by Diane Kelly
But along with those scents, she smelled the identifying smells of certain people. The two girls who lived on the other side of the bathroom had been in the car recently. But she smelled someone else, too. His scent was faint, as if he hadn’t been in the car long, maybe only leaned in or placed a hand on the windowsill. Her nostrils twitched. Yep, she smelled the faint scent of Hunter, the nice guy who always gave her attention when he saw her.
She wagged her tail. Maybe they’d see him again soon!
FORTY-THREE
THE NUMBERS GAME
The Dealer
He’d been working his ass off, trying to turn things around, and still his numbers weren’t as good as they needed to be. His job was on the line. Hell, his life was on the line. Because if he lost this job, everything would change.
He’d have no respect.
No authority.
No power.
And without those things, he was nothing.
FORTY-FOUR
FINGERED
Megan
The woman at the desk in the ER waiting room frowned on me bringing Brigit into the space, but relented when I said she was a medical alert dog and issued an implied threat.
“She warns me when I’m about to have a seizure,” I said. “If I have to leave her in my car while I wait here, and I have a seizure and get hurt, the hospital could be liable.”
I hated to play the liability card, but it was the only one in the deck that would work.
“All right,” she relented. “But sit in the corner and keep her away from the sick people.”
Given that few diseases were common to both canines and humans, as well as the fact that Brigit had regular checkups and was the picture of perfect health, it was unlikely Brigit would infect anyone. But no sense getting the flustered woman any more riled up. She had her hands full dealing with sick and injured people and didn’t need me giving her any more flack.
A few hours later, after the doctors had treated Emily with activated charcoal and laxatives, my roommate was released. She came through the doors that led to the treatment area, her eyes downcast in shame. I stood and walked over to her.
When she looked up, the tears were back. “That was really stupid of me, wasn’t it? Taking all those caffeine pills?”
“Even smart girls make mistakes sometimes.” Like taking Molly and nearly going home with a crab-infested creep. “But I think maybe you should talk to someone in the university counseling center. You need help dealing with your stress.”
“That’s a good idea.”
We left the ER. It was early morning now, the sun peeking over the horizon. Looked like I’d pulled an all-nighter, whether I’d set out to or not. I couldn’t wait to get back to the dorm and get some sleep.
Emily followed me to my car in the parking garage. After she climbed in, she sniffed the air. “Why does your car smell like lemons?”
I cast her a look. “Because it’s preferable to Paige’s puke.”
Her lip curled back in disgust. “She threw up in your car?”
“Yeah.”
Emily snorted. “It’s been a really fun night for you, hasn’t it?”
“There are no words.”
She reached over and put a hand on my arm. “Well, I’ve got a word for you. It’s thanks.”
“You said that earlier.”
She laid her head back against the headrest. “I can’t say it enough. You’ve been really nice to put up with me.”
I had to agree with her there.
* * *
I slept until one in the afternoon, waking only when Brigit pawed at the side of my bed, letting me know she needed to go out. Ugh. I loved my partner with all my heart, but I was feeling darn sick of taking care of others at the moment. What about me? What about my needs?
I leashed her up and took her outside, too tired to care that I was still wearing my pajamas and hadn’t brushed my hair or teeth.
Hunter walked up as Brigit crouched by a bush. He looked me up and down, fighting a smile. “You look downright scary.”
“I’m not surprised. I spent last night cleaning puke from my floorboards and waiting for my roommate to be released from the ER.”
His brows lifted. “I’d heard there was an ambulance here last night. It came for Emily?”
I nodded. “She OD’d on caffeine.”
“Caffeine?” His brows twisted in confusion now. “Is that possible?”
“Only if you try really, really hard.”
“Want to have lunch?” he asked. “After you clean up, I mean. I can’t be seen with you looking like that.” He gave me a smile to let me know he was teasing.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll meet you in the dining hall in half an hour.”
Brigit and I returned to our room. Emily was still sound asleep, but her breathing was normal and the pulse in her neck appeared slow and constant. I hoped she’d learned her lesson last night. I was pretty sure she had. Drugs were nothing to play around with, and just because something could be purchased over the counter at a pharmacy or grocery store didn’t make it safe.
After feeding Brigit a can of dog food and checking my e-mail—still no response from funtimemolly on the status of my order—I grabbed a quick shower and shampoo, dressed, and slapped on some makeup. I found Hunter waiting at the entrance to the dining hall. We went in, rounded up some grub, and met at a table in the corner.
He took a sip of his soda and eyed me intently over the table. “You’re a wise older woman,” he said. “Tell me the secret to getting girls.”
“You’re sitting with one right now,” I told him. “You must be doing something right.”
He chuckled at that. “Seriously. Help me out here. What makes a guy irresistible?”
“Okay,” I said, sticking my fork in my spaghetti marinara and twirling it. “Honestly? Women are not that hard to figure out or please. How we feel about a guy is only partly about who he is. You’re smart and funny and cute, so you’ve got the initial bases covered.”
He sat up straighter, his mouth spreading in a grin and his eyes brightening. “You think I’m smart and funny and cute?”
