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

in like that. Maybe I’d interrupted something important, or perhaps he didn’t appreciate me using his first name like that. We weren’t exactly friends, after all.

“Agent Castillo,” he mumbled as he visibly relaxed. “You surprised me. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Sorry,” I smiled sheepishly. “I guess I’m just so used to walking into Fiona’s office without knocking. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“It’s fine,” he amended quickly, clearing his throat and blinking hard as if his eyes were strained.

“Maybe you should open the curtains,” I suggested. “Doesn’t it hurt your eyes to work in the dark?”

“It’s easier for me to concentrate,” he responded as he rubbed the back of his neck. He seemed a little twitchier than usual, but I couldn’t be sure. Unlike the rest of the agents, he didn’t socialize much, so this might have just been how he usually was.

“Oh,” I responded. “Well, whatever works for you.”

Several beats of silence passed before Howard turned to look at me again.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Did you need something?”

“The toxicology report?” I blinked in surprise. I was sure I’d mentioned that already. Did he forget?

“Oh, of course,” he responded. “Sorry, I’m just a little distracted this morning. I’m just about finished with it.”

He beckoned me forward to look at the computer monitor he was working on.

“Dang,” I gasped as I looked over the list of drugs. “Methamphetamine, fentanyl, mephedrone… that last one is ‘bath salts,’ right?”

“Yes,” Howard nodded gravely. “It’s an insane combination. Pretty much all uppers with a dose of hallucinogens thrown in. I’m not surprised the guy went crazy. It’s weird, though.”

“What’s weird?” I turned to look at Howard. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his eyes themselves were bloodshot. I wondered if he was getting enough sleep.

“I had a look at the autopsy report,” he said as he opened a different file on the computer. “According to this, the body didn’t have any needle marks or abrasions within his nose or respiratory tract. Basically, there were no signs that this guy was a junkie. Aside from the monstrous amount of drugs in his system, he seemed healthy.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” I remarked as I knit my brows together in thought. Drug addicts always had some kind of physical marker. Bruising, hair loss, malnutrition, discoloration of the skin or nails, there was always something. “You think he was drugged?”

“Maybe,” Howard muttered, but he didn’t sound convinced. “These aren’t the kinds of substances you’d find in a victim who’s been drugged, though. Usually, people would use Rohypnol or ketamine, date-rape drugs that make the victim compliant and reduce their chances of remembering their assault. People don’t usually drug others with substances that are meant to get you high, and definitely not to the point of overdosing. It would be a waste.”

“What do you mean a waste?” I asked.

“Drugs are expensive,” Howard answered. “Especially uppers like cocaine and speed. Why would someone pump someone full of expensive drugs if their goal was just to kill them?”

“That’s an excellent point,” I agreed. “And then there’s the fact that Evans wasn’t the only perp. It’s doubtful that someone is going around drugging all these people, which means they’re most likely taking it themselves.”

“That would be my guess,” Howard replied.

“Thanks for all the info,” I told him as I turned to leave his office. “I'm gonna go talk to the police about the other cases. Maybe we can find a connection that’ll explain where this super drug is coming from.”

Howard didn’t respond and instead just turned back to his machines. I felt a little bad as I left and wondered if I should make more effort to include him in stuff with the other agents. He was clearly working hard if the bags under his eyes were any indication, and he was an essential part of our team. I decided to bring it up to Naomi on the car ride over to the police station.

5

Junior

Clara Montgomery lived in an apartment in Northern Las Vegas. The area seemed nice, and I could see Halloween decorations adorning the windows and balconies of most of the apartments in the complex. As we pulled up to her building, I felt a pang of sympathy for what she’d gone through. According to the information Wallace had sent us, Clara was only twenty-two. It would have been horrible for anyone to see their friend be brutally murdered in front of them, but I imagined it must have been especially jarring for a young woman who was just trying to have fun with her friends.

Charlie and I got out of the car and took the stairs up to her third-floor apartment. Her unit was the first on the left, and I knocked after double-checking that it was the correct one. The door opened just a crack a moment later.

“Hello?” a young woman with short brown hair called nervously through the crack in the door.

“Hi,” I smiled warmly. “I’m Agent Chapman, and this is Agent Hills. We’re with the Military Border Liaison Investigative Services. I was wondering if we could speak with you about what happened last Saturday night.”

“I already told the police what happened,” she replied hastily.

“We’re not the police,” I responded quickly before she could shut the door on us. “We’re part of a federal agency that specializes in crimes that cross international borders. It’s possible the man that attacked your friend wasn’t the only perpetrator. We were hoping you’d help us figure out what’s going on so we can prevent this from happening to anyone else.”

I could only see one of her eyes through the small gap, but I could tell she was thinking about what I’d said. A moment later, she shut the door, and I felt an immense sense of disappointment until I heard the security chain being unlatched. I breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled the door open fully before stepping aside to let us in.

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked quietly. Her