✥ ✥ ✥

  There was an absolutely thrilling three hours of a DEA team cataloguing the refuse bags from the Frank cabin. Early reporting was sparse, but the palpable excitement over literal garbage was enough to make me grab Fingersmith and check out of the conversation. I stretched out on the couch and immersed myself in con artists who were probably not clean either, but at least they were more interesting.

  “You doing okay over there?” Duarte called to me.

  I gave him a thumbs-up. “One hundred percent less discussion of garbage over here, pal.”

  “Excellent. You’re doing great.” He returned the thumbs-up.

  Michelson and Malone showed up an hour later. Orr had followed the Franks back to the cabin. He and Boyd were now on standby in Pollock Pines while the DEA continued watching the cabin.

  Laurel and I took up our spots at the counter again while everyone else gathered at the table. Michelson sat at the head of the table opposite Jalen. He was in jeans and a navy polo with FBI stenciled on the chest. His badge was hanging from a chain around his neck. Malone was wearing the same thing. They both had clearly showered, which was good considering they had been wading through garbage. But also I was hoping Malone hadn’t been tailing criminals while wearing an FBI polo. Seemed a tad irresponsible.

  “DEA is still sorting, but we have clear evidence that they are producing methamphetamine at the cabin,” Michelson said.

  “That’s great,” Reyes said. “Okay, not great. Great for our case.”

  Michelson grinned. “Agreed. They found vanilla and grape flavoring as well as powdered caffeine.”

  “Oh, shit,” I said.

  Everyone except Michelson looked at me in question. Michelson nodded. “Yeah.”

  “They’re making yaba aren’t they?” I asked.

  “Bingo.” Michelson pointed at me.

  “Wait, I’ve heard of that,” Laurel said. “From Southeast Asia. They’re sort of like meth pills, right?”

  “Well, they are pills with meth in them, but they’re more like hallucinogenic ecstasy pills,” I said.

  “Ooh, that sounds fun,” Duarte said.

  “Heck, yeah. And also absurdly addictive, cheap to make, and easy to smuggle,” I said.

  Laurel looked back at me and smiled. “You know so many neat things.”

  “The DEA boys said they’ve seen a rise in yaba use in the last few years, especially among younger users.”

  Reyes locked eyes with me. “That would totally play into your customer base.”

  “It would, especially the college kids.”

  “And they’re shipping them all over the West Coast.”

  “DEA seized twelve pounds of purple yaba in Vegas a week ago,” Michelson said.

  “Three weeks ago, Gavin Frank flew into a small airport outside of Vegas,” Jalen said.

  Malone flipped through his notes. “Bakersfield PD busted three dealers with purple yaba in the last month.”

  “He flew to Wasco four weeks ago,” she said.

  Malone started reading. “Palmdale, Santa Clarita—”

  She cut him off. “Yes, all of those.”

  “Where else?” Michelson asked her.

  “San Luis Obispo, Reno, Palm Springs, Fresno, Redding. Everywhere, boss.”

  Malone and Michelson compared notes. “Purple pills in Reno, Palm Springs, and Redding. Nothing in San Luis. Pink yaba in in Fresno. Could that be related?” Michelson asked.

  “You said they had vanilla and grape. Pink might be vanilla flavor,” I said.

  Malone nodded. “Yep. And if we add pink yaba in, we get Eugene, Oregon.”

  “Which was six weeks ago,” Jalen said.

  “Okay. Can we call this in?” Reyes asked. “I’d call this an abundance of evidence.”

  “Yeah, if they won’t give us warrants, then I’m investigating the judge,” Duarte said.

  Michelson nodded. “Yes. Jalen, send me your report. And dumb it down this time. Malone, type up the list the DEA gave us and match it with Jalen’s report. Reyes, Duarte, make sure those two don’t die.” He pointed at me and Laurel.

  “Solid plan, my man,” Duarte said.

  Laurel turned and squeezed my thigh. “This is going to take some time. I’m going to call Lane. You want in?”

  “Heck yeah.”

  “Come on.” She led me to her room. I flopped on the bed. “You know we’re actually calling Lane, right?”

