by Diane Kelly
The crowd roared again.
Essie’s speech went on to touch on dark money in politics and the Citizens United case, in which the Supreme Court ruled that the First Amendment prohibited the government from restricting campaign contributions from nonprofit corporations. The ruling opened the door for individuals to secretly funnel money to candidates through nonprofits the donor controlled. “Government should not be for sale to the highest bidder!” Essie cried.
Again, the crowd roared in support.
Still, while Essie Espinoza talked a good line to the public, she was viewed as a rabble-rouser by other politicians. She might prove too polarizing to be effective in Congress. I’d have a lot to think about before deciding whom I’d cast my vote for in the November election.
She ended her speech by crooking her fingers in the horned frog salute and offering a rousing cry of, “Go, frogs!”
Paige, Alexa, and I had been smart enough to stand near the food trucks while the speech was under way. When Essie gave up the mic and the windows opened on the trucks, we were the first in line.
Given that the food was gratis, I would’ve expected the servers to scrimp. Instead, they were generous, loading so much melted cheese onto the tortilla chips that they were more soup than nachos. After getting our free food, I sat on the grass, Brigit lying in front of me, Alexa and Paige to either side.
Paige shoved a cheese-and-bean-covered nacho into her mouth and moaned in bliss. “Mmm. These nachos are so good!”
“Good enough to make you switch teams and vote for Essie?” I asked, licking a bit of salsa from my thumb.
“Maybe,” Paige replied with a grin.
“Ugh,” Alexa said. “Asshole at two o’clock.”
I looked up to see Logan approaching, a heaping paper plate of cheese-drenched nachos in his hands. Without invitation, he dropped to the grass next to us. I was tempted to ask if he’d taken care of his crab problem. Didn’t want one of the critters crawling out of his shorts and making its way over the lawn in my direction. I found myself reflexively shifting to put my legs under me and lift my nether regions higher. If a crab wanted to make its home in my crotch, it was going to have to put forth some effort to get there.
“You can leave now,” Paige told him.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” Logan replied with a grin, “it’s a free country. Essie said so herself.” He gestured to the elevated stage at the front of the greenbelt where Essie remained, speaking with school officials, probably chancellors and provosts, whatever those were.
Paige rolled her eyes.
Movement near the stage caught my eye. Essie Espinoza appeared to be leaving now, her entourage, surrounded by blue uniforms, moving en masse toward their cars, which were parked in a restricted zone beside one of the nearby buildings. Before Essie could slip into an SUV, Trish LeGrande scurried up, followed by her cameraman. Rather than her trademark pink, Trish was dressed in TCU purple tonight. Appropriate, given that she was an alum, having earned her master’s degree in journalism here. She managed to slip that personal tidbit into interviews and reports on occasion. But who could blame her for being proud? That same journalism program had produced the well-respected journalist Bob Schieffer.
Logan’s gaze spotted Trish, too. “That reporter has a great rack.”
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. “God, Logan! You’re such an ass.”
He merely laughed in return. “I’ve been called worse.”
I’d bet he had. Deservedly, too.
“I want to hear the interview,” I told the group. When none of them made a move to come with me, I said, “I’ll be right back.”
Leading Brigit on her leash, I stepped over to listen. I didn’t have to worry about Derek or Officer Spalding outing me. Spalding was a professional and wouldn’t do anything to inadvertently out a fellow officer working undercover. As for Mackey, heck, he hardly acknowledged me when I was in uniform working alongside him. No need to worry about him paying any attention to me now.
Trish stepped into place next to Essie, and the cameraman began to roll.
Trish smiled at the camera. “I’m here at my alma mater, Texas Christian University, where senatorial candidate Esperanza Espinoza held a student rally this evening. Would you say tonight was a success, Esssie?” Trish tilted the microphone toward Essie.
“I certainly would,” Essie said. “We had a huge turnout, bigger than we could have ever expected.”
How much of that turnout was for her and how much was for the free nachos was debatable. College kids could be bought off cheaply and easily.
Trish held the mic to her own mouth again. “Polls show that you’ve gained on Senator Sutton and that the two of you are neck and neck, but your detractors say that you lack Monty Sutton’s experience and influence, especially when it comes to foreign relations. How would you respond to that?”
When the mic angled her way again, Essie offered a patient smile. “I’d say that we’ve seen the results when things are done the same old way year after year. Congress has stagnated, and little, if any, real progress is being made. It’s time for some fresh faces and fresh ideas in Washington, D.C.”
Both apparently happy with the sound bite, Trish thanked the candidate and Essie slid into the passenger seat of the SUV.
I returned to my place on the grass, watching as the motorcade headed out. Officer Spalding pulled his cruiser onto University Drive and flipped on his lights, stepping back out of the car and raising a hand to keep oncoming traffic at a halt while the politician and her staff pulled out in their vehicles. Derek was the last to leave, rolling out in his cruiser and hooking an illegal U-turn to head north.
An elbow drew me back to the conversation taking place around me.
