Rue learned that Ford dropped out of school over a year before Jesse’s expulsion. We didn’t know why he left or if they’d stayed in touch. According to Blaze’s friends, Jesse had still attended the odd off-campus party. Had Ford? Hopefully, the parents could help answer some lingering questions.
Navid’s position on the committee that determined Jesse’s fate gave us pause. If the rumors were true and the doctor had voted against Jesse’s removal from school, it could be the reason he was dead.
Why would he support someone who was causing trouble on campus?
Either way, we had a lot of questions to ask and a lot of blanks to fill.
I discovered a message on my work phone from Dr. Delmar Housing, Dominique’s acquaintance, who studied fragrance transfer. When I returned his call, I got a machine. Great. Playing phone tag would accomplish nothing. I redirected my call to his secretary and got an email address. Since I had a minute, I typed up a query and sent it off, hoping I’d get a few questions answered before the turn of the century. It would be nice to have something positive to present to Rue so she might forget about my runaway mouth.
I secretly hoped I would be able to escape to see Dominique that evening, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. He didn’t care about my unfiltered comments. Although the idea of venting about the case and my partner sounded refreshing, what I really wanted was to explore more intimate exchanges and see where they led.
“Let’s go,” Rue said, breaking me from a delectable daydream that involved Dominique’s mouth and tongue and far less clothing.
As I followed Rue from the bullpen, someone called my name. Frowning, I glanced over my shoulder, scanning thebustle of people milling about. A uniformed constable I vaguely recognized hustled toward me, weaving around the morning congestion of officers and detectives preparing for their day.
When he stopped, I glanced at the name badge clipped to his shirt. Yates. A memory surfaced. Ari Yates. We’d been teamed up for Canada Day security a few years ago, along with a group of seven or eight other officers. He was a rookie at the time. We’d chatted plenty during that blistering hot summer day as we’d walked the streets of downtown, ensuring there was no trouble during the festivities.
He’d grown a goatee and put on a few pounds.
“How’s it going, Yates?”
“Good. Better. Do you have a second?”
“Not really. Working a big case.”
“I heard.” He glanced at Rue, who was growing impatient by the second. “It’s kinda related.” Yates shifted his weight and heaved his heavy utility belt higher on his waist. “It’ll only take a minute. I promise.”
“What do you mean it’s related?”
“It might be. I can’t say for sure, but I think you should know.”
“Spit it out. We’re in a hurry,” Rue said.
Yates thumbed over his shoulder. “I have to show you something.”
“Christ,” Rue mumbled. “Later. We’ve gotta go.”
Something about the look on Yates’s face told me not to brush him aside. Details from that hot Canada Day came back to me. I’d volunteered for the extra shift. The department had needed more patrol staff, and by midday, I regretted the decision.
Yates had talked about his bumpy start with the department and the asshole they’d given him as a partner, a cranky old-timer close to retirement. I wasn’t someone people ordinarily looked up to, but listening to the rookie chat about his problems that day gave my self-esteem a solid boost.
“Bring the car around,” I said to Rue. “I’ll be there in five.”
“Haven—”
“Five minutes, Rue. Fucking relax. If it’s case-related, we need to listen.”
Her nostrils flared. “Fine. Hurry up.”
I was aware of Sergeant Golding’s open office door and her presence behind the desk. She wouldn’t be pleased if she thought I was lollygagging or socializing unnecessarily, but I followed Yates across the bullpen. The constable snagged a brown folder and kept walking down the hall and into an unused interview room.
He closed the door behind us.
When he stalled, seeming uncertain, I rolled my hand. “Get to it, bud. I don’t have time to waste, and I’m already on my partner’s shit list today.”
Yates nodded, staring at the brown folder like he wanted to give it to me but couldn’t find the courage. He spoke instead. “All right. Look. I don’t want this on my shoulders anymore. It eats at me.”
“Want what?”