  “Yeah, of course. But if you want to make out after, we can.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I’ll think about it.” She called Lane and put it on speakerphone.

  “Hey, big sis.”

  “Hey, baby girl. You’re on speaker with me and Cash.” She set the phone on the bed and sat on the edge far away from me.

  “Hey, Laney. Happy birthday.”

  “Yeah, happy birthday,” Laurel said.

  “Thanks, guys.”

  “So what’s the bar crawl?” I asked.

  “She’s going on a bar crawl?” Laurel whispered. I waved her away.

  “It’s not so much a crawl. We’re going to Old Sac. We’ll probably end up in one of the places on the river.”

  “That sounds fun,” Laurel said.

  “Totally. Low key, but also celebratory,” I said.

  “Exactly. The sisters wanted to get a brew bike, but I managed to talk them out of it.”

  “Oh. Yeah. That would probably be too much.”

  “That was my thought. I don’t want over-the-top. I wanted simple. And I know you said you’d be my protector, but I’m okay,” Lane said.

  “Huh?” Laurel said.

  “I know. You’re going to be fine,” I said. “But you can still call me. And you’ve got Nate’s number.”

  “Yeah. It’s all good. I’m excited.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “I think I missed something,” Laurel said.

  “No. Cash just said she would be my backup because I was nervous about going out, but I’m good. It’s going to be fun. I’ve got my sorority sisters. It’ll be chill.”

  “It’ll be great,” I said.

  “If you need a ride, call Lance. He’s on duty tonight,” Laurel said.

  “Hell no. If I need a ride, I’m calling Seth. Lance will torture me.”

  “He will not.”

  “Yes, he will. He called an hour ago and said ‘If you call me, I’ll torture you.’”

  I laughed. Laurel shook her head. “He’s such a dick,” Laurel said.

  “Call us in the morning and tell us all about your night, okay?”

  “I promise.”

  “Laurel.” Reyes knocked on the open door.

  “Just a sec. We’re on the phone with Lane,” Laurel said.

  “Happy birthday, Lane,” Reyes called.

  “Is that Lucas? Thanks.”

  “Let me know when you guys are done,” Reyes said.

  We wrapped up and went back out to organized chaos. “Where’s the fire?” I asked.

  “At the Frank cabin,” Reyes said. “Not literally. Our warrant went through. Jalen is staying here with us, but everyone else is heading up to the arrest party.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  It was after midnight when my phone rang. I could hear the buzzing. I checked the nightstand, but the only phone was Laurel’s. I followed the sound to my shorts on the floor and dug the phone out of my pocket.

  “Hello?”

  It was Lane. “Cash?”

  “Yeah. What’s up? Are you okay?”

  “No.” She sniffled. Her voice caught. “I’m scared.”

  “Where are you? What’s going on?” I sat on the edge of the bed.

  “I had a drink. It was really strong. There might have been something in it.”

  “Okay. I’m going to come get you.” I looked around for my underwear. They had done a disappearing act.

  “Am I just being paranoid? Maybe it was just strong.”

  “Either way I’m coming.”

  “But what if it’s nothing?” she asked.

  “It’s not. You’re uncomfortable. I’m on my way. It’s that simple. Do you know where you are?”

  “The bathroom.” Excellent. Very helpful.

  “Good. Do you know which bar you’re in?” My boxer briefs were tangled in my shorts, which was why I hadn’t been able to see them.

  She sniffled again. “No. It’s on the river.”

  “Okay. Is there anyone else in the bathroom?” I shook the shorts with one hand to get my underwear out.

  “Yeah. One person.”

  “Does she seem nice?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Can I talk to her for a sec?” I tried to get my boxer briefs on, but they were a little too tight to put on one-handed.

  “Okay.”

  There was a muffled conversation. I took advantage and set the phone down long enough to pull up my underwear. I put the phone back to my ear just as an unfamiliar woman’s voice came on the line. “Hello?”

  “Hi. This is going to sound weird, but my friend thinks she was slipped something,” I said.

  “Shit.” She sounded both concerned and horrified.

  “Can you tell me the name of the bar you’re in?”

