Above the Paw

by Diane Kelly

  “I’ve got bad news,” she said. “The address we had for Chao was out-of-date. Nobody seems to have a current one for him. He must have sublet a place, or be renting a room from someone.”

  “Paige would probably know where he lives.”

  “She’s lawyered up. She’s not talking.”

  Ugh. “So you couldn’t get any evidence on him.”

  “No evidence. No fingerprints. Nothing. The same prints that were on the library cell phone and Paige’s cup are on the bag from last night. Paige’s prints aren’t on the bag. She never touched it. The only other prints on the bag are Officer Mackey’s.”

  Another ugh.

  “We need you back at that dorm,” Jackson said. “Work on Paige. See if you can get her to admit something.”

  “But I just got back home!”

  Jackson scoffed. “You’re the one who asked for this undercover gig, remember?”

  She had me there. “All right. I’ll go back to the dorm.”

  From his place against the pillow, Seth frowned. I raised a palm. What could I do? The investigation had to come first.

  I ended the call with Detective Jackson. “I’m a college kid again.”

  “So I was just a one-night stand? A booty call?” Seth’s grin said he didn’t mind being either of those things, at least not for me. He climbed out of bed. “How much longer do you think till it’s over?”

  “Not too much longer,” I said. “I’m going to work on Paige, see if I can get her to tell me where Chao lives or admit she was working with him to sell Molly.”

  He reached out and grabbed a tendril of my hair, twisting it around his finger. “If anyone can get this case resolved, it’s you and Brigit.”

  FIFTY-ONE

  TWO DOG NIGHT

  Brigit

  She hadn’t liked being in the jail cell. While it was much bigger than the cage she’d been forced to live in at the animal shelter after her original owner failed to come bail her out, it was too similar for her comfort. Luckily, Megan had petted her and reassured her that everything was going to be okay.

  When they’d been released, they’d come back home. Seth and Blast had come over, too. Brigit and Blast had wrestled on the rug, chewed each other’s necks until they were wet with slobber, and then slept side by side at the foot of Megan’s bed.

  But now, Megan was taking her back to the dorm. Yuck. At least the nice boy was there to greet them in the lobby. He bent down and gave Brigit an all-over scratch. She thanked him with a lick across the chin.

  FIFTY-TWO

  DELETE, DELETE, DELETE

  Senator Sutton, the Dealer

  It took everything in him not to backhand the little bitch across the face. “How many times were you told not to use the office computer for any personal purpose? Huh? How many?”

  There were tears in the girl’s eyes, but he didn’t give a shit. He’d spent years carefully and expertly forming alliances, negotiating and making trades, maneuvering through the complex political machinery that formed Washington, D.C., all the while doing so in a manner that would ensure his reputation was above reproach. And now, this stupid, stupid girl could undo everything he’d worked so hard for.

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Once or twice.”

  “Bullshit!” he barked, his vehemence surprising not just her but himself, as well. He grabbed the stapler off his desk and flung it across the room. It hit the wall and exploded into a barrage of plastic and metal confetti.

  Everything was spinning out of control, himself included. He’d never felt so powerless. The latest reports showed that Essie Espinoza had edged him out in the polls. He was doing his damnedest to reverse that trend, but with China adamantly refusing to consider adopting the China–U.S. Partnership he’d proposed, he looked weak and ineffectual, the hundreds of earlier deals he’d managed to broker forgotten or ignored. He couldn’t afford a scandal, especially not right now. If the media discovered an intern had been dealing Molly out of his office it would push his campaign over the edge and that money he’d taken and spent would be for naught.

  He wondered how this little twit even knew how to run a drug business, where she got the products. After all, there weren’t exactly want ads for this type of work. Sales help needed in illegal pharmaceutical industry. Sparkling personalities only, please.

  He needed details, had to know how far his liability might extend. “How’d you get into this?” he demanded. “Who are you working for?” When she looked away he grabbed her by the chin and turned her head to face him. “I asked you a question,” he hissed. “And you’re going to give me an answer.”

