Page 89 of Tequila Tuesdays

Me: What exactly will we be eating?

We’d eaten leftover burritos for breakfast because Damien was out of groceries. I doubted he’d picked any up in the meantime.

Damien: Each other first, and then whatever I can scrounge up.

I smiled and shook my head. The man was obsessed with my lack of a gag reflex.

Me: This isn’t really a lunch date, is it?

Damien: No. I want your ass back in my bed one more time before I leave.

After I got back from breakfast with Olivia that morning and wrapped a few gifts, I made chicken salad sandwiches with some leftover grilled chicken to take to Damien’s house for lunch. I thought we’d both need the food afterward if we had a repeat of Thursday night.

But on the way over, I got an unexpected call from Shanda’s neighbor.

“Is this Harley Emerson, Shanda’s attorney?” the man asked in a shaky voice.

I got a sick feeling in my stomach. “Yes. Who is this?”

“I’m Walt, her neighbor. I talked to you when you were here one day.”

“Hi, Walt. What’s going on?”

“It’s Shanda. She came back to her mom’s apartment a few minutes ago, and her stepdad is screaming at her. I’m pretty sure he’s also high as a damn kite. I don’t think Shanda’s mom is home either.”

I scrubbed my face and wondered what to do.

Walt kept talking. “Ms. Emerson, I’m afraid for ShandaandBertie. Shanda’s mom leaves Bertie alone with that stupid crackhead all day, and we’ve seen her wandering around the second-story walkway a couple of times in just a dirty diaper.”

“By herself?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Mikey still get visitors?” I asked.

“Yes,” Walt clipped. By visitors, I meant drug buyers.

“Do you know who Jason Ulrich is?”

Walt paused. I was afraid he wouldn’t tell me or maybe hang up on me.

“Yeah. I’ve heard of him. He’s one of the druggie guys who come around the apartment sometimes.”

“Have you seen him there lately?” I pressed.

“Last night. While Shanda’s mom was gone.”

Well, fuck, this was worse than I thought. I’d hoped the no-contact order would’ve kept Jason away from the apartment.

It sounded like Walt was pacing, and I could hear screaming in the background. Before I knew what I was doing, I swung my vehicle around and aimed it toward Shanda’s apartment complex.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but will you call DCFS and make an anonymous complaint about what you’ve seen regarding Bertie? Legally DCFS can’t tell anyone who you are when a person makes a referral. Your identity is protected.”

He scoffed a little. “We both know it’ll probably leak out. Secrets have ways of getting out.”

He was right, and I didn’t want to lie to him by denying it. “Please, Walt. Bertie isn’t old enough to protect herself. She needs us. When I get off the phone, I’m going to call the police and hope like hell they beat me there. Would you rather call them?”

He sighed. “No, I’ll call DCFS. Just be careful. Drug dealers have long memories, and they aren’t good folks.”

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