” she said, a pained expression on her face. “I came to find you because I felt bad about unplugging your clock. I brought you a peace offering.” With that, she reached into her backpack and pulled out a banana nut muffin wrapped in a napkin.
“Are you sure that’s the only reason you’re here?”
She looked taken aback. “What do you mean?”
I gave her a good, long stare, assessing her. She looked more confused than guilty. “Never mind.” I took the muffin from her. It was squashed flat and the napkin stuck to it in parts. “Thanks. I’ve got to get to class now.”
I scurried down the stairs, Brigit’s nails scrabbling as she tried to keep up. On my way out the front door, I reached over and tossed the muffin into a garbage can. When I turned to push the door open, I saw Emily standing at the bottom of the stairs, her face droopy with hurt. Had I been too hard on her?
“I’m allergic to nuts!” I called across the way, earning me dirty looks from the library staff but at least Emily’s face brightened.
* * *
I sat in the back corner during my morning class, pretending to be taking notes on my laptop when actually I was watching the dash cam footage from the gas station. The boy from the other videos didn’t appear on the screen. But guess who did.
Paige and Alexa.
They drove up to the pumps in Alexa’s baby-blue VW Beetle convertible, the top down to enjoy the sunshine. After Alexa started the gas pumping, she did exactly what the warning signs tell you not to do and left the pump running while she and Paige went inside. With the poor quality of the dash cam footage, as well as the fact that stacks of beer and sodas inside obfuscated the interior of the store, I couldn’t tell whether the two went into the unisex bathroom. All I could tell for certain was that they emerged with frozen drinks in plastic, dome-top cups.
Had one of them picked up the cash? Or was their visit to the station mere coincidence? The station was the closest one to campus, and catered to student customers, stocking case after case of beer, wine coolers, and hard cider, as well as the usual convenience items like bread, peanut butter, and toothpaste. It would hardly be surprising for a student to stop in. The fact that Alexa filled her tank also lowered my suspicions. She appeared to have come here to fill a need, not just to pick up drug money. Still, it was noteworthy. I texted Detective Jackson and told her what I’d found.
After my morning class wound up, I drove over to check my post office box. Still nothing. I wondered if I’d been taken, if funtimemolly had kept my money with no intention of giving me any drugs. That would mean I’d spent the week working around the clock for nothing. That would suck. Of course I knew investigative work didn’t always come with immediate rewards. In fact, it rarely did. Cases could take weeks, months, or even years before any people were arrested and indictments issued. Call me a blind optimist, but I wasn’t going to let a little thing like harsh realities keep me from hoping for a speedy resolution. Nonetheless, I shot off an e-mail to funtimemolly asking whether my “order” had been sent yet. Too bad I couldn’t track my package like I could when I ordered the latest toys for Brigit online.
I returned to the dorm and sat at a two-person table in the back corner of the dining hall to eat my lunch. I had no interest in company at the moment. I wanted to watch the boys coming and going and see if one of them was the guy from the videos at Tio’s and the mall, the one who seemed vaguely familiar. I saw Logan come and go. Ruby and the dark-haired boy who seemed to be joined at the hip. A few other boys I’d come to recognize. But none of them were the guy in the video. Tomorrow I’d spend some time in the dining halls at the other dorms, see if any of the boys there looked familiar.
After eating dinner together that evening, I took Brigit back home. I couldn’t take her with me to a loud, crowded nightclub, and no way would I leave her in the dorm with my roommate, the emotional time bomb.
“Don’t worry!” Frankie said, scratching that spot at the base of Brigit’s tail that sent the dog into a state of ecstasy. “Zach’s coming over to watch a movie. We’ll take good care of her tonight.”
“Much appreciated,” I told her.
On the TV behind Frankie, one of Senator Sutton’s new campaign ads played. I hadn’t seen the commercial. Emily and I didn’t have a television in our room. Few students did. Most streamed the shows on their computers. Besides, I’d been too busy working the undercover case to watch much TV.
