Cash and the Sorority Girl

by Ashley Bartlett

  “We don’t know,” Blackford said.

  Ionescu grunted again. “Good work here.” He tapped his fist against Duarte’s shoulder, then left the room.

  “Do any of the interviews discuss it?” Duarte asked as soon as the door closed.

  “I’ve got one that said they caught a ride, but that’s it. No indication of the ride,” Fenton said.

  “I don’t even have that.” Blackford closed his notebook with a huff.

  Duarte was staring at the board. “Most of these are walking distance, but it would be a long walk. Especially for someone intoxicated.”

  “Would intoxicated women want to walk or would that be too dangerous?” Blackford asked me. At least he was catching on.

  “I think most of them were in groups.” I looked at Duarte and he nodded. “So walking wouldn’t be as dangerous. That said, would you want to walk five or ten blocks if you were trashed?”

  Blackford shook his head. “Not if I had another party to get to. If I was trying to sober up on the way home, maybe.”

  “All right. It sounds like we need to speak with all our vics again.” Fenton parsed out the names into three lists. He handed Duarte and Blackford each a note with three names.

  Blackford and Fenton left to make calls from their desks. Duarte hung back.

  “Listen, I know you’ve probably got better things to do and you’re not my CI, so if you want to go, you’re welcome to. No hard feelings.” He pursed his lips, but didn’t drop eye contact. “But it’s Friday and I think we’re all afraid that if we don’t get this guy real soon, we’re going to have to add more colors to that board.”

  “It’s cool. I want to catch this guy.” How could I not?

  “You do?”

  “Yeah. Nate said it best when you guys first called us in. Cops are assholes, but a serial rapist is definitely more of an asshole.”

  Duarte nodded, then broke into a grin. “Well, okay. I’ll take that.”

  “Go. Call.” I grabbed the folder of Instagram photos we had yet to identify. “I’ll be here.”

  Thirty minutes later, I’d identified exactly one more person out of the hundred in the backgrounds of the photos. Fenton had struck out on all his calls and was searching databases with me. Blackford burst into the room looking more excited than I’d ever seen him look.

  “We got it.” He held up his notebook triumphantly.

  “You got the girls on the phone?” Fenton asked.

  “Yeah. And they all said the same thing.”

  The door flew open again and Duarte strutted through. “You guys, I got it.”

  Blackford spun and stared at him. “So do I. Safe Streets?”

  “Dude, you killed my big reveal.” Duarte sat down and did a solid impression of a sad puppy.

  “What’s Safe Streets?” Fenton asked.

  “Isn’t that the ride share thing?” I asked.

  Duarte nodded. “Kind of. It’s a service operated on campus.”

  “And in the surrounding neighborhoods,” Blackford said.

  “Yeah. It’s intended to reduce drunk driving. It’s really similar to Lyft and Uber except it’s free. You just have to show a Sac State ID.” Duarte typed on one of the laptops as he talked. After a minute, he jumped up to turn on the projector and pull a screen over the murder board. “Here’s the Sac State website for the program.”

  The projector flashed and hesitated, then turned on. We were looking at a page on Sac State’s student center website. Duarte scrolled past the description of the service until we got to the requirements for drivers. Apparently, they drove in pairs for safety and both operators wore photo IDs. They also underwent fingerprinting and background checks. Everyone in the room held their breath as we read and reread the description.

  “If our guy is a driver, then we fucking have him,” Blackford whispered.

  “Where is their office?” Fenton asked.

  “I’m not sure, but here’s the contact info.” Duarte highlighted the appropriate phone number and email address.

  Fenton typed it out in his notes. “I’m going to call. Blackford, will you fill Ionescu in? We need a warrant. Duarte, let Kallen and Reyes know we might need backup.”

  They nodded. I followed Duarte out to the floor. Blackford kept walking to the other side of the room where Ionescu’s office was. Duarte dragged a chair over and planted it next to the desk Laurel and Reyes shared.

  “What’s up, pup?” Laurel asked.

