voice.
Peters sat back in his chair once more. "Certainly- I
understand. I merely called you in to let you know to expect a visit from IAB
within the next day or two."
Lizbeth jumped up out of her chair. "Excuse me?"
she choked out. The last thing she wanted to deal with was those monkeys in
three-piece suits. They'd made her life Hell once before- she'd be damned if
they'd ruin her again.
Peters wore that wincing little smile of his that said,
"Hey, I know this sucks, but don't shoot the messenger." Lizbeth
fought the urge- Lord knows she wanted to shoot him- right in his nasty, dirty,
piggish face. "I'm afraid you should've been expecting this, Lizbeth.
After all, when a cop has a drug problem, IAB has to be involved. And since
Alexar is dead, well, as his partner you'll have to answer some
questions."
Chapter
Seventeen
Lizbeth was shaky when she walked back out to the car.
Diandra spotted her and hurriedly climbed out. "Are you okay?" she
called when Lizzie was only halfway to the car.
"I'll be fine, but would you please drive?" she
asked. Diandra studied her carefully, taking in the unnatural paleness of her
complexion and nodded. She opened the passenger door and then shut it gently
behind Lizbeth once she was in.
Climbing behind the wheel of the small car, she adjusted the
seat and mirrors, buckled her seatbelt, and checked both ways before pulling
out of the parking lot and heading towards home. She gave Lizbeth time to
compose herself before prodding her for details- obviously the meeting had
upset her, and Diandra wanted to know why. Finally Lizbeth spilled it all.
"Dia, they ruined my life not even two full years ago. Now they're going
to ruin Alexar, and he's not even buried yet. No medals, no posthumous awards,
nothing but trash talk and innuendo about a wonderful man. It makes me sick to
know the things that are going to be said about him, and there's nothing I can
do about it. More bodies will come, and nobody will even remember him. But
eventually someone will mention his name and he'll go down as the head cop of
Bethany Beach that finally lost his mind and died trying to shoot up."
Lizbeth was sobbing quietly, her hands covering her face like a frightened
child.
Diandra said nothing during the drive- she just let her cry
it all out her system until they pulled back into the driveway. Putting the car
in park and shutting off the ignition, she turned to Lizbeth and removed her
sunglasses. "There's nothing we can do right now except push forward with
your theory that this is carefully orchestrated murder. Try to get that creep
to acknowledge that you have a point. Tell him you'll fight like mad to prove
you're right. We won't let Alexar be tarred with that brush. We know he wasn't
a user, and that's what counts. Using that basis as a measuring stick against
the other crimes, it stands to reason no one else used, either." Dia was
reasonable as she laid it all out, and as the truth soothed her, Lizbeth worked
hard to put herself back together piece by piece until she felt like herself
once more.
"How do I get him to believe the unbelievable?"
Lizbeth asked quietly.
Diandra smiled. "The same way you got me to believe it.
All of a sudden this cocaine shows up, all obviously produced by the same
manufacturer in the same ratio, and people who never touched a drug in their
lives are dying from their first hit. It's too big of a coincidence to call it
anything but murder, so how can Alexar go down as a druggie cop?" Her
voice was filled with certainty- she was right and she knew it. Lizbeth knew
it, too, and tried to draw strength from Dia's unshakeable faith. When she put
it that way there was no way anyone could call them accidental overdoses
anymore. Maybe one, maybe two, maybe even one overdose that had someone
hospitalized, but eight dead bodies all with the same cause of death in the
same dosage? It was too much to be believed, and even a jackass like Peters had
to see the truth.
Lizbeth nodded
Peters sat back in his chair once more. "Certainly- I
understand. I merely called you in to let you know to expect a visit from IAB
within the next day or two."
Lizbeth jumped up out of her chair. "Excuse me?"
she choked out. The last thing she wanted to deal with was those monkeys in
three-piece suits. They'd made her life Hell once before- she'd be damned if
they'd ruin her again.
Peters wore that wincing little smile of his that said,
"Hey, I know this sucks, but don't shoot the messenger." Lizbeth
fought the urge- Lord knows she wanted to shoot him- right in his nasty, dirty,
piggish face. "I'm afraid you should've been expecting this, Lizbeth.
After all, when a cop has a drug problem, IAB has to be involved. And since
Alexar is dead, well, as his partner you'll have to answer some
questions."
Chapter
Seventeen
Lizbeth was shaky when she walked back out to the car.
Diandra spotted her and hurriedly climbed out. "Are you okay?" she
called when Lizzie was only halfway to the car.
"I'll be fine, but would you please drive?" she
asked. Diandra studied her carefully, taking in the unnatural paleness of her
complexion and nodded. She opened the passenger door and then shut it gently
behind Lizbeth once she was in.
Climbing behind the wheel of the small car, she adjusted the
seat and mirrors, buckled her seatbelt, and checked both ways before pulling
out of the parking lot and heading towards home. She gave Lizbeth time to
compose herself before prodding her for details- obviously the meeting had
upset her, and Diandra wanted to know why. Finally Lizbeth spilled it all.
"Dia, they ruined my life not even two full years ago. Now they're going
to ruin Alexar, and he's not even buried yet. No medals, no posthumous awards,
nothing but trash talk and innuendo about a wonderful man. It makes me sick to
know the things that are going to be said about him, and there's nothing I can
do about it. More bodies will come, and nobody will even remember him. But
eventually someone will mention his name and he'll go down as the head cop of
Bethany Beach that finally lost his mind and died trying to shoot up."
Lizbeth was sobbing quietly, her hands covering her face like a frightened
child.
Diandra said nothing during the drive- she just let her cry
it all out her system until they pulled back into the driveway. Putting the car
in park and shutting off the ignition, she turned to Lizbeth and removed her
sunglasses. "There's nothing we can do right now except push forward with
your theory that this is carefully orchestrated murder. Try to get that creep
to acknowledge that you have a point. Tell him you'll fight like mad to prove
you're right. We won't let Alexar be tarred with that brush. We know he wasn't
a user, and that's what counts. Using that basis as a measuring stick against
the other crimes, it stands to reason no one else used, either." Dia was
reasonable as she laid it all out, and as the truth soothed her, Lizbeth worked
hard to put herself back together piece by piece until she felt like herself
once more.
"How do I get him to believe the unbelievable?"
Lizbeth asked quietly.
Diandra smiled. "The same way you got me to believe it.
All of a sudden this cocaine shows up, all obviously produced by the same
manufacturer in the same ratio, and people who never touched a drug in their
lives are dying from their first hit. It's too big of a coincidence to call it
anything but murder, so how can Alexar go down as a druggie cop?" Her
voice was filled with certainty- she was right and she knew it. Lizbeth knew
it, too, and tried to draw strength from Dia's unshakeable faith. When she put
it that way there was no way anyone could call them accidental overdoses
anymore. Maybe one, maybe two, maybe even one overdose that had someone
hospitalized, but eight dead bodies all with the same cause of death in the
same dosage? It was too much to be believed, and even a jackass like Peters had
to see the truth.
Lizbeth nodded
Similar Books
