by Diane Kelly
“Epilepsy,” I said, thinking aloud. “I could tell people I have epilepsy and that Brigit is trained to give me an alert of oncoming seizures.”
“Works for me,” Jackson said. “She’ll be a help. She’ll be able to sniff out any drugs that might be in the dorm.”
I realized then that, even if any TCU students had seen me and Brigit at Panther Pavilion or had seen our pictures in news reports regarding our recent arrests of a notorious peeping Tom and a violent escaped convict, they’d likely have trouble identifying us. I’d had my hair pulled back into the usual tight bun in the photos and when I’d been on duty. Plus, I’d been wearing little makeup and had sunglasses on for most of the day on the Fourth. And as much as I thought Brigit was a one-in-a-million dog, the truth of the matter was that she looked pretty much like every other shepherd out there. Her capabilities, not her appearance, was what distinguished her from other dogs.
Jackson stifled a yawn. “I want to move on this ASAP. The second summer session starts Monday so the timing is good. Spend tomorrow packing up and getting your things in order. Swing by here first thing Monday morning to get your new identity.”
I couldn’t wait to see who I would become.
“Any chance that missing evidence has shown up?” I asked.
“The drugs?” she asked.
I nodded.
“No. Why?”
Why? Because seeing Derek at Flynn Blythe’s apartment had made my insides feel prickly. Had Derek simply been checking in on Blythe, or could he have been selling Blythe the drugs we’d taken from Graham Hahn? Would Derek not only risk his job and his standing as the chief’s golden boy, but also disgrace the badge by stealing and selling drug evidence? While I didn’t quite believe it, didn’t quite want to believe it, I knew I had to share the information about Derek’s visit to Blythe’s place with Detective Jackson.
“I saw Officer Mackey on my drive over,” I told her. “He was talking to Flynn Blythe in the parking lot of his apartment.”
“You see anything change hands?”
“No.” That was a good sign, wasn’t it? I said a silent prayer that Derek was innocent. I mean, I hated the guy and all, but despite his shortcomings he was an asset to the force. When an officer was needed to go into a dangerous situation, Derek was the first to raise his hand. Besides, any scandal would make the entire FWPD look bad and reflect on all of us officers. With the media blitz regarding officer-involved shootings of unarmed civilians, police had taken enough hits lately. We didn’t need any more.
Detective Jackson was quiet a moment. “This information about Mackey, his visit to Flynn Blythe. Keep that between you and me, all right?”
I swallowed to force down the lump in my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
Seth had the day off on Saturday, and we spent it together, preparing me and Brigit for our upcoming role as a college coed and her service dog.
As we ate a quick and easy brunch of toast and jelly at my kitchen table, I looked up service dog vests online, turning my laptop to face Brigit when I had a screen of options pulled up. “Which color do you like, Brig?”
Seth washed his bite down with a swig of coffee. “Dogs are color-blind. It’s not going to matter to her.”
He had a point. And it’s not like she could tell me her preference anyway. Still, asking had seemed like the polite thing to do. Sometimes I almost forgot that my partner wasn’t human.
“What do you think, then?” I asked Seth, turning the screen his way now.
His gaze slid across the screen. “The pink one,” he said. “She’ll look less tough in it.”
“Good point.” I entered an order for an extra-large vest, adding a new nylon chew bone and three canisters of her favorite treats to the cyber shopping cart. I paid extra, exorbitant fees for overnight shipping and Sunday delivery, but they couldn’t be avoided. Besides, the department would reimburse me, at least for the vest.
We finished our meal, left the dogs lounging on the living room sofa, and headed out for more shopping. We aimed for the local Walmart, where I purchased a couple of purple and white T-shirts with the TCU logo and horned frog mascot. Given that I’d long since gotten rid of the worn-out bedspread and sheets that had graced my dormitory bed back in my real college days, I headed for the bedding department next. I looked over the options in twin size, and selected one in a lime-green, lemon-yellow, and hot-pink striped print, adding a trio of cute decorative pillows to the mix. A desk lamp with pink beading on the shade seemed like the perfect complement, so I put that in the cart, too. In the office supply aisle, I grabbed a couple of spiral notebooks and a package of gel pens with ink in various colors.
