"Cops were on her tail yesterday."
"I'm not even gonna ask how you know that." He shrugs it off. "Good. Let her take the fall. We walk."
"I can't do that."
"Why?"
I glare at him across the dark room. I don't have an answer I can say out loud, and we both know it.
Raul's mouth pulls into a slow smirk. "Homie's got a crush."
"Are you going to help me or not?"
"What can we even do?"
"I don't know yet. Let me think." I swing my legs over the side of the bed. "You still need me for the panels today?"
"Yeah."
"I'll come by after I drop Ma at work."
The door clicks shut. I sit in the dark and stare at nothing.
Fuck.
I'm parked outside her complex before 3 AM. The humidity is thick enough to press against the windows, the kind of Miami night that makes the air feel like a presence. The cop car is still there, same spot, same officer as far as I can tell.
I pull out my phone.
What was the motive?
Call you in a sec.
An unknown number lights up the screen.
"Burner?"
"You know it." His voice is different on it, quieter, more careful. "To answer your question — they found texts. He was sending her graphic shit. Detailed. What he wanted to do to her, what he planned. Wasn't shy about it."
My jaw tightens. "How graphic."
"Graphic. And that's not even the worst of it. He had a photo album on his phone. Her, taken without her knowing. Up-skirt stuff. Hundreds of them."
The red comes fast. Not hot, just there, filling the space behind my eyes, my hands tightening on the wheel before I've told them to.
"That motherfucker," I say quietly. "He doesn't get to touch her. Not with his hands, not with his eyes, not with any of it."
"Well he definitely won't now," Raul says.
"How do they tie it to her?"
"They've got nothing solid and they want the case closed. It was being called an overdose until they found the vodka bottle. Without that, it stays accidental. With it, they need someone." He pauses. "They'll pin it on whoever fits the frame, bro. You know how this works."
The vodka bottle.
I left the vodka bottle.
I hit the steering wheel with my palm, the crack of it loud in the cab. "Fuck." Then again. "Fuck."