Shattered Glass(126)

“I’ve been waiting here forever. You didn’t answer any of my texts, dickwad.”

“Your texts were all the same damn question, the answer being: I don’t know how Peter is. When I hear, you’ll hear.”

“Glass?”

I glanced at Luis. “Yeah?”

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

“The only thing he had hemmed,” I said, looking down at my tuxedo. “Subject at hand, please. Cai put the clothes in the box—”

“What clothes? What box? Who is after him? Which hospital is Peter at?”

“Darryl, open your mouth again, and I’ll cuff and gag you. He obviously—”

“Go on and try, dickwad. We’ll see who ends up on top.”

Luis rubbed his forehead and the bridge of his nose. “The clothes are an interesting choice to leave in there.”

“Yeah,” I said. “He knew it’d be cops, Peter or his lawyers getting in that box.” I tapped my finger against my knee. “Whoever the clothes were a message for knew that whatever he took from that box, he took after he was assaulted. It wasn’t Peter, wasn’t Angelica and it wasn’t Mick because he drove Cai to the house and installed the bracelet. Cai would have panicked back then. We have more dirty cops out there.”

“Raped!” Darryl kicked the back of my seat. “Assaulted makes it sound like he got hit. That’s not what happened. Don’t dumb it down. So cops knew he was raped.”

I wasn’t going to argue with Darryl. He was stressed and worried, not to mention bitter and angry. “The only time he would have been able to put the clothes in the box was Saturday morning.”

“Our bank is open until four on Saturdays,” Darryl said.

“Okay, but when I picked up Peter at three, Cai was there. Actually he was upbeat. Maybe he thought he was free and clear?”

“Sugar and his meds. He gets like that when he’s high, too.”

I turned around and stared at Darryl. “Cai does drugs?”

“What do you think? His best friend is a smack addict. He’s bipolar, and his meds rarely work right. He’s sixteen. He self-medicates.”

“How bad is his habit?”

“He doesn’t have a habit yet. He mostly scores uppers and downers.”

“Smack?”

“Not a chance. And before you get all high and mighty deciding that addicts will use anything,” he rolled up his sleeves, “Cai’s the one who got me off it. He wouldn’t touch it.”

The information put a perspective on where he might be. “You know his dealers?”

Darryl’s face didn’t even flicker when he answered, “If I did, they’d have a bullet between the eyes. I know someone who can help. I called a few minutes ago, and she was there. She said cops already called asking if she knew where Cai was.”

“Did she?”

“She told them she didn’t.”

I didn’t miss his careful wording. “She told them she didn’t. What’d she tell you?”

“I’m supposed to trust you two?”

“Who else you got?” Luis asked.

He stared out the window. Luis and I waited while he decided. “Goth Nation. On 14th Street.”





Cai is Going To Military School When This is Done

We drove to Capitol Hill and illegally parked in front of the shop. Goth Nation was squashed in the middle of the street between empty buildings and a corner beauty salon. A rent-a-bike kiosk stood on one corner. An Indie record shop on another. And on the last corner, a coin laundry/convenience store. Most of the people milling about were twenty-somethings with band t-shirts, wide studded belts and jeans tight enough to outline tattoos. We followed two of them into the shop.

Tiny, dusty, dark and moody was how I would describe the place. The shelves were black. The small square counter was black. So were the carpet, the clothes; the walls; the shoes; the door to the backroom—all black. The only spots of color were the “Legalize It” stickers haphazardly posted everywhere and the gold knob on the door behind the counter. Oh, and the pink-haired girl and blue-haired guy standing in front of us. The shop was also empty of salespeople.

“Beat it,” Luis said, then flashed his badge at the teens. They shrugged and walked out. A tinkling bell signaled their exit. We all looked at the door behind the counter.

“Stay here,” I whispered to Darryl while Luis and I pulled our guns and leaned against the door frame. He motioned me to turn the knob, signaling that he would follow me in. I nodded and signed a countdown from three. I twisted the knob, and we filed through the door as quickly and quietly as possible.