Page 142 of Demo
I exit the bar, knowing Lizzie isn’t in there. Hands on my hips, I stand on the sidewalk and look across at the parking lot, toward the beach. It’s brighter than it used to be, since the pier and the beach were revitalized. The lights on the buildings and sprinkled throughout the lot cast large circles of brightness here and there, so I can see a few clusters of cars, a few groups of people hanging around vaping, even though it’s cold outside.
As I cross the road and start trekking across the parking lot, I hear someone yelling through their Bluetooth as I pass a sedan, then I cross over near a truck with tinted windows, and it’s rocking back and forth.
Then I swear I hear the familiar ragtime music of the carousel as my gaze scans the structure. It was defunct for the longest time, but the city restored it a few years ago. It’s the offseason, so I know it’s not open and the music isn’t playing, but as I stare at it, my skin begins to bristle. Feeling someone behind me, I spin around.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I ask.
Hands up and taking steps back, Sanders stutters, “I- I saw you leave the bar, and I came to find you.”
I know exactly what that means, and as I close the distance between us I grab him by the neck of his shirt and pull him nose-to-nose with me. “Where is she?”
“She left with Marcus.”
My fist cuts him off, and he falls to the ground. Then I drag him back up and start pulling him toward where my truck is parked. “You’re coming with me, and you’re going to explain a few things to me along the way,” I spit as we make our way through the cold parking lot to my vehicle.
***
Lizzie was right about Sanders planting drugs at crime scenes for the cops to find, so the police department could make more arrests and be more successful in its war on drugs. This, in turn, would lead to support from the department and politicos for Lawler to build a new police headquarters.
And Sanders was getting the drugs from Marcus.
However, after Sanders’ wife had a baby—a colicky baby—and he lost sleep and was still working twelve-hour shifts on the rig, he started using some of the uppers he was supposed to be planting, and that led to him occasionally stealing drugs.
It didn’t take Marcus long to figure out Sanders was using, because he’s like a damn hound dog and can smell that kind of dependency from across the city, and when he did, he had Sanders by the balls.
“What a fucking disaster,” I say as I navigate the city streets toward the last place I had seen Marcus.
Sanders rubs his reddened jaw where I hit him. “It was only supposed to be a few drops. Just enough to give the chief—who wasn’t in on this, by the way—a boost to his statistics. Then it just, it spun so far out of control. And after Lyzbeth stopped by headquarters to talk to me, I told my confidant, and he said to back right off. But when I told Marcus that we were done, well, he wasn’t having it.” He finally looks at me. “I didn’t know he had a vendetta against you. I would have never brought up you or Lizzie if I had known.”
“Why did you guys plant drugs at my apartment?” I ask.
“Marcus said it was leverage. If Lizzie started to get too close, he was going to make an anonymous call to the police department, and hopefully after drugs were found in her apartment she would be discredited.”
I huff out a humorless laugh as I grip the steering wheel and pull up in front of a shitty apartment building I know all too well. I rub my temples then drag my hands down my face as I think of what the best plan of attack here is.
“What state was Lizzie in when she left with him?” I ask. “Actually, how did he even find her?”
“He didn’t,” says Sanders. “She found him. She walked right up to him in the bar, told him she knew he broke into her apartment, and asked him, and I quote, ‘Whose dick are you sucking—someone on the department or someone in the drug ring?’”
I lean my head back and almost laugh. “Of course, she fucking did,” I say, equal parts exasperated and proud.
“He told her you were a pathetic prick who had it coming, and she said, and again I quote, ‘I agree. Knox is a douche. But since we’re getting divorced, can you leave me out of your drama?’”
My head is leaning back as far as it will go, and I can feel my jugular bulge in my neck as I swallow. “How’d that go?”
Now Sanders lets out a laugh. “Actually, it went over well. Marcus was stunned, then he patted a stool next to him and called the bartender over so he could order shots. They cheers’d to your douche-baggery, and he turned on the charm.”
I side-eye him, and that’s when Sanders gives me a sympathetic look. “Yeah … He really turned it on, Knox.”
I sit up in my seat and run my hands through my hair. “Did he give her anything?”
Sanders is shaking his head. “Not that I saw, but they did have a few drinks. She left willingly with him. I’m not sure what he said to her or why she did, but she walked out with him.”
“How long before I got to the bar?”
Sanders blows out a breath, “Maybe fifteen minutes?”
After a moment, I let out my own heavy breath. “Stay here, and if Lizzie and I aren’t out in ten minutes, call the cops.”
