The Price of Cash

by Ashley Bartlett

  “Dawson, be cool, man.”

  He jerked and looked at me. “Oh, right.” He jumped into Raleigh and Jimmy’s discussion about the virtues of Voltron. Which was a thing I totally understood.

  “I think I want a beer,” Laurel said. “You should probably go with me, then get distracted by Nate.”

  “I do get distracted easily.”

  We stood. I was mildly concerned that bow tie would have noticed our blatant staring, but he seemed completely oblivious.

  “Hey, what’s the deal?” I asked Nate as we got closer.

  “I’m grabbing a beer.” Laurel kissed me briefly. It was unnecessary for our cover, which made it more enjoyable. “You cool?”

  “Yeah, I’m gonna stay with my boy.” I clapped my hand on Nate’s shoulder.

  Laurel nodded and went inside.

  “Hey, man. This is Tony. Tony, Cash.”

  Tony looked mildly concerned. “Cash?”

  “Yeah.” I shook his hand. Harder than necessary. This kid knew who I was.

  “I was just getting some Molly. You want?” Nate asked.

  I grimaced. “Not feeling it. Anything else?”

  Nate shook his head. “No, just that and acid. I know you hate acid.”

  I really did hate acid.

  “That’s all I sell. I swear,” Tony said.

  “Yeah?” I asked. He nodded. “You sure?”

  “Look.” He fumbled in his chest pocket and pulled out a painted Altoids tin. He popped it open and showed me the contents. It was a couple dozen tabs of acid and about five white pills. “I’m not trying to take over from you. I know you’ve been kinda off the radar, but that’s not my game. I swear.”

  Laurel came back in time to catch the tail end of Tony’s speech. She glanced at the open tin in his hand and sighed. “How’s it going?” She leaned against me.

  “Good.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “It’s not him.” I kept my voice low so only she could hear. Well, the wire probably was picking it up just fine.

  “I’m getting that.” Laurel turned to the guys. She took a drink of her beer and stared hard at Tony. “Get out of here.”

  “Huh?” Tony tucked away his drugs. He must have finally realized he wasn’t going to make a sale.

  “Just go home.” Laurel shook her head at Tony. “I’ll be with Dawson,” she said to me.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. We watched her rejoin Dawson and his boys.

  “What’s her deal?” Tony asked.

  “You heard the lady,” I said.

  “She can’t tell me what to do.” He had looked young before. With that, he lost about ten years. This kid was in the wrong game.

  I decided to do him a favor. I shoved him in the direction of the fountain, which I suddenly found an appreciation for. He stumbled backward and I shoved him again. When he was next to the fountain with its glorious running water, I grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close to my face. “Listen, kiddo. You’re done.”

  “Let me go.” He sniffled, which didn’t help his case.

  “No.” I shook him for good measure. “You’re over your fucking head.”

  “No, I’m not. I can handle myself.”

  Nate stepped up close behind him. Tony was so focused on my face that he didn’t notice until he was pressed uncomfortably close between us.

  “You really can’t handle yourself,” Nate said.

  “You guys are assholes.” Tony was whining now.

  “We are. And this is just the beginning.” I yanked the tin out of his shirt pocket.

  “Hey.” He tried to grab the tin back, but Nate grabbed his wrists and twisted them behind his back. Tony struggled against the sudden constraint. “Hey, let me go.”

  I opened the tin and upended it over the fountain. The pills dropped straight to the bottom of the pool. The tabs of paper with their cute little designs drifted down to the surface of the water. They floated for a moment before swirling and sinking. The colors bled into the water, briefly turning it pink and green.

  Tony hung his head. He stopped struggling against Nate.

  “Who is your distributor?” I asked. Probably should have asked that before I dumped the evidence, but I was pretty confident his distributor wasn’t Aryan Nations.

  “I don’t have to tell you.”

  “Get your head out of your ass, kid,” I said.

  “I’m not telling you shit.” Someone found his big boy pants.

  Nate pulled his arms up.

