Fire

by Lynnette Bonner

  Case offered a sigh full of what he hoped sounded like teen angst. It wasn’t too far from his true feelings because he suddenly realized that he wasn’t going to get his steak right now. Impromptu was the name of the game undercover. And they’d made enough of a scene that word would get around in a small town like this. He could leave with Chloe right now and maybe engender himself some points with RD for thinking quick on his feet when a pretty girl was around.

  Fixing his gaze on Chloe, he tossed down his napkin and stood. “You want to get out of here?”

  Chloe looked surprised.

  He couldn’t blame her because he’d done his best all week to put her off.

  She blinked. “Uh sure.”

  “Great. Let’s go.” He swept past her and started from the room.

  Chloe’s heels clicked as she followed him.

  Behind them, he heard the scrape of Mick’s chair. “Case Presley Sheridan, you get back here right now! You haven’t even eaten yet!”

  At the use of the middle name assigned to his cover, it was almost more than he could do to keep his grumpy expression. The King had been Mick’s idol when he was a teen even though Elvis’s reign had been well before his time. The whole unit had given the captain a hard time for sneaking in a use of his name on this op.

  Case tossed a wave over his shoulder. “I’m not hungry.” And with that, he banged through the door and left Mick to deal with the aftermath of their disagreement.

  CHAPTER 7

  Keeping a straight face was difficult as the new kid banged out into the parking lot of the Harbor House. Laughing while everyone in the room gave each other shocked looks or tossed the father sympathetic ones would probably not go over too well.

  But… Drama much? The kid obviously needed to chill out a little. Maybe some Fire was in order. That ought to relax him and take the edge off. The smirk did slip free then, but only for the briefest of moments. Hopefully, the quick swipe of the napkin hid the expression from others. The fleeting reminder that in this business one had to be very careful who they approached to sell their product to also came to mind.

  A sigh slipped free. Making money selling drugs definitely had its challenges.

  Connie, the waitress, showed up just then with the Sheridans’ plates.

  The dad—was his name Mick?—waved a hand to the boy’s meal. “I’ll need a box for that one, it seems.”

  Connie smiled placatingly. “No problem. Do you want me to keep it in the warmer till you leave?”

  Did my eyes just roll? Selling drugs might be more dangerous than waiting tables, but it likely required a lot less patience.

  The dad shook his head. “No need for that. Thanks.”

  The chatter in the room slowly resumed as everyone turned back to their own meals.

  Greg Salazar exited the bathroom and started outside. That was the cue. They were supposed to meet out by Greg’s car in just a few moments now, but the transaction would have to be delayed. With Case and Chloe out there, right now was too risky. But Greg would wait. After only two sales the kid was so hooked there was no need to worry that he’d drive away without buying. The hungry eyes that flicked this way even now, revealed that much.

  A subtle shake of the head hopefully registered with the kid that it would be a few minutes yet.

  A few more sips of water. A few more bites of the salad that had been pushed aside earlier. An order of the Harbor House specialty dessert—caramel ice cream swirled with chocolate fudge. And, annoyingly, a bit more conversation was necessary.

  But finally, the moment for goodbyes arrived.

  It didn’t take more than an “accidental” bump into Greg in the dusk-cloaked, empty parking lot to swap a little bag of Fire for cold hard cash. And the deed was done.

  Spirits buoyed as the soft leather of the sports car’s seat welcomed.

  It was done.

  And so much easier than waiting tables.

  A knock on his door woke Case at three thirty AM. He pushed himself up to one elbow, rubbing his eyes with thumb and forefinger. “Yeah?”

  Mick poked his head through the door. “Sheriff just called. They’ve got another body.”

  Case came wide awake. “I’ll be right out.”

  Mick nodded and withdrew.

  Case pulled on jeans and thrust his arms through the sleeves of a T-shirt as he pushed through his door and headed toward the living room. Mick was just pressing the “brew” button on the coffee pot.

  Case pulled two mugs from the cupboard and set them on the counter, then leaned against it and folded his arms. Of course, to keep their cover they would need to stay away from the scene of the crime, but maybe the police had been more helpful than usual with some information. “They say who it is? And know for sure it was an OD?”

  The bags under Mick’s eyes proved that he wasn’t quite awake yet either. “They only found the body fifteen minutes ago, so COD isn’t confirmed. But the kid’s name is Greggory Salazar. Pictures should be coming through soon. So I haven’t seen him yet. But you said the kid sitting at Hall’s table last night was named Greg. Same kid?”

  Case stepped over to the stacks of student files that covered the dining table and fingered through to the S section. “Salazar…Salazar. Here it is.” He tugged it out and flipped it open. His heart sank. “Yeah, it’s him.” He handed the folder over to Mick.

  Enough coffee had dripped into the carafe for two cups, so while Mick perused the file, Case filled their cups. He nudged one cup toward Mick, put the carafe back under the spout, and then took a hearty sip from his own cup.

  Mick slammed the folder onto the top of the stacks with one palm, coffee going unnoticed. “This kid was only seventeen years old!” He cursed.

