Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4) by Matt Lincoln (short books for teens .TXT) 📕

of them aren’t even related to the drug. People are just out here attacking one another! What’s happening to the world?”

“I think it’s always been like this,” Naomi sighed as she ate a forkful of salad. “Las Vegas is known as ‘Sin City,’ after all. We’ve just been lucky that we’ve never had to deal with all the petty, violent crimes before.”

“I would hate to be a cop in this city,” I grumbled. “Can you imagine doing this every day?”

“I’d rather not,” Naomi grimaced. “Though I do have to commend them. It must take a lot of nerve to be one of the ones that do.”

“Junior and Charlie both used to be cops,” I mused. “I wonder if they ever had to deal with this stuff.”

“I’m certain that Junior did,” Naomi replied. “He worked in Phoenix. That city has one of the highest homicide rates in the country, nearly double the national average.”

“Dang,” I muttered. It wasn’t like I wasn’t familiar with death and violence. I’d been a Marine before I joined MBLIS, and I’d seen combat firsthand. It was different when it was just ordinary, innocent people who were being hurt, though.

“I’m getting another call,” Naomi said as she picked her phone up off the center console. I sighed and wolfed down the rest of my food in preparation to set out again. Even though Naomi’s side of the conversation was brief, I knew it meant our break was over.

“Another case,” Naomi said as she finished the call. “Just a few blocks from here. It’s definitely related. The police have the attacker in custody, and she’s clearly under the influence of something.”

“Let’s go, then,” I replied as I balled up my trash and tossed it back into the bag from the fast food place. Our break had been cut short way too soon, but it wouldn’t do me any good to sulk about it.

We got to the scene just a few minutes later. Two police cars were parked at the mouth of an alley, and a cop waved us over as soon as he spotted us.

“Hello, agents,” he greeted us as we got out of the car.

“Hey, Officer Chance,” I replied as Naomi and I made it to the mouth of the alley. We’d bumped into him more than once today as we flitted from one crime scene to the next. He was a patrol officer stationed in this area, so naturally, he was often one of the first ones on the scene after a call. “What’s going on?”

“We got a call from a guy saying his girlfriend was trying to kill him,” he explained. “Robbie Murlone, twenty-one years old. Apparently, he and his girlfriend were down in the alley, and she suddenly went crazy and attacked him.”

“What were they doing down there?” I asked.

“The kid says they were just messing around,” Chance replied skeptically. “I think they were back there doing drugs, but regardless of what was going on, it’s clear that the kid isn’t lying. He’s all bruised and cut up, and the girl was going wild when we got here. She came at us as soon as we arrived. The kid’s at the hospital right now.”

“I see,” Naomi muttered. “Is she still here now?”

“Oh, she’s here,” Chance huffed. “I didn’t want to send her off to the station until you had a chance to speak with her, but I’ll warn you. She’s out of control.”

“Is she still hallucinating?” I asked, alarmed that she might need medical attention. “She should go to the hospital. The majority of the assailants died of overdoses after their assaults.”

“No,” Chance shook his head. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. The girl’s fine. She’s completely lucid, just angry and resisting arrest.”

“Wait,” Naomi interjected. “So she’s alright? That doesn’t match the pattern we’ve observed in the other attacks. Are you even sure this case is related?”

“The behavioral pattern completely matches the other cases,” Chance shrugged. “A disoriented state, followed by hallucinations and paranoia, and finally an unprovoked, violent attack. It seemed too similar to just be a coincidence.”

I exchanged a look with Naomi. Officer Chance was right that this couldn’t just be a coincidence, but the fact that the attacker in this case was alive and apparently lucid didn’t correlate to what we’d observed so far.

“We should speak with her,” Naomi declared. “What’s the girl’s name?”

“Penny Fritz,” Chance answered. “She’s nineteen years old and has a couple of priors for possession and public intoxication.”

“So she’s a party girl,” I remarked. “Maybe she saw the press conference and decided to take the drug deliberately. If she already has a high tolerance for drugs, it could explain why she didn’t OD.”

“That’s a good point,” Naomi replied. “Most of the other victims were normal, unsuspecting people who had no idea they were taking such intense drugs. Someone with more experience would know their own limits.”

“I’ll leave it to you, then,” Chance nodded as he directed us toward the alley.

As we approached, I could hear the sounds of scuffling and a high-pitched voice.

“Let go!” Penny whined as we entered the narrow alley. “I didn’t do anything!”

“You assaulted your boyfriend,” the cop holding her handcuffed arms deadpanned.

“He deserved it,” Penny sneered. “Jerk thinks he’s better than me, always looking down on me. He needed to be taken down a couple of pegs.”

The female officer holding her looked up at us as we approached with our badges displayed.

“Thank goodness,” she scoffed as she roughly shoved Penny toward me. “I’ve had just about enough of this little crackhead as I can handle.”

“I’m not a crackhead, lady!” Penny snapped.

“Yeah, whatever,” the officer rolled her eyes. “As if I didn’t find you high out of your mind in this very alley. She’s your problem now, agents.”

I watched as she stormed out of the alley and toward Chance. I remembered what Fiona had told me about the first wave of attacks happening among drug addicts. Maybe the reason they went largely unnoticed was because of cops like her.

“What kind of drugs