The Price of Cash Read online

  “Obviously. Take it down a notch, man.”

  “Sorry.” Context mattered. “I was talking to Reyes. It sounds like some idiot is selling counterfeit pills.”

  Nate scoffed. “Great.”

  “I’m supposed to ask if you know of anyone selling something like that. Or fentanyl.”

  “Why me?”

  “’Cause you’re better at trends and shit. You know of anyone doing anything like that?”

  “No. But I’m not exactly dialed in anymore either. My customers are disappearing. I’ve had to pass up a fuckload of parties. So there’s not a lot of opportunity to get information right now.”

  “I hear you. See what you can find out. If it’s nothing, we’ll tell Reyes that.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Cool. So Mateo is going to check. Then we can start selling?” I was worried. What we really needed was a way to launder money. Nate had a tuition payment coming. We couldn’t exactly pay his tuition in cash. But I was afraid that by the time we figured it out, we wouldn’t have any clients left to sell to. If I could just build a new business, keep my guilt at bay for another year or so, Nate would be clear. Yeah, nothing problematic with that plan. The look Andy had given me earlier was dragging me down.

  “Theoretically, yeah.”

  “Solid.”

  “What are you up to tonight?”

  “Second Saturday. With Robin.”

  “You made up with Robin?” His voice went up in excitement.

  “Yeah.” I tried to keep my tone cool, but didn’t succeed. “I’m taking her to Kyra’s show.”

  “I’ll let you go then. Have fun.”

  We hung up. I didn’t know how to tell him what Andy had said. Repeating it would give it power, existence. I wasn’t ready.

  Chapter Four

  I woke slowly. My phone had been vibrating, then there was knocking. More vibrations from the phone. More knocking. I finally woke up enough to figure out that someone was calling me. And pounding on the door. I read the barrage of messages on my phone interspersed with missed calls. Kallen and Reyes really wanted me to open the door. It took me a moment to connect that to the knocking and realize they were standing outside.

  A glance at the clock confirmed why thinking was so hard. It was just after six. What sort of monsters were awake at this hour? Especially on a Sunday. Wasn’t that holy for some people?

  After much wrestling with my blankets, I managed to find the edge of the bed. I pulled on last night’s jeans, grabbed a clean T-shirt out of my drawer. Put my T-shirt on backward, took off my T-shirt, put it back on. My phone vibrated with another message. I pressed the screen until the keyboard popped up.

  Chill. I’m coming. I typed.

  Merciful silence.

  I stumbled into the bathroom. Went pee. Brushed my teeth. Washed my face. I felt marginally more awake. My eyes still felt gritty. My head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton. They’d better have brought coffee. I opened the door. No coffee. Reyes was leaning in the shadows with his face carefully turned from the street. Kallen was sitting on the stairs impatiently tapping her phone against her leg. They both looked at me. I left the door open and went to the kitchen. I hit the button to grind coffee and started putting the coffee machine together.

  “I don’t suppose I’ll be going back to bed anytime soon?” I asked when they followed me.

  “Don’t bother making coffee,” Laurel said. I had the briefest moment of hope. “We’re going to the station.”

  It took every bit of effort I had to not physically react. “No.” I filled the carafe with water.

  “We’re not asking.” Kallen shifted her stance out of contrapposto. She spread her feet, subtly rolled her shoulders. Christ, she thought I was going to run?

  Reyes stepped forward. He shot a look at his partner. She tensed like she was going to fight him before chasing me down. He held her gaze. She went outside.

  “Sorry. We’ve had a brutal night,” he said.

  “That doesn’t make her shitty behavior okay.” I was no better than she was.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I know. But maybe ease up on her until you get the lay of the land. We’re on the same side.”

  “No, we’re not. There’s a pretty distinct power imbalance here.” I waved between me and him.

