Page 109 of Deep Cover

6

Annie

Tad Charles sounded suspicious when I called. He knew where I was. It had become almost inevitable that someone in Seattle PD would know the truth. He knew what Samuels had done, to some degree, and thought the man a fool.

So did I. A fool I intended to fuck up when I got my life back. It was all I could do not to waste a little time asking him if he knew where Samuels was. Since I was still in Southern Nevada for the duration, it didn't matter.

I was compiling a list of people I wanted to fuck up or maybe even kill, à la Aya Stark, only no one had beheaded anyone I loved.

There was a guard who had watched me strip-searched by a nurse my first morning, after Cole had actually freed me and I'd flailed and failed and found my way back. That guard had watched me strip down and consent to a cavity search that left me sweating, I blushed so hard, nauseated by the invasion. He had sneered and smirked at my humiliation.

I'd sworn I was going to kill him.

And Samuels. For putting me in this position.

What I'd do in retaliation for him saving my life – that I didn't know.

"I can't talk long, Tad. I just." Need to feel some control. Want to know I'll get back to the job someday. Want to talk to somebody still doing what I need to do.

Want a modicum of normalcy in my life for two minutes.

Every time I used the phone it was dangerous. Cole only let me call my father and that was only as a reward for spectacular behavior. Or because I'd become so freaked out of being out of contact that even his reassurances that he'd be notified if my father's health did anything but improve wasn't enough.

"Girl, when are you coming back to the job? We miss your smiling face."

That was a lie. My face was rarely in the office and it didn't smile all that often, either.

"I'm working on it. Look, can you tell me anything that's going down with the Brotherhood? I feel out of touch and I'm having nightmares that the drugs are just flowing through the streets." Unfortunately, that wasn't a lie.

"So you think you're the only one who can make a difference? All right, I get you."

Even the mocking humor was pleasant. I liked hearing it again and feeling like I was a part of that world of automatic mockery and putdowns.

"Well, I don't know how you've survived without me," I said and listened as he agreed, but then sobered.

"Look, you're supposed to be in rehab and I respect the hell out of you for doing whatever it is you're doing and sticking to it. Obviously you are because I don't think any other thing would keep you away. Only if this makes you come back and it's too soon - That’d be on my head."

"That would be my responsibility," I told him. "I'm serious, Tad. I'm having nightmares. I need to know what's going on."

And then, because he's honest and true and a real friend and a good cop, he told me.

There'd been two deaths of high school kids, both overdoses by good girls nobody even knew were doing fet. One had been a track runner who got injured and started abusing opioids. After a very expensive tour of facilities, her parents thought she was clean.

They were wrong.

The other girl had never met a drug she didn't like. Unfortunately, fentanyl didn't like her back.

There were reports coming in about bikers from other cities setting up shop and the Brotherhood starting to ride out to protect their territory. I reminded myself that Jesse was gone and that I'd never had an obligation to the group other than bringing them down.

I was still at cross purposes about that.

Bring them down.

Set them free.

No. Bring them down. Before they did to high school students what they'd done to me.

You did this to yourself.

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