Page 56 of The Obsession

Detective Mendez snorted, a bitter sound. “Not in a small town like ours, not until we have hard evidence.” She looked me straight in the eye. “I know someone here is dealing. We had a problem with it a couple years ago, but then it died down and we lost the trail. Now someone’s selling again, and I’m betting you kids know more than you’re letting on. You always do.”

“A couple of years ago? That would be around the time…”

“That girl passed away, yes.”

Sophie’s words sliced through my mind.“Nobody can help me, Lolo. I’m all alone.”I couldn’t help wincing. The memory of Sophie in her darkest hour physically hurt. I forced myself to take a breath.

“What was her name?” Detective Mendez mused.

“I—I don’t know—”

“Sylvia, was it? Sarah?”

I couldn’t stand it, couldn’t listen to her butchering Sophie’s name. “Sophie,” I blurted.

Detective Mendez gave me a long look. “You knew her?”

“No. I mean, I knew of her. She was someone I’d seen around, that’s all. Said hi a few times.” Flashes of me and Sophie sitting in our glade, my hand on hers. Me willing my palms not to sweat, reminding myself not to stare, not to talk too much, not to do anything that might irritate Sophie. Me taking in her presence, her fragrance, all of her.

“Really sad, what happened to Sophie, wasn’t it?”

I shrugged. I couldn’t look at Detective Mendez. If I did, she’d see the anger leaping inside me.Don’t say her name like that, like she’s nothing but a case number, you fucking bitch, you fucking—

“Detective Jackson was looking into the drug case before he died,” she said, and there was something new in her voice, something like disgust or resentment, something bitter and sharp. She was looking at me intently, like a shark that smells blood. “Funny timing, that,” she said. “He told me he’d found something, a clue, and he was going to show it to me. But then that terrible accident happened, and now I’m left wondering what he was about to tell me. And of course there’s that pill we found in his car…”

Realization dawned with sickening weight. Everything clicked into place, and the world looked different. Detective Mendez suspected foul play was involved, but for a completely different reason. She thought someone had killed Detective Jackson (true) because he’d come too close to cracking a case (so not true). And I didn’t like the way she was studying me. I didn’t like that at all.

I wanted to grab her arm, hard, dig my fingers into her flesh, and tell her Brandon Jackson had died because he was a massively misogynistic abusive asshole whose hobbies included working on his car, drinking, and beating the shit out of his girlfriend and girlfriend’s teenage daughter. She must have known what a monster the guy was. Did she never suspect what he got up when he was at home? Or, worse, did she know and choose to turn a blind eye to it?

Not that I could say any of that, of course. All I could do was shrug and say, “I don’t know anything about that. I didn’t even know you guys were looking into a drug case here.”

Detective Mendez nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving mine. “Okay, Logan. This has been…illuminating. Well, take it easy. And say hi to Delilah for me.” With that, she turned and walked back toward her car, leaving me alone in front of Delilah’s empty house.

Chapter Eighteen

Delilah

Poor, sweet Logan. He wasn’t doing well. Fidget, fidget, fidget. I wanted to slam my hand on the table and snap, “Sit. Still!” like he was a squirmy five-year-old on a sugar rush. But patience. Oh, patience. My plan required it in spades.

We sat at one of the large wooden desks in one corner of the Creighton Reading Room, a large, modern addition to the library. This space was made largely out of glass and metal, sticking out of the brick and mortar building like a glass foot. Sunlight streamed through the windows in golden shafts, and as you worked, you could gaze out of the great glass panes and look across the green expanse of the Western Gardens. White and yellow flowers were in bloom at the moment, frosting the landscape. Pa would have loved Draycott. He would’ve been happy to know that his death had at least allowed me to go to school at a place like this. The thought of Pa made my throat tighten, and I cleared it and shook my head. I glanced at Logan, who was frowning at a spot a couple of inches above his laptop and scratching his neck and, of course, fidgeting.

“You okay?” I asked. It was obvious he wasn’t, but I had to keep up appearances.

He shrugged.

“Only you weren’t at lunch today…” Not that I minded, of course. Him not turning up for lunch meant I didn’t have to sit with him and his freakishly upbeat friends. I’d actually had a pleasant lunch with Aisha, where we’d discussed ideas on how to break into Logan’s room.

He glanced at me like he was seeing me for the first time. “Oh, yeah. Something came up. Sorry.” His face was creased with some unfamiliar emotion.

I watched him out of the corner of my eye, imagining him as the little rat being dangled over Lucy’s cage. How would he react if the tables were turned and I was the predator and he was the prey? Probably not very well. I went through the list of adverse effects he should be feeling from all the MDMA I’d been dosing him with. Increased anxiety, check. Restlessness, check. Paranoia, check. Those were all side effects he’d get when he came down off the drugs. I’d also helpfully added some Ambien to help with the anxiety. I didn’t want him to be too restless, after all. I could barely keep up with non-drugged-out Logan. The last thing I wanted was for him to spiral out of control before I was ready.

I glanced at the online application on my computer and sighed. I’d suggested working on our early admissions application for NUS together, but there was no way I could focus on that right now. Instead, I took out a Tupperware container and opened it. Logan looked like he could use a bit of a high right now. The smell of chocolate filled the air.

“Brownies?” I asked, holding the container out to Logan. “Baked them last night.”

Some of the sadness leaked away from his face, and he smiled. “You’re too good to me,” he said, taking a piece of brownie. He gazed at me with such adoration, it made me want to punch him in the throat. The brownie went down nice and easy. Probably didn’t even taste anything, he was so far removed from here.

He took another piece, and another. Uh-oh. An image of the unfortunate mice I’d experimented with flashed through my mind. The two that died did not go gently into that good night. I couldn’t afford to let Logan overdose here, as tempting as that was. I closed the container and stuffed it back in my bag. “I think that’s enough for now.”

---