  He stared at the ceiling, took a deep breath. I swear he counted to five. Then he looked back at me. “I’m very sorry we are here so early. Especially as we didn’t warn you.” I nodded in acceptance. “I’d like to ask you to come to the station with us. We have an ongoing case and Ionescu requested your presence. We will happily stop for coffee on the way to the station. My partner and I could use it as well.”

  “If I ask what this is about, will you tell me?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Because you lack the tact?” I was aiming for levity, but my inability to smile worked against me.

  Reyes forced a chuckle. “I wish it was that simple.”

  “I’m going to finish getting dressed.”

  “Hurry.”

  I went back to my bedroom. The station was perpetually cold. At least in summer. I threw on a hooded long-sleeve tee. We were still in the cool part of the morning. I didn’t harbor any delusions that it would still be temperate when I got out. By nine we would be triple digits again. I loved summer, but the charm was waning the way it always did in August. Plus, I had a feeling I was going to spend the day enjoying the hospitality of the Sacramento Police Department. Reyes would probably kill me if I took the time to style my hair, so I grabbed the Massey Ferguson cap I’d stolen from Clive and put it on backward.

  When I got back in the kitchen, Reyes had fed Nickels, which apparently made him a god. She was purr-eating and flicking her tail at me.

  “I hope it’s okay that I fed her. She was meowing.”

  I leaned against the wall and pulled my Converse on. “That’s fine. Is Kallen waiting in the car?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Have either of you slept?”

  “No.”

  “Can I get a vague warning about what I’m walking into?”

  Reyes shook his head. “Just stick with the truth. And don’t elaborate. You’ll be fine.”

  Somehow, that made me feel a hell of a lot more trepidation about this excursion.

  Kallen was sitting behind the wheel of a very conspicuous Crown Vic. It was risky that Reyes showed up at my place at all. But that car took the whole thing to reckless heights.

  “So we’re really flying under the radar, Detective Reyes?” I muttered.

  He opened his mouth to respond, then shook his head. “Just get in so we can get this over with.”

  I got in the car. Kallen’s only acknowledgment of our presence was to pull away from the curb. After some muttering in the front seat, we made a detour and stopped outside a coffee shop. Reyes went in. Kallen and I waited in silence. It wasn’t insanely uncomfortable or anything. Nope, it was fine.

  Reyes came back and distributed massive coffee cups and scones. Kallen tossed her breakfast on the dash. Like she was above food. Everything about her was obnoxious. Where did she get off acting like we were inconveniencing her? The staccato of her fingertips on the steering wheel was the old brag of Esther’s heart, rapid and constant and arrogant. The muscles in her bare forearm rolled with each tap. It was sensual and obscene.

  Why did I have to be so fascinated by her?

  We parked at the police station and I remembered why Laurel Kallen was so dangerous. I followed them upstairs and did my best to pretend I was there voluntarily. They stuck me in an interview room and promised they would return shortly. I stretched out on the sad, sterile couch and tried to go back to sleep. It didn’t work. Twenty minutes passed. I finished my coffee and scone, moved to the conference table, put my feet up. Tossed the napkin from my scone at the trash can. Missed. Picked it up and tossed it again. Missed again. Threw it away and glanced around surreptitiously to confirm that there were no cameras to do
cument my defeat. None visible.

  When the door finally opened, it was a dude I didn’t know. I’d seen him the handful of times I’d been at the station. He was tall and bulky. Not quite fat yet, but his muscle mass was clearly at war with the onset of middle age.

  “Ms. Braddock, I’m Detective Gibson. I need to ask you some questions.” He opened a file in front of me. It contained a mug shot of one of my former customers.

  “Sure.” I glanced at the photo, nodded. “But I need either Reyes or Kallen here.”

  “Excuse me?” Gibson didn’t like that response.

  “They are my handlers. It’s their names on all my paperwork. I wouldn’t want anyone to get in trouble for crossing a line. You understand.” I didn’t ask. It wasn’t a question.

