After taking a sip of coffee, Casey put her cup on the table and played with the handle. “The principal from Thomason Elementary said she tried to call you several times, but you didn’t return her calls….”

  Pete rocked forward and kept his hands in his lap. He looked everywhere except at Casey or me. “I don’t know why I didn’t. Sometimes, I just figured….” He glanced up at Casey and then back down to the tabletop. “Sometimes I figured what’s the use, ya know? With Diesel always on about how screwed the department is and how we always get the shaft from the public, it just got to me, ya know?” He searched both our faces, looking for what I’m not sure. Then he asked, “Is that why they took us off the case? Because that principal complained?”

  I shook my head. “No. A third kid, a little girl, ended up in the emergency room today. I guess it got the chief’s attention.”

  He whispered, “A third one?” Looking a bit bewildered, he said, “Is she okay?”

  I nodded, “They’re pretty sure she will be. The chief gave the case to Kate because, well… you know.”

  “Because she’s the best sergeant on the department. I hope you realize how lucky you are to work for someone like that.” He pushed back his chair and stood. “I don’t have any more info that’ll help. I’m—” he paused a beat and then asked, “What was her name? The little girl?”

  I wanted to ask what it mattered but instead gave him her name. “Tiffany.”

  “Tiffany, what?”

  I tried to remember, but Casey supplied it instead. “Tiffany March.”

  He closed his eyes and then pretended to smile. The result was more a grimace than a grin. “I’m sorry I don’t have more. But, if there’s anything I can do to help, call me, okay?”

  I hope my smile seemed more sincere than his. “Sure, Pete. Thanks for the help. I’ll keep you in the loop, okay?”

  We watched him make his way across the restaurant. His shoulders were slumped, and he had his hands stuffed deep into his pockets. A family came in and he slipped out the open door.

  Since neither of us was hungry, Casey and I went to the register to pay. Casey pulled out her wallet. “I got this.” When she pocketed her change, she said, “I never thought much of him, but it never occurred to me that maybe he was lazy because Diesel was keeping him pinned down. He’s a fairly new detective. Well, I mean, he’d only been promoted for about six months before they shuffled him to narcotics. Maybe we have him all wrong.”

  “Yeah. Sometimes I forget how lucky we are to have Kate for a supervisor and how lucky you are to have me as your partner.”

  I grinned at her, and she punched me in the shoulder. “You mean you’re lucky to have me as your partner. Who else would keep you on the straight and narrow?”

  Once we had the dogs settled in the back seats, we decided to head to the station to make some phone calls, hoping to set up appointments with parents, kids, doctors, and anyone else we needed to talk to.

  Kate was on the phone when we walked in. I settled Peanut into the special crate Megan had delivered for the dogs to stay in next to our desks. It was a pretty fancy affair made of wood with a super comfortable bed inside. Peanut happily found the bone she’d left buried at the back and settled in for a good chew and probably a nap.

  Casey did the same for Captain, and the two of us went up front to brief Kate on what we had so far.

  Chapter 7

  Kate sat in her office, a small, glassed-in cubicle at the front of the room. She’d been in this assignment for a few years now, and a while back, she’d tossed the flimsy laminated table the department had supplied for her workspace and brought in a mahogany double pedestal desk that took up most of the tiny space.

  Casey and I sat in the two chairs that barely fit in front of the desk.

  When Kate ended her call, she pulled out one of her desk drawers, leaned back in her chair, and set her foot on the drawer’s edge. Once she’d settled in, she picked up her pen and began casually tap, tap, tapping on her thigh. “What do you have so far?”

  Casey pulled out her notebook and opened it to the first page. “We know that we don’t have very much, especially on the first two cases.”

  Kate picked up a case report and glanced through it. “I was hoping we had more than what was in the reports. Patrol did a good job documenting their initial findings, but narcotics?” She set the paper on the desk and picked up the supplemental reports written by Diesel and Pete. “These are about as worthless as ejection seats on a helicopter. They pretty much say ‘a kid OD’d and went to a hospital.’”