As we rolled past the women’s lingerie department, Seth reached out, grabbed a package of plain white briefs that went clear up to the waist, and tossed them into the buggy.
I stopped and looked down into the cart. “What are those hideous things for?”
He scowled. “I don’t want those college boys getting any ideas.”
“They’re not going to be seeing my underwear.”
“They might sneak a peek at your laundry, maybe try to catch a glimpse of you getting dressed while your roommate’s heading in or out the door.”
I doubted any boy would go to so much trouble given that there was no end of pretty women strutting around nude all over the Internet. Besides, while I could hold my own, I wasn’t exactly a sexy bombshell like Sofía Vergara.
“While we’re at it,” he added, “let’s get a teddy bear for your bed. Nothing turns a guy off like a stuffed animal staring at him while he’s trying to make a move.” He lifted his head and glanced around for the toy department.
“I’m not planning to invite any boys back to my room.” I rolled my eyes. “Besides, there’s an attractive girl everywhere you look on the TCU campus. Nobody’s g-going to be making moves on me.”
He looked down at me, a brow raised. “Wanna bet? I remember what it was like to be in my early twenties. If I’d seen a girl like you back then, with your long black hair and those big brown eyes and nice legs, I’d have made a fool of myself trying to get your attention.”
So help me, I warmed at the flattery. “All right. If it will make you happy.”
I humored him by keeping the granny panties and letting him buy me the biggest stuffed teddy bear the store offered. I also bought glittery nail polish and a slew of makeup in shades far more vibrant than my usual choices, as well as some gaudy, colorful jewelry and a movie poster featuring Chris Hemsworth as Thor, his eyes narrowed in an intent look that could be interpreted as either rage or seduction. I chose to assume the latter, as well as the fact that the look was intended solely for me.
As we carried the purchases out to my car, Seth inquired about my major. “What are you going to study?”
“I’m not sure.” Detective Jackson had left that decision up to me, and I hadn’t made up my mind yet. Part of me thought I should take classes in criminal justice. That had been my major at Sam Houston State and I could easily ace the courses without having to study. But another part of me saw this undercover gig as an opportunity to expand my knowledge base, to try something new and different.
“Take physics,” Seth said, putting the last of the bags in his trunk and slamming it shut. “All the guys in your classes will be nerds.”
“Hey.” I crossed my arms over my chest in indignation. “Smart is the new sexy.”
A grin played about his lips as he reached out to play with a tendril of my hair. “Tell me about it.”
TWELVE
GOOD THINGS COME IN SMALL PACKAGES
Brigit
BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK-BARK!
Brigit might not be on official police duty now, but at home she was never off watchdog duty. Her superior ears had heard the rumble of the delivery truck coming up the street and the soft squeal of the brakes as it stopped in front of their house. Megan was in the kitchen putting dishes away and Frankie was in her bathroom ta
king a shower. It was up to Brigit to let the unsuspecting humans know that a uniformed man in a truck had invaded their turf and was heading across the yard with a box to deliver and possibly other, as yet unidentified, nefarious intentions.
She ran to the front door, where she could smell the man on the other side of it and hear the sound as he dropped the package on the welcome mat. Plop. She scratched at the inside of the door and spoke again, this time as a warning to the man that if he tried any funny business she’d put a stop to it right away. BARK-BARK-BARK!
Megan walked out of the kitchen. “Cool it, loudmouth.”
Brigit didn’t know exactly what the words meant, but surely they had to be an expression of gratitude for her faithful service. She wagged her tail.
“Stay,” Megan said, ruffling her ears as she opened the door to get the package.
