Chapter 6
Chapter six
Levi
I gaped at my partner. “Holy shit.”
Tristan scowled as he swung a backpack onto his shoulder. “If you tell me I look like a freshman, I’m changing. What are you supposed to be?”
“Faculty?” I said, following him out of the station. I’d dug a blazer and a pair of dress pants from the back of my closet that I hadn’t worn since moving.
Tristan studied me a moment and nodded. We climbed into the department’s only unmarked vehicle and started toward campus.
Based on the number of students we’d encountered high out of their minds, drug use hadn’t waned, yet we still hadn’t witnessed an exchange or found anyone with more than a pill or two in their possession.
Tristan and I agreed it might be time to ditch the uniforms. Everyone on campus had probably seen us wearing them already, but plain clothes helped us blend into crowds, especially Tris.
“It feels weird being back here dressed like this,” Tristan said as we crossed the quad. “It’s like I never graduated.”
He looked it too, but I’d keep that to myself. “Let’s radio check before we split.”
As I was about to switch on my transponder, a middle-aged man walked toward us.
“Tristan,” he said, holding out his hand.
“Professor Exton,” Tris answered with a huge smile on his face. They shook hands, and the man turned toward me. “This is my partner, Levi Stafford,” Tris said.
Professor Exton shook my hand and smiled. “Tristan has told me all about you.”
“He has?” I asked, looking between the professor and my partner.
“Professor Exton was my advisor in the Criminal Justice Department,” Tristan said. “We’ve kept in touch.”
“I’ve been trying to recruit Tristan to the master’s program,” Professor Exton said to me. “He says he’s learning enough from you. For now.”
“Makes sense to get it early,” I said. “It’s a lot harder to balance classes once you make detective. I only had to do it for half the credits, and it about killed me.”
“You have a master’s?” Professor Exton asked, his eyes lighting up in a way I couldn’t read.
I nodded.
“See, he’s got a lot to teach me,” Tristan said. “We’d better get going, Professor. We’re actually on the clock.”
“Ah,” he said, taking in our civilian clothes. “Good luck. I heard a student overdosed over the weekend and ended up in the ER. I hope you get some answers today.”
After we said goodbye, Tristan and I stepped apart and did the radio check. To anyone near us, it looked like we were talking on our phones with earbuds. The plan was for me to sit at one end of the quad and scan the area while Tristan moved through groups of students.
“I feel like a spy,” Tristan said in my ear. He’d taken his position on the other side of the quad and blended in so well, I had trouble finding him.
“Keep the chatter minimum,” I said quietly.
“10-4,” he said.
For the next two hours, I let my eyes drift across the quad while I pretended to read a book, even turning the pages at regular intervals. When my gaze kept landing on the same kid, I started toward Tristan.
“Large oak, south corner,” I said, already walking in that direction. “Hold back until I’m there.”
“10-4.”
By the time I met up with Tristan, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up. “Don’t look, but the guy in the black hoodie has been standing in the same spot for the last ten minutes.”
“What makes you think he isn’t waiting for someone?”
“I watched a guy walk up to him and then leave. I wasn’t at the right angle to see if there was an exchange.”
Tristan and I stood so we could watch the guy from our periphery vision. As another student approached him, I turned slightly and Tris mirrored my movement.
“See it,” I said, running toward the students.
“Yep,” Tris said beside me.
“Stop, Peace Falls Police,” I shouted.
Both guys bolted. I was able to grab the one who seemed to be the dealer and bring him to the ground while Tris ran after the other.
“What the hell, man,” the guy said, squirming beneath me.
“Stop resisting,” I said, pulling my cuffs from my blazer pocket.
“Get the fuck off me,” he said, trying to buck me from his back.
I snapped the cuffs on him, and he stilled.
Tris ran back as I was pulling the guy into a seated position. “No luck,” he said, looking down at the guy on the ground.
“You take lead,” I said, standing.
Tris’s eyes widened, but he quickly went through the steps we’d gone over a million times. Patting down the guy, he pulled dozens of baggies of small white pills from his pockets.
“You can’t just tackle someone to the ground and touch them,” the guy said. “Kiss your fucking badges goodbye,” he shouted loud enough to hurt my ears and make Tris wince.
The shock was clearly wearing off and the panic setting in as Tristan pulled more and more baggies from the guy’s pockets. When the field test lit up like a traffic signal, I had to fight a smile. Finally. After months of work, we might have something.
“It’s not what it looks like,” the guy said, his voice going shrill.
“Never is,” I said. I’d bet the pills were Ritalin, but the lab would need to confirm it.
“It’s my ADHD meds,” the guy said, basically confirming my suspicion.
“What’s your pharmacy, so we can verify your script?” Tristan asked.
The guy pressed his lips in a hard line.
“That’s enough for intent to distribute, right?” Tristan asked me quietly.
“Yep,” I said, filling out an evidence bag. “Read him his rights. I’ll call campus police and let them know what’s going on.”
Two campus police officers responded within minutes, and I radioed dispatch for backup once I learned we’d be able to search the guy’s room without a warrant since he lived on campus.
When I saw Detective Gunterson climb from the cruiser, I braced for a pissing match.
“You look like a freshman, Stan,” Gunterson said with a laugh.
Tristan sighed but didn’t say anything. Why the fuck had dispatch sent this guy?
With anyone else, we could have transferred custody and moved on to search the room.
Being a detective, Gunterson would want in on the search, which left Tris transporting the arrestee. No fucking way I’d let that happen.
“Thanks for babysitting,” I said. “Tris and I will be back once we’ve searched the guy’s room.”
“Shouldn’t I be doing that?” Gunterson asked, puffing up his chest.
“No,” I said as Tristan helped the arrestee climb into the back of the cruiser. “You’ve got a problem with that, take it up with Chief after you put the arrestee in holding.”
I shut the cruiser door as if slamming shut the argument. Gunterson grumbled something under his breath but climbed into the car and drove off.
“Um, he is a detective,” Tristan said, watching the cruiser turn at the corner. “Shouldn’t I have driven the guy in and you and Gunterson searched the room?”
“I have more experience with this than him and you need to learn. Plus, I’m not letting that asshole anywhere near our case. He’s an idiot. You could easily pass for a junior.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Tristan said, shoving my shoulder.