  Her angry, dark eyes glittered.

  I was glad that look wasn’t directed at me. I felt the need to defend Pete, if for nothing else than to try to begin to mend his reputation on the department. We unintentional screw-ups need to stick together, after all. “I think if Pete had been on his own, he would have investigated more than he did. Diesel—”

  Kate jerked her foot off the drawer, palmed the report, and slammed it down on her desk. “I don’t care what kind of partner he has. There’s no excuse for this type of crap when children are involved. Hell, even if there weren’t kids, there’s still no excuse for this slipshod investigation.”

  Casey stayed quiet, but I still wanted Kate to understand how Pete had gotten a bad rap. “I know, and I agree with you. But if Diesel wasn’t such a prejudiced, lazy-assed pisswad and if Conners hadn’t molly-coddled him to the point of ignoring everything Pete tried to tell him, then maybe you’d have a different detective writing reports for you.”

  Kate rubbed her forehead and let out an angry sigh. “Diesel and Tom Conners are old school. I’m sure as far as they were concerned, Pete shouldn’t have complained about his partner in the first place.” There are two kinds of old-school cops. The fair-minded ones, those with a good work ethic and a belief that everyone, victim, or complainant, starts out with a blank slate. They handle each person according to how that person acts.

  Old school assholes, on the other hand, are assholes who, by their very nature, escalate things because they have a them vs. us attitude. Not just cops vs. civilians, but black vs. white, men vs. women. You name it, if they’re different than the cop in any way, they’re inferior. Those like Diesel and Conners treat everyone like shit and then complain when everything goes to shit. They cover for each other and believe that anyone who reports them for their bad behavior becomes a “them.”

  Kate leaned forward and crossed her arms on her desk. “Anyway, we’re stuck with what we have, and you two are going to have to play catch up on this one. Who have you interviewed so far?”

  I’d said my piece, and since Casey had begun with her report, I motioned for her to continue. “Well, we started off at the hospital and spoke to Terri, who’d already spoken to the parents. I want to go back once they’ve had a chance to calm down and talk to them about Tiffany and their home life. Maddie said it looks like Tiffany will pull through. After the hospital, we went to Thomason Elementary and spoke to the principal, Dr. Kumar. She was pissed that Diesel and Pete blew her off as far as returning her phone calls, and she was also upset that the principal at Ratcliff hadn’t put out a memo about the boy who OD’d at his school.”

  Kate nodded. “Since Diesel and Pete never bothered to talk to the other parents, you’ll have to go talk to them as well as to Tiffany’s mom and dad.” She glared out the plate-glass windows that fronted the entire north side of our office. “No more drugged-up kids, you understand? I don’t care if you work day and night, but you find who’s doing this, and you stop them.”

  I glanced over at Casey, who’d turned to stare at me. For some reason, this had become more than just a case for Kate, which was unusual. She’d been a detective and a detective supervisor for twice as many years as Casey and I combined. I pushed up in my seat, not sure what to say. “You okay, Boss?”

  She turned angry eyes on me. “No, Alex, I’m not okay, and you shouldn’t be either. Three children have been poisoned—drugged—and it’s our job to stop the assholes drugging them.”

  I watched Casey playing with her cellphone. I probably should have left it at that, but as usual, I didn’t. “It’s more than that. You—”

  Kate held up her hand. “Stop. You don’t need to worry about me, Alex. I’m okay. And no, you don’t really have to work twenty-four hours a day. Just give me your all on this one, okay?”

  I wanted to say, ‘as if you don’t demand one hundred and ten percent on every case we’re assigned,’ but I let it slide.

  “Try to find a connection between the three kids. Sports, tutors, anything.” Her pen started tapping again. “If there’s no connection, then this is the type of case I dread. Someone randomly out to kill, with no link to the victim. And with the victims being kids, it makes the cases all the more worrying.”

