“Let’s just go,” I tell Aaron, pointedly ignoring Daniel.
But Aaron’s still not convinced. “Porter was shot in Wheaton. The van that nearly sideswiped them last week was over near Glenmont station. Both in Montgomery County. If Baker’s so worried about going through the proper channels, shouldn’t they be questioned by the county police?”
Daniel is quiet for a minute. Then he says, “Montgomery County may be saying Porter’s shooting was a drug deal gone wrong. But Baker seems to agree with you . . . He thinks it could be connected to Molly and Laura’s case. From what Porter told us, it’s pretty clear that Anna knew Molly. Since that case is a double homicide, with possible human trafficking added on, I think we can justify bringing them in for questioning.” He turns and looks at me directly. “I’m sure Anna won’t mind—”
The pressure hits me again right at the temples. It’s not painful, just intense.
Molly says it’s not her before the thought is even fully formed.
“It’s up to you,” Aaron tells me.
Yeah, you’re damned right it is. It might not be fair to be annoyed at both of them, when Aaron has gone out of his way to take my side. But I’m tired of people trying to make decisions that should be mine to make. All I really want right now is to get Deo and get back to Bart House.
“I’ll go. That’s actually where I was heading when . . .” There are several names I want to call Daniel. But since I might actually need the jerk’s help in getting Deo home, I bite them all back. “When your brother yanked me back into the house. If he wants to give me a ride, that’s fine with me. Saves me the bus fare.”
CHAPTER SIX
The blue-white glare of the old-style fluorescent light above us isn’t helping my headache. Neither is the faint buzz the damned thing is emitting, or the annoying thought that it’s probably the ballast, and it wouldn’t cost much at all to fix. Not sure which former tenant left that bit of info behind. Probably Abner, but I’m too nervous to sort it out.
A uniformed policewoman walks in a few minutes after Daniel and I enter the room. Aaron followed us to the station, but he’s apparently not allowed back here in the sanctum sanctorum.
The policewoman parks herself at the small table by the door. “Thought you quit, Quinn.”
“I did. Just doing this as a favor to Baker.”
“Cop life too tough for you?”
“Can’t all be supercops like you, Lupito.”
We sit there for well over an hour. The female officer isn’t paying much attention to either of us, just typing on the small tablet she brought in with her. I’m pretty sure she’s only here because I’m a minor and a female, and they want to cover the department against any possible claims of impropriety.
I called Kelsey on the ride over, and she wanted to come down to the police station. But I told her there really wasn’t anything she could do, at least not yet. She asked if I needed an attorney. I said no, but the longer I sit here the more I’m beginning to wonder if that was true.
But calling her back to change my response isn’t an option. “Coverage sucks in your interrogation cells.”
Daniel shrugs. “Not an interrogation cell, Anna. We’re waiting on Baker, so he can ask you some questions.”
“Why can’t you ask those questions?”
“It’s Baker’s case. And as of yesterday, I’m no longer an active officer.”
“But . . . didn’t you just join?”
He shrugs. “Decided I’m not cut out for civilian life. I’m just here to keep you company. Make sure you don’t do anything stupid.”
My expression must tell him exactly what I think of that, because he laughs and says in a lower voice, “Listen, Baker’s a good guy, but you need to give it to him straight. None of this psycho mumbo jumbo you told Aaron and Porter. He’s not interested in whatever petty scam you guys had going, as long as you give him information on Lucas. Just tell him you met Molly at the shelter, and you were hoping Porter would pay for the info.”
“Since you know all of the answers, why don’t I just leave and—” I stop suddenly, as an odd tingly sensation moves across my head. Almost like Pop Rocks are going off just below my scalp.
Whoa. Feels like taking a diet pill and a couple of Sudafed at the same time. Sort of like your skin is a low-level mosquito zapper.
The thought doesn’t come from Molly. It’s just another one of those stray scraps of memory left behind by a mental roommate. I know this one immediately. Arlene Bennett, paralegal, mother of two, and a hypochondriac who had an unfortunate (and fatal) tendency to mix her meds.
“You okay?” Daniel asks.
“No. I have a very weird headache.”
Daniel doesn’t respond. He just looks annoyed, like I’m being difficult.