  “Oww, fuck. Stop it.” Tony’s voice seemed to be getting higher. Nate didn’t stop. “Fine. Fine.” He looked around. A fair number of people were watching, but they were giving us a wide berth. “My aunt. She’s like a total old hippie chick.”

  “Your aunt gave you LSD to sell?”

  Tony stopped struggling again. He was staring pretty intently at my feet. “I stole it from her,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “I was visiting her property up in Tahoe. And I found her stash and I stole some.”

  “What about the Molly?” Nate asked.

  “I traded for it at a rave.”

  Nate and I looked at each other. We were benevolent as fuck. Nate shook his head and grinned. This kid was lucky.

  “We’re watching you. You’re out. If you start back up, we’ll know,” I said.

  “But—”

  Nate yanked Tony’s arms again. “Listen to her.”

  “We will know and we will fuck you up.” I almost believed me when I said it.

  “Okay.” Tony went back to sniffling. Nate let go of the kid. He stretched like he was trying to regain his dignity, not just full movement. “You guys can suck my dick.” He turned to walk away.

  I grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. “Your dick is not a weapon.”

  “Let me go.”

  I released him. He shoved me and ran away. I laughed. Nate laughed. Dawson, Raleigh, Brando, Mike, James, and Jimmy all stood and applauded as he ran past. Nate and I rejoined the little group. Laurel nodded at me and smiled.

  “He wasn’t the guy was he?” Dawson asked.

  I shook my head. “Sorry. We’ll find him though.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Dawson sat down. The other boys followed suit.

  “You guys keep asking around. That will help, all right?” I squeezed Dawson’s shoulder.

  “Totally.” They all nodded their heads.

  “I heard it was an opiate, which makes sense if it was an OD. Did you guys hear that?” Nate asked.

  “Yeah, that’s what P’s brother told me,” Brando said.

  “Oh, yeah.” Mike pointed at Brando and nodded emphatically. “He said it was Fan…Fant…Fate…”

  “Fantasia,” Brando said triumphantly.

  “Fantasia isn’t a fucking drug, dipshit.” Raleigh hit Brando.

  “Farma…Flail…” Mike was getting real good at sounding out words.

  “Fentanyl?” Nate asked.

  “Yes,” Mike and Brando said simultaneously.

  “Got it. So when you’re asking around, see if anyone is dealing fentanyl,” I said.

  “What’s fentanyl?” Dawson asked.

  They all looked at me. I was the expert, after all. “It’s a synthetic opioid. Like hydrocodone.” Blank looks. “Like Vicodin or Norco, but it’s a lot stronger.” They nodded in understanding.

  “Like a lot stronger,” Nate said.

  “Like sometimes they use it to cut heroin,” I said.

  The boys all went wide-eyed. “Why would Pedro take that?” Jimmy asked.

  I really didn’t have an answer for that one. “He might have thought it was something else. Or he was told it wasn’t as strong as it actually was.”

  We all sat in silence for a moment. They were all maintaining a decent facade, but it was clear they were still struggling. I would have been more worried if they were fine.

  Laurel held up her beer. “To Pedro.”

  They collectively reacted like college boys. There was
a brief hesitation like they had never seen a toast, followed by an emphatic hoisting of bottles and Solo cups. They all took long drinks, then broke back into their small groups of two or three.

  Laurel leaned over and showed me her phone screen. We were being called back to the van. In all caps. That probably wasn’t good.

  “Is it that late already?” I asked just loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Raleigh giggled. “You getting old, Cash?”

  “If by old you mean able to rent a car without my parents, then yes.”

  The other guys hooted and high-fived.

  “Okay, okay.” Raleigh put up his hands in surrender.

  I laughed. They weren’t terrible kids. “Actually, we’re supposed to work another party tonight.” Dawson and James perked up. I really didn’t need them trying to tag along. “It’s in Davis.” They both deflated a little.

  “Sorry to be a buzzkill,” Laurel said.