  I thought about that. “Some kind of psycho, you mean, instead of just stupid kids messing around with drugs?”

  She lifted a shoulder. “Could be. But keep all your options open. Don’t shut any doors just yet.”

  “Okay.”

  She turned to Casey and changed the subject, “How’d your first day with the dogs go? Did they have the chance to do anything extraordinary?”

  Casey shrugged, “We need a few days to get to know ‘em and learn what they’re trying to tell us. We’re meeting Megan tonight at Alex’s for pizza. But—” she held up a finger, “we’ll still be working this case, too.”

  “How so?” Kate sat back and propped her foot on the drawer again. I was relieved to see some of her tension fading.

  “Well, Dr. Kumar’s administrative assistant is an acquaintance of mine. I asked him to join us for pizza.”

  Chuckling, Kate nodded her understanding, “And you just might see whether he knows more than Dr. Kumar is telling us right now. Nobody knows more about what goes on than the boss’ administrative assistant. Nice. What kind of pizza?”

  I shrugged, “Don’t know. You wanna join us?”

  To my surprise, she seemed to consider it. “No, I need to get home and check on Thom.”

  I straightened at that. “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine.” Amusement shone in her eyes. “Don’t be such a noodge.”

  That made me laugh out loud. “A noodge? Since when do you speak Yiddish?”

  She grinned and shook her head. “Get out of here, you two. Just remember, I want whoever’s doing this stopped ASAP.

  As Casey and I returned to our desks, I happened to glance back and caught worry lines creasing Kate’s brow. Was it something to do with her husband, Thom, or was it this case? I turned back to my desk, thinking that her private life was her own business. If she was having problems, or if Thom was sick, I’d be the last person she’d come to for consolation.

  That got me thinking. Casey and my desks were bumped back-to-back, so we faced each other when we were in our seats. I sat down and leaned forward so I didn’t have to raise my voice to be heard. “Who do you think Kate talks to when she has problems? Do you think she has any friends on the department she can go to…I don’t know, to just hang out?”

  Casey glanced at our boss. “You mean like we do?” She started shifting around the papers on her desk, and I thought that was all I’d get until she stopped and looked at me. “I think she and Jon Lake were partners when they were detectives, and come to think of it, I remember hearing him inviting Kate and Thom over for dinner a few months back. Probably him. And she’s good friends with Deputy Chief Pardo….”

  I smiled, “Oh yeah, ‘X.’ Remember when she called him up and berated him for having his secretary answer his cell phone?” Chief Pardo’s first name is Xavier, and it was a well-known fact that only his closest friends were allowed to call him ‘X.’ “Now that I think about it, I’ve seen her and Pardo sharing a cheese crisp at Mosaic.”

  “Can’t blame them there. Best cheese crisps in town.” She checked her phone. “It’s four-thirty. We have about an hour and a half. We can either do some paperwork and clean out our inboxes, or we can go talk to Adham’s mother.”

  I flipped through the cases in my inbox. For the most part, all I had were cases I’d closed but hadn’t written the closing supplements for yet. “Let’s go talk to the mom. The sooner we get the interviews done that Diesel and Pete should have done, the easier it’ll be to move forward.”

  Chapter 8

  I followed Casey in my car since this was going to be the last call of the day for both of us and we’d head home when we were done. She pulled up to an apartment complex within walking distance of Thomason Elementary. The complex was solidly middle-class. Row upon row of tan three-story apartment buildings were separated by well-kept plots of grass and intersecting lines of cement sidewalks. The buildings were fairly clean and new. Rows of balconies lined the front of all three stories, and their asparagus-green paint exactly matched both the railings on the exterior stairwells, not to mention every single door in the complex.

  We climbed to the second floor of building thirteen, where we found two doors, one on either side of the landing. Casey knocked on thirteen thirty-two and waited. I unclipped my badge from my waistband and held it at the ready. When no one immediately came to the door, she knocked again. We were about to turn away when we heard the deadbolt click. The door opened about three inches, or approximately the length of the security chain still attached to the door’s frame.