  I leaned against Laurel’s desk and tried not to laugh.

  “We might have gotten a break.” Duarte propped an elbow on the desk and leaned forward. “We talked to five of the women and they all used Safe Streets for transportation.”

  “Hey, nice work.” Reyes leaned forward to fist-bump Duarte.

  Duarte shrugged. “I didn’t actually do anything. Ionescu figured out where we needed to focus.”

  Laurel squeezed his shoulder. “No, man. Without you, he wouldn’t have been able to see the gap. You did good.”

  He smiled. “Do you think Fenton and Blackford will let me tag along when they arrest the guy?”

  Laurel took a deep, pitying breath like she was about to break a heart. Reyes just barely shook his head at her.

  “Yeah, probably,” Laurel said.

  “Cool.” Duarte grinned.

  “Duarte,” Ionescu shouted.

  Duarte jumped out of his chair and went to Ionescu’s office.

  “There’s no need to kill his buzz. He will figure out that the case isn’t wrapping up tonight on his own,” Reyes said.

  Laurel sighed. “Yeah, I realized that.”

  My phone buzzed. It was Lane telling me her lab had been canceled.

  “I think I’m going to take off. There’s nothing else for me to do. And it sounds like you guys actually have a handle on this,” I said.

  Laurel slid her hand an inch to the left so her pinkie just barely touched mine. “Okay. Thanks for coming down.”

  “Yeah. That board is quite impressive,” Reyes said.

  I shrugged. As long as they reduced the number of entitled men going around raping people, I was happy to be of service.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Big Friday night plans?” I asked Lane as we drove home. “Oh, God, I do sound like a dad.”

  She laughed. “It’s good. You’re an endearing dad. And, no, parties haven’t been appealing recently.”

  “That’s fair.”

  “It’s weird. The Tri Ep social calendar generally dictates my schedule. I’m not really sure what to do without it.”

  “Are the sisters giving you shit for ditching out?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “They’ve been great. I talked to a couple of the older girls who are survivors. They shared some really helpful stuff. You know, just about taking care of myself and that sort of thing.”

  “Huh. That’s cool, I guess. I mean, it’s horrifying that they need to be well versed in assault, but it’s nice that you have that system. That’s not really how I thought sororities operated.”

  “Oh, there are plenty who do the shit you’ve read about. But that’s why I like my sorority. We try to operate as an actual sisterhood.”

  My phone buzzed, and a message from Andy popped up. “Sorry.” I tapped Andy’s name to listen to the text.

  “Alejandro went home sick so I’m not going to his house tonight. Can you pick me up after school?”

  “Damn,” I said.

  “It’s fine. What time does she get out?” Lane asked.

  “Three twenty.” I looked at the time. It was three. “You don’t mind?”

  “No. This is our thing. Actually, it’s your thing. You’ve officially transitioned from drug dealer to soccer mom.” She laughed at her own joke.

  “Shut up. But that reminds me. I scheduled your dentist appointment for Tuesday at eleven.” I turned on 19th to get back down to Freeport.

  She stopped laughing. “How did you know I needed a dentist appointment?”r />
  “Umm, I didn’t know?”

  “No shit. I’m fucking with you. And I officially just out-sarcasted the most sarcastic person I’ve ever met.”

  “Sarcasted is not a verb. Or a word.”

  “Don’t regulate my language. What are you, the fucking patriarchy?”

  I started laughing. “You sound like me.”

  “It’s obnoxious, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry. I think I need to call Ms. Trumbauer from tenth grade and apologize.” I tapped Andy’s name. “Be there soon.” Siri sent the text.

  “So your big Friday night is hanging out with a fifteen-year-old whose friends stood her up and a sorority girl who is afraid of parties?” Lane asked judgmentally.

  “Well, yeah, but the babysitting money is dope. I’m saving up for a princess phone.”

  “A what?”

  “You don’t know what a princess phone is?” I asked. She shook her head. “God, I’m old.”

