“That reminds me,” Dom chimes in. “My list of buyers of Valmeron and Myocardiner is now seven thousand hospitals, clinics, and medical stores long,” he announces.
“Fuck, that’s a lot,” Slaon comments.
“I was thinking,” Cami says. “You can probably filter it by irregular order. Basically, only looking at buyers who ordered larger-than-normal amounts more than once. These medicines have a long shelf life, so you can’t just look for irregular activities around the murders, but narrowing it to within the last three years should be fine.”
“Huh, That’s brilliant, Cami,” I say. “Dom, do that.”
Dom nods and writes something on his phone.
“I think you’re right, this really could have been an email,” Sloan says after we’ve gone back to our food.
I wish these cases could be solved as quickly as they are on procedural television shows where everything is neatly tied together in one episode, then they move on to the next.
It doesn’t help that we can’t go about this through legal channels, and sometimes being sneaky is time-consuming.
When we’re done and get ready to leave, Sloan frowns at me. “How are you planning to reach home? You didn’t even ask anyone to drop you.”
Fuck, I thought I’d be able to walk away without attracting attention.
“Uh… I ordered a cab,” I say.
She looks confused. “No, you didn’t.”
“Alright, I’m walking,” I snap.
Cami’s eyes go wide. “We can drop you. Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird.”
They look at each other, concerned.
Before they think I’m having a mental breakdown and schedule another intervention, I mumble, “I’m going to Elliot’s.”
As if lowering my volume will help against four pairs of werewolf ears. “We’re doing sleepovers already, are we?” Cami asks.
“That’s exactly how it went with Amy and me, too,” Bree says.
“And that’s why I didn’t say anything, just so you know,” I say. “You all are being dramatic again.”
They shoot each other weird expressions while Dom stands in the corner, looking awkward.
“Okay, no one’s going to be dramatic,” Cami says. “We can drop you at Elliot’s?” she offers.
Yeah, that’s not happening. “I’ll walk.”
“So, he lives close?” Sloan asks, her voice too curious.
This is a trap all around.
“Mickey,” I call the sleeping beauty. He reluctantly joins us near the door. “We’re leaving,” I announce and walk out. I’ll call them and apologize later, when there’s less chance they'll find out more information than they need to know.
Because whatever I feel about Elliot, I know I like him enough to protect him from the people in this house.
Chapter Twenty One
High Stakes, Hard Truths, and Hesitant Invitations
Elliot