  Case held his silence. This was the hardest part of their job. The kid’s death had happened on their watch. That never felt good. In fact, it felt way too much like failure. His failure. Could he have figured this out sooner? Worked faster? Dug deeper? Maybe even befriended Greg and prevented him from taking the drugs altogether? That was the problem with this job. Evil struck from all directions and it wasn’t humanly possible to be looking everywhere at once. He pulled in a breath and gritted his teeth against the wash of anger that threatened to roll over him. He’d learned long ago not to give in to the anger. It only caused him to make mistakes, and right now they couldn’t afford any more of those.

  Instead he turned all the pent-up emotions toward prayer. God, it would be really great if You could help us catch this guy before any other kids are killed.

  Mick’s phone buzzed. He grunted. “Pictures are here.”

  They stepped into the living room and Mick paired his phone to the large screen hanging on one wall.

  Case felt a chill grip him. The first picture was of the victim behind the wheel of his car. And in the background… “Is that Harbor House?”

  Mick looked grim.

  “So did he never leave the parking lot?”

  Mick rubbed the back of his neck and then texted back to the officer who had sent him the images. “I’ll ask about surveillance footage.” Only a moment later he grunted in satisfaction. “He said they’ll send it our way as soon as they get it.”

  Case sighed, swiping the screen to see the images of the victim and his car from the other angles. “At least the restaurant has cameras. I wasn’t certain they would.” He tapped on a zoomed-in image. “What’s this?”

  There was a tiny ziplock bag filled with orange crystals in the image.

  Mick took a closer look. “Is that this new drug?”

  Case tapped the image again. “We should make sure they fingerprint that. Inside and out. And give us an analysis as soon as they have it.”

  “Already on it.” Mick fired off a text.

  The next hour was spent carefully analyzing all the images and reading Greggory Salazar’s file from cover to cover. There didn’t seem to be any signs of a struggle—and that assessment came from both the images and the officers who were actua
lly able to view the body at the crime scene. From all the evidence this appeared to be another overdose.

  It was nearly five AM when the email with the link to download the security footage arrived. Careful assessment showed Greg arriving at the restaurant just after they had around five thirty the evening before. But he’d parked in the back corner of the lot where the cameras didn’t reach. Still, there were no other exits from the parking lot, and his car had never left the lot. If he’d spoken to anyone other than Mr. Hall and Chloe inside the restaurant, it wasn’t visible on the footage.

  Mick and Case sat back in their chairs and looked at each other.

  Mick swallowed the last of his third cup of coffee and started another pot. “Alright, we know the kid never left the lot after he arrived. He spoke to Hall. And to Chloe, briefly. And we don’t know if he spoke to anyone else by his vehicle. Where does that leave us?”

  Case leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Either he had the drugs on him when he arrived. Or one of the people who was in that restaurant is our dealer. Or someone came into the parking lot from an angle we can’t see with the cameras and sold him the drugs.”

  Mick pulled up the still images of the crime scene again. He enlarged one and pointed to the background. “Unless our dealer is in the habit of hopping—what would you say? A nine-foot fence?—it’s not likely that he came into the lot from the back.”

  Case nodded. “Good catch.” The fence in the image was high and covered with an overgrowth of vines that didn’t appear to be disturbed. “Ask them if there’s any evidence of someone having climbed the fence. Broken vines? Fresh leaves on the ground? If not, I say we concentrate on the people who were eating there last night. Chances are slim that the kid would arrive with the drugs, go in to talk to Hall, and then OD in the parking lot before going home. If he was that desperate to get the drugs in his system, doesn’t it seem probable that he would have shot up the moment he got his hands on them?”

  Mick nodded.

  “To me that says he either bought them in the restaurant, or from someone outside afterward.”

  Mick nodded again. “I agree.”

  “Think Chloe could have slipped them to him?”

  Mick pondered. “From all appearances, that little crash they had was totally accidental. I think she was intent only on coming over to see you. Did she act strange while you were out walking?”

  Case shook his head. “Not really.”

  Mick considered for a few more moments. “Well we can’t rule her out. But I’m thinking she’s low on our priority list.”

  Case nodded his agreement and glanced at his watch. “I need to get in the shower if I’m going to make it to the school in time for my Saturday morning detention.” He ignored Mick’s smirk. “But I think the cops should have a chat with Simon Hall about what might have been in that folder we saw him hand to Greg last night. Two officers were in the dining room too, so they can pass it off as if they were the ones who saw the exchange.”

  “Right.” Mick stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “Happy detention-ing. I’ll get on this other stuff and hopefully have an update for you when you get home this afternoon. And son…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Please be on your best behavior at school today.”

  The news had already reached the community. Case knew it the moment he walked into detention. The supervising teacher hadn’t arrived yet and all the students were talking a hundred miles an hour. All of them except RD, who was the reason Case had contrived to get himself assigned to detention in the first place. RD had his arms folded against his desk and was simply taking in all the conversation around him with a slight smirk on his face.

  Case plunked himself into the empty desk next to RD and leaned close to him. “What’s got everyone so upset?”

  RD greeted him with a gesture of his signature W before he shrugged. “Kid named Salazar went out in a ball of Fire last night, yo.”

