“It’s been years since I’ve had a good PB&J,” Harrison told him, but then added, “Although yeah, I’m pretty sure I’mgetting hosed, all around. So. What’s your plan to catch this guy?”
“I don’t know. I’m still working on that,” Jules said. “We’ve got a list of suspects—kids who got within range of my bottle of Dr. Pepper before I, you know, blacked out.”
“And... you’re not about to share that list with me.”
“No, sir, I am not.”
“Yeah, be polite, that helps with the blatant, in-your-face refusal—actually, you know, it really does.” But then he gave Jules a look that was meant to curdle. “You better make fucking sure no one gets hurt.”
Another fully appropriate use of the f-bomb in a school setting.
“With all due respect,” Jules said, “too many people have already been hurt. We know what we’re getting into, and we’re willing to take the risk.”
“You should know that taking you to the hospital was harder for your mom than she probably let on. I mean, think about it, kid. She took your father to the ER, and he never came home.”
“I’m very much aware of that,” Jules said tightly. “But she was the one who pushed to go.”
“Well, yeah,” Harrison said. “Her kid was just assaulted. Drugging you absolutely was an assault.” He took another bite of his sandwich and they both chewed in silence for a bit before he popped open the grape soda and took a long slug. “She told me what you told her—that you blacked out, but you were able to walk and even talk to your friends.”
“Yeah,” Jules said. “Hearing about the things I said and did and not remembering any of it...? I still don’t remember any of it, like those hours of my life are just... gone. It’s very weird.”
“I bet.” Harrison wiped his mouth on a napkin and made a gimme motion with his hand. “Where’s that PB&J?”
Jules pulled the plastic zip-lock baggie out of his lunch bag and handed it over. “It’s a little smooshed.”
“Even better. Enhances the flavors. You know, I have a connection at the FBI. An old buddy from the Corps.”
The Corps? TheMarineCorps. Right.
“I didn’t know that,” Jules said. “But... I’m pretty sure this isn’t a federal crime.”
“Yeah, no, I don’t think it is either,” Harrison said. “But I called him yesterday, after your mom called me.” He rifled through the papers that he’d pushed to the other side of his desk. “Where did I put that, damn it...? I had to write it down because... Ah, here it is. Flunitrazepam.” He said the word slowly, reading it from the sheet of paper. “Emphasis on the third syllable. You ever hear of diazepam? Valium?”
“Yeah,” Jules said. “Of course.Valley of the Dolls...?”
“No, that was barbiturates,” Harrison corrected him. “Uppers. Valium’s a benzodiazepine. Mother’s little helper? Think tranquilizer. Depressant. It calms you down. Relaxes you. In large enough doses, similar to alcohol, it lowers inhibitions.”
“Oh-kay,” Jules said. That sounded disconcertingly familiar.
“Flunitrazepam is ten times stronger than Valium, and at as little as a two milligram dose, it causes something, while it’s in your bloodstream, calledanterograde amnesia.”
“Anterograde,” Jules repeated, reaching in his backpack for his notebook and something to write with because he was going to have to look that up, but Harrison stopped him by handing him the paper with his scribbled notes. And it was right there.Anterograde amnesia, in Harrison’s blocky handwriting.
“It’s a loss of short term memory,” the teacher informed him. “You ever meet someone with dementia and they ask you the same question over and over, like thirty seconds later, because they’ve already forgotten they asked it?”
“No, but... I mean, TV and movies...”
“Right. Good. It really is like that—short term memory loss. This drug does that.”
“And... when it leaves your system?” Jules asked.
“The anterograde effect goes away—you regain ability to access your short term memory, but the amnesia from when the drug was in your bloodstream...? That doesn’t resolve. Whatever you did during that time, it remains a giant blank.”
“Wow,” Jules said. “Flu-ni-traz-e-pam.” He said it aloud, using Harrison’s phonetic helper—a dark underline beneath thetraz, showing emphasis, like he’d said, of that third syllable. “What’s this?” He pointed to a word written beside it, with a similar underline beneath the second syllable. “Rohypnol?”
“That’s one of the drug’s brand names. Apparently, it’s odorless, colorless, tasteless,” Harrison continued. “Two milligrams dumped in, let’s say a bottle of Dr. Pepper, would kick in around fifteen minutes after consumption. The effect lasts around twelve hours.”
“Well,thattracks,” Jules said. “Flunitrazepam.”
