Uncovering Officer Smith (The Discovering Trilogy #2) (6 page)

“Just knock on my door when you leave.”

“Okay,” I tell him, knowing that it’s not going to happen.

Books are piled up in front of me so high, I can barely see over them. I have to blink a few times before my eyes focus back on the pages before me.

“Ugh.” I run my hands down my face.

“Hey, stranger.” Tom’s smooth voice echoes down to me from my great wall of books. When I glance up, I can just make out the rim of his dark glasses.

“Oh, hey, I was just—”

“Deep into studies, I see.”

“Yeah.” My shoulders slump.

“Do you mind if I join you?” His finger points to an empty chair across from me.

“Uh, sure.” I awkwardly jostle and slide books to a pyramid on the other side of the circular table.

“Thanks.” He settles in across from me. “That’s a lot of books. Are you studying all of them?”

“I like to be prepared.” My eyes remain on the sheet in front of me.

“I get it.” He plucks a packet from his book bag and starts taking some notes.

We continue like this for what feels like hours, studying, sighing, and taking notes in silence. Only twice, I catch his eyes on me. But, for the most part, it’s nice. For once, it’s nice not being alone.

My hand hovers over the pause button. The screen before me is swimming, the long nights finally catching up with me. I rub my eyes once more and glare at the small television screen I’m watching. The figures blur before me and fade into shadows. One would think the most popular bar on The Ave would be able to afford night vision cameras. Instead, I’m forced to study the faces through scattered, revolving lights.

The tall and lanky Mr. Connor peeks his head into the room. “How’s everything going in here, John?”

I didn’t even have to flash a badge for him to offer up his security footage. “No luck yet.” My fingertips rub at my temples again.

“You should really get some sleep. Feel free to take these home and watch them later.” He takes a step into his small office through the kitchen.

I groan. “Yeah, maybe I will. Thanks, Boss.”

“No problem. See you Friday night.” With a wave, he leaves me and I turn back to the screen.

There she is
. I pause when I see her blonde hair swish across her back, making her way to the bar. Automatically, I lean in closer, as if that would somehow make the picture clearer. Her ginger-haired friend is beside her for a little bit. They dance and giggle with a pair of drinks in hand. A man approaches them. I freeze, until he strikes up a conversation with the redhead. After that, it’s pretty much Becca on her own. She dances by herself for a while, barely ever leaving her friend’s side. She orders another drink. I watch closely; the bartender was Rick. He’s a player, but he doesn’t have to resort to dropping things in girls’ drinks. The lights shift again and I suddenly lose her. That friend of hers is still by the bar, engaged in a very public display of what I can only describe as a form of foreplay.

My finger switches to the fast forward button, face inches away from the screen, eyes searching for Becca in the sea of people.

“Where is she?” I mutter to myself. “Come on.”

Suddenly, she creeps onto the screen. On each side of her stands a male companion. One is skinny and short, the other tall and lean. She’s laughing, and doesn’t look to be in danger. Did I make a mistake? Could she have just been drunk?

I watch wide-eyed when they take her to the bar. The taller one orders the drinks, the other roping her into conversation. She laughs again, blonde hair tumbling down her back. Beside Becca, the one grabbing the drinks – there it is! He reaches into his pocket and the picture is a little shitty, but his hand hovers over the edge of her drink. I swear I see him drop something in it.
I knew it!

I have to take this video into evidence. Maybe they can enlarge the scene and figure out exactly what he added. I don’t really have much faith with the picture quality shaky.

I hit eject and pull the CD out of the security computer. After throwing it into a case, I slip out of the office, through the bustling kitchen, and into the busy restaurant. I’m passing the bar when I notice Rick behind it.

I make a beeline for him. He glances up immediately, a look of alarm crossing his face. “Rick.”

“Hey, Smith. I almost didn’t recognize you in uniform. What brings you in?”

“Work.” I sigh, leaning against the marble bar. “You were working Friday night, right?”

“I work like every night,” he mutters, popping open a beer and placing it on a tray.

“There was a girl here; blonde hair, blue eyes, and a redheaded friend.”

“Oh, I know the redhead, alright.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, she’s here all the time. Megan, I think her name is, or Meg something. They go to school at North Commons.”

“Yeah, those are the girls I’m asking about.”

“What about them?”

“The blonde was slipped something.”

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

“Holy crap.” He pauses, hands now braced against the bar’s edge.

“Any idea who would have done it?”

“You don’t think it was
me
, do you? I can get girls in bed without drugs. Believe me.”