“What?” I asked, looking from Alexa to Logan to Paige, unsure which of them had addressed me.
“Club Bassline?” Alexa said. “Friday night?”
The thought of going to a loud nightclub packed wall to wall with people and being jostled all night sounded like hell. So, naturally, I replied with, “Sounds like fun. Count me in!”
TWENTY-SEVEN
QUESO ME MUCHO
Brigit
Drips of nacho cheese seemed to be everywhere. On people’s legs, on the grass, on the sidewalk, on the plates people had left behind. Brigit must have died and gone to heaven!
As Megan led her away, the dog did her best to catch every bit, whipping her tongue out to clean a knee here, lick a plate there. The unexpected treat more than made up for the loud noise she’d had to endure. Yum, yum, yum!
TWENTY-EIGHT
CROWD SOURCE
The Dealer
Essie Espinoza had drawn a huge crowd. He had to give her that. The food trucks had been a brilliant idea. Nothing brings out college kids like free food.
He punched the gas and drove off, but even with the windows down to clear the air the scent of spicy peppers pursued him.
TWENTY-NINE
PINGED
Megan
As I walked back to the dorm with Paige and Alexa, an attractive Asian boy approached from the opposite direction. His hair swept up and over in dark spikes made shiny with hair gloss. He wore jeans and a casual tee, one hand clutching the strap of the backpack slung over his shoulder, the thumb of the other hooked around a belt loop. He lifted a chin in acknowledgment to Paige, and she raised a hand in return.
“Who’s that?” I asked under my breath. “He’s hot.”
Behind Paige, Alexa cringed and shook her head, making a cutting motion with a bladed hand and silently mouthing the word “no.” Oops. Looked like the guy was an off-limits subject. Of course Alexa’s warning had come too late.
“Chaoxiang?” Paige said, frowning. “Yeah, I guess he’s hot. But don’t waste your time. I think he’s got a girlfriend.”
Before I could ask how she knew the guy, whether he lived in our dorm, my phone jiggled in my pocket. I pulled it out and checked the readout. Aunt Ja
ckie. My pulse picked up.
Had Detective Bustamente identified the dealer picking up my payment at the taco stand?
Would Brigit and I be able to move back home?
“I gotta take this,” I said to Alexa and Paige. “See you later.”
As they continued on, I pushed the button to accept the call. “Hi, Aunt Jackie.” I stepped away from the flow of foot traffic on the sidewalk so no one could overhear my conversation. But just in case, I figured it couldn’t hurt to speak in code. “Did you or Uncle Buster take out the trash?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Officer Luz?”
So much for code, huh? “Did you figure out who picked up the cash I left under the trash can?”
“No,” she said. “Hector said there were so many people in and out of that bathroom they might as well put a revolving door on it.”
Rats.
“He had a dash cam running on his car,” she added. “He parked on the street where he could pick up all the license plates of cars going in and out of Tio’s lot. I’m going to review the footage and see if I can trace any plates to convicted or suspected dealers.”
“I hope something turns up.”
“Me, too,” she said. “In the meantime, we’ve pinged the phone.”
My heart rate rocketed. “Where is it?”
“On the TCU campus. We’ve been able to narrow its location down to the main library. That’s as precise as we could get.”
“That’s fantastic!”
“Head on over there ASAP and see what you can find out,” Jackson directed. “Let me know who you see there.”
“I’m on it.” I thumbed the button to end the call, turned toward the library, and set off in a hurry, Brigit trotting along with me. This case could be over soon. Maybe even tonight. God, I’d love to be back in my own bed, to have my bedroom all to myself rather than sharing the space with an emotional time bomb like Emily.
As I approached the building, my excitement began to fade. Not only did the library have a large footprint, it was three stories high. When Detective Jackson had said they’d narrowed things down, I’d expected things to be easy. This search would likely be anything but.
When I went inside and glanced around, my hope faded further. Dozens of people moved about inside the space, and a steady stream of students made their way in and out of the building. If the library was this bustling in summertime, I could only imagine what it was like in the winter when the student population was much higher. Finding the person with the cell phone I’d called wouldn’t be as hard as finding a needle in a haystack, but it wouldn’t be a cinch, either.
I decided my best course of action would be to survey the place, see if anyone looked suspicious. I made my way past the main information desk and around the first floor, walking slowly past the line of group study rooms. The outer wall of the rooms was glass, allowing passersby to see inside.
Some of the rooms contained small groups of students ardently bent over their books and notes, while others contained larger groups of students kicking back in the chairs, their feet up on the table as they chatted and laughed. Those latter groups had clearly met up here to socialize rather than study.
As I glanced into the last room, a flash of red hair caught my eye and my feet stopped moving of their own accord.
Ruby Rathswohl.
She sat at the table, a hand in her hair as she stared down at a textbook, a pen poised in her other hand to take notes in the open spiral in front of her. In the room with her, sitting on the opposite side of the table, was a tall boy with brown hair, quite possibly the boy I’d seen her with at Panther Pavilion. Also in the room were another boy and girl who didn’t look familiar to me.
