Page 96 of Demo
Henderson and Scott look at each other, and the chief adjusts his posture in his seat before running a hand down his tired face. “Lyzbeth, I need you to back off, alright?”
“Huh?”
“Just, stop sniffing around the King case. It’s more complicated than you think and you’re going to get yourself into trouble.”
I lean back in my chair, leaving my hands on the table. I spread out my fingers, looking down at them while my mind churns. I slowly press down each fingertip, starting with my left pinkie, going through each finger until I get to my right pinkie. “He did have drugs on him, didn’t he?” I ask, not looking up. “Jerome King. He had drugs on him, but someone lifted them.”
Monty shifts beside me, and the chief sighs. “Again, it’s complicated,” he says.
“Does Mrs. King know?” I look up at Scott. He nods. “Yes. She came in two days ago, but the case is still ongoing, so the lawsuit hasn’t been closed yet. We need people to think nothing has changed.”
“But something has …” I interrupt.
The chief rubs his temples while Henderson leans forward. “Lyzbeth, your story was correct. The Kings are dropping the lawsuit against the city, and therefore any implications against the paper are also dropped. Now, we just need you to drop it so we can get to the root of the problem.”
“Which is …” I prompt.
“Which is none of your goddamn business,” Scott grits out, and I don’t miss the look Henderson gives him, and the slight shake of head from the chief.
“Oh, bullshit,” I lean forward. “No. Noooo way. What the hell is going on here?”
Both men in front of me are silent.
A light goes on in my head. “You have an internal problem, don’t you?”
Scott groans and runs another hand down his face. He gives a humorless laugh and looks up toward the ceiling. “I command a 200-plus force and it’s a rogue reporter that’ll be the death of me,” he says to no one in particular.
“This isn’t the first time, is it?” I press further. “This isn’t the first time you’ve found no drugs at a scene where, clearly, they were involved.”
Monty stirs again next to me. I almost forgot he was here.
Scott and Henderson just look at me as I think things through, then give voice to my thoughts. “Sanders … They have all been his calls, haven’t they? Does he sell it? Use it?” I look back and forth between the two men in front of me, then at Monty beside me, who just shrugs like he’s absolutely lost.
Scott blows out a breath of air, then concedes. “Both, we think. We’ve been onto him for several months.”
I try to think back to any incidents that may have involved Sanders but there’s too much going on in my brain to cage anything in. The officers must see my brain working, and they exchange a look. Finally, Scott gives in.
“There was an accident last spring,” he’s staring right at me as he says this.
“Okayyyy …” I reply.
“A man was driving. He passed a breathalyzer, but his female passenger looked high as a kite. However, there was no cause to perform a drug test on her since she wasn’t driving,” Scott pauses a moment.
I look between him and Henderson, who looks down at his hands.
“But the EMTs got there before law enforcement,” Scott continues, and I look back into his hard-as-steel eyes. “Sanders was one of the first responders.”
I think this over for a second, all the time Scott staring straight at me, and Henderson looking down at his hands. Monty bristles beside me, and I feel his hand on my back as he says, “Lyzbeth, maybe we should just drop it.”
Goosebumps rise on my arms and my stomach starts to swirl as I get a feeling that something isn’t right, but I can’t quite get my brain to settle on it. “You said EMTs were called. Was someone hurt?” I ask, trying to recall some of the fatal accidents we’ve had in the paper last year.
“Yes,” Scott responds, not breaking eye contact with me. “A young woman was hit while crossing the street. She was paralyzed.”
The world tilts on its axis. All the oxygen is sucked out of the room. The edges of my vision go black. I can feel wisps of my hair hit my face as I shake my head back and forth, even though I’m not consciously making the movement.
I see Chief Scott’s mouth moving, but I can’t hear what he’s saying. Henderson looks at me pitifully. I still feel Monty’s hand on my back.
Knox didn’t have drugs on him. I know it. I try to recall the night of the accident. His eyes were bloodshot from crying, so I wouldn’t have been able to tell from them if he had been using. I wouldn’t have been able to detect any odd behavior because the whole incident was so jarring and shocking that, of course, he would have been acting differently. But he hadn’t used in so long. If there were drugs involved, they weren’t his. They couldn’t have been.