  Though her face was aimed in his direction, her eyes looked down. “Chaoxiang Wu,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

  “Wu? The minister of commerce’s son?”

  She nodded.

  He let go of her chin. Fuck! He should’ve known that boy was bad news. The kid was too smooth, a charmer, a worldly boy with an exotic attractiveness. Chaoxiang had come to Sutton’s offices with his father several times, both in Washington and here in Fort Worth. Hell, it was Sutton himself who’d suggested the kid apply to TCU! The senator remembered coming out of his office here in Fort Worth after a private meeting with Chao’s father and finding the kid flirting with his intern. She’d been looking up at the boy with puppy-dog eyes, totally smitten.

  The kid had probably obtained the drugs from China, where chemical regulation was more lax. It made little sense, he realized, but he was especially enraged that the drugs the kid was selling were from China rather than being made domestically. More dollars in the two countries’ trade gap.

  But, being the expert dealer he was, Sutton also realized the situation gave him leverage, a big bargaining chip. Surely the minister of commerce would want to avoid the negative publicity the arrest of his son would cause, to minimize the effects on his son’s otherwise bright future, for his son to be able to finish college without the threat of criminal prosecution. Others in the Chinese government would want to avoid the embarrassment as well, sweep the matter under the rug, pretend it never happened, just as they did with the bloody massacre at Tiananmen Square in 1989.

  If the senator could finagle things just right, he might be able to strong-arm the minister into supporting the CUSP legislation and lure voters back into his camp. He’d give this some thought …

  But for now, he had to deal with the matter at hand. And the matter at hand was Paige McQuaid and the trail of electronic bread crumbs she’d left, bread crumbs that could lead the police—and a career-ending scandal—straight to his door.

  Sutton leaned over Paige as she sat hunched before the desktop computer. “My chief of staff says he told everyone in the office multiple times not to engage in personal activity on the office computers. Any of your e-mails could be subpoenaed. Why didn’t you just use your goddamn phone?”

  “My battery died,” she said, a tear escaping to slide down her cheek. She hiccupped, trying not to cry. “I didn’t have the charger with me.”

  He waved his hand and she flinched, as if she thought he’d hit her. God, how he’d love to. “Delete it all!” he demanded. “Delete all of those e-mails from your account and delete your browser history, too. Delete! Delete! Delete!”

  He stood over her while she frantically worked the keyboard and mouse. When she’d erased all of the e-mails in the funtimemolly account, as well as her browser history, he put his face right in hers, so close he could see the pimple beginning to form on her forehead. “If anyone ever asks why this information was deleted, you did it on your own. To cover your ass and that boy’s. Understand?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said meekly.

  “Now,” he demanded, standing back up. “Are there any other loose ends we need to worry about?”

  FIFTY-THREE

  PREEMPTED

  Megan

  Detective Jackson texted me during the last twenty minutes of my Monday-morning political science class. Once again I
headed to the back door, the professor casting me a look of disdain. “Are we boring you?” he called across the room.

  I couldn’t blame him for being annoyed. “Sorry!” I called. “My grandfather’s been in the hospital and I just got a text to call my mom.”

  When he blanched, a frisson of guilt went through me for lying to him and making him look like an ass. “All right,” he said. “That’s understandable. Go make your call.”

  Brigit and I slunk out of the room and hurried outside, looking for a private place where I could speak with the detective. Given that the students tended to stick to the sidewalks, I scurried to the center of an open greenbelt and dialed her.

  “We’ve got problems,” she said without preamble.

  “What kind of problems?”

  “You know how people say ‘don’t make a federal case out of it’?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, Senator Sutton’s made a federal case out of it. He’s pulled rank. He says that since it appears Derek planted the drugs, it’s inappropriate for the Fort Worth Police Department to investigate Paige. He says there’s a conflict of interest.”