  The boys waved that off. Nate, Laurel, and I stood to leave. We got hugs and slaps on the back and high fives and fist bumps. It was overwhelming, but sweet. They were trying. Once we got out of the house, Laurel turned back to us.

  “We’re being asked to go to mobile headquarters. They’re moving to a parking lot a couple blocks north of here. Nate, do you know where they are?”

  “Yeah, Reyes texted me the location. I’m parked down the street.” He nodded the opposite direction of Laurel’s truck. “So I’ll see you guys in a sec.”

  The door of the little bungalow opened again. Officer Duarte came out and walked past us. He barely made eye contact. Just enough to acknowledge our presence.

  Nate took off down the street. We did the same. As soon as we got in the truck, Laurel reached into her pants, presumably to turn off her wire.

  “You can turn yours off too,” she said.

  “Cool. When can I pull off the mic? It’s annoying as hell.” I turned off the transmitter.

  “I’d wait until you can wash off the adhesive. That’s what bugs me.” Laurel pulled onto the street.

  “So it wasn’t the guy.”

  “No. Not even a little bit.” Laurel was gripping the steering wheel tight.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She shrugged. “This happens in every investigation.”

  “But we didn’t even get a viable lead.”

  “But you did that kid a favor.” She smiled at me briefly. “That was kind of you.”

  “He will probably do some other equally dumb thing to make a quick buck.” I didn’t think I was better or more enlightened than little Tony. I just had a deeper understanding of the world. A kid like him would get eaten alive trying to deal drugs. But the same logic that led him to dealing would probably hurt him in some other way.

  “Possibly. Or this will be the one truly dumb thing he ever does and everything else will be a pale imitation of this stupidity.”

  “We can hope, right? At least this gives him a chance.”

  Laurel parked behind the very obvious surveillance van. She spared a moment to stare at me. “You give a lot of people a lot of chances. For a cynic, you’re shockingly optimistic.”

  I stared at her. I didn’t know how to respond. Simple seemed best. “Thanks.”

  She nodded at me, then got out of the truck.

  Nate approached from the other direction and pulled into a parking space. Duarte got out of his car too. Otherwise, the lot was empty. About half the streetlights were operational, so that was a win. We knocked on the back of the van. The back door swung open and Gibson jumped out.

  “What the fuck were you thinking?” He grabbed the front of my T-shirt and slammed me back into the grill of Laurel’s truck.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” Laurel hooked her arms under Gibson’s biceps and hauled him backward. Which was kind of hot.

  Michelson and Reyes jumped out of the van. Gibson threw Laurel off. She stumbled back and Reyes caught her. Gibson came right back at me. I was prepared enough this time to brace myself for impact, but that was about all I could do. Gibson was a big dude.

  “Detective, you need to stand the fuck down,” Agent Michelson said. He waited a full second to see if Gibson would respond before yanking him off me.

  “That bitch needs to answer my goddamn questions.” Gibson wrestled with Michelson. Michelson shoved him into the side of the van and held him there. Duarte stepped up close behind Michelson like he wanted to help but didn’t know how.

  Nate moved into my field of vision. Then Kallen and Reyes stepped in front of him. That was kind of nice. Three people protecting me.

  “Cool off, man,” Reyes said.

  Gibson stopped fighting Michelson, but he didn’t relax. “I will cool off when this bitch tells me why she let our best lead go.”

  “She didn’t. I did,” Laurel said.

  Gibson laughed. “That better be some quality tail, Kallen. You sure it’s worth your career?”

  “Excuse me?” Laurel said.

  Nate started laughing. He looked back at me so I followed suit. “You think Cash would fuck a cop?”

  “Okay, everyone, stop talking.” Reyes stepped between Laurel and Gibson with his hands up. “Let’s not say things that we will regret later.”

  “This isn’t your fucking hippie therapist, Reyes. We all need answers. It’s not just me. Your goddamn CI is obstructing justice and your goddamn cunt of a partner is fucking her so she’s colluding—” Gibson suddenly stopped talking because Michelson’s forearm was across his throat. Gibson started turning red.