As my gaze moved to the screen, Frankie said, “That commercial has played a dozen times today. I could probably recite it by heart.”
Airtime, especially in the large Dallas–Fort Worth metroplex, didn’t come cheap. Sutton’s campaign must have received quite a few contributions for him to be able to afford that kind of play.
The commercial’s theme focused on Sutton’s skill as a negotiator, and showed him shaking hands after brokering agreements with foreign dignitaries, politicians from other parties, and industry leaders. Unlike Sutton’s commercials, which focused on his successes and never even mentioned his competition, Essie’s television campaign was subtly malicious, portraying Sutton as a weak, feeble man who had caved on core issues, rather than recognizing his ability to build consensus and make reasonable compromises. While certainly not as blatant as many attack ads, even her minor mudslinging had dampened my enthusiasm for Essie.
I bent down and gave Brigit a good-bye kiss on the snout. “You be a good girl, okay?”
She wagged her tail and gave me a kiss back.
Returning to the dorm, I sorted through the meager selection of clothes I’d brought with me to try to find something appropriate to wear to Club Bassline. Jeans and a shimmery blouse with sandals? A ruffled knit miniskirt and tank top with heels? Capris with a strapless floral print top and wedges? I carried my selections through the bathroom. The door to the adjoining room was ajar, lively getting-ready-to-go-out music playing from within, Katy Perry if I wasn’t mistaken.
I rapped on their door. “I need help deciding what to wear!” I called through the crack.
“Come on in!” Alexa called. “We’ll set you straight.”
“Which outfit?” I asked, holding each one up in turn. “This one, this one, or this one?”
Alexa pointed to the floral top. “That’s my favorite.”
“Ugh, no!” Paige said. “She’s wearing the miniskirt and heels.”
Alexa frowned at Paige’s presumptive veto, but didn’t argue with her.
“Thanks!” I said. “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”
I dressed, applied enough makeup to equip a half-dozen clowns, and floofed up my hair. As I put on my jewelry, Emily returned to the room. “We’re going to Club Bassline. Want to join us?”
“Who’s ‘we’?” she asked.
“Me, Alexa, and Paige.”
“God, no!” she snapped. “I’d rather put a fork through my eye.”
Gee, Emily. Tell me how you really feel. “Do you have other plans?” I asked. Despite her snark, part of me felt sorry for her. She didn’t seem to have many friends. Or maybe any. There weren’t a lot of people who would tolerate a volcanic personality like Emily’s.
“There’s a free movie night in the lounge. I’ll probably go down for that.”
“All right,” I said. “Have fun.” Assuming you’re capable of doing so.
Ready now, I took the shortcut through the bath to Alexa and Paige’s room. Alexa wore a cute dress in a deep plum color, along with a pair of gladiator-style sandals. Paige, now dressed in jeans, heels, and halter top that left her shoulders bare, stood from her bed. “You’re the designated driver, Morgan. I plan on getting plastered.”
Really? Underage drinking? “How do you plan on doing that?” I asked.
She smiled a coy, coral-lipstick-rimmed smile. “I have my ways.”
And what are those ways, exactly? I wanted to ask. But I figured I’d act chill and figure it out as the night went on. I was a little miffed that she’d appointed me the designated driver without even the pretense of a vote. She was a fashionable fascist and, so long as none of her subjects objected, she’d continue to reign. As much as I’d like to put her in her place, getting on Paige’s bad side wouldn’t further the investigation, so I sucked it up and allowed her to treat me like some type of subservient underling.
Ten minutes later, we pulled into one of the parking garages near Sundance Square, the downtown entertainment district. I stopped at the machine, yanked out a green ticket, and proceeded when the arm lifted, finding a spot on the third floor.