  Since Casey stood to the hinge side of the door and I was offset of the knob, I was the first one the person behind the door saw. I smiled and held up my badge. “Detectives Wolfe and Bowman from the Tucson Police Department. I wonder if we could speak with Mrs. Hamza?”

  “I’m Mrs. Hamza.”

  I clipped the badge back in place and smiled my most winning smile. “Do you think we could come in?”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’re here to talk to you about what happened to your son, Adham.”

  She scoffed through the open crack. “So now the police know how to pronounce his name? He’s no longer Ah-dumb. The other detective asked why I didn’t just add a second dumb, so then he could be A dumb dumb.” Her words had a bitter edge to them, something I couldn’t blame her for if her first impression of our department had been Diesel Hoffman.

  Normally, I make it a policy never to apologize for another cop, but I made an exception in this case. “I’m sorry you and Adham had to deal with Detective Hoffman. He’s a complete ass and a disgrace to our department. Detective Bowman and I have taken over the case, and we’re starting from the beginning because we want to stop the person who drugged Adham. Could we please come in and speak with you?”

  She was quiet a moment and then asked, “Is Detective Bowman a man or a woman?”

  My face must have betrayed my confusion because she said, “My hijab is in the bedroom. I can go get it if—”

  “Oh!” The penny dropped. Sometimes I’m not too fast on the uptake. “She’s a she. I mean, she’s a woman, too.”

  The sound of metal sliding on metal told me we’d at least be allowed inside. Whether Adham’s mother would speak to us remained to be seen. The door opened wide to reveal a beautiful woman, somewhere in her mid-to-late thirties, with long black hair and exotic dark eyes wearing blue jeans and a floral button-down blouse. She waved us in with an open palm. “Please, come in.” She turned to a young boy sitting on the sofa and rattled off something in a language I’d never heard before. I guessed it was probably Arabic, but I knew the Kurdish people also live in Iraq, so I didn’t make any assumptions.

  He responded by pointing the television controller at the TV and turning off the program he’d been watching. He got to his feet and started for the back part of the apartment.

  The boy was tall for an eleven-year-old, so I asked, “Adham?”

  He turned and nodded.

  “If it’s okay with your mother, we need to speak to you as well.” I glanced at her, and she included both Adham and me in her nod. I indicated the living room Adham had just vacated. “Could we all sit so we can be comfortable while we chat about what happened at school the other day?”

  Like I’ve already mentioned, Adham was tall for his age, somewhere around five six, with the same black hair and dark eyes as his mother. He wore his hair short and neatly trimmed, and it was obvious he’d just gone through a growth spurt because he was all long bones and elbows, as my grandmother used to say. He also seemed too thin, but then, since I don’t have any kids of my own, I’m often surprised at how much a child can grow in a few months’ time.

  Casey and I sat on the sofa while Mrs. Hamza settled into an overstuffed club chair covered in distressed leather. Since there were no other seats in the living room, Adham propped himself next to his mom on one of the plump, rounded arms of her chair.

  After Casey had her notebook and pen out and ready to write, I took a small recorder from my pocket and set it on the glass-topped coffee table. I found myself being a bit more formal than usual because of the poor way these two had been treated by Diesel and Pete. “I need to record the interview because it ensures that we preserve everything that’s said when we bring a case to trial. That way, there aren’t any questions about who did or didn’t say something. If there’s a dispute, there’s a record of what’s been said.”

  Mrs. Hamza gave me an amused, knowing smile, blinked slowly, and nodded. I thought that a bit strange, but I went ahead and gave the date and time, introduced the four of us in the room, read out the case number, and began the interview. “Adham, can you tell me what happened to you the day you had to go to the hospital?”

  He hadn’t yet looked me in the eye, and he continued to stare at the floor when he quietly answered. “I don’t know.” He had one leg hiked up off the floor, and it began swinging back and forth.