Page 27 of Satan's Naughty List
“I mean exactly what I said. Do I need to spell it out?” He huffs, shuffling around on his end. “Techy went to look for you. You took too long. He was supposed to call me. He didn’t. I got worried. I called you. You didn’t answer. I called my wife who also didn’t answer. I sent an email due to his whereabouts,” he states condescending, almost like he’s speaking to a fucking child. If it were anyone else, I’d have ripped them a new one. He would understand, but I don’t think either of us are in the mood for it right now.
“When did he come looking?” I put him on speaker and get the notes app, I need to start a timeline.
“Around nine.”
“From your suite?”
“Yup,” he sighs, obviously just as confused. “Then I started getting worried around ten. I’d called you both and didn’t hear back. I debated on calling Crusher or one of the other guys, but it wouldn’t have helped since they’re all out.”
“Do you remember Ravi?” I question logging into Techy’s software.
“Honestly? No. He doesn’t sound familiar, but I don’t deal with recruitment. That’s the wife.” A slight laugh slips out, and I cover it with a cough. “Who did he work under?”
“Techy.” Hudson hums in understanding. “Doc said Ravi was the one who tied them up. Aspen got taken and-”
“Woah, you should have started with that!” He exclaims, shock evident in his tone. “What do you mean? This Ravi guy abducted her?”
Smacking a hand to my forehead, I take a deep breath. It’s late at night. I probably woke him up. It’s fine.
“That’s what Doc said.” Looking around, the place is cleaned already, as if they had completed closing duties. “Who was on shift tonight at the bar?”
“Uh, let me look.” More shuffling and mumbling. “A newer girl named Stanley.”
“A girl named Stanley? Doesn’t that seem odd?” My gaze catches a gleam a few stools down.
“Nah, it’s not uncommon for girls to have boy names. Ophelia was almost Ashton,” he retorts.
“Let me know if you’re able to get hold of him. Call Crusher and tell him that they’re to ride home after the bust if they’re able. We need man-power.”
“Sure thing.” We say our quick goodbyes, and I get to my feet. Stepping closer to the shiny glass on the floor, I realize that it’s scattered pretty far. I don’t know how I didn’t see this earlier.
Bending down, there’s small trickles of red stuck in between the wooden floor panels. Normally it wouldn’t strike up a weird feeling in my gut. Except, as I stare at the small dots and glass surrounding it, I can’t help the sinking feeling that settles in me.
White flakes scatter near the tiny shards, like sweep marks that weren’t quite picked up. Rushing to the office, I grab a swab kit and a small cup of water. After a few drops absorb the powder, I twist the swab into the liquid and wait. I’ll be honest when I say I’ve never had to do a damn drug test for a floor before, so there’s no telling whether it’ll actually work or not.
“Fuck.” Positive for LSD. Standing, I take a quick photo of the test and try to send it to Widower, but it bounces. Right as I go to dial her number, Hudson is ringing in.
“We’re fucked,” he starts, failing the basic pleasantries.
“Hello to you too,” I retort sarcastically with an eyeroll.
“Fuck off,” he curses, closing a door. “I logged into the server and it looks like someone tried to loop over some of the records. The dumb ass set it for a thirty-second circuit instead of minutes or hours.”
“Jesus. Okay, well I’ve got weird news. The floor in the club tested positive for LSD.”
“What the fuck is happening?” He hisses. I can’t help the stupid laugh that bubbles from my throat. This shit is ridiculous, that’s for certain. “I can’t leave the kids. Take photos, check on my wife, and come to the suite when you’re done.” He hangs up without another word.
Doing as asked, I take several photos of the area and upload them into the cloud for safe keeping. I’m really curious as to what Hudson found.
I double check the doors are locked and confirm there’s a lock-down order that was emailed and issued by Hudson. There’s nothing else here that would have even been a sign of struggle. Glass on the ground could be anything, let alone with it mixed with blood and fucking LSD. Those three combined? No good feelings come to the surface while thinking about it.
The clinic is the same as I left it. Widower and Doc are sitting in the viewing room while Heallie is laying flat on the bed.
“She woke up mid-scan. Freaked the fuck out,” Widower mutters, patting the seat next to her. “It took forever just to get her calm enough to lay back down.”
“I’d react the same way,” Doc snorts, looking over at me skeptically. “Fuck. The look on your face doesn’t bring good news.”
“I’ve got a bit of good news and a lot of bad news. Which first?” Dropping my head into my hands, I force myself not to think that anything bad happened to my husband. He could simply be sleeping with his phone on ‘do not disturb’. That’s something he’s done before, and I wouldn’t put it past him for another time. Unfortunately, this feels too damn real. Too close to home for me.