We walked a couple blocks over and, as if lured by the throbbing beat coming from inside the bar, stepped into place at the end of the long line outside Club Bassline. The dance club was one of the few venues that allowed patrons aged eighteen to twenty to join their fully adult counterparts, and there were a number of people in line I’d peg as underage. It was past nine by then, and the night was dark, bugs circling under the streetlights. Despite the darkness, it was still relentlessly hot outside. How many more weeks until fall?
We chatted as the line inched forward, checking out both the boys and our female competition.
“Check out the girl in the pink dress,” Paige said. “Slut, much?”
The girl’s tight dress exposed an excess of cleavage and barely covered her butt, but at least she’d worn a pair of footless tights under it. And who were we to judge her, given that we all had our goods on display, too? Funny, the feminist movement had made being a woman so much more complicated. While I didn’t envy men their penises, I was jealous of the fact that they didn’t have to question everything they did to make sure they were respecting themselves and setting a good example for those who looked up to them. Not that they shouldn’t think of these things, but by and large they simply didn’t.
As we inched forward, Logan approached with four friends. He was dressed in his usual high-end preppy attire, head to toe in Land’s End, J. Crew, and a pair of Sperry Top-Siders. Could his designer clothing be evidence of drug money?
“Ugh,” Paige said. “Kill me now.”
As they continued past, Logan cast a glance our way. “Lookin’ good, Paige.”
She stared straight ahead, not even deigning to look his way. “Drop dead, Logan.”
He responded with a laugh.
Finally, we reached the front of the line.
“I need to see some ID,” demanded the bouncer, who had the body and disposition of a WWE wrestler.
We held out our driver’s licenses. He checked them and pulled a thick bright red marker from his back pocket. “Turn your hands over.” He drew huge Xs on the back of our hands, which would make it easier for the bartenders and staff to recognize which patrons were underage. “We catch any of you with liquor, you’re out on your ass.”
“Way to make us feel welcome,” Paige muttered.
“You want to feel welcome?” the guy barked back. “Go to church. Now I need twenty bucks from each of you.”
Paige gestured to the sandwich board beside him. “The sign says cover is only five dollars.”
“That’s for adults,” he said. “Not the underage crowd.”
Paige pulled a twenty from her wallet. “It’s not fair.”
He snatched the bill from her hand. “Grown-ups spend ten bucks for a mojito. You children pay only three dollars for a Coke. How’s that for fair?”
Paige rolled her eyes but stepped inside. Alex and I followed, the drones to the queen bee.
Inside, I suffered a momentary bout of sensory overload. Flashing lights and moving bodies and the smell of alcohol and cologne and a gazillion decibels of techno music overwhelmed me. But a moment later, my senses adjusted and I trailed after Paige and Alexa as they headed for one of the few remaining empty tables in a back corner.
Paige slid onto a stool at the back of the table, while Alexa and I took the stools on either side.
“Alexa!” Paige hollered over the music. “Since Morgan drove you should get the first round.”
Again, irritation flickered over Alexa’s face but she slid off her stool. I couldn’t blame her. Why shouldn’t Paige get the first round?
Alexa was a sport, though, and turned to me. “What do you want, Morgan?”
“Sprite!” I yelled at the top of my lungs.
Alexa nodded and headed to the bar for our drinks.
My eyes scanned the place, looking for anyone who might be trouble. Typical cop habit. Fortunately, everyone seemed to be behaving themselves so far tonight.
Alexa returned a couple of minutes later with our drinks, which had been served in red plastic cups rather than the clear glasses the alcoholic drinks were served in. I had to give the bar management credit. They really did seem to be trying to keep kids from getting their hands on liquor.
A moment later, Logan and his friends stepped up to our table.
“Go away!” Paige hollered over the loud music.
Glancing over his shoulder to make sure none of the bar staff were looking, Logan lifted his untucked shirt and pulled a shiny silver flask from his front pocket. It was engraved with his initials in a boxy masculine font. He waved it in front of him. “Sure you’re not happy to see me?”
