I didn’t need to look at Rue to know she was fuming. These were the lines I crossed. This was what got me in trouble time after time. As a street cop, I had a tendency to empathize with the wrong side of the law. The ten-year-old kid, who stole a chocolate bar from the grocery store because his absent mother hadn’t bought food in over a month, and he was starving. The woman who slashed her husband’s tires because it was the only nonviolent way she could think of to prevent him from driving his drunk ass to the liquor store for more booze—confronting him would have put her in danger since he also had a habit of smacking her around. The spiraling teenager who didn’t know how to express her grief after losing a sister in a car accident and instead lashed out at the world as a whole, spray-painting buildings and smashing glass bottles in the road, consequences be damned.
The law wasn’t always black and white. Not to me. I understood on a conscious level that I wasn’t judge or jury. I knew the people I arrested could fight their cases in court and that my job was to uphold the law, but I grew up in the gray. In the in-between. A place fraught with misunderstandings. Wrong and right, good and bad, they tended to blend and blur. Not everyone took the time to look deeper, to see what was really going on.
I’d been that spiraling teen, begging for help when no one would listen. I’d been that ten-year-old kid, stealing from hunger. I’d slashed my mother’s tires for a whole other reason, but that was a different story. I was not ashamed. I did not regret my actions. I’d done what I needed to do to get by. To survive.
A chasm of silence filled the kitchen. Rue didn’t bully me out of the way—although I was certain she wanted to. She must have seen what I saw on the faces of the three women across from us.
Fear.
Irina spoke after Cheyenne nudged her arm. “Jesse made everyone uneasy, but he wasn’t the only one, Detective. He was one of many. We tried to report their behavior, but no one cared. Even a petition with over sixty signatures did nothing. Blaze dropping those charges was a mistake. After she did that, the administration kept saying they couldn’t expel Jesse or any of his friends. They had no proof they had done anything wrong. It was our word against theirs. For a while, the university got strict about parties, and they constantly shut them down, but it didn’t matter. People found locations off campus to hold them. Westillaren’t safe.”
“No one has reported actual rape. Until that happens, the administration doesn’t care.” Cheyenne scoffed. “Boys being boys, they tell us. It’s bullshit. Is that what needs to happen for them to take us seriously? The only reason they finally got rid of Jesse was because he was caught dealing drugs on campus.”
“We don’t go to parties anymore,” Harper said, speaking for the first time. “Jesse might be gone, but his friends aren’t. It’s not safe. We’re always hearing about girls getting their drinks spiked and guys trying to take advantage of them. It’s out of control.”
“I hear you.” I balled my fists, anger burning under my skin. Why was no one stopping this? “Ladies, Jesse was murdered. I suspect he took it too far with someone, and they retaliated.He crossed lines, possibly horrific lines, and he suffered the consequences. Is there an incident that stands out? Have you heard rumors or talk of anyone who might have had an encounter with him?”
The women consulted one another and shook their heads in unison. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. At this rate, we’d be interviewing the entire female population of the university. Something insidious lived within its walls, and I feared it would be impossible to bleed it out.
Rue cut in. “Do you know if Jesse or his friends were acquainted on a personal level with Professor Navid Kordestani?”
Harper and Cheyenne seemed puzzled, but Irina’s gaze turned inward like she was thinking about something.
“Irina?” I asked.
“No, but…” She shook her head. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Let us decide.”
“It’s… Dr. Kordestani was part of the committee that decided Jesse’s fate. When the drug dealing came to light, we paid close attention. We wanted him gone. We didn’t care how. The university handles most things internally. They don’t like to involve the police unless they have to, so they form a committee and vote. I heard… I mean, this is just a rumor. I don’t know for a fact, but I heard that Dr. Kordestani voted against expelling him. He was one of two professors who spoke in favor of letting Jesse stay. I don’t know who the other one was. Someone in administration, I think.”
We chatted for another fifteen minutes but didn’t learn anything else. As Rue and I readied to leave, Harper spoke. “Are you guys going to do something about the problem? The girls on campus don’t feel safe anymore, and we aren’t getting any support from the school.”
I offered a tight smile, frustration making it hard to keep my opinion to myself. “We’ll keep investigating.” It wasn’t a promise. It was barely an answer. It didn’t offer an ounce of hope, but it was all I could give.
Part of me wanted to hunt down the people in charge and ask them why they had let something so volatile take root in their student body. Why hadn’t they quashed the issue when it was presented? But Rue would tell me it wasn’t my job, and she was right.
12
Dominique
I arrived early forour Thursday evening date. Kobe had made the reservation for eight thirty, but I managed to talk the guy working the bar into giving me a table right away since the one we’d occupied during our first visit to the Apothecary was available. I liked the quiet corner space, and it had an unobstructed view of where the jazz musicians were setting up for the evening performance.
Sipping a smoky Mortician, I listened to the saxophonist and bass player warm up. The duo wore white trousers and jackets, trilbies, and shimmering gold shirts that sparkled under the flickering candles. They hadn’t been given stage lighting, or any lighting at all for that matter. The shadowed ambience of the speakeasy remained.
With my jumpy nerves, I appreciated the clandestine atmosphere of the lounge. No one could see the sweat peppering my forehead or the shake in my hands that wouldn’t go away. My heart had been in my throat for the past hour, and my stomach was in a knot.
I’d been anticipating the date all day, unable to concentrate on little else. The attraction I felt toward Kobe was impossible to ignore. Every time we were together, my skin buzzed. I wanted things that I hadn’t wanted in a long time.
Kobe arrived as the musicians introduced themselves and rolled into their first piece of the evening, a sultry rendition of “Black Coffee” by Peggy Lee.
“Hey. Am I late?” He slipped onto the rounded bench seat and checked the time on his phone with a frown.
“No. I’m disgustingly early. It’s a fault. I had things to do this afternoon, so I left work early.”
“Lucky you. I raced home from the office to change. Today’s been hell.” Kobe craned to see the jazz players and grinned. “Tommy and Diaz. They’re a great duo. I love this song.” He closed his eyes and sang a few lyrics, swaying with the rhythm, then he stopped and laughed. “Sorry. I won’t be that person. How are you?”
Kobe had dressed similarly to the first time we’d gone out. Jeans, a tight, plain black tee, and a puffer jacket that he slipped out of and placed on the far side of the bench.