  “You’re not even thirty.”

  “And, yet, I’m old.” I pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop down the street from the high school. There was already a line of parents parked and waiting for their kids. “We need to switch seats.”

  “You want me to drive?” She gave me a weird look. “Oh, no, you want Andy to drive.”

  “Yep. And you are not a driver over the age of twenty-five.”

  “I had no idea you were such a stickler for the rules.”

  “Jeez. You make a living as a drug dealer and suddenly people think you don’t follow laws.”

  “People.” She rolled her eyes. “Am I right?”

  But then she climbed into the back seat. I got out and went around to the passenger side.

  Lane leaned forward between the seats. “I take it Laurel is still working on the big case she refuses to talk about with me?”

  “Yep.” I turned so I could see her. “It has to do with sexual assault. That’s why she’s not talking.”

  “I assumed. Is it the case from The Bee story?”

  I nodded. “And I’m not going to talk to you about it either because she asked me not to.”

  “That’s fine. But, for the record, I’m okay talking about assault.”

  “I know. And I trust you to know your limits. She does too, mostly. But it just seems unnecessary to talk about it.”

  “Assault in general or my assault?” She leaned her head against the driver’s seat and watched my reaction.

  “Both? I don’t know.” I searched for an accurate answer to her question. “I guess I figured if you wanted to talk, you’d let us know.”

  “Okay. It’s kinda weird. I feel like I’m not that different than I was before. Like it was an inevitability and the inevitability tempered my reaction. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  “It does. And I didn’t really know you before so I don’t know if you’re different.”

  “My life hasn’t shifted all that much. I don’t know what I was expecting, but status quo wasn’t it.”

  “Well, you did move off campus, cut off most of your family, and stop attending Greek events.”

  Her eyes got big. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?”

  “You’re right. This isn’t status quo.” She shook her head. “Whoa. I had no idea.”

  “You’re still maintaining status quo with other shit. Attending class, studying, checking in with your sorority sisters, therapy.”

  “That’s wild. How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “You kind of just blew up my perspective, then reconstructed it.”

  I shrugged. “I just think about things differently than a lot of people do.”

  “I guess I do as well. There’s the whole fact that I don’t really care what happens to the dude who raped me. I’d like an apology.” She shrugged. “That’s dumb, isn’t it?”

  “Fuck no. An apology would acknowledge that your autonomy was violated. You said you want to be able to move on in a healthy manner. That’s the only real contribution he could make to that end.”

  The passenger door opened and I almost fell backward out of the car.

  “Oh shit.” Andy put her hand on my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t going to tumble out.

  “Hey, tiger.” I laughed and turned to sit properly in the seat.

  “Hey, Andy.” Lane waved.

  “Lane, hi.” Andy grinned at her. She looked back at me. “You want me to drive, don’t you?”

  “Oh!” I feigned shock. “What a good idea. Especially, since I’m already sitting over here.”

  “You’re so good at ideas,” Lane said.

  Andy rolled her eyes and dropped her bag on my lap. She closed the door and walked around the front of the SUV. I turned to put the backpack in the back seat.

  “Can we continue this later?” I asked.

  Lane nodded. “I’d like that. You’re a good friend.” She squeezed my forearm.

  Andy climbed into the driver’s seat. “All right. Home, I assume?”

  “Unless you want to go to Hollywood Video and pick up a VHS,” I said.

  Andy dropped the keys on the floor. “Huh?”

  “Won’t that cut into your princess phone fund?” Lane asked.

  “No. The parents left twenty bucks for pizza and a video rental. They said I could keep the change. This babysitting gig is dope,” I said.

  Lane laughed. “I thought Blockbuster was the movie rental place.”

  Andy shook her head, but it didn’t help her brow unfurl. “What the hell are you guys talking about?”

  I clasped Andy’s shoulder. “Nothing. We’re just screwing around.”

  “Whatever.” Andy started the car.

  “Cash asked me about my Friday night plans. Apparently, in the Stone Age that’s what people did. Blockbuster and pizza.”