“I am now!” Paige said, grabbing the flask from his hand. She pulled her cup off the table, situated it between her thighs on her stool, and poured a couple of ounces of clear liquid, probably vodka, into her soda.
Though underage drinking was a crime, I couldn’t very well do anything about it without blowing my cover. I’d have to let this one pass. At least Paige had the sense to appoint someone more responsible—me—as the designated driver.
She handed the flask to Alexa, who did the same. When Alexa handed it to me, I pretended to do the same, though I put my finger over the spout to prevent any of the liquor from escaping the flask.
“What’s in the flask?” I yelled.
“Grey Goose!” he yelled back.
Hmm. Top-shelf stuff. Did it mean anything? I handed the flask back to Logan. “Thanks!”
He pointed a finger at Paige. “You owe me a dance for that. I’ll be back later to collect.”
The place grew increasingly crowded as we sipped our drinks, our gazes roaming around the place. I’d always hated this feeling, of being one of many cupcakes on display in a bakery window, all covered in frosting and sprinkles, hoping they’d be the one a passerby would choose to purchase.
“Woo-hoo!” Paige shrieked, sitting up taller on her stool. “There’s Chaoxiang!”
Alexa and I turned to follow Paige’s gaze. There, on the dance floor, was the cute Asian boy I’d seen at the political rally on Wednesday, the one who’d texted Paige earlier in the week. The one on whom she obviously had a huge crush. He was dancing with a pale-skinned platinum blonde dressed head to toe in contrasting black. He had some nice moves.
When the song ended and he left the dance floor, Paige slid off her stool. “I’ll be back.”
Alexa watched as Paige left, then turned to me, rolling her eyes.
I leaned toward her. “What’s the story with those two?”
Alexa cupped a hand around her mouth to shout in my ear. “They’ve slept together a few times, but he won’t commit to anything. She won’t let it go. She throws herself at him any chance she gets. It’s hard to watch.”
Looked like Chaoxiang wasn’t going to buy the cow, huh? I returned Alexa’s gesture, cupping a hand around my mouth to shout into her ear. “How does Paige know him?”
“His father is some big Chinese ambassador or something. Paige met him when he and his dad were at Senator Sutton’s local office last spring sometime.”
“So Chaoxiang’s from China? That’s cool.”
We reversed positions yet again. “He went to boarding schools on the East Coast before coming here. That’s why his English is so good.”
As Alexa pulled back, her gaze shifted to someone behind me. I turned to find Hunter walking up. He held out a hand and angled his head toward the dance floor, offering an invitation.
I gave him a smile and took his hand. My insides felt squirmy. I mean, I know I had a role to play here, and it was my duty to do it right, but even if Hunter was over eighteen he still seemed like a kid to me. Besides the ick factor, I didn’t want to lead the guy on. He was sweet and smart and deserved a nice girl his own age.
He pulled me into the teeming throng and began to move in that loose-limbed way of his, smiling and clearly having a good time. I did my best to match his energy and enthusiasm. As we danced, my eyes spotted Paige and Chaoxiang making their way onto the dance floor across the way.
After three songs, we’d worked up a sweat. “I need a break!” I called.
Hunter nodded. “Me, too!”
We exited the floor, passing Alexa, who was dancing with a guy with one arm raised over his head as if he were hailing a taxi. As we weaved our way back to the table, I spotted Chaoxiang tossing back what remained in Paige’s cup. He said something to her and stepped away, heading back through the crowd. By the time we got to the table, Paige was alone and sulking.
“You okay?” I asked.
“No!” she snapped. “Chao’s dancing with that whore again.” She gestured to the dance floor.
I turned to see her crush dancing again with the blonde and looking like he was having the time of his life. Ouch. That had to hurt. I turned back to Paige. “You know he’s not the only fish in the sea, right?”
