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Durian didn’t have street drugs on him.

Nothing that would be tied to the Aldentes or Napolitans.

He had pharmaceuticals.

The ones that the Barleys push.

They’re being set up.

48

Can’t Stomach it Any Longer

Kale

Istumble to the front of the club, making it to the street before upheaving my guts everywhere.

“Hey, drunk asshole! Keep it moving!” a man shouts behind me.

My head spins, my blood buzzing under my skin as I stumble towards my car. Acting like the drunk I have been accused of being.

Except I am stone cold sober.

Once inside, I sit in silence for a long time. My mind wrapping, winding, unwinding.

So many people dead. It’s all my fault. I created that poison. I’m responsible.

It takes a long time before I can escape the guilt which suffocates me.

I find my phone on the charger and power it on.

Messages. Voicemails.

Dozens.

They come through one after the other in rapid succession.

Each ding! another sting of concern.

My phone is on for less than one minute before it begins to ring.

Captain.

I answer it.

“You son of a fucking bitch! Where have you been?!” Sergeant Cacao screams through the phone.

“My phone died, why are you calling me from the Captain’s phone?”

“He’s dead. The captain is dead. Get to the fucking station. None of us are sleeping tonight.”

Shock. Denial.

How? He was alive when I drove away. Cinnamon never left my sight.

“I—what happened?” I swallow down my heart.

“Slipped down his fucking stairs, someone left enough oil to coat the entire landing,” Cacao barks.