Cash and the Sorority Girl

by Ashley Bartlett

“I’m going to need a lot more explanation.” We reached our cross street and I tipped my chin in the correct direction. Lane turned.

  “When he was in high school, I was tiny. Like eight or nine maybe. He was piecing together a Frankenstein stereo because our parents wouldn’t buy him one. It was basically a tantrum that turned into something useful.”

  “Okay, that’s pretty on brand for Lance.”

  She gave me a look of enthusiastic agreement. “His door panels were jacked up and my hands were small enough to reach in and detach them. Then, he needed someone small enough to put wiring under the seats. After that, he let me help him with everything.”

  “So you learned how to install a dope car stereo?”

  “I’m generally good with anything electronic, but yes, car stereos were the launching point. They are my root.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “That’s why I’m studying engineering.”

  “You are?” My mind was officially blown.

  She just laughed. “I was studying criminal justice because, you know, I’m a Kallen, but I switched at the beginning of this year. My father is absolutely livid.”

  “Aww. Poor Randolf. His youngest is getting an engineering degree. That must be embarrassing at the club on Sundays.”

  “It’s horrifying. And a girl studying a boy subject compounds the whole thing.” She shifted her tone to mimic her father’s voice. “He’s very open-minded, but there are certain fields women aren’t welcome in. Why would you want to challenge that?”

  “Even though Laurel is a detective?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah. That field opened up years ago. This is just too far.”

  “Gee, I can’t wait to meet your parents.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Call me ASAP

  That was not a good text to wake up to on a Sunday morning from one’s cop girlfriend. It could go quite a few ways, and none of them were good. I rolled out of bed. My phone chimed again.

  Did Kallen just send you an ominous text? Nate asked.

  I texted him. Yep. I’ll let you know what’s up.

  He immediately wrote back. Remember when we used to sleep in? That was great.

  I groaned. Nickels meowed.

  “I know, right?” I said to the cat. She meowed again in understanding. Probably not in hunger.

  I tapped Laurel’s name.

  She answered on the first ring. “Hey. That was quick.”

  “What’s up?”

  “There was another last night.”

  “Fuck.”

  Her sigh carried over the phone. “Right there with you.”

  “What do you need from me and Nate? He said you texted him too.”

  “The vic runs a popular Instagram account.”

  “She’s Instagram famous?” I asked.

  “Is that a thing?” she asked.

  “That’s a thing.”

  “Right. Okay. She’s Instagram famous. She posted a ton of photos last night. We are scouring them to identify people. Can you and Nate help us with IDs?”

  “Dammit. Yeah. That’s fine.”

  “We’re in the big conference room. I’ll see you soon.”

  I hung up. Nickels meowed again. “I know. I’ll feed you in a minute.” I tapped Nate’s number.

  “We’re going to have to go to the motherfucking police station aren’t we?” was how he answered the phone.

  “Yes.”

  He let out a long list of creative expletives. It would have been impressive, but I hadn’t had coffee yet.

  “You feel better?” I asked.

  “Not really. Dammit. If you make coffee, I’ll drive.”

  “Deal. See you soon.”

  I tossed my phone on the bed. Nickels watched me get dressed mournfully. It was like she knew the cowl-neck cardigan meant business. When I sat to put on boots, she sidled up next to me and tried to look extra adorable. It was quite unfair. She followed me to the kitchen. I fed her and she started purr-eating. It was one of her signature moves.

  I ground coffee and started putting the machine together. The door to the study was still closed. Hopefully, that meant Lane had managed to sleep the entire night. It was the first morning in a week that her door was closed when I got up. While the coffee brewed I wrote her a note explaining where I’d gone. It had been a long time since I’d lived with someone. Laurel slept over often enough that I was comfortable sharing space, but I wasn’t sure what role Lane fell in. Was she my temporary roommate? Was I babysitting? Had I somehow ended up with my very own little sister?

  Nate’s knock saved me from ruminating further. I answered before he started pounding on the door. His stress level was directly related to his maturity. The more stressed he was, the less mature he became.

  “I can’t believe this shit,” he said. Clearly, the distance between his place and mine hadn’t dulled his ire.

  “Same.”

  “And I forgot my key.” He rounded the corner and saw the closed door. “Oh, shit,” he lowered his voice. “Is Lane still here?”

  “Yeah. I don’t see any reason to send her back to her dorm.”

  “Agreed. I just wouldn’t bust in here shouting before nine if I knew someone was asleep.” He went to the cabinet where I kept the travel mugs. He picked out two and filled them with black coffee.

  “Thanks.” I took the mug he held out. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

  He waited until we were going down Nineteenth before launching in. “I’d be irritated over any case right now, but the fact that it’s a serial rapist pisses me off extra.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you. It pisses me off too.”

  “I’m also suddenly aware that I have a hierarchy of people who fucking suck. Sac PD pretty much dominates at sucking, but rapists definitely unseat them.”

  “Interesting.” I nodded slowly.

  “Why are you musing while I’m yelling?” he asked.

  “Sorry. It’s just that one is a power structure and one is the result of a power structure.”