  “I just need to know if you recognize this guy.” He jabbed the photo with a modicum more force than necessary. “A few follow-up questions. Nothing earth-shattering.” Despite his best efforts to sound casual, he was clearly on edge. My simple denial had kicked him right up to an abyss he didn’t like staring at.

  “Then it shouldn’t be an issue to include one of my handlers.”

  “Damn, Kallen really does own your ass, doesn’t she?” His tone was jocular, his statement was not.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing. It’s just strange that you won’t answer a few simple questions. Are you looking for an obstruction of justice charge?”

  “To be clear, you are just as much a pig as Kallen.” I stood. “I will happily answer questions according to parameters of the agreement I have with the Sacramento Police Department and the Sacramento District Attorney’s office. Detectives Kallen and Reyes, despite their inherently piggish nature, never seem to be confused about that. Feel free to direct any questions to Sergeant Ionescu, either of my handlers, or my lawyer.” I let myself out of the interview room.

  As I pulled the door quietly shut behind me, I looked around the squad room for Kallen and Reyes. They shared a desk that was situated midway down the row. They were seated across from each other, both typing and glaring at computer screens that were easily a decade old. I made my way to them. Kallen saw me first. Then Reyes realized that she had stopped typing and followed her gaze.

  “What’s up?” Reyes asked.

  “Yeah, didn’t we tell you it would be a few?” Kallen had tamped down her earlier anger. It was still present, but time had seemingly exhausted it.

  “So neither of you sent in a detective to question me?” I asked.

  They seemed confused by that question.

  “No, we’re waiting for an agent from the Sac field office to join us,” Reyes finally said. “Did someone question you?”

  I shook my head. Not in response to his question. Today was complete suckage. I looked around until I spotted Ionescu’s office. It was the only office with a closed door.

  “That Ionescu’s office?” I asked.

  “Yeah, but…” Kallen’s eyes locked onto something behind my shoulder. “Motherfucker.”

  Reyes spun and added his curses to hers. I gave in and looked. The door to the interview room was open and Detective Gibson was stalking toward us.

  “Have fun.” I made a beeline for Ionescu’s office. They could sort out the territory on their own. Ionescu was behind his desk looking much fresher than any of his detectives. He still appeared to be here at an ungodly hour. Voluntarily. On a Sunday. That probably should have tipped me off that something sketchy was happening.

  “Can I help you?” He didn’t sound super eager to help me. Or maybe that was his scary voice.

  “Yeah, you mind if I close this?” I pointed at the door. He gave a short nod. “Your detectives showed up at my home at an absurd hour this morning.” I sat across from him. If that was too forward for him, he could toss my ass out.

  “If they could have avoided that, they would have.” His tone suggested that they would have gleefully shown up earlier if possible. My convenience was clearly not a factor for this guy.

  “They said I was here for an interview and left me in an interview room for twenty minutes.”

  “I believe we are waiting for Agent Michelson before interviewing you.” Ionescu was rapidly getting bored of this conversation.

  “And I get that. All of it. I’m at your beck and call.” I settled into my uncomfortable chair, my narrative. I hadn’t planned this, but if I was going to fuck with Sac PD, I was going to do it well. “But Kallen and Reyes are generally respectful of the lines of professionalism. As far as I’m aware, they don’t lie to me or ask me to violate the rule of law, or my agreement with your department, or any sort of moral code.”

  Ionescu’s eyebrows, which were barely distinct from each other as it was, moved steadily closer together as he tried to follow my line of reasoning. “Are you here for a specific reason, Ms. Braddock?”

  “Yes. While I was waiting to be interviewed, Detective Gibson decided to take advantage of my expertise.”

  “How so?”

  “He wanted to know if I recognized someone. Showed me their mug shot.” I had no intention of actually identifying the kid to anyone other than Kallen or Reyes. “He refused to include my handlers in the discussion. Then he implied some unsavory things about my relationship to my handlers. Finally, he threatened me. It was disconcerting and inappropriate.”

  “I agree. That does sound inappropriate.” Ionescu was a wall. I couldn’t read anything off the guy. “I can see a few ways to move forward, but what would you like to see happen?”

