Thatcher’s mouth tightens as he side-eyes Melissa. “I’ll find you,” he says to me.
Ha ha. No, you won’t. Call it a skill.
He scribbles something in his notebook and gives me that same blisteringly polite smile before walking away.
“Mm-mm!” Melissa ogles his ass as he walks away. “We’re going to the Gs. Don’t know where everyone’s gonna sleep, but I guess we’ll figure it out.”
I stare after the Deputy. I only confirmed what he already knew, yet somehow I’m filled with a sense of dread, like I said way too much.
If there’s going to be some kind of fallout from this, I need to be prepared. First, I need to know if Kai’s even responsible for this mess.
But if I can’t go upstairs…
I whip my head around to look at Melissa. “Who called the cops?”
“Abigail. She was the first one back. Remember, she had too many?—”
Thankfully, Melissa cuts off when I raise my hand. My stomach is way too tender for a rehash of that story. We all heard her retching in the bathroom.
“Where is she?”
Melissa points, and I grimace when I see Deputy Thatcher talking to Abigail.
Come on, man.
“I need to talk to her. Find out what happened,” I mutter.
“Yes!” Melissa grabs my arm, giving me a hard shake. “She’ll know about my purses. If something happened to my Hermès, I’m gonna rage.”
“You gotta distract the cop.”
“How?”
“I dunno. Give him a statement or something.”
Her eyes narrow as she turns to look at Thatcher. “Fuck a statement,” she mutters. “Ima give him enough probable cause to arrest me.” She struts over to them like a supermodel on crack before I can get a word out.
I roll my lips together, my eyes misting.
I’ve never been more proud.
Deputy Thatcher recoils when she arrives at his side, eyebrows furrowing at whatever she says to him. But a second later, he’s dismissing Abigail and grabbing Melissa’s elbow to lead her out of earshot.
I should be shocked, but it’s Melissa. I can’t think of any guy who wouldn’t want to fuck her. Although it kinda just looks like they’re arguing.
Whatever.
I hurry over to Abigail, pulling her into the kitchen by her arm. Her face is pale, her eyes bloodshot, but she looks moreshaken by all the activity in the sorority house than by her mild case of chocolate-alcohol poisoning.
“What happened?” I whisper, crossing my arms and darting quick glances over at Thatcher and Melissa.
“Don’t know how they got in. Everything was still locked when I got here.”
“Probably climbed through a window,” I say, waving a hand. “What did they take?”
“I don’t know. It was such a mess. You’ll have to see for yourself when they let you up there.”
“What…” I trail off with a low groan.
