Wicked Release (14 page)

“Dizziness. It starts with dizziness and escalates from there. It's
not
as safe as a cup of coffee. Unregulated and in the wrong hands, this is dangerous. And people are dying. You tell me where you're getting it and I'm sure I can get these charges lowered to a misdemeanor. Some community service and that's it.”

Dylan stared at the ground, scuffing his toe against the linoleum. “And no one would know I told you?”

“Just me and a small group in my team. That's it.”

“Would I have to testify?”

“Let's take it one step at a time. We're not looking for a pusher on the street. We're looking for the head of the operation. We wouldn't put you in danger to testify for someone small.”

There was a long moment of silence that settled densely between them. Dylan stretched his neck, wiping at his face with both hands. “Okay.”

Sam waited, not saying a word for fear that the kid would get cold feet. “I get the stuff down at the free clinic.”

“The free clinic?”

“Yeah. I really don't know from who. You just go there and say you're feeling tired. You have to say the code: ‘It's like I'm carrying a watermelon on my back.' When the doctor leaves and you're alone in the room, you put your money under the exam table. Then when you check out after, the pills will be behind the clinic, taped to the side of the Dumpster.”

“How much do you leave under the exam table?”

“Two hundred dollars gets you a small bottle of pills.”

Sam paused, chewing the edge of his pen. “So . . . the doctor you see. He's your dealer?”

Dylan leaned forward, a sudden urgency in his eyes. “That's the thing. I don't think so. The last two times I went there, the doctor had no idea what I was talking about. Even said, ‘What the hell are all these kids talking about watermelons lately?' He had no fucking clue.”

“Do you remember his name? That doctor? Or any doctors.”

“Dude, I've got no clue. He was young for a doctor, I guess.”

Young.
Sam dove into his pocket, retrieving his phone, and did a quick image search. “Was it this guy? Dr. Moore?”

He held his breath as Dylan squinted, examining the picture. “Nah. I don't think so. Around that age, though.”

Sam's blood ran cold. “One more question.” He did another image search for Dr. Richard Brown, finding the same photo they'd been showing around during his homicide case. He held up the phone to Dylan. “Is this the doctor?”

“Yeah! That's him. Look at those fucking chompers. Whiter than the goddamn snow.”

Dr. Richard Brown. He must have found the drug operation going on in the clinic and that's why he died. It had nothing to do with Zooey. Jess was right—Zooey was being framed.

Sam glanced at the picture on his phone before tossing it onto the table. “You're certain this was one of your doctors?”

“Yeah, that's the guy,” said Dylan.

“And he had no idea about the selling of O at the free clinic?”

“Man, I don't know. I mean, based on his reaction, I doubt it.”

That's about as good an answer as he was likely to get. Sam slid a notepad over to Dylan. “Can you write all of that down and sign it for me?”

The kid nodded, taking the pen. Sam stood and Dylan's eyes followed him as he got to his feet. “You did good, Dylan. Thank you. I'm gonna work on getting you out of here—just sit tight, okay? Need anything else for now?”

“Nah. I'm good.” Dylan shook his head and sunk back into the chair.

Sam left the room, locking the door behind him. As he moved to pull out his phone to text Matt, he looked up to find his partner and their captain walking right toward him. “Hey, guys,” Sam said, dragging a hand down his face and over his stubble. Damn, he needed to find time to shave before he saw Jess next.

“McCloskey, what the fuck do you think you're doing?”

Sam steeled himself for a battle. He knew this would happen. Knew he broke protocol by coming down here alone. He also knew he could get the information they needed. And with a mole in the precinct? The fewer people listening in on his interviews, the better. “Getting the break in the case we needed,” Sam said, handing over his notes from the interview with Dylan to them. “Brown's death is definitely connected to the O that's been on the streets. And Dylan gave us the information we needed to break it open. Can we cut him a deal for his cooperation?”

Straimer quickly flipped through the notepad. “Please, at least tell me you hit
record
on the cameras in the rooms?”

Sam nodded. “I'm not a total moron.”

“No, you're just a James Dean wannabe,” Straimer muttered, and Matt stifled a chuckle from beside him.

“Except I've got a cause. A damn good one.”

“I think we can get this kid off lightly, maybe charge him with a misdemeanor. As long as the Irving gas station's owner isn't pressing charges I'll have Rodriguez start his release.”

“Can we trust her?”

“You worked with her. What's your take?” Straimer asked Matt.

For the first time in years, Sam saw a darkness shadow Matt's features. Matt's jaw clenched and his cheeks turned a fiery red as he shook his head, not answering.

“What's up, buddy?” asked Sam.

“Is
she
trustworthy? Is she? Are you seriously going to let her in on whatever the fucking mystery is before you tell
me?
Your own goddamn partner? What is going on? If you expect me to be of any help on these cases, I need to know everything. Especially with how often Sam is landing in the emergency room these days.”

The doughnuts from earlier turned in Sam's stomach as he looked to his captain. “He's right. Matt deserves to know.”

