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“No. I want you to do a search and find out who’s still being prescribed Jadrone.”
She raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Why?”
“Because we found traces of Jadrone in Harry Maxwell’s apartment.”
“Harry Maxwell? Frank Maxwell’s kid?”
Gabriel frowned and sat down on the edge of her desk. Given her office was little more than a glorified broom closet, he practically loomed over her. “Yes. Do you know him?”
“Sort of. Jack and I often ran across him during our shifts.”
“Doing what?”
“He was a regular at Maximum.”
Gabriel raised a dark eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“Really? A major outfit like the SIU doesn’t know about the existence of a dive like Maximum?”
“The SIU might well be aware of it—I simply said that I wasn’t. This organization has hundreds of investigations underway at any one time. I’m certainly not aware of all of them—just the ones my department are responsible for.”
A perfectly reasonable answer, except for the fact that, from what she’d seen over the last few months, both Gabriel and Stephan lived and breathed work—whether it was for SIU or for the Federation. Not that she was much better, but, hell, they had friends, a family. A choice.
And probably the only reason neither of them knew about Maximum would be because it hadn’t come into the SIU’s sphere until now. Which was understandable, given that Maximum was more a vice squad problem than SIU.
“It’s an underground rave house. Popular with the gay scene, and for those seeking prescribed or illegal drugs.”
“So Harry was a user?”
“He’s what I term a prescribed druggie. He used to hit up on Jadrone.”
“But Jadrone has no effect on humans.”
“Which can only mean that Harry wasn’t entirely human, because he got blasted pretty regularly.”
Gabriel frowned. “But even shifters have to take it daily for several months before it has any effect—at least in terms of blurring the line between fantasy and reality.”
“So says the government, but take a large enough dose and the hallucinogenic effects are pretty immediate.”
He studied her for a minute, his hazel eyes intense and unreadable. “Why was he never pulled in?”
“He was. Several times. But Frank Maxwell knows all the right people. The department kept dropping the charges.”
“Did you know his supplier?”
She hesitated. “No.” In truth, she did—but if she told Gabriel, she’d remain stuck in this shoe box for yet another day. “But I can find out if you want.”
“I want. I’ve got nine hours before the killer strikes again.”
I’ve got, not we’ve got. He still wasn’t letting her in. “Anything else?”
His sudden smile was almost predatory. Here it comes, she thought. The inane task to end all inane tasks.
“I want you to get a list of everyone who’s bought Heat in the last month, then contact every one of them to see if any of them happen to know Harry Maxwell.”
She stared at him. “But that could take days! Heat is the perfume world’s flavor of the month.”
“Then you’d better get started, hadn’t you?”