  The feds were getting my case? Nooo!

  “But Sutton works for the federal government!” I cried. “And Paige is his intern. He’s got a conflict of interest, too.”

  “But he doesn’t work for the Drug Enforcement Agency,” she said. “There’s at least a little distance between them. Plus, Sutton claims that the evidence planted on Paige could be the lost drugs from the Hahn arrest.”

  “How would he even know about that?”

  “Good question. My guess is someone leaked the information about Derek losing the drug evidence to the DEA.”

  “Who?”

  “Wish I knew,” she said. “Lots of our officers know people in the federal government, particularly those who work in law enforcement. Some have worked on joint task forces. It would be virtually impossible to figure out who’s responsible for the leak.”

  What she said was true. I’d worked loosely with the feds before. A criminal investigator for the IRS had been working a case at a jewelry store in Chisholm Trail Mall over the Christmas holidays. She and I had gotten to know each other. We’d even played matchmakers for the shopping mall Santa.

  “Officer Mackey has been put on administrative leave. Internal Affairs will run an investigation. Heck, you might be summoned to provide evidence. You were at the pool party where he allegedly planted the drugs. You also saw him twice at Flynn Blythe’s apartment. If you spotted him there two times, he’d probably been there many more. And why?”

  It was a good question. One I’d asked myself several times.

  Jackson continued. “Paige McQuaid’s attorney filed a formal grievance against Officer Mackey this morning, too.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration. “What’s Chief Garelik have to say about all of this?” To have the case usurped by the federal government after the time, effort, and expense his department had put into the investigation was insulting, and surely he was beyond pissed that his golden boy had been accused of being a dirty cop.

  “When I went by his office this morning to tell him, he nearly exploded.”

  “Is the DEA going to prioritize this case? Move in on Chaoxiang?”

  “It’s too late,” she said. “We got word he boarded a flight to Beijing yesterday. He’s probably playing it safe, waiting to see if he’s implicated before deciding whether to return.”

  “He’s gone? What does that mean for the investigation?”

  “Honestly? I’d say it’s dead in the water. Any competent defense attorney would be able to get Paige McQuaid off scot-free. Her prints weren’t on the phone or the bag of Molly, and her appearance at the gas station could easily be explained away by its proximity to the campus. Besides, the DEA has bigger fish to fry, Mexican cartels and whatnot. Without prints to link Chaoxiang Wu’s to the crime, they’re back to square one. This case won’t go anywhere in their hands.”

  “So I did all of this work for nothing?”

  “Looks that way.”

  I exhaled a long, slow breath. “I g-guess I’m done here, huh?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “You can pack up your things and go home.”

  We ended the call and I slid the phone into my pocket, taking a moment to breathe and process my thoughts and emotions. They were all over the place. I was angry that Senator Sutton had taken the case away from the Fort Worth Police Department. I was frustrated that all of the work I’d put in on this investigation was for naught. I was concerned that Derek had been wrongfully accused. I was equally concerned that he hadn’t.

  But I’d known when I went into police work that there was no end game to crime. It would never be over for good. Not all crimes would be solved. Not all lawbreakers would be caught. Not all victims would receive justice. Crime was a deep, self-inflicted wound on society, and all I could hope to do was staunch the flow of blood.

  Wow. That’s enough philosophical pondering for one day, isn’t it?

  “C’mon, girl,” I said to my partner. “Let’s go pack.”

  I led Brigit back to the dorm. Hunter’s curly head was bent over a book in the study lounge off the lobby. After I rounded up my things, I’d stop in and tell him good-bye, thank him for keeping my secrets. Wish him luck with the girls.

  Brigit and I took the stairs to the second floor. I slid my student ID through the skimmer, realizing it was the last time I’d be acting as Morgan Lewis. Good-bye, Morgan, I told myself. It’s been nice knowing you.