  “Yeah. It’s the West End in Old Sac.”

  Oh, good. I actually knew that one. “Awesome. She’s supposed to be there with her sorority sisters. They are Tri Eps. I’m on my way to pick her up, but if you could just see if there are any Tri Eps in the bar and direct them to her?”

  “Totally. Of course. Are they wearing their colors or anything?”

  “Probably not. It’s not an official sorority outing.”

  “It’s cool. I’ll find them.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Sure thing.”

  There was another muffled conversation and Lane came back on the line. “Cash?”

  “Yeah, Laney. I’m on my way okay?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, absolutely. The girl from the bathroom is going to find your sorority sisters, but you just stay put okay?”

  “Like in the bathroom?”

  “Yeah. That’s a good place.”

  “Okay. Hurry.”

  “I will.” I hung up and turned to find Laurel sitting up in bed, starting at me. “Oh, fuck.” I jumped.

  “Sorry. What’s going on?”

  I found my T-shirt and pulled it on. “Lane called. She’s drunk and scared and thinks she might have been slipped something.”

  Laurel threw back the sheet. “How are we going to get past Reyes and Duarte? They’re not going to want us to leave.”

  “We can just explain to them. I mean, Henry is in custody by now, right?”

  “He’s supposed to be, which means according to every movie and also your logic, he’s definitely not.” She had a point.

  “They’re never going to let us go.”

  “Nope.”

  “Then let’s just be real quiet,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, okay,” she whispered back.

  We quickly, quietly got dressed. I darted back to my room to get shoes, but didn’t put them on. When I got back to Laurel’s room, she was holding her shoes and peeking out her door.

  “Anyone out there?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Follow me.” She tiptoed out. When I’d gotten through, she carefully closed it. We took two steps into the common room before she took my hand and squeezed. She nodded at the couch. Duarte was asleep on it. I nodded. She led me through the common area. She dug in the inside pocket of the blazer Reyes had left hanging by the door. She undid all three locks, which seemed like overkill, but what did I know? Outside, she closed the door. I pulled on my shoes while she locked the door with the keys she’d taken. She stepped into her shoes. We hustled down the stairs to the condo parking circle.

  “I’m going to call a Lyft,” I said.

  “Don’t bother.” Laurel held up the keys. A car fob was hanging with them.

  “You’re fucking devious.”

  “I know.” It only took us a minute to find the sedan Reyes was driving. In two minutes we were on the freeway headed back to Sac.

  “Do you feel like a juvenile delinquent right now? Sneaking out. Taking Dad’s car?” I asked.

  “No.” She smirked. “I sneaked out plenty as a kid. That was much more scary.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah. Didn’t you?”

  “Never,” I said.

  “Seriously? Cash Braddock, drug dealer, rule breaker extraordinaire, never sneaked out?”

  “I didn’t have to. Clive trusted me.”

  “Jesus. I bet you didn’t have a curfew either, did you?” She merged onto 50.

  “No. I just told him what time I’d be home. If it was unreasonably late, he’d ask why. I’d tell him.”

  Laurel shook her head. “My father would have lost his shit if I got home one minute after midnight. And, yes, before you ask, the boys had a one a.m. curfew.”

  “And Lane had midnight?” We got onto I-5.

  “Of course.”

  “But not because of sexism?”

  “No way. Definitely not. It was because they tried out the later curfew and it just didn’t work. So they went back to the original.”

  “Right. Yeah. Logical.”

  She got off the freeway. We were on the main stretch of Old Sac. “Which bar?”

  “She’s at West End.” I pointed. “Two blocks down. I don’t see any parking though.”

  “Fuck it. We’ve got cop plates.”

  “You’re so hot when you break rules.”

  “I know.” She pulled up out front of the bar, yanked the brake up, and hopped out.

  We stormed into the bar, ready to punch anyone who was hurting baby girl, and found Lane at a table with her sorority sisters. They were making her drink water. One of them was playing with her hair.

  “Laney,” I called.

  She looked up. “Cash! You came.” She saw Laurel behind me. “And you brought big sis.”

