by Box Set
I took a deep breath. Okay. Better now. I nodded. “Help me think of a name.”
Five minutes later, I felt the need to clarify. “No unusual celebrity names that Graham will easily spot.”
“There are lots of Goslings,” Liz argued.
“So no Hofstadter or Koothrappali,” Felicity added. “But Cooper could work.”
“Done,” I said. “Sarah Cooper.” I turned the page on my spiral notebook. “Now I need to make a to-do list. Curriculum Vitae. References. Email from the Coates Agency. Online back history in case he checks.”
“And a bank account,” Felicity said. “To deposit the checks.”
“I’m not going to take his money.”
Both of my friends looked at me like I was crazy.
“Do you think he’s not going to notice that?” Liz asked. “After all this other work to convince him Sarah Cooper is real?”
They had a point. “Okay. So I stall. I take a while to invoice him. Then when he sends the checks, I’ll delay in cashing them.”
“Does he mail checks to the other people who do work for him?” Liz asked. “Seems kind of old school.”
“No.” This wasn’t going to work. “He transfers the money electronically.”
“So you need a real bank account. One you can get the money back out of,” Felicity mused. “He never paid any attention to us, did he? Would he recognize my mother’s name?”
“I doubt it.” Felicity’s mother had kept her maiden name.
“I have a checking account that my mom’s name is on. So if you wanted to be Carol Lawrence, you could access the money, move it into savings, and give it back later.” Felicity grinned.
I reached out to shake her hand. “Hi, I’m Carol Lawrence, private investigator. Nice to meet you.”
“What if her mother notices the money?” Liz asked.
“She won’t,” Felicity said. “She’s way too busy to monitor my bank account. And if she does, I’ll tell her the truth.”
“I don’t want you to tell her the truth,” I argued.
“If the alternative is having her think I’m stealing or dealing drugs?” Felicity crossed her arms over her chest and cocked her head to the side.
“Fine. In that case, you can tell her.”
* * *
We put in a movie, and my friends got comfy on one of the big leather couches we’d had since I was little. When we’d moved all of the familiar furniture in, the cold, hard space had softened. Now it almost felt like home.
I grabbed my laptop from my room and set it up on the kitchen counter.
“Aren't you watching?” Felicity asked.
“I am. I swear. I just want to log in and see what Graham is doing.”
Liz paused the movie. “Great idea!”
They were both back at the kitchen island in seconds.
“Fine.” I searched through the case files until I found a new one. A case I didn't recognize. I opened the file. “The University hired him to look into a fraternity that has been using roofies on girls.”
“What a bunch of creeps,” Felicity said. “I hope he catches them.”
“He looked young enough,” I said. “But will they believe he’s visiting from another school?”
“I don't know anything about fraternities,” Liz admitted.
“Me either.” Felicity frowned. “Your brother must though. He went to college.”
“True.” I tried to ignore the unease in the pit of my stomach.
“It's just a stupid frat house,” Liz said.
“Yeah,” I said. “Let's watch the movie.”
* * *
We were just getting to the good part of the movie when my phone sounded an alarm.
I was on my feet in an instant.
“What is that?” Liz asked.
“I don't know,” I admitted as I rushed back to the kitchen island where my phone was flashing and sounding an obnoxious signal that sounded like a warning alarm on a submarine. I placed my thumb on the sensor and an app opened up.
I'd never seen this, and I didn't know when my brother had put it on my phone.
“Is there a fire?” Felicity asked.
“No,” I said. “I don’t think so.”
My phone showed a short clip of my brother's face as he said, “Been roofied.” Then it flashed directions on the screen. “Townsey, track me. Joshua, retrieve me ASAP.”
“When did he put this on my phone? And how did he get roofied?” I was already opening the app on my phone to track him, first by his phone and then by the device in his watch. The app mapped the closest route to the frat house and then showed the schematics of the house itself. The transmitters showed that his body was horizontal and moving up a flight of stairs.
“They drugged him?” Felicity asked.
“He's definitely in trouble,” I confirmed.
Then my phone rang, flashing the name Joshua. My brother used Joshua whenever he needed muscle. “Thank God.”
“Joshua! You need to get him fast. He's been roofied at some frat house.”
“Townsey,” the man said in his gravelly voice. “I'm in Key West right now. You'll have to call Parker Security and get one of their guys to do it.”
“What? Are you kidding me?”
“I'm sorry, Townsey. I wish I could help. Should I call Parker for you?”
I glanced around at my friends. “No. Thanks. I can handle it.” I hung up and turned to my friends. “Parker Security will take too long. We're going after Graham ourselves.”
Liz didn't look convinced. “Call them anyway. They can meet us there.”
Felicity shook her head. “It's not the mob. It's a frat house. I think we can manage a few boys.”
My kick-butt African American friend was never one to back away from a challenge, and she was right. If anyone could handle some drunk college boys, it was her. She may not have any power over my brother, but she had no trouble manipulating the boys at our school.
Liz on the other hand was small-boned petite and unlikely to intimidate anyone. I knew she could be a force to be reckoned with, but strangers were more likely to dismiss her as a harmless, petite, Asian girl.