  The room was quiet. Emily was at her morning class. Looked like I wouldn’t get a chance to say good-bye to her. I hoped she’d get her stress under control, go speak to a counselor like I’d suggested.

  I rounded up a sticky note from my desk and wrote My parents are making me move in with my aunt and uncle. Good-bye and good luck. Fondly, Morgan.

  I retrieved my suitcases from the closet and filled them with the clothes and shoes I’d brought. I pulled the comforter and sheets off the bed, stuffing them into the suitcase along with the clothes, having to unzip the extender so everything would fit. I grabbed my other textbook and slid it into my backpack along with my other book and laptop. I could sell the books back to the bookstore later. I’d get only pennies on the dollar, of course, but it was better than nothing.

  Having packed everything in the room, I opened the door to the bathroom and stepped inside to get my makeup and toiletries. Loud voices coming from Paige and Alexa’s room caught my attention. The two were clearly arguing. Looked like Alexa had finally had enough and was sticking up for herself. Good for her.

  “You can’t just delete stuff from another person’s phone!” Alexa cried.

  “I’m the one in the video,” Paige snapped. “Not you. I had every right to delete it.”

  Video? What video?

  “Besides,” Paige continued. “Senator Sut—”

  She stopped speaking.

  “What does Senator Sutton have to do with this?” Alexa asked.

  Paige hesitated a moment before saying, “Let’s just say he wouldn’t be happy if that video had gotten out. It’s better if everyone’s looking at that cop instead of me.”

  “It’s not better for the cop!” Alexa shot back.

  “Why are you on his side?” Paige said, her tone more conciliatory now. “He gave you a ticket for minor-in-possession, and you saw how he treated Morgan. He basically assaulted her. I’m telling you. Those drugs weren’t mine. My prints weren’t on the bag. Besides, you think they’re going to prosecute a cop?” She scoffed. “Not likely. The police have been shooting unarmed people left and right and nobody does anything.”

  Paige was way overstating the case. Unfortunately, Alexa found it convincing. Or at least convincing enough. She offered no further protest.

  I realized now that they were talking about the video Alexa had taken with her phone Saturday night. She’d been in the perfect position to record Derek search
ing Paige’s bag. I gathered that the recording proved Derek’s innocence. It was both a relief to know for certain that he hadn’t planted the drugs on Paige, but also a frustration to realize that evidence that could have proved him innocent was gone now. And that comment about Senator Sutton. What exactly had Paige meant by that? Did Sutton know about the video?

  I rapped on the door to their room. “Can I come in?”

  “It’s open!” Alexa called.

  I stepped through the door. “I came to say good-bye,” I told them. “I have to move in with my aunt and uncle for a while until I’m”—I formed air quotes with my fingers—“‘mature’ enough to move back out on my own.” I rolled my eyes.

  “That’s so stupid,” Paige said. “You hardly did anything wrong.”

  “I know, right? Anyway, did I hear you two talking about the video Alexa took at the pool party? When the cops were there?”

  The two exchanged a glance.

  “Yeah,” Paige said tentatively, her head tilting. “What about it? What did you hear?”

  I forced a nonchalant shrug. “Not much. You were smart to delete it. I mean, I know those drugs weren’t yours, but that video could make you look guiltier. Like maybe you were holding the stash for someone.”

  Paige didn’t deny anything I said, didn’t refute my implied accusation that she’d tampered with evidence. Instead, she came over and gave me a hug. “We’ll miss you. Stop by and see us sometime, okay?”

  “I will.” When hell freezes over.

  On my way through the lobby, I turned into the study lounge and rolled my suitcases over to Hunter, Brigit trailing along, keeping a wary distance from the wheels of my luggage.

  Hunter looked up from his history textbook, his gaze moving down to my bags. “You moving out?”

  “Yeah.” For the benefit of any of the other students in the room who might be listening, I gave him the same story I’d given my suitemates. “My parents don’t trust me anymore. They’re making me move in with my aunt and uncle.” I gave Hunter a discreet wink.