“Yes.” I pointed the loaded fork at him. “But don’t go getting a big ego or you’ll cancel it all out. Guys who are full of themselves are a total turnoff.” I ate the bite of bland spaghetti before continuing. “Besides, that stuff only gets a girl’s attention up front. It’s not going to keep her hanging around for long. The rest is about how a guy makes a girl feel about herself. Women want to feel special. Pay attention to what makes a g-girl unique, to her particular viewpoints and interests and her positive traits, and find ways to let her know that you’ve noticed those things, that you appreciate them. And listen. Every girl wants someone who listens.”
“Pay attention and listen? That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“That doesn’t sound so hard.”
“It’s not. Problem is, most guys don’t want to put in the effort.” I took another bite of my pasta. “Now that I’ve shared my love lessons, it’s time for some quid pro quo. How well do you know Logan?”
“Well enough to know he’s a total asshole. The only reason anyone puts up with him is because his parents are beyond loaded and he’s always inviting people to their ski condo in Taos or their beach house in South Padre.”
“You think he could be dealing drugs?” I asked quietly. “You think maybe he gave Paige the Molly last night hoping it would loosen her up?”
Hunter shrugged. “I can’t say. It wouldn’t totally surprise me. The guy likes to party. Rumor has it his grades are horrible and that he’s on academic probation. I heard he’s in summer school to try to get his grades up. We’ve got some mutual friends from our floor, but I try to keep my distance.”
I would, too, in Hunter’s shoes. Guys like Logan, who didn’t know when to quit, often dragged others down with them.
Alexa and Paige entered the dining hall. Alexa waved to me on her way to get food, w
hile Paige headed straight for our table, plunked herself down in a chair, and laid her cell phone and cheek on the table, closing her eyes. “Make it stop,” she whined.
“Make what stop?” I asked.
“The throbbing in my head.”
“Take some aspirin,” I suggested.
“I did. It hasn’t kicked in yet.”
If she was looking for sympathy, she wasn’t going to find much at our table. She had yet to apologize for hurling in my car.
Her phone vibrated with an incoming text. She sat up and read the message, her face brightening as if she’d been instantly cured of her hangover. “Pool party at six.” She looked up at me. “You up for it?”
“Sounds like fun.”
We’d be able to cool off and it could give me a chance to question Paige about the Molly she’d taken last night. Had she seen the phone number in the lobby bathroom, made a cash drop somewhere, and gotten the drug via a PO box, or did she have more direct contact with a dealer? Could she, herself, be the dealer? It was possible, maybe even likely. After all, I’d seen her and Alexa go into the gas station where a drop was being made. Of course that fact put suspicion on Alexa, too.
“Who’s throwing the party?” I asked.
“One of the girls who lived across the hall last year,” Paige said, clicking her phone off and returning it to the table.
Having rounded up some food, Alexa joined us.
“Pool party at six,” Paige repeated.
“Awesome!” Alexa said.
We made small talk while we ate. Hunter finished his burger and headed out, but not until he’d given Brigit a nice scratch under the chin.
“See ya,” he said.
When Logan entered the dining hall a few minutes later, Paige ducked her head and shielded the side of her face with her hand in an attempt to hide herself. “What was I thinking last night?”
“You weren’t doing the thinking,” I said. “The Molly was.”
Her head snapped in my direction. “What are you talking about?”
“The way you were acting last night,” I said, “it was pretty clear you’d taken some Molly. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” she spat. “You accuse me of taking drugs and it’s not a big deal?”
I raised my palms. “I’m sorry, Paige. I must have misread the situation.” Nope. Didn’t misread it at all. Frankly, her righteous indignation only made me more certain she’d taken the drug.
Her eyes flared, just as they’d done last night when I suggested Chaoxiang wasn’t the only fish in the sea. “I was drunk, that’s all.”
Sure. “Okay. I believe you. Really, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that, you know, the group I hung with back in Amarillo did a lot of MDMA. We didn’t think much about it.”
She stared at me for a moment with the same assessing look Detective Jackson sometimes gave me. I tried to look as sincere as possible. Yep, that’s me! Ecstasy fiend!
“I’d be happy to drive to the party,” I said, hoping the offer would get me back on her good side. The last thing I needed was her excluding me. The party could present some more opportunities for me to ask questions, gather information.
Luckily, Paige took the bait. “Okay.”
I gathered up my trash and stood to go. “I’ve got some errands to run. Catch ya later.”
I tossed my garbage in the can and led Brigit out to my car. Our first stop was the post office. I led Brigit inside as I went to check my PO box. When I stopped in front of the wall of boxes, Brigit put her nose to the ground and sniffed. Snuffle. Snuffle-snuffle. While I hadn’t ordered her to check for drugs, she sometimes did so out of habit or in an attempt to earn herself a treat, a type of K-9 extra credit. She sniffed at my box and sat down on the tile floor, facing the row, issuing her passive alert.
Looks like my order has been delivered.
My heart pumping in overdrive, I crouched down and slid the key into the box. One turn and it was open, revealing a small padded yellow envelope inside. I removed the envelope carefully, holding it by an edge, and took a look. My alias, Morgan Lewis, was scrawled across the front, along with my PO box address. The return address showed only my PO box number again. The postmark indicated the package had originated in Fort Worth. The package bore four first-class stamps.
