Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Finn
“How could you be so stupid?” I glared at Michael, one of my rec teenagers.
He glared right back. “It’s not what you think.”
I jutted my chin. “That very much looked like you were buying drugs from that guy. Who was he? Why was he on school property? And, like I said, how could you be so stupid? David died of a drug overdose. You want to wind up like him? Dead?” I was full of steam and ready to go all night at this.
“He wasn’t selling me drugs.” Even as Michael made the denial, though, he couldn’t meet my gaze.
“Is he hassling you? Do you want me to tell Mr. Clayton? He can make sure the guy isn’t at the school again.
” Except the principal couldn’t be everywhere at once.
And nothing was stopping Michael from crossing the street and buying drugs from some random person sitting in a car on the side of the road.
If he wanted drugs, they wouldn’t be hard to find.
Between Giancarlo just not showing up for his shift today—without even calling in sick—and now interrupting Michael buying drugs, my whole day was going sideways. Badly. “Look—” I took a deep breath. “Are you addicted?”
“Is this an intervention?” Said with all the sarcasm a teenager could manage.
“Does it need to be? You know I can call in a guidance—”
“I’m not an addict.”
“So you were just buying drugs for the hell of it? Have you heard about the tainted drug supply? You can never be sure what’s in the drugs or in what quantity.
Dying is really easy. Drug dealers don’t care about whether you OD or not—they’ll always find another buyer.
” Which, to me, was a fault in the logic.
Except it proved true over and over again.
People died. And yet drug dealers never went out of business.
“Can we just play ball?” The teenager tipped his chin up at me. In defiance, most likely.
I hadn’t witnessed enough to go to the cops. At most I had suspicions with a very generic description of a very generic guy. Nothing I could swear to. Nothing that would help them put an end to the drug trade in Mission City, that was for certain.
Rue and Leroy stood off to the side—watching us intently.
Finally, something broke in me. Not acceptance—more like resignation. “Yeah, let’s play. And promise me you won’t do anything so monumentally stupid as buying drugs—okay?”
“Yeah. Okay.”
I didn’t really believe him—but I’d done everything I could.
That night, as I ate leftover pie, I was surprised to get a text from Ulysses, asking if he could come over. The answer, of course, was hell, yes.
Half an hour after that, he sat in the recliner enjoying a slice of pie as well.
“You survived my mother’s inquisition.” He’d left last night—not long after she had.
I’d asked him to stay, but he’d said he had something to do early in the morning and hadn’t wanted to wake me.
I was pretty certain I could sleep through just about anything…
but I’d also wondered if he’d needed space after the intense interrogation from my mother.
Now, twenty-four hours later, he was back. But he kept gazing at me—as if trying to take my measure.
“I have some news.” I poked my pie.
“I do as well, but why don’t you go first?”
“Sure. I, uh, think I stopped Michael from buying drugs today. I mean, he says he wasn’t…”
“You don’t believe him.”
“I don’t believe him. And I can’t imagine I’ve dissuaded him from doing it again in the future.”
“Ah. What did you see?”
I shrugged. “An older white guy looking like he didn’t belong. Some kind of furtive movements—I just charged over there. Scared the guy off, that’s for sure. If he had a legitimate reason for being there, he would’ve said something, right?”
“Yes, very likely.” He put his plate on the side table. He’d devoured the pie. “And Michael?”
“Claimed I’d misunderstood.”
“Teenagers are tricky.”
“What do you mean?”
“Might there have been another reason for them meeting?”
I scrunched my nose. “Christ, I hope not. The guy was older than me. Bad enough if he’s coming around with drugs.”
“Did you tell the cops?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t tell Mr. Clayton either. Hell, I couldn’t even give a good description of the guy. Brown hair. Nondescript face. Average height and weight. Nothing remarkable about him.”
“Those guys do make the best dealers.”
“Right? I know a guy who’s got a scar on his face. He’d make a terrible criminal because he’d be easy to describe. And Michael didn’t confirm he was buying drugs. At best, it would’ve been my word against his.”
“You’re the adult.”
“Who’s upset after David’s death and seeing bad stuff everywhere.”
Ulysses cocked his head.
“This is totally irrelevant—but Giancarlo didn’t turn up at work.
And didn’t call in sick. I can’t remember him ever doing that.
I wanted to go over to his place, but we were slammed.
Miriam has a key from the last time he was away and she watered his plants.
She was planning to check on him. I should’ve gone, but I had basketball practice. ”
“What did she find?”
“Nothing. She texted me that he wasn’t there and nothing looked amiss. She called the hospital and—”
“I know where he is.”
I shook my head, as if trying to clear my thoughts. “I’m sorry, did you just say you know where Giancarlo is?”
