They nodded to the uniformed cop watching the woman’s hospital room door, knocked, and, once given permission, walked inside. A drawn-looking young girl—she looked too young to be called a woman—lay in a bed, an IV in one arm and a dazed, bleak expression on her face. Black hair fanned the stark white hospital sheets and drew attention to her utterly pale skin. She turned to look at them as they entered but she didn’t utter a word.
Jake stepped back and let Vickers, the detective on duty, begin the questioning. Vickers flashed his badge. “Ma’am, we know this is difficult for you but would you mind taking us through what happened two nights ago?”
A lone tear dripped down her cheek. She looked younger than her twenty-two years but not too young to know better. Why the hell was she experimenting with designer drugs? She was pretty, and too damn young to have been so close to death.
“If you don’t want to talk here, we can do it at the station after you’re released,” Vickers said.
“You’re an ass,” Jake muttered under his breath. He trusted Vickers like a brother, but the man had the delicacy of an elephant.
When she remained silent, Jake stepped forward. “Telling us what you know won’t bring your boyfriend back, but it might save someone else.”
She visibly swallowed, then turned her head away from them, obviously unwilling to talk.
“Vick, go get me a cup of coffee, will you?” Jake asked. They’d discussed this scenario ahead of time, and Vickers had agreed if she refused to talk to the police, he’d give Jake, the on-leave cop, time alone with her.
He pulled up a chair and dragged it to the side of the bed. “Cops can be pretty intimidating when they walk in and flash their badges, all full of authority and bull.”
She rolled her head to the side and faced him.
A start, Jake thought. “I’m a detective but I’m on leave. Name’s Jake Lowell but you can call me Jake.” He figured he’d just sealed his chance of the lieutenant finding out about this visit. He’d kill him, but if Jake got information it was worth it.
“Hospitals suck, don’t they?” When she didn’t reply, he merely continued. “I was laid up myself a while back. I was shot.”
She blinked and raised her eyes to meet his. “How’d you get shot?” she asked.
Her soft, melodic voice sounded out of place in the drab hospital room and in the face of her dire circumstances. But at least he’d captured her attention. She was listening. “At a stakeout. Probably by the same guy who supplied those pills you took last night. The pills that killed your boyfriend.”
She winced, and Jake felt the slice of a knifelike pain in his gut. He knew he was pushing her hard and being cruel, but he hoped that by reminding her of what she’d lost, she’d fight harder to get the guy who’d done this to her. And maybe by aiding in Ramirez’s capture, she’d regain some of the self-esteem lost through the other night’s indulgence.
“I’m not an addict,” she whispered. “Neither is, I mean, was…oh God…neither was Neil. We just wanted to see what the fuss was all about. I never expected—” Her voice caught and her eyes filled once more.
Jake patted her hand. “I understand. Believe me, I see this more times than I want to count. That’s why I need you to help me out, Marina. Help me get the guy. All I need to know is what happened last night. How you got the pills. I’ll take it from there.”
She let out a huge sigh and nodded. Then, slowly at first and then with more trust and courage, she talked. Jake listened carefully. He already knew Ramirez’s MO by heart: Ecstasy delivered to college kids with food as the cover.
Louis had started small, supplying the sandwich man going through the dorms at the local schools, then he’d moved on to the popular restaurant and pub frequented by college students seeking to have a beer or two and unwind. And when they requested the right drink of the night, the patron would receive not only their order but drugs slipped in a rolled napkin.
That was why the pill stuck inside the plastic take-out wrap had intrigued Jake. This girl’s version of events was a variation of Ramirez’s MO. In this case, instead of a college student, they were postgraduate Psych students in summer school who’d decided, like the other college kids, to let loose and forget studying. They went out and picked up a meal from the newest “in” place. In Jake’s mind the similarities were great enough that he refused to rule out Ramirez as the supplier.
“So we ended up at The Eclectic Eatery.” She sniffed, and since her hospital gown was too short to be of any use, she wiped her eyes on her bare arm.
Jake leaned over, pulled a tissue from the table beside the bed and handed it to her. “Here—” He shrugged uncomfortably. Though Jake loved the investigating part of the job, he could do without interaction with the bereaved. It was difficult under the best of circumstances, and this was particularly tough.
“Thanks.” She forced a smile and rubbed at her eyes.
“You’re welcome.” He smiled back. “So what did you order?”
“I asked for a Greek salad, and Neil, my boyfriend…” She paused to gulp in air. “Neil ordered something he said was called a falafel, which I’d never heard of. He said it was an Israeli specialty, and The Eatery has dishes from every culture. I always thought Neil was an all-American hot dog or hamburger kind of guy but…” She shrugged.
Falafel? Jake shrugged. Apparently he was all American too, because he’d never heard of the foreign dish. “Did Neil ever ask for drugs?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t even know he was going to get them. I’d never done any before. But when we got back to the apartment, he pulled them out of the bag. Like this big surprise.” She averted her gaze, obviously embarrassed.
“Did you ask him how he got the pills?”
She nodded. “He explained it was all in the ordering.”
“Greek salad and falafel will get you drugs?” Jake muttered.