  “I’d like a written record of the incident including Gibson’s implications and threats in order to establish a pattern in the event that we see similar behavior in the future,” I said. Ionescu started taking notes. “Ideally, I’d like an apology for his attempt to bully me. I’d also like him to apologize to Kallen and Reyes for suggesting that the relationship we have built is anything other than professional.”

  Ionescu smiled, just barely. “Those are not unreasonable terms. Would you mind writing up a report of the incident for me?”

  “No problem.”

  Ionescu stood and came around the desk. He shook my hand. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

  I followed him to the door. As soon as he opened it, I could hear Kallen, Reyes, and Gibson arguing. They weren’t shouting, but they might as well have been. Ionescu’s brows went right back together. We stepped into the main room.

  “Gibson, my office.” Ionescu didn’t need to shout. His voice undercut every conversation in the room. “Kallen, Reyes, a moment.”

  The three detectives filed toward us. Gibson slid into Ionescu’s office without meeting anyone’s eyes. He looked pissed. Kallen and Reyes stood at casual attention. Reyes looked like he wanted to say something, but Kallen carefully cleared her throat. He took a deep breath and waited.

  “Sir?” Kallen asked.

  “Ms. Braddock needs to write up a report. Preferably without interference. Will you set her up at a computer?” Ionescu asked.

  “Of course.” Laurel led me back to her desk. She cleared space on the desk, minimized what she was working on. “Let us know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks.” I sat at the desk. It smelled faintly of her. Soap and cedar. I allowed myself to enjoy it without judgment. It was just scent. It didn’t matter that it calmed me or made my chest tight. I opened a blank document.

  Chapter Five

  Laurel had pulled a chair up to Reyes’s side of the desk. They were reviewing some report. The only other detective working left the room. I stopped typing my careful retelling of my aborted interview with Gibson.

  “Can they hear us in his office?” I asked without looking up from the computer.

  “No,” Laurel said.

  “Gibson suggested some inappropriate things about our relationship. If you’re looking for whoever filed a complaint about you, I’d start there.”

  “Braddock,” Reyes said. But it was too late for his warning.

  “You tol
d her?” Laurel was fighting to pretend to focus on the report she was no longer studying.

  “It’s not his fault. We can talk about it later. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

  The tension emanating from Reyes’s side of the desk was stifling, but I didn’t expand. They eventually returned to their files. I was doing a second proofread when Agent Michelson finally arrived. That is, I guessed he was Agent Michelson. I’d seen him before when we were staking out Laurel’s apartment. He was about the same age as Reyes, but his hair was completely gray. The guy had been intended for federal law enforcement. He just had that look. Tall and slim, but muscled. No identifying features, but vaguely attractive. Average in every possible way. The last time I’d seen him, he was in jeans and a T-shirt. Today, he was wearing a dark suit and white shirt. His proportions were so common he’d probably bought everything off the rack and it just fit.

  “Agent,” Kallen said. She shook his hand and he grinned at her.

  “Detective, good to see you again.” Michelson turned to Reyes and shook his hand too. “You still owe me a run.”

  Reyes laughed. “Good luck with that.” They all laughed. Well, wasn’t this just fun?

  “Michelson, this is Cash Braddock. Braddock, Agent Daniel Michelson,” Kallen said.

  I stood and offered my hand. He shook it. “Good to meet you,” I lied admirably.

  “You too. I understand you’re going to help us out. Thank you. We need all the help we can get.” He smiled.

  Everything about him screamed good, sincere American boy. I’d had my fill of good boys. My instinct was to leave. That wasn’t an option. My other instinct was to say something with a delicate balance of condescension and curse words. Also probably not a great option. Instead I nodded and went back to my proofreading.

  Reyes escorted Michelson to the interview room. Their voices carried enough to catch the tone, but not the words. They were buddies.

  “What was that?” Kallen asked after the door closed. She kept her voice low.