The captain gave a tight nod, turning on his heels and backing toward the elevator. “You're right, Matt. You've earned our trust. Earned it long ago. Don't blame McCloskey. He was following orders by keeping the case a secret. Go take a coffee break, you two. Sam, fill Matt in on everything. And let's arrange something at the clinic for as soon as possible. Try to find whoever is in charge of getting this O on the streets.” He turned, hitting the elevator button. “Oh, and Sam? Did you check the observation rooms to make sure they were empty before you started?”

Sam froze and a chill skittered down his body. He hadn't. He had completely forgotten to make sure they were locked up. But it was really early in the morning. No one had known he was coming in today. “Of course,” he answered. There was no need to worry the captain unnecessarily. But the words nearly got caught in his throat as he spoke. “What am I, a rookie?”

Straimer nodded, stepping in the elevator. The doors closed and silence buzzed between Sam and Matt when they were left alone. “You didn't check shit in either room, did you?” Matt asked, a playful grin sliding across his face.

“Totally fucking forgot.” Sam dove a hand into his hair, his lack of sleep catching up to him.

“Well, let's check now, huh?”

Sam couldn't help but worry the inside of his cheek as they moved toward the side door off the interview room.

Matt's hand hovered over the doorknob to the first private room and he swiftly turned the knob, swinging it open to reveal an empty room. A smile flicked up at the corners of his mouth. “See? Nothing to worry about.”

Sam peeked in around him, relief initially taking hold where stress had been moments before. But just as he was about to relax completely, his body stiffened. On the corner of the table was a white paper cup with a coffee lid on it. Matt followed the direction of his glare, landing on the cup.

“Dude, that could be from anyone yesterday who just forgot to throw it away.”

Sam slid past Matt's shoulders and gripped the cup, inspecting it. “It's still warm.” Matte red lipstick stained the lip of the coffee lid and he pried the plastic off, peeking inside, smelling. Sweet. Chicory coffee. With cream.

Sam peeked out into the open area where the cells and the elevator were. This section of the Portland Police headquarters was small. Not a lot of places to go or hide. And not many people were bustling around. Whoever had snuck down here wouldn't last long in the shadows.

“Maybe they moved into the other room?” Matt said.

Sam gave a quick, jerky nod, pressing a finger to his lips as they slipped out and moved in front of the second door. His hand hovered at the doorknob and he took a deep breath before giving it a quick twist and shoving the door open. A sharp yelp came from inside the room and he nearly slammed into a stunned Jess.

22

D
amn.
She should have known he would find her. To be honest, Jess was prepared for Sam to walk in and find her in the observation room the whole time. But when his interview with Dylan ended, she had thought that maybe—just maybe—she had gotten away with her flimsy attempt at espionage.

After he left her earlier, Jess knew Sam had to pick Matt up and that they would inevitably stop for doughnuts or coffee, so she had dressed quickly and rushed to the precinct.

Apprehension trickled down her spine and she ignored the impulse to shiver, instead standing tall as she faced Sam. She'd expected him to be livid, but he looked amused more than anything.

“You're lucky it's just me,” she said.

“I am lucky, aren't I?” Sam said, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“Well,” Matt said, and cleared his throat. “I'll go check that Rodriguez is on top of the release papers.” He backed out of the room, also hiding a grin as he gave a quick nod hello to Jess. “See you upstairs in a minute?” he said to Sam.

“Sure thing.”

When they heard the elevator ding, Sam checked to make sure they were alone. Once Matt was gone, Sam rushed to her, closing the space between them and claiming her lips, pressing her body against the wall. His tongue curved into her mouth, a seductive caress, and his hand brushed over her nipple and down her waist.

Without thinking, Jess responded, her legs parting for him as his thigh found its way between hers, adding pressure and a delicious tension.

He pulled back, smoothing her hair behind her ears. His eyes traveled her face, settling on her lips. His soft gaze quickly crumpled into confusion and he brushed his fingers across her bare lips.

“You're not wearing lipstick.”

She shook her head, confused. “No.”

“Were you earlier? Did it wipe off?”

She shook her head again. “I just put on some ChapStick earlier.”

“Did you bring coffee with you this morning?”

“Coffee? Sam, what are you—”

“I'll explain in a minute—just please answer me! Did you bring coffee?”

“No. I was rushing out to beat you here.”

“Fuck,” he cursed, backing out the door and ran into the opposite observation room. Jess followed behind him as he lifted a cup from a table inside. Without looking at her, he shook his head. “Someone else was in here listening, then.” He turned, holding up a cup with lipstick staining the rim.

Jess walked forward, careful not to touch the cup. “Fingerprints,” she said. “Have it swept for prints.”

“Easier said than done. The amount of red tape involved is crazy. They'd want to know why and for what case. Not to mention I'd have to admit to Straimer that I fucked up and lied about checking the rooms.”

Tension bristled in Jess's back.
Lied.
Sam lied. He was a liar. Not only to her, but to the community. To his boss.

She could feel herself pulling away again, but before she could, he said, “I might as well get it over with, then, huh?”