My words had been intended to soothe, but they had the opposite effect. She glared at me with so much fire in her eyes it was a wonder I didn’t turn to ash on the spot. Without a word, she grabbed her purse and headed off to the ladies’ room.
Hunter took a seat on the fourth stool. “Why do you hang around with a bitch like Paige anyway?”
I laughed. “She is kind of a bitch, isn’t she?”
He smiled. “A royal one.”
I shrugged. “Just haven’t met a lot of people yet.”
He looked down into my cup, which sat on the table in front of me. “Need another drink?”
It was half full, but given that nobody had remained at the table to keep an eye on our drinks, I wasn’t about to finish it. In the last investigation I’d worked, I’d come across a guy who’d used a date rape drug on several women. The things I’d learned in my police work had made me very cautious. “Another drink? Definitely!”
“I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Hunter gave me that same furtive look he’d given me when I’d questioned whether he used drugs. What did the look mean? Was he annoyed that I didn’t trust him not to slip something into my drink? Did he even realize that’s why I wanted to go with him?
To allay his suspicions, I forced a smile. “I simply can’t live without you, even for a minute.”
He shook his head incredulously, but chuckled, too, and turned to go. Before scurrying after him, I emptied what little remained in the other cups at the table into mine and slid them into my purse. I’d drop them off at the police station later and have the fingerprint specialists check to see if any of the prints on the cups matched the ones from the phone.
When we returned with our fresh drinks, both Alexa and Paige were at the table. So was Logan. Paige reached out and slid her hand up and under Logan’s shirt, going for his flask.
He laughed and spread his arms wide. “If you want to get in my pants, all you have to do is say so.”
Paige yanked the flask out and held it up. “This is all I want.”
Logan pushed her arm down and glanced around. “Don’t hold it up like that, you idiot! You’ll get us thrown out of here!”
Unfazed, she unscrewed the lid and looked around for her cup. “Where’d our drinks go?”
“The waitress must have taken them,” I offered.
Paige shrugged, lifted the flask to her lips, and poured the liquor directly down her throat. When she’d emptied the flask, she thrust it at Logan. Her gaze went to the front door and she froze, her eyes flashing with hurt. We all turned to see Chaoxiang and the blonde leaving the club, his arm draped around her shoulders.
“Someone’s getting laid tonight!” Logan called. His eyes narrowed at Paige. “Isn’t that the guy that you—”
“Shut up!” she screeched. “Shut! The fuck! Up!”
Logan spread his hands again, this time raising them in surrender. “Jesus, Paige! Relax!”
Relax, she did. Logan stormed off and, over the course of the next half hour, Paige grew increasingly mellow. She bought the next round of drinks and smiled and rubbed her hands up everyone’s arms and told us how wonderful and beautiful we all were.
“I’m so lucky!” she said. “Y’all are the best!”
Uh-oh. Something weird was going on here.
A guy came by the table and asked Paige to dance.
“I’d love to!” she cried, sliding off her stool.
The guy quickly ferried Paige away to the dance floor.
She returned three songs later with a different guy in tow. She took another swig of her drink and raised it in salute.
He grabbed the cup out of her hand. “What’s in there?” Like the guy earlier, he gave the drink a sniff before tossing back a gulp.
Logan returned, apparently having forgiven Paige for silencing him earlier. He sent a pointed look to the guy Paige had brought to the table. The guy took the hint and slipped back into the crowd.
“Let’s dance,” Logan told Paige.
“Okay,” she purred.
Logan led Paige out onto the dance floor, but not until she’d given each of us a hug first. As she went, she smiled and ran her hands over the backs of the people she passed.
The way she was acting, like everyone was her best friend, as if the nightclub patrons were singing a collective chorus of “Kumbahya,” made me think—
“Paige is on Molly.” Hunter spoke with certainty, his face tight.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“My sister used to use it. She acted the same way. Like everything was kittens and unicorns and rainbows.” He looked away as if the memory upset him.
Hmmm … What should I make of that?