Page 35 of My Twin Sister

“I planted drugs on an arrest one time,” he says, his eyes on my chest.

That’s interesting. That’s what Brooke says happened to her.

I slip the other strap down. He’s practically drooling and I don’t know if it’s because of how drunk he is or because of the breasts in front of him.

“We use the drugs to party sometimes too.”

“Does the sheriff know that?”

He nods and his eyes start to droop. I flick him on the forehead and his eyes pop open.

“Oh, yeah. He knows,” he says. “He tells everyone what to do. For now, anyway.”

His words start to slur. I’m running out of time.

“What do you mean for now?”

Garrett’s head bobs toward his chest and I shake him.

“Huh?”

“What do you mean he tells everyone what to do for now? Is he retiring?”

He laughs with his eyes closed. “Mmno. There’s a couple guys. Some guys.”

I wait but he doesn’t say anything else. I slap him softly. “What about the couple guys?”

His head pops back up but his eyes stay closed. He starts to snore.

I climb off his lap, fix my bra, and put my shirt back on before rinsing out his cup and leaving it in his sink. I don’t know how helpful that information is. I try to think through what he could have been saying. Frank tells everyone what to do. For now. He isn’t retiring. There’s a couple guys.

When I put it all together, it sounds like maybe there are a couple guys who don’t intend to keep listening to Sheriff Gibbs for long. Whatever that means. But then I think about my interview down at the station. The way the younger officer kept trying to get him out of the room and didn’t seem to want to listen to Frank. Maybe there’s a power struggle going on.

And then there’s the stuff he said about the drugs. He planted them at least once. At Frank’s instruction? Maybe. But again, I don’t know what that means for me and the things I’m trying to figure out.

If they’re willing to plant drugs, would they be willing to plant photos on my dad’s computer? I know they’re willing to kill. Maybe willing to kill my dad. Maybe Morgan. I don’t know why though.

So damn much I don’t know.

I turn the recorder off on my phone. Garrett snores on the couch while I search his apartment. I find his ID badge in his dirty clothes basket and slip it into my pocket. It’s like the one Frank used at the police station. I find family photos in a drawer of his entertainment center. One of him and his parents on his graduation day. Another of the same day with his parents and a little girl around eight or nine that he has on his shoulders. A little sister, I think. It’s slightly endearing.

I’m about to finish up and head out when I see something in his coat closet on the floor, behind a pile of shoes. I bend down and push the shoes aside. It’s a plastic bag full of something white. I grab it and examine it. There’s a sticker on the bottom. I flip it over and read it. Evidence 87909. Cocaine.

They just keep this stuff in their houses? I put it back and push the shoes back into place. Before I leave, I walk over to Garrett and unbutton his jeans. Then I slip my bra off from beneath my shirt and toss it into the corner of his couch. He’ll think we slept together and then he’ll be a lot less suspicious of me and his missing badge.

I let myself out and walk the quiet, dark streets. It’s cold tonight and I didn’t dress for the weather. I consider stopping back by the bar to grab my car, but I don’t want to run into Garrett’s friends so soon after leaving the bar with him. So I take the road behind the bar for a lesser chance of being seen.

Twenty-Three: Grace

All I want to do is walk home. To my parents’ house, not to Geny’s. But if I don’t do what I need to do now, I’m afraid I’ll lose my opportunity. When Garrett realizes he can’t find his ID badge, will he have it deactivated for a replacement? Will they be more on alert, considering it could have been stolen? I think the chances are higher for the former than the latter, but either way, I can’t take the chance. This is a one-time opportunity.

I walk to the police station, letting the cold sink into my skin and wake up my brain. The thing about Raven being so small is there isn’t always someone at the police station waiting for crime to strike. There are a few operators who switch off night shifts, but they work from their homes. If, on the off chance, there’s a call during the night, they call the on-call officers, who are dispatched from their homes. This leaves the police station empty at night.

My heart pounds in my throat as I approach the front doors. I wish there were a more discreet way in, but there’s not. Not without a crowbar or a stick of dynamite. I’m hoping with a badge, nothing will get noticed or triggered. It’s a risk, but I’ve never been afraid of a risk.

Before I can second-guess it, I swipe the badge in the card reader. It turns green and I hear a click. I enter, holding my breath. The inside is dimly lit by a single light behind the reception desk. It’s eerily quiet.

I could be on camera. If I am, I’m screwed. But I wonder how thorough their camera systems are monitored if they’re taking drugs from the evidence room on a regular basis. I walk to the door by the reception desk that goes back to the rest of the station. There’s another card reader and I swipe the badge again. Green lights.