27. Casey
Chapter Twenty-Seven
CASEY
I zipped through making coffees for a rush of customers. Janet and I had settled into a good rhythm of working together. She usually did a lot of the chitchatting and handling the register and food. She insisted I was much faster than her with the espresso machine. I tended to agree, but I knew it was mostly because she was starting to get arthritis in her hands. Every time I thought about that, it made my heart hurt a little bit.
Maybe I had only lived in Willow Brook for a little while, but I adored Janet. She had welcomed me into this town so warmly. I just wanted everything to be good for her, for always. I didn’t want her to have arthritis.
I glanced around, moving on auto-pilot and prepping to make another drink when Janet tapped me on the shoulder. “What?” My ponytail whipped around as I turned to look at her.
“Hon, no more customers. You can breathe now.” She glanced at the clock on the wall, shaking her head as she chuckled. “We have not had a break for two hours straight. Why don’t you head in the back and sit down?”
Resting my hands on my hips, I shook my head. “I’m not taking a break unless you take a break.”
Josie came through from the back. “How about you both take a break?” She tied an apron around her waist. “I’m here for the afternoon.”
Janet grinned when Josie clasped her by the shoulders and aimed her toward the swinging door into the back. “Go sit in the break room.” She glanced my way, narrowing her eyes. “Make sure she actually sits down, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am!” I teased.
As we were walking through the door, Josie called, “Should I bring you two some coffee?”
“Yes, please!” Janet tossed over her shoulder.
Janet went to the restroom, and I stepped into the small break room at the back corner of the kitchen. It was tiny, but it had all the things, including a small round table, a refrigerator, and its own coffee machine, which was completely redundant. There were cubbies for staff to tuck jackets and things. I reached into the cubby and fished out my phone, just to check it.
When I saw there was a voicemail, I tapped the speaker and began to play it. My mouth dropped open as I listened.
Ms. Houston, this is Officer Blankenship from the sheriff’s department in Carteret County in North Carolina. I’m calling to find out if you would be willing to talk to me. Nathaniel Smith is under investigation and we think you might have information that could be helpful to our case. If you could please call me back as soon as possible, I would appreciate it.
Janet arrived in the break room with Josie on her heels. Josie thrust two mugs at us, saying, “Fill me in later. I have to deal with customers.”
Janet eyed me, pulling a chair out and practically shoving me into it. “Why do you look so scared?” she asked as she sat down across from me.
Janet knew the outlines of what happened to my sister, but I’d kept the details vague. Not because I didn’t trust her, but because it hurt to talk about. I quickly filled her in, ending with, “And now, the police are investigating him. What should I do?”
“Call him back!” She slapped her palm on the table for emphasis.
“Right now?”
Janet rolled her eyes. “ASAP. I know you’ve been ordered to make sure I stay in the break room, but if you’d like some privacy, it’s all yours,” she added.
“I could use the moral support.” Before I could chicken out, I called the police officer back.
Fully expecting to get his voicemail, I was startled when he answered. “Officer Blankenship here. Thank you for calling me back so quickly, Casey.”
Janet patted my elbow when I cleared my throat nervously. “Of course,” I replied. “I’m not sure how I can help you, but you can ask me anything.”
“I’ll try to keep it brief. Nathaniel Smith is a suspect in an investigation regarding another ketamine-related death. In the interviews our team has conducted, your sister has come up more than once. It appears he was the primary dealer for your sister and that they were dating. I don’t know how much you know about this, but ketamine is a national problem. Dealers strengthen their products to increase the likelihood that people will become addicted. Those addictions provide a long-term source of income for dealers. While they may not be actively trying to kill the people they’re selling to, more and more people are dying as a result. We believe that’s what happened to your sister.”
I took an uneasy breath, swallowing through the anxiety, grief, and anger that felt strangling inside my throat.
“Casey?” the police officer prompted.
“I’m here,” I said, my voice strained. “That’s what I think happened to my sister. I didn’t know what to do because I didn’t know how to prove it. I can confirm Nathaniel was often at her apartment, including the night she died.” I paused, blinking back the tears stinging my eyes. “Nathaniel is a family friend. His parents are close to mine. I don’t want you to think I want to protect him. I just didn’t know how to go about proving what I suspected.”
“You’re not the first person who’s shared these same concerns. These things are hard to prove. If it was just a one-off event, we might not even start digging. At this point, there are four deaths connected to Nathaniel.”
“Oh, wow,” I breathed. I sagged in my chair as the enormity of the situation struck me.
I accepted that my sister was responsible for her own actions. I knew how her substance abuse problem developed. I knew she had become desperate. I intellectually understood all of it. The anger I felt toward anyone who traded in those drugs felt suffocating if I thought about it.
“So, what happens now?” I finally asked.
“We have a strong case. At this point, our team is interviewing everyone we can to corroborate what we already know.”
“Have I been able to provide anything helpful?”
“Absolutely. It may not feel like it to you, but you’re able to confirm the whereabouts of Nathaniel at your sister’s apartment, including on the night that she died. You’re also able to confirm that you knew he was selling drugs to her.”
Every time I thought about that night, my insides twisted into a knot. My sister wasn’t high when I left that night. I’d unfortunately become familiar with how she looked and behaved when she was high. She’d looked a little tired, but okay.
“As to what happens next, we already have a warrant ready to go. He’s not the only person being arrested,” Officer Blankenship explained. My heart started beating unsteadily and dread coated my insides. “We expect to file a warrant with the court soon. He’ll be arrested along with the others.”
I swallowed. Janet was patiently sitting beside me, her presence soothing me. “So, uh, will this be public information?”
“Yes. If you’d like, I can notify you when he’s in custody. I’m assuming you’ll want to communicate with your parents at that point.”
My tears felt cold on my cheeks as I nodded, before replying, “Yes.” My voice was hoarse and my heart literally ached.
When I finished the call, Janet scooted her chair closer and wrapped her arm around my shoulder, giving me a squeeze before handing me a tissue. “I heard most of it. I know this is painful, but I think it’s for the best. Your sister deserves justice.”
I took a shaky breath, followed by a swallow of coffee, needing the jolt of caffeine and the rich flavor to knock my system out of its dazed shock. “It hurts, but it’s a relief.”
Josie and Janet kept checking on me as the afternoon went along. Even though all of this was stressful, I felt a little lighter inside without the weight of feeling alone in what I suspected about how my sister died.