  “Yeah, of course.” I leaned over and hugged her. Then I stepped aside so Laurel could hug her too. The sorority girls on either side of Lane scooted over a seat so we could sit. “How are you feeling?”

  “Okay. Embarrassed. I might have overreacted.”

  I looked around the table. There were five women with Lane. The one sitting next to Laurel spoke up. “She didn’t overreact. She hasn’t had alcohol in months and she had a strong margarita. It hit her hard.” She leaned over to squeeze Lane’s hand. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” The other women echoed her.

  Lane nodded. “Thanks, guys.”

  “I take it you’ve been hydrating properly?” Laurel nodded at the nearly empty water glass in front of Lane.

  “Yeah.” Lane drew a line in the condensation.

  “She’s probably done drinking for the night, but I think some food might help,” the woman directly across from Lane said.

  “There’s no better drunk food than Pieces,” I said.

  Three of the sorority sisters looked up in excitement. “Oh, we’re so going.”

  “We need Pieces,” one of the brunettes said.

  “It’s the only option.” The other brunette who looked identical to the first nodded.

  The woman next to Lane asked, “Is that the place you always talk about, Dakota?”

  “Yeah. We have to go,” Dakota said.

  I squeezed Lane’s shoulder. “What do you say? Are you up for pizza?”

  She smiled. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

  Laurel looked around the table and counted. “I don’t think everyone will fit in the car we took. We’ll need to call a Lyft.”

  The woman next to Dakota raised her hand off the table. “It’s cool. I’m DD.”

  “Great. Let’s go.”

  We ended up with Lane and Emmy in the stolen cop sedan. Savannah, the DD, took Dakota, Karina, and Briana. I tried very hard to tell the brunettes Karina and Briana apart, but quickly decided it was an impossible task. Karina was wearing a teal top. Briana was wearing yellow. That was the only difference.

  Laurel drove down Capitol and missed the turn on 3rd to get to N.

  “Dude, where are you going? You’re going to hit the Capitol.”

  “No, I’m not. Oh, shit. Yes, I am.”

  “That was quite the roller coaster.” I laughed. “It was quite enjoyable.”

  “Holy shit. Oh, fuck. Jesus fucking Christ,” Lane said.

  I spun around. “What?”

  “You two are back together.” She squealed. “Why didn’t you tell me? Happy birthday to me.”

  I shook my head and tried to look sad. “No, Lane. Didn’t Laurel tell you? She’s engaged to someone else.”

  “What? No. Who? Wait.” She smacked my arm. “Jerk.”

  “You know better than to believe a thing she says, Lane,” Laurel said.

  “Except we are back together, yeah. That you can believe.”

  “Wait, so which of you is Lane’s sister?” Emmy asked.

  “That would be me.” Laurel raised her hand.

  “But you’re the roommate?” Emmy asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “But you two are together?”

  “They are very complicated,” Lane said.

  I was going to deny it, but she wasn’t wrong. We were a little complicated.

  “Cute,” Emmy said. She was very chill. None of Lane’s squealing.

  Laurel found legal parking in front of Pieces Pizza. Savannah paralleled three spots behind us. I left Laurel to move two outdoor tables together and went inside to order for us and Lane. The sorority girls lined up with me. Those who hadn’t been to Pieces looked around. It was a janky hole-in-the-wall. The furniture inside was all mismatched patio tables and chairs. It hadn’t been updated in thirty years and it hadn’t started with any sort of design. It was perfect.

  After some debate, it was decided two pitchers of beer were needed. I was gearing up to order when Dakota took charge. It was a frankly sexy monologue.

  “Two pesto pepperoni. One veggie with garlic. Two vegan, one with garlic, one without. Two pesto, feta, sun-dried tomato. One with olives added, but no garlic on either. And a mushroom and olive. An order of pesto sticks, two sides of ranch. Two pitchers of Arrogant Bastard and eight glasses, thanks.”

  The chick behind the counter nodded and nodded. Her white girl dreads swung back and forth. I was reasonably certain it was a requirement that at any given time, at least one employee working had to have dreads. “Righteous. Extra garlic on the pesto pepperoni?”