  “Reyes is doing you a favor so shut the fuck up and listen to him.” Michelson’s voice was low. It reverberated through the parking lot.

  Belatedly, I realized that Laurel was also turning red. I’d seen plenty of emotion from her, but I’d never seen this level of anger. She stepped up close behind Michelson and spoke over his shoulder.

  “My CI isn’t obstructing justice. You’re just a shit detective. Don’t blame your incompetence on other people. We can’t manufacture evidence to indulge your poor instincts.” That was as far as she got before Reyes pulled her away and stepped in front of her again.

  Nate leaned against the truck next to me, his body vibrating with silent laughter. I wanted to join in, but Gibson’s fixations had officially moved from obnoxious to violent. And he was wrong about the case, but he wasn’t exactly misinterpreting my relationship with Laurel. The disconnect between truth and imagination was too dramatic for my comfort.

  Michelson finally let go of Gibson. He clenched his jaw, his hands, his biceps, but didn’t try to assault anyone. After a moment, he climbed back in the van.

  “Ms. Braddock, Mr. Xiao, I think it would be prudent to conduct this interview down at the station,” Michelson said.

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. I was afraid if I didn’t respond, Nate would and he was definitely going to laugh if he opened his mouth.

  “I’m sorry if that’s inconvenient,” Michelson said.

  It really was. Especially considering we had four hours before we needed to be in our own van in a UC Davis faculty lot.

  “Why don’t you two head home, get some rest, and we will schedule an interview in the morning?” Reyes said.

  Michelson started to say something, but Gibson let out a bark of laughter from inside the van. Michelson shook his head and moved toward the open door.

  “Nate, do you mind driving Cash home? I should probably stay and sort this out,” Laurel said.

  “Sure.” Nate grinned and shrugged. He was gaining far too much pleasure from this whole exchange.

  “You guys have a super fun night,” I said. Kallen and Reyes shot me looks that suggested their night was not going to be fun. “And remember, it’s not okay to be respectful toward a CI, but making wild, unfounded accusations is totally fine.”

  A low stream of curse words began emanating from inside the van.

  “You were one of those kids who liked to light things on fire just to watch them burn, weren’t you?” Reyes aske
d.

  I shrugged. Nate threw his arm around my shoulders and directed me to his car. He was still quite amused with the turn our evening had taken.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  When I’d picked Nate up ninety minutes before, he’d climbed in the van and reverently, triumphantly set up a shrine on the dash for a bag of purple grapes. An hour into our stakeout, the grapes had lost their appeal, the shrine had lost its humor, and I’d lost the ability to focus. Nate had been going on for twenty minutes about his Amazon-for-drugs seller and I hadn’t processed a word of it.

  “Start over. What are you suggesting?”

  Nate huffed. “Okay, the reason we got the drugs so cheap is that this seller is known for inconsistencies. Like their pills are always a grab bag of dosage.”

  “That’s not worrisome.” That was totally worrisome.

  “Shut up. There was a whole section of reviews and descriptions I didn’t know about, okay?” He held out a bag of almonds and I took a handful.

  “Remember a couple weeks ago when I was all pissed about this?”

  “Yeah.” He said it real slow.

  “I’m over it. I’ve realized that we are just fucked, so this is our new reality. It’s cool.” I tossed a couple almonds in my mouth and tried to find a more comfortable position.

  “It’s cool that we are fucked, got it.”

  “Good. So you ordered from a bad seller.” I waved my hand for him to continue.

  “Not a bad seller, a notoriously inconsistent seller. People order from them to sell at raves, just like we talked about. If you want consistency, the price goes way up.”

  “So we need to order from one of the expensive ones? Which means we need to reevaluate all our costs. Again.” I held out my hand. Nate poured in more almonds.

  “Or we can keep using Mateo,” Nate said. I cocked my head. “It would still be cheaper. And we get the added bonus of him checking every single shipment so we don’t accidentally sell adulterated product.”