I hold my hand out. “Relax. I just meant did you see anything suspicious. Remember anyone hanging out with her?”

“Um,”—He rubs his temples—“Friday… I think I remember two guys with her. The blue-eyed one bought her a drink. I didn’t see them put anything in it.”
No, but I did
. “I didn’t see where they went, either. Fridays are like a shit show.”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“Weren’t you working that night? Did you see anything?”

“I was the one that caught up with them before they could stuff her in a car.”

“Assholes.” Rick leans against the marble bar. “What kind of lowlife drugs a girl to get her home?”

“You got me.” I shrug.

“Yeah, you don’t have a problem with the ladies, either.” He smirks at me, turning to pull some papers from beside the register and shuffles through them.

“You don’t happen to remember how the kids paid, do you?”

“Exactly what I’m looking for.” Rick shuffles through a few, glancing at a zillion names.

“If you can lock down a time I’ll look through the credit card receipts.”

“You got it. I’ll keep you posted,” I call over my shoulder, heading out of the bar.

“See you Friday,” he responds.

I collapse into the cruiser and pause a moment, reaching for my cell phone. The lock screen indicates no new messages—Not like I expected any. I don’t give out my number – for a reason.

Should I call her? Is this information enough to bother her? I mean; I don’t have any answers yet. Maybe I ought to pull her in for more questioning.

“No.” I answer my own thoughts. I just want to pull her in to see her again. No, I can’t get involved. I won’t.

The cruiser zips out of the parking lot. Well, as fast as old Patty can go, anyway.

A thump causes me to lift my head. Books crash to the floor as I sit up. I fell asleep on the couch again. I must have stayed up all night studying. Again.

I rub my eyes, contacts burning slightly. “Meggie?”

A figure pauses as they walk around the center island toward the front door. Their back straightens—A tall, broad back. I blink a few more times and the figure turns around.

“Uh… no.”

“Tom?” Our next-dorm-neighbor (as Meggie calls him) is standing there in Batman boxers, clothes crumpled between his hands. He’s skinny, as I would have expected, but without his thick-rimmed glasses, he has a redeeming dork-quality to him.

“Um… I …” He glances around as he searches for words.

I have to hide a smile at his flustered appearance. He’s apparently not used to this. Trying to save him from an aneurism, I climb to my feet. A pen rolls to meet my books on the living room floor.

“Meggie and I, we…” His feet shift from side to side.

“Would you like some breakfast?” I’m used to the usual morning-after routine. Some just want to scamper out, but others will stay and make conversation. I wander around him to the cabinet, pulling out a box of Sugar Loops.

“What?”

“Breakfast?” I lift the red box up.

“Um, yeah sure.”

I twist, opening another cabinet, and pull out two bowls, grabbing spoons from a drawer. He sits on the barstool on the other side of the island, separating the living room from the kitchen.

“Sugar Loops?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

I pour milk into his cereal before my own and stand, eating across from him. “So.” I swirl my spoon around in my bowl. “You and Meggie, huh?”

“It just kind of happened.” He rubs his temples.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” I spoon some cereal into my mouth.

The conversation dies off until only the clanking of our spoons against the bowls remains. He pauses when he’s finished, looking me up and down with his slate grey eyes.

“Are you mad at me?”

My eyes go wide. I place the bowl on the table. “Me? No, why?”

“Just asking.” His eyes look down at the clothes in his lap. Reality must hit him because he shakes out his jeans and slips his legs through, then throws his shirt over his skinny frame.

“So,” I blurt out to distract myself from him. “What time is your first class?”

“Not until ten.”

“Oh, me, too. Statistics, blah.” I make a face, sticking my tongue out.

“You studying for finals already?” He points behind him to the mess of books and scattered loose-leaf papers.

“You can never be too ready.”

“No, I guess not. Hey, I took Stats last semester. If you ever need help, just let me know.”

“Aw, thanks, Tom.”

We sit/stand there looking at each other a few seconds, before I nod and glance away.

“Well, I should be getting ready for school.”

“Oh, right.” He struggles to his feet. “Well, I’ll see ya.” Walking to the door, he lets himself out.

“All right, bye,” I call, closing the door behind him. He glances back like he wants to say more, but I click the door closed, sliding the lock into place, before spinning on my heels to take a shower.

“Mm.” I hear a groan. Turning in my doorway, Meggie emerges from her room. That ginger hair of hers is a huge mess on top of her head. “Did he leave?”