  “No, no. Hollywood Video,” I said.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “Blockbuster refused to carry certain morally objectionable titles. So like they didn’t carry Rocky Horror. The cool kids all went to Hollywood.”

  “The cool kids.” Lane’s tone was less than sincere.

  “Okay, guys. I’m driving. Don’t distract me.” Andy reversed out of the space carefully. She pulled into the street. Lane and I maintained perfect decorum. Once we were out of the after-school traffic, Andy asked, “What’s a princess fund?”

  “A what?”

  “You mean a princess phone fund?” Lane asked.

  “Oh, yeah. That.”

  “They were these phones marketed to teenage girls in the sixties,” I said.

  “I thought cell phones weren’t a thing until the eighties,” Andy said.

  It took everything in my power not to laugh. “They weren’t. Actually, cell phones were more like the nineties for most people. Princess phones were rotary phones. You know how old landline phones had the thing you had to turn to dial?” I did the motion of dialing.

  “I’ve seen those.” Lane smacked the back of my seat. “My grandma had one when I was a kid.”

  “Mine too,” I said.

  “Isn’t that way before your time?” Andy asked.

  “Yeah. Not landlines, but rotary phones were definitely before me.”

  “So what you’re saying with all of this is that we are ordering pizza and watching movies tonight?” Andy asked.

  “I’m not not saying that.” I looked back at Lane.

  “I’m so in.”

  “Can we wear footie pj’s?” Andy asked.

  “I don’t have footie pj’s,” Lane said.

  “Neither do I.” I clearly had made poor life choices. “Loop back down to Broadway.” I pointed at the next cross street.

  “Okay.” Andy turned on her blinker. “Why?”

  “We need to stop at Target.”

  Lane gasped. “Shut up.”

  “No, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

  “Doing what?” Andy was getting irritated.

  “
We all need onesies. And probably candy.”

  “It’s not a proper sleepover unless we have candy. Someone needs to find a sticky Skittle stuck to their pj’s at three in the morning,” Lane said.

  “Can we make a pillow fort?” Andy asked.

  “Heck yeah we can make a pillow fort,” I said.

  * * *

  Five hours later, Andy was sandwiched between me and Lane on the floor. The dining chairs on either side of us were doing a bang-up job of holding the sheets Andy had somehow attached to the TV. I was just hoping I wouldn’t find duct tape stuck to the back of Beverly.

  The front door opened and Laurel called out, “Hello?”

  I grabbed the remote and tried to pause the movie.

  “We’re in here,” Lane said.

  “I figured that out. What the hell are you guys doing?”

  I finally managed to find the proper button. “Just a sec. We’re coming out.”

  “I’m already out.” Andy grinned and elbowed me.

  “Hilarious. I love a good closet joke.” I wiggled out and held the edge of the blanket up so Andy and Lane could crawl out. I was definitely too old for wiggling and crawling.

  “You guys made a pillow fort?” Laurel looked at my outfit, then her eyes slid to Lane and Andy. “What the hell are you guys wearing?”

  “I’m an astronaut!” Andy’s onesie was printed to look like a space suit. Mine had dinosaurs all over it. Lane’s was a unicorn complete with a metallic horn attached to the hood.

  “I can see that.”

  “Mine glows in the dark,” I said.

  “That’s neat.” Laurel’s tone was somewhere between mockery and wonder.

  “But don’t worry, Laurel. We didn’t forget you.” Andy sprinted down the hallway and slid the last three feet into my bedroom. She came running back with a onesie in Laurel’s size. It was covered in cowboys riding broncos with split rail fences and lassos and cowboy hats.

  “Oh, wow.”

  “Now, we were aiming for a sheriff theme, but they just didn’t have any that fit what we were going for so we got you these too.” Andy whipped a pack of sheriff badge stickers out from behind her back.

  Laurel started laughing. “You guys nailed it. I mean, there will be no disputing that I’m the law in town.”