Brigit hoped it might be a pair of new shoes she could gnaw on. For some reason, Megan had been storing her shoes on the top shelf of her closet where Brigit couldn’t reach them. Grr. She wasn’t sure why Megan was being so stingy with them. After all, she had several pairs.
But what was in the box was even better than new shoes. It was a new bone! Just for Brigit! And three cans of her favorite treats!
Yippee!
She spun in a circle, yapping and wagging her tail to express her doggie delight. She also changed her mind about the delivery guy. He wasn’t a threat. He was welcome to invade their turf with treats and toys anytime.
Megan fed her a couple of the treats—yum!—and gave her the new bone to chew on. As Brigit lay on the rug testing her teeth on the bone, Megan tried a new fabric harness on her. She lifted Brigit’s right front paw, then her left, as she slid the device onto Brigit, lifting her center to snap the clasp closed and running a finger around the edges to test its fit.
“Looking good, pretty girl,” Megan said, giving her neck a two-handed scratch.
Brigit wasn’t sure what “pretty” meant, but she knew “girl” was another name for her. Megan had all sorts of nicknames for Brigit. Brig. Briggie Boo. She sometimes even called Brigit Baby. But today she seemed to be trying on a new name for size. Britney.
Britney was close enough to her usual name that the dog had responded when Megan first said it this morning. Given that Megan had rewarded her with a “good girl” and a belly rub, she’d continued to respond to the name all day, earning more “good girls” and more belly rubs.
Seth and Blast came over and they all ate dinner together, then Megan and Seth did that thing where they put their mouths and bodies against each other and wrapped their arms around the other, an activity Brigit had come to realize meant affection among humans. Blast gave Brigit a canine sign of affection and subordination by licking at her mouth as they left. Blast wasn’t the toughest dog around, a total beta, but Brigit liked him anyway. She was alpha enough for both of them.
As Brigit and Megan settled into their bed Sunday night, the dog could sense that her partner was both excited and nervous. She liked the excited part. When Megan was excited it often meant that they were in for some fun, maybe a search or a track or a chase. Brigit loved to search buildings, loved to track. And chases? Those were the most fun of all. But the nervous? She didn’t like that. When Megan was nervous it often meant that there’d be a loud sound that would hurt Brigit’s ears or a mean person who might try to hit them. Brigit didn’t like being hit. Her first owner had hit her a lot, most often with an open hand, but he’d kicked her on occasion, too. He’d been an asshole. Megan had never hit her. Megan only petted and stroked and scratched her. And for that, Brigit would do her best to keep Megan safe.
At the moment, there were no suspicious smells or sounds coming from outside their house. Nothing for her to worry about. She stretched her legs, draped her head over Megan’s thigh, and closed her eyes.
THIRTEEN
BANKING ON IT
The Dealer
First thing Monday morning he logged in online, typing the bank account number and hitting the enter key.
There it was. A deposit in the amount of half a million dollars. It had hit his account just this morning.
He was relieved. He was even a little thrilled.
But, most of all, he was terrified.
FOURTEEN
BACK TO SCHOOL
Megan
Early Monday morning, I put extra curl in my hair and loaded on the makeup, using liquid liner to add wings to my eyes. I dressed in a purple Horned Frogs T-shirt, white shorts, a pair of sandals, and an excess of jewelry. I’d dug out my backpack from my college days and filled it with spirals, ballpoint pens, and my personal laptop. I’d also filled two suitcases with casual gear, jewelry, and makeup, as well as some towels and bedding. A beach bag contained Brigit’s food, treats, bowls, and toys.
I stepped into the living room with my bags, set them down, and twirled in front of my roommate. “How do I look?”
Frankie frowned. “Like the reason I decided not to go to college.”
Being big and athletic and boyish, Frankie had never fit the mold of the popular girlie girl in high school. Though too afraid of her to make fun of her to her face, the mean girls had talked smack behind her back in the way girls do at that age in an attempt to make themselves feel better about themselves. Ironically, the talk only made each girl wonder what was being said about her when she wasn’t around. Were her hips too wide? Her nose too big? Her clothes too yesterday?
