Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
My morning was terrible.
The jerks at the bar last night were complete assholes, and I had to keep reminding myself that it’s not okay to smack someone, or I would lose my job again. It took forever to get them out, and I got home even later than usual, which resulted in a crappy two hours of sleep.
In class, we got back an assignment we had to do in pairs last week, and it was okay, but not as good as the grades I usually get, which bugs me. So I’m stressed, tired, and grumpy when I walk into Sophia’s lab.
“Hey,” I say gruffly, tossing my backpack behind my desk and plopping down in my chair.
“Hey yourself,” she says, in her super cute voice, giving me a smile.
“Here, have some tea. I brought a big thermos today,” she announces, placing a mug in front of me.
The mug reads Beau-tea-ful. I give her a look.
She snickers and takes a sip from her cup, showing me what’s written on hers—Filled with positivi-tea.
“Dio,” I mutter, looking up at the ceiling.
“Don’t be like that, Carolina. We have something fun to do today!” she says.
“And what would that be?” I ask, taking a sip of the tea.
It’s pretty good, some kind of green tea. And as the warm liquid heats me from the inside, a bit of my tension releases.
“Today, we have to evaluate whether a suspect was high, mostly on heroin. But it’s going to be a bit challenging because they got the blood samples pretty late, and you know how quickly heroin breaks down in the body.”
My gaze shifts from the cup in my hand to Sophia’s face. Heroin was the drug they accused my parents of using when they had the accident. I place the mug back on the desk and stand.
“Someone’s eager,” Sophia says with a smile.
“Can you walk me through the process step by step?” I ask.
She furrows her brow at me. “You should already know this. It’s not like it’s advanced toxicology.”
“I do know, but I’m curious about how you and the NYPD handle these things,” I explain.
“All right, fine,” she says, sounding suspicious. “Heroin rapidly breaks down in the body into different byproducts, including morphine and 6-acetylmorphine.” She raises an eyebrow at me.
I nod. “I know.”
“Well, I fucking hope so. While morphine can be detected in the blood after heroin use, its presence alone doesn’t conclusively prove heroin use because morphine can also be found in the blood due to the medicinal use of morphine-based drugs.
However, the presence of 6-AM is a very strong indicator of recent heroin use, as it’s a specific metabolite of heroin.
We typically detect heroin and its metabolites in a blood sample using gas chromatography, mass spectrometry or liquid chromatography-mass spectrometry. ”
I nod again. That’s exactly how I would have approached it. “All right, shall we get started?”
“Sure,” she says, buttoning up her coat and grabbing her gloves.
We ran the tests, confirming the presence of 6-acetylmorphine, which suggests the person was under the influence.
“So now you just tell the officers on the case that he used heroin?” I ask.
“No, I inform them that we found indications of substance influence, but there could be other reasons for the result, so they would need to investigate other drugs he may have used, among other things,” she explains, looking at me and tilting her head.
“Why are you asking, Carolina? I know you’re eager to learn, but this all seems like pretty basic knowledge, and I find it hard to believe that you wouldn’t know that.
Is there a particular reason this case has caught your interest? ”
Am I that transparent, or is she just perceptive?
“There’s a personal reason,” I admit, shifting my gaze to the computer screen where we reviewed the results.
“And are you going to share it with me?” she asks.
I can’t bring myself to look at her but say, “It’s about my parents.”
“Are they being accused of using or dealing heroin? If you’re confident they’re innocent, I can look up their file and reexamine the tests if they’re recent enough,” she offers.
I finally meet her eyes. “You would do that?”
She lets out a huff. “Of course, I would. When were they arrested?” she asks, already sitting behind her computer.
“No, I’m sorry. I was just surprised that you would do that for me,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “They died in a car crash five years ago, and the police told me they were driving under the influence.”
She looks at me with sympathetic eyes. “But you don’t believe it.”
“They didn’t even drink. I don’t believe they were using, but everyone involved just told me that kids don’t always see the whole picture.”
She nods understandingly. “Would you like to see their file yourself? Do you think that would bring you some peace of mind?”
My eyes widen. “We can do that?”
She shrugs. “We can certainly try. We can request the case as a reference. I can’t make any promises, but we ask for old cases all the time, so why not use this privilege to give you some closure?”
Tears well up in my eyes. “Thank you, Sophia.”
She smiles sadly at me and reaches over to pat my hand. “Thank me when we have the case. What were their names?”
“Carlo and Isabella Costa,” I say, my heart aching.