  He looked away from the road for longer than I was comfortable with to glare at me. “I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Dammit. No, but I hate rapists. And cops. And I’m only helping the cops because I hate rapists more and the cops keep fucking up.”

  “Agreed. Not that it helps, but it sounds like they actually might have a decent approach on this one. The victim is Instagram famous. She posted a ton last night. They’re hoping to get a lead off the party photos.”

  “We are going in to look at Instas documenting a college party?”

  “Yep.”

  “We clearly did something terrible in a previous life.”

  “Clearly.”

  “So do they think this is actually going to help? Even if they identify people who attended the party, how do they plan on narrowing down who the perp is?”

  “I didn’t ask. I want them to catch the perp, obviously, but part of me is fine with letting them fail because I’m tired of helping Sac PD.”

  “You say that like it’s a new feeling.”

  “Fair point. I never wanted to help them.”

  Nate pulled into the lot. We slogged upstairs. The squad room was empty, but a fair amount of noise was coming from the open door of one of the big conference rooms. I followed Nate in and we found four detectives sprawled along one side of the conference table. Duarte was the only detective not at the table. He was sitting perpendicular to the wall, next to a large white screen. It looked like the contents of his computer were being projected on the wall while everyone else took notes.

  Reyes noticed us first. “Braddock, Xiao, thanks for coming.”

  Everyone else looked up. Excitement flashed across Duarte’s face before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to think we were cool. Laurel, Blackford, and Fenton nodded, but that was about it. Nate and I pulled out seats.

  “So what exactly are we doing?” I asked.

  “We’re l
ooking over the vic’s posts from last night. Anyone who matches the description of the perp, we are trying to identify,” Laurel said.

  Nate shot me a look. I shrugged. “You’re trying to identify every single guy in the background of photos taken at a college party?” Nate asked.

  The detectives looked at each other uncomfortably.

  “I still think we should do a brief run through of all the photos and see if that gives us any direction,” Duarte said.

  Fenton waved his hand. “That’s fine. Go back to the beginning.”

  Duarte clicked back through seven photos. Christ. They’d only gone through seven pictures?

  We spent the next hour and a half looking at each photo for thirty to ninety seconds. Every few photos, someone would ask a question. The detectives took copious notes. I couldn’t imagine what they were taking notes on, but it seemed to make them happy. The hashtags and attached comments became less coherent as the evening went on, but they were pretty impressive for someone who was intoxicated. When we hit the final photo, Duarte spun in his office chair to face everyone.

  Blackford took the lead. “All right. What stood out to everyone?”

  “Do we have time stamps on the photos? It would be nice to narrow down our time frame and see who was with her around the time of the assault,” Laurel said.

  Reyes nodded. “I know the vic already reviewed the photos, but that might jog her memory as well. Looking at ten photos might be easier than however many that was.”

  “Do we know which of the parties she was assaulted at?” Nate asked.

  I nodded. “Yeah, if it’s the last one, we’ll have a lot fewer people to identify.” She’d only posted a handful of photos at the final party. I was guessing the ketamine kicked in and made Instagram less of a priority.

  “What do you mean?” Fenton asked.

  I was confused by the question. “Well, at the last one, she didn’t post as much. So there aren’t as many people.”

  Nate looked at me and shrugged. He didn’t get Fenton’s question either.

  “No, what do you mean by ‘which party’?” Fenton tried again.

  “I’m assuming the last party is where the assault took place, but I suppose it’s possible she continued partying before going to the hospital. I just think we should confirm one way or the other,” Nate said.

  “There were multiple parties?” Laurel asked.

  Nate and I looked at each other, then at the detectives, then back at each other.

  “I only saw two locations. Are you sure there was a third?” Duarte started flipping through photos.

  “Why didn’t you mention this previously, Detective?” Fenton asked Duarte.

  Duarte’s brow furrowed and he shrugged. “I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen all the photos.”

  “That one, there.” Nate pointed. “The one with the guy wearing the blue polo. That’s where the third party starts.”

  Duarte clicked between two photos. “Yep. I see it.” He turned to make eye contact with Nate. “I’m sure we can look over the victim statement to find out if she went to a different party after being assaulted. Blackford, do you have that?”

  Blackford was just as shell-shocked as his colleagues at Duarte’s competence and sudden initiative, but he started flipping through paperwork. He held up a report. “Got it. Give me a minute.” He read through it quickly. After thirty seconds, he started shaking his head. “Nope. She was assaulted and her friend found her. The friend took her directly to the hospital.”

  “Okay, so we have the location.” Duarte began selecting the photos in question.

  “Not necessarily,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  “Well, she posted less throughout the night. Likely because she was intoxicated. It’s entirely feasible that she went to a fourth party, but the ketamine in her system prevented her from posting.”

  “Shit.” Blackford tossed his pen on the table. “Okay, how can we figure that out?”

  “Does the report say how many parties she went to?” Reyes asked.

  Blackford shrugged and dove back into the file. His eye was starting to twitch again. Fenton was the one who found it.