“I just hope Brigit and I can pull this off,” I said.
“You’ve taken down a bomber and a murderer. A drug dealer will be nothing.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Frankie picked up her cat and put Zoe’s face next to hers, moving the feline’s paw as if the cat were a puppet. “Zoe and I will miss you two, though. Won’t we, Zoe?”
Zoe replied with a mew. I wasn’t sure whether that was a yes or a no, but I chose to believe it was a yes. More likely it was a put me down or I’ll scratch your eyes out.
“We’ll miss you, too.”
“On the bright side,” Frankie said, returning Zoe to her spot on the back of the couch, “with you gone I’ll have the place all to myself and I won’t have to eat any quinoa or kale or organic food.”
I took the jibe about my cooking in stride. “If you change your mind, there’s plenty in the pantry and fridge.”
“And that’s where it will stay.”
I rounded up Brigit, and Frankie helped me load our things into her Juke. Frankie dropped me and Brigit by the W1 station on her way to the fire academy.
After wrangling my things out of the cargo bay, I gave her a hug. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Be careful,” she said, her eyes now clouded with concern despite the assurance she’d given me earlier.
“I will.” Or at least I’d be as careful as I could be under the circumstances. Going undercover meant I couldn’t wear my Kevlar vest or keep my gun and baton in easy reach at my hip. I’d be relying on my wits more than my weapons.
As she drove off, I headed inside with my partner in tow and aimed straight for Detective Jackson’s office, tapping my knuckles on the door frame. Rap-rap.
She waved me in, then reversed direction once I’d stepped inside, indicating for me to close the door behind me. “Good morning, Officer Luz.” She picked up a manila envelope from her desk and held it out to me. “Or should I say Morgan Lewis?”
“Morgan Lewis,” I repeated, trying the name on for size. I took the envelope from her and sat down to peruse the contents. The first thing I discovered was a new cell phone and charger. I turned the phone on to discover some contacts had already been entered. “Aunt Jackie?”
“That’s me,” Detective Jackson said. “Detective Bustamente is listed as Uncle Buster.”
Hector Bustamente was another seasoned investigator in W1 who often let me help on his cases. It was nice to know the two of them were only a call away in case things went south.
Also inside the
envelope was a Texas driver’s license with the same photo that appeared on my real license. The name on the license read Morgan Elizabeth Lewis. The address was on a county road in Perryton, Texas. Having never heard of the place, I looked up at her. “Where’s Perryton?”
“Panhandle,” she replied. “Just a few miles south of the Oklahoma border. It’s a town of around nine thousand people. We gave you an address out in the country. It’s unlikely you’ll run into anyone on campus from Perryton, but if you do, the fact that you lived in the sticks would explain why your face wouldn’t be familiar to them.”
I nodded and perused the background information sheet provided. Per the page, my father worked in the local oil industry as some type of executive. My mother, a homemaker, had homeschooled me. That would explain why my photograph wouldn’t appear in any high school yearbook. I’d allegedly attended a community college in Amarillo, the largest city in the panhandle, before applying for a transfer to TCU. Morgan Lewis was an only child. Oddly, I felt sorry for my fictional self. While my real self had often been irritated by my four siblings, who often borrowed my things without asking and left their wet towels on the bathroom floor, I knew life would’ve been dull without them. Growing up so isolated must have been very lonely for my fictional alter ego.
“Try to avoid talking about yourself too much,” Jackson said. “That’ll make it less likely you’ll have to make something up and be caught contradicting yourself.”
I nodded. No worries there. Given my childhood stutter, I’d learned not to say much about anything. Besides, in my experience, most people were much more interested in talking about themselves than learning any deep and meaningful information about anyone else. College kids, who were at the peak of their self-interested phase of life, would only want the basics. What’s your name? What’s your major? We look the same size. Can I borrow that cute top?
