Page 12 of Don't Say a Word

Josie’s face twisted and she didn’t look directly at me. I wondered what was going on.

“Jos—” I began.

“I can’t get involved,” she said, lowering her voice. “Last week, I spoke at a Sun Valley High assembly. Talked about the dangers of drugs, how many ODs can be reversed with Narcan, how if you’re in a situation where a friend is unconscious, call 911, the whole nine yards. After, a girl approached me and said she was friends with Elijah. Emphatic that he didn’t do drugs. They studied together every day. She absolutely believes he was drugged without his knowledge but shared no evidence. When I tried to explain it only takes once, she stormed off, spouting a few choice words about cops in general, using both middle fingers as emphasis.”

I could picture it.

“The guidance counselor—Lena Clark—apologized for the kid, said she saw no signs of drug use, but that Elijah was under a lot of pressure to do well. Competing for scholarships, taking a full load of classes, an outside job.”

“Which means?”

“She didn’t want to believe he did drugs, but implied it was possible. She wanted us to investigate further. Lena conceded that if Elijah had used drugs, she felt it was important to know the who and where to make sure it didn’t come back to the campus.”

Not what I wanted to tell his mother, but truth was better than a lie.

“That gives me a place to start,” I said. “Though fentanyl is a depressant, and if you’re trying to study, you’d be taking a stimulant, right? Like amphetamines.” I knew about drugs, didn’t do them. When your dad is a doctor and your mom is a prosecutor, you learn pretty quick that even casual drug use could destroy careers and lives. Didn’t mean that I was oblivious to what my friends did.

“Sometimes smart kids striving for perfect grades use drugs to alleviate stress,” Josie said. “Uppers to study, downers to sleep. Gracie had a problem in high school.”

Josie didn’t have to remind me. Our cousin Gracie, who was a year younger than us, would have been valedictorian her senior year if she hadn’t spiraled into drug use. She ended up postponing college for a year and going through rehab, but it took a family intervention. Now she’s married and runs her own small business. If someone really doesn’t want to get clean, you can’t force them.

Josie continued. “I put the information I learned from Elijah’s friends and the guidance counselor as a follow-up to the original police report, then emailed King about what I added and asked her when the final toxicology report would be available.”

“Which would tell you if he was a habitual user.”

“Exactly. Some drugs pass through the system quickly, and if he was an occasional user, they wouldn’t be in the initial screening—which showed only fentanyl. Anyway,” Josie continued, “King wasn’t happy with me. She threatened to have me suspended.”

“What the hell? Because you asked for information? Bitch.” I had never met King, but now I didn’t like her.

“I went to the funeral on Friday when I heard it was at St.Dominick’s. Offered my condolences to the family. Talked to Lena again, who was there with another teacher. The girl was also there, but left before I could talk to her. Lena was upset about the disposition of the case, and I told her that squeaky wheels get the grease.”

“Oh.” Meaning, Josie couldn’t put pressure on the detective, but the school could.Yep, that would piss off the detective, I thought.

“Apparently, Lena called the detective and asked why the case was closed, said I was the one who told her. According to my boss, she used some colorful and insulting language. She’s a spitfire, as Pop would say. I wouldn’t be surprised if she said something to make it seem like King or the police didn’t care. That’s probably why King is mad at me. My boss told King not to threaten me—he’ll always back us up—buthe told me to let it go. If I found something in the course of my regular duties, he’d run it up the chain. So don’t think he’s a jerk.”

“I don’t. He’s protecting you.”

“Exactly. I’ll help you any way I can, unofficially. But if you uncover anything actionable, I’ll take it to my boss andhewill follow-up.”

Police rules, procedures, and office politics were three big reasons I never wanted to be a cop. “Do you remember the name of the girl who flipped you off?” I asked.

“No, and I didn’t put her name in the report either.” She thought, then shook her head. “I heard it, but didn’t write it down. I have Lena’s contact information.”

Josie pulled up her phone and scrolled through. Tapped a couple buttons and said, “Just sent.”

“Thanks. I’ll follow up with her first. Was the girl named Angie Williams?”

Angie was the only girl Alina Martinez mentioned as a friend of Elijah’s.

“Angie sounds right, but I can’t swear to it.”

“What’s your theory?” I asked. Cops had good instincts, but they also saw a lot of crap, which could make them jaded.

“I don’t know,” Josie admitted. “Let’s say King is right and the drug overdose was accidental. Where did he get the drugs? Who was with him? How did he get to the park more than two miles from his home when he doesn’t have a car? Where was he before he died? All we know is he worked that afternoon, left at approximately eight that evening, and OD’d in the park between one and three in the morning. That’s at least five hours where King has no idea where he was, who he was with. So yeah—I think we should find answers for the family, but Detective King closed the case because there was no sign of foul play.”

“That’s messed up,” I said.

“Shecouldhave passed it to the DEB, but she didn’t.”