  “Got it.” He raised his hand a few inches off the table. “It’s not in our report, but the Sexual Assault nurse included it in hers. Vic went to four different parties. She went directly from the party where she was assaulted to the hospital. Assault occurred between one thirty a.m. and two fifteen a.m. She arrived at the hospital just before two thirty.”

  “So these photos are useless?” Laurel asked.

  “Basically, yeah.” Reyes closed his notebook and rubbed his face.

  “Wait.” Duarte scrunched his nose and looked back and forth between us and the screen. “She was assaulted at a frat party, right?”

  “Yeah,” Fenton said.

  Duarte spun and pulled up the search bar. “What frat house was she assaulted at?”

  Blackford flipped through his reports. Fenton scrolled through his. Blackmore shook his head.

  “Nothing?” Fenton asked him.

  “Nothing,” Blackford said.

  Duarte looked over his shoulder. “Okay, do we know any of the frat houses she went to?”

  There was a chorus of negatives.

  Duarte huffed. “Xiao, Braddock, name any frat at Sac State.”

  “Pi Tau Gamma,” Nate said.

  “Zeta Beta Chi,” I said.

  “Cool. Thanks.” Duarte typed #PiTauGamma into the search bar.

  “Oh, nice, man,” Nate said.

  “What is happening?” Blackford asked.

  “People sometimes tag the frats they are partying at. They’ll do the parties too sometimes if it’s themed or whatever.” Duarte pointed to a photo on the screen. “See? Hashtag Flannels and Handles.”

  “So we just need to figure out which frat or party or whatever and we can look at the photos from other attendees?” Reyes asked.

  “And we can do the same for any of the other previous vics,” Laurel said.

  “Duarte, you’re a goddamn genius,” Blackford said.

  “I’m glad you’re finally recognizing that.” Duarte grinned at Blackford.

  “So happy we came down here for this,” I whispered to Nate.

  He smirked. “Great use of our time.”

  “I’ll get in contact with the vic. See if we can get the location.” Fenton closed up his iPad.

  “If you guys don’t mind, we’re going to take off,” I said.

  Fenton and Blackford gave us bare nods. Reyes grinned and shrugged.

  “Thanks for helping, guys,” Duarte said. It sounded like he was being sincere, which was on brand for him, but kinda weird in the grand scheme of things.

  “Sure thing.” I smiled at him. I tried for sincere, but I was pretty sure it landed somewhere between patronizing and creepy.

  “I’ll walk you out.” Laurel stood and followed us to the door. She didn’t say anything until we were outside the station.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  Laurel dug in her pocket and pulled out a key ring with two silver keys. She handed them to me.

  “Fancy. Are those little Andy’s new keys?” Nate asked.

  Laurel nodded. “Robin said she was finally able to check out the truck today. I was going to drop those off this morning, but I got called in.”

  “Cool. I wasn’t sure if Robin was going to make it,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lane and I are apparently installing a stereo in the truck today,” I said.

  Laurel started laughing. “Oh, shit. Good luck.”

  Well, that was ominous. “Anything you want to tell me about your baby sister? Should I not be trusting her with this?”

  “No, no. The stereo will turn out exquisite.” She continued chuckling. “She told you that it would be a fun project for you to do together, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yeah, you’re going to spend about eight hours watching
her work. She won’t let you touch anything or do anything. But you can’t leave her unattended because she’ll get real mad at you.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Lane,” Nate said.

  “Maybe she’ll be nice.” Laurel shrugged and grinned.

  Chapter Fourteen

  After following Lane around Best Buy for ninety minutes, I was starting to wonder if Laurel maybe wasn’t exaggerating. We had been staring at subs for longer than I cared to admit, and I had come to the conclusion that I was dead and hell was real and this was mine. I’d learned in the first hour of our excursion that Lane would not, could not, be rushed. Also, questions would not be tolerated. Lane was, of course, permitted to ask me questions, but there was a wrong and a right answer. I’d yet to figure out how to determine which answer was which, but I was confident I would eventually do so.

  The smell of new plastic had faded and returned. I was juggling two spools of wire, a stereo harness, a box of speakers, and a car stereo. Lane was debating between the amplifiers built into two different subs. The kid answering her questions did not seem surprised that subwoofers had amplifiers, unlike some people who were carrying equipment and surprised at how much they were learning.

  “What do you think? Is the added power boost worth the upgrade?”

  Across the store, a group of teenagers had set up shop with a demo video game system. They were collecting small children who had stopped to watch the game play.

  “Cash?”

  “Huh?” I looked back to Lane. “What?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Oh, were you asking me about the power upgrade?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. Obviously.”

  “Right. What does that mean?” I shifted the stereo box to my other hand.

  “The more amplification, the higher the price tag.”

  “I don’t know what amplification is, but that sounds cool,” I said. The kid in the blue polo helping Lane started to smile, then tried to hide it.

  “We can easily spend over a grand on the sub if you don’t care about the price.”

  “So probably not that.”

  Lane took a deep, long-suffering breath. “Which is why we’re not looking in that range. That seems excessive for a sixteen-year-old.”