“You drive and stay in the car, Liz.” I went to the kitchen cabinet nearest the door and hit it in the corner. It opened right up.
Liz gasped. “I thought that one didn't open.”
I grabbed three tasers and three ear pieces. “One for each of us. Felicity and I will go inside and find Graham. Bring your phones too.”
I watched the tracking app on my phone and gave Liz directions as she drove. She finally pulled up in front of an outdated three-story house near the university.
“Keep it running, and don't let anybody block you in,” I said. “He's on the top floor. Actually...” I looked again. “They put him on the roof.”
Felicity and I climbed out of the car. We slammed the doors and heard Liz click the locks.
Loud music poured out the open front door onto the concrete porch and front steps. We hurried inside and were hit with a stench that brought me to a halt. “Is that a decaying body?”
Felicity shook her head. “That's just stale beer. They must swim in the stuff.”
I glanced around at the girls and guys who were standing around the room. Each of them held a red Solo cup, and not all of them were at a safe angle. I guessed they spilled a lot. The explanation made sense. I didn't know how she would know about stale beer, but I didn't want to take the time to ask.
“Stepfather number three,” she said. “He was a disgusting pig. Plus, Patrick Donavon's garage smells like this.”
There wasn’t a stick of furniture in the living room. No chair, no couch, no nothing. I spotted a staircase and started up it.
A girl turned the corner and slammed into me, dropped her cup and splashed us both with beer.
This place was olfactory hell.
I stepped over the puddle of beer and turned down the hall. “Where are the other stairs?” I asked Felicity.
>
She shrugged. Then she stopped a guy who was walking down the hall.
“Oh my gosh, I'm so glad you're here,” she said, grabbing his arm.
The guy blinked at my friend long enough to register that she was extremely pretty. Then he grinned at her. “Hi, baby, I'm Walker.”
“Hi, Walker,” she said, and giggled.
Walker leered at her.
“Can you help us find the roof?” my friend asked.
The frat boy hesitated. “The roof is off limits.”
“That's the problem,” Felicity said. “Our friend is really, really drunk, and last time we saw her, she said she was going up to the roof.”
Good plan. “We need to check on her.” When the guy looked over at me, I tried to smile at him like Felicity was, but I was pretty sure I'd only ended up looking constipated. His eyes didn't linger on me for very long, instead seeking out Felicity.
“Please, Walker?” She twisted a curl around on her finger. “We would really appreciate it.”
He grimaced. “Okay, but don't tell anybody I took you up there.”
Felicity squealed and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. “You're the best!”
Walker grinned and reached for Felicity's hand. She surprised me by letting him hold it.
“This way,” he said, motioning back the way he'd come. He opened a door halfway down the hall, and we started up the stairs.
I was beginning to really worry. This was a lot of stairs, and Graham wasn't going to be in any shape to walk out of here. How were we going to get him to the car? Maybe I should have called for help.
Walker opened the door to the roof and we stepped outside. I took a deep breath, hoping to rid myself of the stale beer stench with some fresh air. Instead, I coughed out the strong smoke I recognized from every concert I'd ever been to. Apparently Crappa Crappa Alpo here used their roof for smoking pot.
A group of frat boys and a couple of scantily clad girls sat in a circle on the ground. They were passing around what I knew from our “Just say no” programs was a bong.
I scanned the roof for my brother. There were two chimneys and some dark shapes that must have been air conditioners. Finally, I saw a lump in the shadows. I ran over to him.
“Hey, Walker,” one of the guys from the circle said. “What's that girl doing?”
I rolled my brother over. He was out cold, and someone had taken a sharpie to his face. His forehead bore the word “Narc” and the rest of his face was covered in four-letter words.
Rage ignited in me, and I walked over the circle of miscreants. I held up my taser. “You,” I said, pointing to the biggest guy there, “and you.” I pointed to the guy next to him. “Get my brother and carry him to my car.”
“No way, man,” one of them said.
I reached out for the frat boy closest to me and tased the daylights out of him. He plunked over onto one of the girls, out cold.
“Who's next?” I asked.
“You can't just come in here and tase somebody,” one of the guys shouted.
“Yeah?” I said. “What are you going to do about it? Call the police?”
“Maybe we'll just grab that thing out of your hand,” another guy said.
I tased him too.
“I'll help carry him,” Walker said from nearby.
I turned to see that Felicity was now wielding her taser as well.
The big guy glared at me. “Fine. But you guys better not show your faces here again.” He stood and went over to help Walker get my brother up. With one on each side, they dragged him toward the stairs.
“Don't bang him up,” Felicity ordered.
“Man,” Walker said, looking at my friend, “I thought you were cool.”
By the time we got to the car, I was sure my brother had a few bruises. The big guy walked away as soon as they had Graham in the back seat.
Walker gave Felicity a hurt look. “Can I at least get your number?”
“Don't be ridiculous!” I snapped, sliding into the car next to my brother.
“Sorry,” Felicity said. “But give me yours.”