Sophia gives my hand a comforting squeeze. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The door swings open, and I quickly compose myself, forcing my eyes to stop watering as Clay and Josh enter. Fucking perfect timing for the douchebags.
They walk over to us, both looking way too good. Hot as hell douchebags, I mentally correct myself.
“Hey there, Karen. Made anyone cry today?” Clay asks, casually leaning against my desk.
“Sadly, no. But it’s only four thirty, and you only just walked in,” I snark.
I glance at Josh, who tries to hide his smile behind his hand, but I can still see one of his dimples. Amusement sparkles in his eyes.
“Yeah, exactly! It’s only four thirty. What brings you guys here so early? That’s like an early, early bird dinner,” Sophia says.
“We forgot to buy groceries again, so we haven’t eaten anything yet. And you know how grumpy Josh gets without his sugar fix,” Clay answers, grabbing a pen from my desk to fiddle with.
“Just because I don’t like going hungry doesn’t mean I’m grumpy,” Josh murmurs. “We thought we’d grab something small to eat, and you can have a tea or something, and later, we can go get some takeout and bring you something?”
“All right,” Sophia agrees, getting up from her chair.
“Come on, Karen, you can’t say no to tea,” Clay adds, twirling the pen between his fingers.
I’m about to respond when Sophia interrupts, “Carolina is going home now.”
I look at her in shock, wondering what I did wrong. “I am?”
“You are. Get some rest. We’ve done enough for today,” she says.
I quickly pack my bag and follow them out of the office.
“Hey, how are you, Carolina?” Josh asks, walking beside me, his arm occasionally brushing against mine.
“All right, thanks. You?” I ask, trying to sound indifferent, but being mean to him is becoming harder the longer I know him. He’s just such a genuinely nice and kind person.
I think I like him.
“I’m good, thank you.” He smiles. “We’re planning to go to this burger place later, and they have the best donuts. Do you like donuts?”
“Sure.” I shrug, not quite sure where he’s going.
Is he thinking food would be a good conversation starter with the fat girl?
“I could grab some for you guys too, and bring them over tomorrow,” he offers.
“That’s kind but not necessary,” I reply, just as we reach the hallway leading to the exit. “See you.”
“Bye, Carolina,” I hear Josh say.
Then Clay, in a teasing, high-pitched voice, adds, “Bye, Carolina,” and makes smooching sounds.
“Shut up, idiot,” Josh hisses at him.
With my back turned to them, I can’t help but smile.
Since I have an extra hour of free time, I decide to make my way to the homeless shelter, grabbing two burgers along the way.
I find Howie lying on his bed, his eyes closed, and fingers crossed over his chest. Thinking he’s asleep, I plan to leave the burger for him and quietly exit when he speaks up.
“You were just here two days ago, kid,” he murmurs, his eyes still shut. “Did something happen again? Did Chiara get herself locked up?”
“Why can’t I just bring you a burger and spend some time with you?” I ask, settling down on the edge of the bed.
“You certainly can, but would you come all the way here just for that?” he asks. He sits up and joins me on the edge of the bed, so I hand him his burger. “You have no idea how much I miss my daily burgers,” he says, opening the package and taking a bite. “Thank you.”
He still seems skinny, but there’s a bit more to him now. “The food here treats you well. You’re looking good.”
He shrugs it off. “Just packing on my winter fat while I can.” His eyebrow shoots up. “What brings you here, Lina?”
“So, I told you I’m interning at the toxicology unit at NYPD,” I say.
He nods. “Yeah, you did. I may be old, but I’m not senile.”
I snort. “My boss said she’s going to get my parents’ file so I can see for myself whether there were signs of them being on heroin.”
He gives me a scrutinizing look. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” I ask, taking another bite.
“Your conviction, right or wrong, is the bedrock of your resilience, Lina. You’ve done everything and excelled in school, college, and life because you believed your parents were falsely accused.
But what if they did crash because they were high?
Can you handle that truth? Can you say it wouldn’t kick your legs out from under you? ”
I stare down at my burger, “I don’t know. But I need to find out, Howie,” I murmur, looking back up into his blue eyes.
“Sometimes, believing in something helps us cope, and I don’t want you to spiral if what you’ve believed turns out to be wrong.”
“I can’t possibly sink any lower,” I say, a bitter huff escaping me.
“Oh, you’d be surprised, kid. You think you’re at rock bottom, but from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re climbing your way up and out.”