That same stress that was weighted against her shoulders released briefly. “You're going to come clean?”

He studied her for a long moment. “Yes. I told you—no more lies. I don't want to be that guy anymore.”

Warmth spread in her chest and she launched forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as hot, salty tears filled her eyes. “Even though I lied to you this morning?”

“Yeah,” he said. “That kind of sucked, but I understand why. I'm more concerned that someone saw you coming here. You need to be careful. They can't think you're still looking into this.”

“I know, I know. But I'm still a photographer for the Portland Police. It would make sense that I'm here.”

“Not down here in the interrogation area. And someone else was already here and maybe saw you arrive.”

Damn, Sam was right.
Whoever was stalking her seemed to always be one step ahead. Jess picked up the coffee cup, inspecting the rim.

“What are the chances you got here before whoever this is?” he asked, disrupting her thoughts.

“Not likely. She was here first. When I arrived this room's viewing area was already locked. I just figured they were always locked and I got lucky that the other wasn't.”

“They
are
usually locked. Whoever this is probably unlocked both doors before I got here so she could easily hide from me. But then you arrived and she couldn't slip into the other room.”

The shade of red lipstick was so familiar to Jess. An eerie feeling passed through her as she remembered the scarlet lipstick she had seen on one of Cass's mugs the day she first arrived at the house.

Sam squeezed her arm, pulling her back to the present. “It's possible that she left early when she knew you were down here, too. Too much risk of getting caught—maybe she heard nothing about the free clinic.”

Jess gulped. “Maybe.”

A few more seconds of silence ticked by and as Sam removed his hand from her arm, Jess couldn't help but feel empty without his touch. “So . . . is Cass's murderer a woman?”

“It doesn't seem to fit the pattern. But she could be our mole here at the station.”

“Or it could be a smart man, using lipstick to throw you off.” Sam seemed to consider that a moment as Jess lifted the cup again. “It's one clean lipstick smudge. On a coffee cup. A cup that's two-thirds of the way empty,” Jess said, thinking out loud. “Have you ever seen one of these lids after a woman with lipstick finishes a cup of coffee? It's smudged everywhere. Unless you have perfect precision with each sip, drinking a whole cup of coffee will never result in one mark.”

“Huh,” Sam grunted, taking the cup from her and turning it over in his hands. “But a smart person wouldn't have left the cup at all. They're fucking with me, maybe,” he said, slamming the cup onto the table.

“But why? What the hell is the point of that? Why risk it?”

“These people don't act rationally, Jess. It's a game to them. It's fun. I should get back to Dylan. Get him out of here. But—can I see you tonight?” There was a hopeful gleam in his eyes as he dragged his knuckle across her cheekbone.

For a moment, a spark ignited inside of her at the prospect of seeing Sam again this evening. “I—”
Shit. No.
She had to see Elliot tonight. “I can't,” Jess sighed. “I have plans.”

Though he nodded, disappointment washed across his face. “Okay.”

Okay?
Where were the questions? Why wasn't he grilling her about where she would be? Where was the demanding Sam that she knew so well?

“Besides,” she continued, testing her boundaries. “I'm not sure I've forgiven you yet.”

Emotion twisted inside of her. She hated making him feel guilty. And she did love him. But because of Sam's mom, her parents were dead. How was she supposed to just move on from that?

“I know,” he answered, lacing his fingers into hers. “But it seems like you're trying to find it in yourself to.” That ghost of a smile flickered before fading once more. “And I'll spend forever trying to earn your forgiveness again.”

Forgiveness is easy. Trusting him again is the hard part,
she thought.

“In the meantime,” he continued, “we just need to keep you safe.”

“You mean alive.”

“Preferably, yeah.” He moved past her, where his bag was, and pulled out a burner phone. “Alive and uninjured. Call me on this if you need me. We know it's not tapped. And I check my cell several times a day for bugs, so I know that's safe, too.”

“And what about Cass's house? What if that's bugged?”

“I can't be there to check every day. Just text me. That's your safest bet. And we can always find somewhere near here to chat.” Gently, he brushed two fingers under her chin, tilting her head toward his lips. “In the meantime, here's something to ponder for the rest of the day, along with my unending apology.” Jess's eyelids fell, her lips tingling even before Sam touched his mouth to hers.

He finished the kiss and led her out toward the elevator.

“When did you get to be such a softie?”

“I've always had a chocolate center. You're just melting it.”

Jess couldn't help her laugh. “Excuse me while I examine the inside of my brain while my eyes roll in that direction.”

He returned her smile with a wink, still holding the mole's coffee cup. “You stay here for a few minutes,” he said, backing onto the elevator. “We shouldn't go up together.” Then, darting a hand out, he stopped the elevator from closing. “Unless you want to go up first?”

Jess shook her head, shocked that he was asking her opinion. “No, you go. Matt's waiting.”

His jaw ticked and she knew how hard it must be for him to leave her unattended in an area where someone wanting to cause her harm had just been. “Okay. I'll see you.”

The doors closed in front of him, leaving Jess alone with Dylan locked in his interview room.