“Felicity!” I said.
Walker rattled off seven digits and risked kissing my friend on the cheek. Then he ran halfway up the porch steps before turning and waving to us.
“Get in the car, Felicity,” Liz said, taking charge and revving the engine.
I tried to rouse Graham again, but he mumbled something unintelligible and slipped back into unconsciousness.
Liz pulled away from the curb. “Is he okay?”
“I don't know,” I said. I checked his pulse. It seemed strong. “Those guys were drunk and high. I doubt they were very careful about how much they gave him.”
“We should take him to the hospital then,” Liz said with conviction. She turned right onto the main road.
“He's not going to like it,” Felicity said.
He wasn't. She had that right. But I wasn't going to compromise his safety for his pride. Plus there was the issue of his investigation. Taking him to the hospital would ensure the university had the evidence they were looking for.
“We don't have a choice,” I said. “Go to the University Hospital.” At least that way, Graham wouldn't get stuck with the bill.
Chapter 2
After we got Graham into the ER, I sent my friends back to my house. They didn't like it, but they knew we were going to be there for hours. There wasn't any sense in all of us staying up all night. Liz's parents were strict, and they'd threatened before to put an end to our sleepovers if Liz kept coming home exhausted. Felicity might be bold, brazen, and fearless, but she was also a hardcore nap-taker. She was always the first of the three of us to fall asleep, and she was yawning every few seconds by the time I sent them home.
The medical staff had asked me a million questions. I didn't tell them where Graham had been. I didn't think he'd want me to. I told them that he was working on an investigation and that a car had pulled up in front of our building and dumped him out onto the sidewalk. I'd seen it happen in movies, so I figured it was possible.
They decided that giving him charcoal wouldn't help since it had been over an hour since he'd ingested the drug. They had him on IV fluids and oxygen. He was hooked up to the machines, so I didn't have to worry that his heart might stop beating. Well, I still worried, but I didn't have to keep feeling for his pulse. The machine would sound an alarm if his heart stopped beating.
The nurse came in with some supplies. “I was going to clean up his face,” she said. “Do you want me to get some pictures first, or can you take some with your phone?”
It hadn't occurred to me, but I got out my phone and carefully photographed his face.
“They could have killed him, couldn't they?” I asked.
She nodded. “Rohypnol is a sedative. It can be lethal. The doctor thinks they gave him something else too.”
The doctor came to the door of the room and spoke to the nurse. “Hold off on his face for now. The police are sending over a detective.”
Great. My brother was going to be very unhappy when he woke up.
The detective came into the room a short time later. I had drifted off for a few minutes, sitting in the chair next to Graham's bed.
“Townsey,” a voice said. “Can you wake up for a minute?”
I struggled to think clearly as I raised up to see Detective Joe McCoy.
“He looks terrible,” the detective said.
I nodded. Joe had been a friend of my father's. I trusted him, and so did Graham. Joe was my godfather. The man looked exactly the same as he had ten years earlier, and I was pretty sure he’d been forty then. His receding hairline seemed to have stopped at two deep vees on either side of his forehead.
“The nurse says he was dumped off at your apartment.”
“That's what I told her,” I said, carefully choosing my words.
“Your story might change when he wakes up?”
“It might,” I said.
“Will he
press charges when he wakes up?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “He might contact the university directly.”
Joe nodded, understanding everything I'd left unsaid. “I'll wait to file my report.”
“Thanks, Joe.”
“Is there anything I can do for you, kiddo?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I'm good.”
“I don't guess you'd go home and get some rest.”
“Not until he wakes up.”
“That's what I figured.” He pulled a card and a pen from his pocket and wrote a number on the back of the card. “I should have done this sooner, Townsey. If something happens and you need me, just call my personal cell phone. Don't put yourself in danger.” He glanced down at my brother. “Not even to help Graham, okay?”
I nodded and took the card. “Thanks, Joe.”
“When he wakes up, tell him I'll be back.”
The nurse came in a few minutes later and showed me how to turn the chair I was sitting in into a bed. She made it up with sheets and a blanket, and I crawled in. She handed me a pillow.
“He's doing fine, hon,” she said. “His heart rate is better than when you brought him in. I'll be in every two hours to record his pulse and 02 sats.”
“Thank you,” I said.
When I woke again, it was almost six a.m. My friends, or former friends were standing at my brother's bedside cooing over him. I groaned and sat up, dislodging a piece of hair that was glued to my face with dried drool. I couldn't stand myself I was so gross.
Liz and Felicity didn't share my issues. In fact, they had obviously showered, done their hair, and hunted up floral sundresses to wear. Since it wasn't Easter Sunday, I was at a loss until I realized that my brother's recent girlfriend had been a fan of dresses.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I grumbled. “Have you no shame?”
They didn’t keep dresses at my house which meant they’d actually gone to their respective homes to get them. Had they snuck into their own houses? How crazy were they?
“We brought you a diet coke,” Liz said, holding up a thirty-two ounce drink.
“And a muffin,” Felicity said, handing me a paper bag. I immediately set it down and reached for my drink.