When the boy I didn’t recognize looked up and caught my eye, I realized that I had not only been standing there too long, but that I was gaping. Some undercover agent I am, huh? I forced a smile and a wave and continued on, turning to make my way back into the stacks.
I stopped between the shelves to process this information. Ruby Rathswohl, the girl I was more and more certain had been with Miranda Hernandez when she’d collapsed on the Fourth, was here in the library. The boy sitting across from Ruby looked very similar to the boy who’d also been with Miranda on the night she collapsed. The person who was selling Molly, whose number I’d obtained from the bathroom stall, was also here in the library.
Coincidence?
Or clue?
I decided I’d push my luck and find out. I waited a few minutes, found a vantage point between the shelves from where I could peek through a two-inch break between books and see into the study room, and pulled out my cell phone to dial the dealer’s number.
I watched Ruby carefully as the phone rang, but she made no move to go for a phone, continuing to look at her textbook and chew on the end of her pen. The tall boy made no telltale movements, either.
Hmm …
Just as it did last time, the call went to voice mail after a single ring. I jabbed the button on my phone to end the call.
Had Ruby or the boy ignored the call?
Had their phones been on silent?
There was no way I could know for certain. And until I did, I had to make sure I’d explored all of the possibilities.
I slid my phone back into my pocket and stepped out of the stacks, continuing around the space with my partner, checking things out on the first floor. I carefully eyed the students I passed to see if they were familiar faces from the dorm. While one or two others rang a bell, many did not.
We took the stairs up to the second floor and slowly made our way around, weaving up and down through the stacks, looking over the shoulders of the people sitting at the study carrels. Well, I looked over their shoulders and Brigit instinctively sniffed at their backpacks and legs. One boy had somehow smuggled a plate of soggy nachos past the front desk, but violating the no-food policy hardly made him a criminal.
As Brigit and I headed up from the second floor to the third, a voice from above called, “Hey, Morgan.”
I looked up to see Hunter coming down the stairs, taking them two at a time, his backpack slung over one shoulder. With his boyish good looks and loose-limbed style, I half expected him to break out in some boy band song and do a sliding side-step dance move.
I stopped on the landing. “Hi, Hunter.”
“Got some studying to do?” he asked, hopping to the landing with both feet together.
“Unfortunately.”
He leaned to the side and checked out my empty back. “Where are your books and stuff?”
Yeah, Morgan. Where? “I’m doing research,” I said. “I need to take a look at some primary sources.” Primary sources? I’d pulled that out of my metaphorical back end, hadn’t I?
“Oh,” he said. “What are you researching?”
Fortunately, there was no need to reach again into my back end. Essie Espinoza’s speech provided me with fresh fodder for an answer. “Campaign financing.”
“That seems to be a hot topic.”
“I guess that’s why the professor is making us write about it.” Go, Megan, go!
He gazed at me a moment before asking, “So, what are you doing this weekend?”
Was he planning to ask me out? If he was, how could I let him down easy? Or should I go out with him and pick his brain on our dormmates? I wasn’t sure how to handle things, so I opted for telling the truth. “Paige and Alexa and I are planning on going to Club Bassline Friday night.”
“Club Bassline.” He gave me a soft smile. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“That would be great.” I can teach you what it’s like being a grown-up.
“Later.” He continued down the stairs, virtually skipping now.
I ascended the next flight, guilt tugging at my heart. I was leading the poor kid on, wasn’t I? But what choice did I have? I had to play my part to the best of my ability, and flirting with boys was part of the role.
As I ventured onto the third floor, something
dawned on me. What if Hunter is the dealer? God, I hoped not. He seemed like a nice guy. It would stink if he turned out to be involved in drugs.
Forcing the thought aside, I circumnavigated the third floor. There were far fewer students on this level, only a handful scattered about. Most looked older, like seniors or maybe graduate students.
Taking a seat at an empty study carrel, I texted Detective Jackson. Ruby Rathswohl is on first floor but didn’t respond when I called phone again. Not seeing anyone else suspicious. Is phone still in library?
I’ll check, the detective replied.
I glanced around as I waited. A boy had his head down in a study carrel nearby, snoring softly as he took a nap. A girl at a table nearby bobbed her head to music coming through her earbuds as she highlighted a passage in a textbook.
Jackson’s reply came back. Still there.
There was nothing I could do but make another round, right? Of course I had to do it without raising suspicions.
As quietly as possible, I led Brigit around the floor again. Nobody caught my eye. We descended to the second floor and looped through the stacks, checking everyone out. As we circled the last shelf, a honey-colored ponytail on a girl in the back corner caught my eye. Is that Emily?
My focus moved down to her backpack: the black-and-white-checkered print and the mismatched thread where a hole had been patched told me that, yes, the girl in the corner was indeed my roommate. Her cell phone peeked out of the back pocket of her shorts.