I returned to my car and texted Detective Jackson. Received delivery. Meet at station?
Her reply came quickly. I’m already there.
I should’ve known. The woman was just as dedicated as I was.
I drove to the station, again parking a block away in a spot that wouldn’t be easily visible from the street. Hurrying Brigit along behind the buildings, I made my way to the station and went inside.
Detective Jackson was on her phone but waved me into her office. As I took a seat, she swiveled the mouthpiece away from her lips and said, “I’ve got a fingerprint tech on the line.” Turning the handset back into place she said, “Uh-huh … uh-huh. Okay … No need to call her. She’s right here in my office. I’ll let her know. Thanks for the information.”
I was on the edge of my seat. “What did they find out?”
“One set of prints appeared on all three cups—”
“The bartender’s?” I asked.
“That’s what we were thinking, too,” she replied. “The other prints on Alexa’s and Logan’s cups didn’t match the phone.”
She hadn’t mentioned Paige’s prints. That must mean they matched! I jumped out of my seat. “But Paige’s did? Her prints matched the ones from the cell phone?”
A smile played about Jackson’s lips. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Megan.” She motioned for me to sit back down. “It’s possible Paige’s prints matched.”
What? “What do you mean ‘it’s possible’?”
“Paige’s cup had five sets of prints. The ones we believe belong to the bartender, and four others. One of them belongs to Paige. The three others belong to persons as yet unidentified. We aren’t sure which set was Paige’s. None matched anyone in the system. But, yes, one of them matched the prints lifted from the cell phone.”
In other words, whoever owned the cell phone hidden in the library had been at Club Bassline last night and had touched Paige’s cup.
“It has to be her,” I said. “Doesn’t it?”
“But then—” Jackson began.
“Why didn’t she show up on the dash cam video from Tio’s Taco Stand or on the mall security tape?”
“It’s likely—”
“That she’s working with someone else?”
Jackson threw up her hands. “Are you asking me those questions, or are you asking yourself?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m thinking out loud.”
“Think back to last night,” she said. “Who else drank from Paige’s cup?”
Paige had danced with several guys before she and Logan began engaging in foreplay on the dance floor. I recalled her offering her cup to at least two of them.
“A few random guys she danced with drank from the cup,” I said. Really, the thing might as well have been a communion wine chalice for all the mouths and hands that had been on it. “I don’t know who any of them were. I think they were strangers to Paige, too.”
Jackson took the information in. “The fact that the guys were strangers points even more to Paige being the dealer. But in order to arrest her, we’ll have to verify that her prints match the ones on the phone. We need to get something that we know for certain has her prints on it and hers alone. You think you can do that?”
My mind went to our shared bathroom, to Paige’s plastic bin of hair products and skin products and makeup stashed on the shelf under the sink. I’d seen Alexa dip into Paige’s bin on occasion for body spray or lotion. Heck, I’d tried Paige’s cherry blossom lotion myself. But her toothbrush was in the bin, too, in a plastic cup. A toothbrush was something nobody else would share.
“What if I get her toothbrush?”
J
ackson dipped her head in acknowledgment. “That’ll do it. Now show me what you got in the mail.”
I carefully pulled the envelope from my purse, again holding it gingerly by a corner. Jackson donned a pair of gloves, picked up a letter opener, and sliced the flap open. Turning it, she dumped out the contents. A small, clear plastic bag fell to her desktop. Plup. She picked it up and finagled it between her fingers. “There’s two white capsules here. I’ll have the lab identify them and check the bag and envelope for prints.”
My work there done, I floored it all the way back to the dorm. If the prints on Paige’s toothbrush matched the ones on the cell phone, my job would be done. I could move out of the dorm and be back in my own bed tonight. Maybe Seth could be in it with me.
I stepped into the bathroom to find the shower running, the curtain closed, and the air warm and steamy. The mirrors were partially fogged, distorting my image, like an old, faded photograph. Alexa pulled the curtain aside—swish—and poked her head out. “What are you wearing to the party?”
Argh! I wanted to scream. I was so close now! But I forced myself to remain calm. “It’s a pool party, so my bikini?” I raised my palms. Seriously, wasn’t the answer obvious?
“I mean over your bathing suit,” Alexa said. “Shorts? A cover-up? A sundress? What?”
It was ridiculous how young women obsessed over what they wore. And why should anyone’s outfit be contingent on what anyone else was wearing? Still, I understood the angst. While everyone that age wanted to be noticed, nobody wanted to stick out for the wrong reasons, like an unusual fashion choice.
“Shorts and a T-shirt, I guess,” I replied, mentally willing her to close the curtain so I could snatch Paige’s toothbrush.
“You guess? You mean you haven’t decided for sure yet?”
Oh, for Pete’s sake! “I have,” I said. “I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt.” As if it matters!
“Okay. I’ll wear shorts, too.” She closed the curtain.
Thank God! I reached down for Paige’s toothbrush when swish, the curtain slid partway open again.
Alexa’s head popped out once more. “Sandals, tennis shoes, or flip-flops?”