  All around them snickers broke out.

  Case pretended ignorance. “He have a car crash or something?”

  RD looked at him. “No man. He was at the double H for about a dime. Next thing we all know, cops found him eyes to the sky in his ride.”

  So not only had word spread, but it was all fairly accurate too. Case considered the way RD had emphasized the word “fire.”

  RD’s eyes narrowed. He leaned close and lowered his voice as the chatter around them rose once more. “Saw you leave just before he died. You dealing the Fire? I hear it’s some good stuff, man.”

  This time there was no mistaking the name Fire. That must be the street name for the orange crystals the police had found in the victim’s car.

  Was he really asking for a drug that he knew had likely killed a kid last night? Or just trying to get more information? Or was RD the cook and mastermind behind the drug and simply trying to get the word out?

  No matter the scenario, Case wanted to dress the kid down and back up again. Instead, he reminded himself that he’d once been a stupid teenager too, and only shook his head. “Wasn’t me, man. But if you figure out where to score some, let me in on the secret, yeah?”

  Case clenched his jaw. If only Chloe hadn’t insisted that they walk down to the beach last night, he might have been in the parking lot to see what had gone down. Either that, or seeing him there might have scared the dealer off and it would have saved Greg’s life.

  Mr. Carter, the study hall teacher, walked in before RD could respond, but Case was satisfied with the next step he’d taken to befriend the kid.

  Now it remained to be determined if RD was putting on an act or if he truly was innocent of the distribution of the drug called Fire.

  Kyra felt like she’d been run over by a train on Monday morning when she got to school and heard the news. She’d only had Greg Salazar in her class for a week and a half, but he’d been a quiet, polite kid. She’d had no idea he was doing drugs. Should she have seen any signs? Was his death her fault?

  A special assembly of the student body had been called, which was just as well because the students in her first-period class were silent and withdrawn. They needed the time with the special counselors, and the release to process the news with their friends. If the death had happened on school property during school hours the school probably would have been shut down for several days, but since it had happened on the weekend and off campus, it had been decided to keep the kids’ routines as uniform as possible.

  The week passed with a lot of shed tears and a school memorial assembly for Greg on Thursday morning. Many of the kids in this small community had known Greg their entire lives.

  The police had been on campus several times, asking the kids questions, but as far as Kyra knew they hadn’t figured out where Greg got the drugs yet. The police had even questioned her and Ashley and Simon and Principal Vaughan since they’d all been at the restaurant that night. Kyra wished she had something more to give them, but the truth was, she’d been so intent on ignoring one Case Sheridan that night, that she’d hardly paid attention to anyone else in the room. Of course, she hadn’t told the police that.

  Case had been interviewed too. An officer had come and removed him from class on Tuesday morning. But there had been something about the casual matter-of-fact way that he’d faced the interview that had piqued her attention.

  Something wasn’t right about that kid. The first few days of tennis, he’d acted like he had two left feet. Then suddenly on Monday morning, he’d come to class and seemed like a totally different kid.

  And on this gloriously sunny day that had made her oh so happy to take her class out to the tennis courts, she had witnessed more of the same. The kid, who last week could barely connect with the ball, had slammed down several aces today. Kyra was still speculating about his rapid transition when she glanced at her watch and noticed the period was over. She blew her whistle and let the kids head back into the gym to change their clothes. She watched Case’s lean athletic jog from behind and s
hook her head.

  Simon Hall was the school’s soccer coach. He’d mentioned to her in the teachers’ lounge yesterday that he’d tried to talk Case into coming out for the team, but that the kid had said his father had forbidden it so that he would keep his grades up. Yet with most kids as athletic as Case, joining a sport was often the incentive they needed to keep their grades up. Maybe she should have a talk with his father. It was obvious that the kid needed some extra motivation. And yet, from their meeting on Friday evening, she just couldn’t see Case’s father welcoming her input.

  Kyra pushed into her office and dropped her whistle into her desk drawer. There was definitely something…intriguing about that family. Yet didn’t every family have their own unique quirks? So why was she so interested in this one?

  She rolled her eyes at herself. Like you don’t know.

  For the rest of the week she kept an eye on Case, trying to decide what to do. She didn’t want him—or any of the kids, for that matter—to be the next victim of this latest drug. Chloe Schumacher was obviously interested in him, but he kept her at a careful arm’s length. Twice Kyra had to wake Case up in the middle of English class, but each time she got the feeling that he was putting on an act when he “woke up.” Twice more he was late for English, and another time he was late to PE. Yet his answers in the discussion they were having in English about Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, when she pinned him down for them, seemed well thought out, and mature beyond his years just as they had been in the discussion about Beowulf. But today he’d been late for first period again, and she couldn’t let that slide. So when the bell rang for dismissal and everyone rose to leave, Kyra called Case’s name. “Case? Hang around a minute, will you?”

  He didn’t look happy about it, but he dipped his head and sauntered toward her desk, backpack slung over one shoulder, while the other students filed from the room. Chloe gave Case a sympathetic smile on her way out the door and tossed a glower at Kyra for good measure.