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t think to tell me that straightaway? Like when you walked in the door?”
“In hindsight, that might’ve been wise. But you offered pie and—”
“Jesus Christ, Ulysses.” I wanted to throw a pillow at him. I wanted to throttle him.
I did neither.
He held up his hand. “He’s at the detachment.”
I blinked. “He’s at the police station?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” I frowned. “Why didn’t he just call and tell me that? What’s with the secrecy and, for that matter, how do you know about it?”
“Well…I have a source I can’t reveal.”
I started to launch myself off the couch.
He held up his hands—clearly in self-defense. “I can’t, Finn. But I thought you’d want to know. I needed to know what you knew before I said anything. Hell, you might’ve been aware and didn’t care—”
“Ulysses.” I ground out his name with a clenched jaw.
“Right. He was arrested last night.”
“What?”
“He was pulled over for erratic driving. The cop figured Giancarlo was high.”
“What cop? How did he know? Or she? Was it a she?”
“Constable Seth Jacobs. Giancarlo was all over the road and Seth needed to pull him over. They ran a drug test at the detachment and the result was positive. Giancarlo's facing a driving-while-impaired charge.”
My world bottomed out, and my stomach plummeted. “Giancarlo’s not an addict. Hell, he isn’t even a user. That’s…just wrong. All wrong. You must be mistaken.”
Ulysses shook his head. “Confirmed. Charges are going to be laid tomorrow. I, uh—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was waiting to see if you were going to say something. Whether you knew or not. Because I probably shouldn’t be telling you—”
“Will I be able to work backward to figure out who told you?”
He nodded.
“Right.” I blew out a long breath. “I won’t say anything. I promise. I appreciate you coming here to tell me. I just…how is he using and I didn’t know?”
“Because he didn’t want you to see? Or maybe this was the first time?”
“You don’t believe that.” I eyed him.
“Not for a second. The odds of being caught DUI your very first time using are pretty slim. Cops can’t be everywhere all at once.”
I slid back into my comfortable seat. “I don’t understand.”
“About addiction or your friend in particular?”
“All of it. Fucking drugs. He’s going to lose his job.”
“Yeah, which sucks—but do you really want someone using drugs while on the job?”
“He probably never used while working.”
Ulysses arched his eyebrow.
“Well, I certainly didn’t see any sign of it.”
“People are good at hiding things, Finn. You, of all people, know that.”
I did. That didn’t make things easier to swallow, though. “So, arraignment?”
“Yep. Probably he’ll get bail. Stupid driving high—but he didn’t crash. Like you said, there’ll be professional ramifications. I think he’s going to need your friendship—if you’re comfortable offering it.”
I frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? I’m supposed to be empathetic to drug users.
Not their fault…” Even as I said the words, though, I remembered all the times I’d had uncharitable thoughts about addicts and how they just needed to get their act together and stop using.
All while understanding that wasn’t always possible.
Often, addiction didn’t respond to pulling up one’s bootstraps.
“I feel like I don’t know him—like everything that’s ever happened between us was a lie. ”
“Now, that’s harsh. Maybe listen to his side of the story?” He looked down at his hands. “Okay, so there’s more.”
“What do you mean there’s more? Why aren’t you just spitting it out?”
“Easing into it?” He winced. “Look, I know Giancarlo’s a friend. I just—”
“Spit it out. I can take it.” I put way more certainty into that statement than I should have—but what the fuck ever.
I couldn’t figure out why Ulysses wasn’t just laying things out.
Consistently, I preferred to have all the facts before me so I could take everything in all at once and deal with the consequences—whatever they might be.
“Okay.” Again, he gazed at his hands. “This wasn’t the first time he got pulled over.”
“What the fuck?”
“Right? I don’t know who the officer was the last time. But Giancarlo wasn’t arrested—even though he’d clearly been using. So either Seth got fed up with letting him off or—”
“No way. If Seth pulled him over, and there was any sign of impairment, Giancarlo’s goose was cooked. Like last night. Seth doesn’t fuck around with that. I might not know much—but I know that. You don’t know, though?”
Ulysses shook his head. “My source is already sticking their neck out even just to tell me Giancarlo had been pulled over. But—” He stopped.
“But? No point stopping now.”
“The last time? He wasn’t in the car alone.”
I blinked. “He was driving while under the influence with someone else in the car? Again, what the actual fuck?” I rubbed my face. “I almost don’t want to ask.”
“But you want to know.”
I cracked an eye. “Yeah, I suppose I do.” I exhaled. “Who was it?”
“Marlon.”
“What?” Again, I blinked. Like, trying to align the pieces of a puzzle that just wouldn’t fit together. “But they’re not even friends.”
“No. But my source thinks they have the same dealer.”