All Things Pretty, Part Two (Pretty #3.5)(3)
Author: M. Leighton

Before he can answer, I wedge my knee against Trip’s and I lean in, forcing his legs to stay parted.  I flick the lighter again and hold it right up against his zipper. The material of his jeans turns black and I can smell the stench of singed denim.  The flame is not enough to actually burn him yet, but it’s enough to scare the piss out of him. 

He tries to scramble away, but I subdue him easily with just one hand clamped onto his shoulder.  I outweigh him by at least a hundred pounds, if I had to guess.

“I’m not playing.”  I press his wrist to the scorching-hot material over his limp dick and he yowls like I cut his hand off.  “Tell me!”

“He- he owns an old restaurant.  Over on Colonial.  At least he used to. When Davey was running for him.  That’s when him and Lance hooked up.  Now, he just parks the shipment for Lance and then gets it to my brother, Davey.”

“How?”  When he doesn’t immediately respond, I push my elbow into his throat.  “How?”

He yells and I back off just enough that he can breathe and talk freely.  “Chaps switches out the back packs of some of his students. Puts the shit in ‘em and sends ‘em home.”

“He sends drugs home with these kids?”  That sounds stupid as hell.

“Why not?  What damn mom looks through her kid’s school shit, ya know?”

Evidently he’s right. They haven’t been caught yet.

“Then what?”

“Then the kid sets the pack outside at night and I pick up the drugs for Davey.  He gets ‘em out through his network. He’s higher up now.  He ain’t no runner no more. And he’ll kick my ass if he finds out I told you this much.  Lance don’t let many of those assholes know about his operation. That’s why he don’t get caught.”

“And how did you come by all this information then, dickweed?”

“D-Davey.  He lets me stay with him sometimes.  Gives me free shit when he has it. Been stoned and high at his house more times than I can count.  And I hear stuff at night, you know.  But I don’t tell.  I keep the secrets.  Been trying to get him to let me in, give me a better job, but he won’t let me do more than pick up.”

I think back to Travis’s backpack.  I knew the zippers were a different color! Damn, I’m glad I followed my gut and had the department put a tail on the teacher.  Maybe they’ve found the restaurant.  Maybe they’ve got something prosecutable on him or on Tonin already.  Then again, maybe not. Either way, I’m one step closer to nailing the Lance Tonin.  And on my very first undercover assignment, no less.

Satisfaction flows through me, making me wanna whoop as loud as my damn lungs will allow.  But I can’t do that. This isn’t the time to celebrate.

My pleasure is short-lived when I think of how Travis could be in real trouble. So could Tommi.  And there’s still a helluva lot more going on, more to find out.  More to do.  I can’t afford to blow it now. Or get complacent.

“So Travis has been bringing drugs home from school, putting his bag out at night and you come pick it up.”  I glance over at Tommi.  “You notice anything off?”

She’s cupping her elbows, her arms wrapped tight around her middle like she’s either cold or sick.  She shakes her head.  “Most nights I’m out with Lance. At least for a little while. On the nights when I stay home, Travis comes over here.”  She closes her eyes, like she’s disappointed in herself.  “Now I know why. Now I know why he never wants to stay home when I’m there.  He has to make sure the drugs get here. Is that it, Trip?” she asks, pinning him with her pain-dulled green eyes.

He nods, his foggy brown eyes darting between us suspiciously.

“But why switch backpacks? Why not use the same one?”

“How’d you know?” he asks. When I don’t answer, Trip shrugs.  “Students drop off for Chaps first thing in the morning, in his room. He has packs that look just like theirs, gives ‘em the clean ones to carry all day.  Sticks the ones with drugs in ‘em in the closet until the last period of the day.  Ain’t no teacher or principle or anybody really gonna think nothing about seeing a couple-a backpacks sitting in a teacher’s room.  It’s a school, man!  Plus, when the cops come to search, they don’t put the drugs dogs in the classrooms.  Just on the lockers.  I’m sure if Chaps got caught, though, he’d blame it on the kids who left the bags with him.  He only comes in first thing with the drugs.  Spreads it out and keeps that shit hid in back packs all day.  Perfect alibi if he ever got caught.”

I think it sounds like the dumbest operation in the world, but it’s obviously so simple it works.  Lance Tonin has been getting his pollution out and evading capture for years.  And this is how.

“Why does Chaps–or Tonin for that matter–think Travis has done something to betray him?”

“Hell if I know, dude.  I just wanna get high and stay outta prison.  Keep my head down.”

Looking at his lackluster eyes, brimming with fear, I believe him.  Besides, I can’t imagine why anybody would trust this little asshat with anything more important than the basics.  This is probably all he knows.

“Tell anybody we were here and I’ll come back for you. And if you run, I’ll find you.  Either way, you won’t like what happens when I get my hands on you.  Comprende?”

He nods, still stiff and holding himself away from me.

I turn, taking Tommi’s hand, and we walk back out to the truck.  I start the engine and sit in the quiet for a few seconds, thinking.  Finally, I take out my phone.  I risk typing a text that includes the information that I just learned and sending it on to my handler at the station.  All this shit’s getting ready to blow up and they need to know. They need to get their asses out there and be prepared to intervene.  Even if it means Tommi finds out who I am, I have to do it.

Tommi doesn’t ask me who I texted, though.  Her mind is elsewhere.  I shift into gear and pull out, heading down the street then across town toward Colonial, toward where Chaps has a place and where we might find Travis.

After a couple of minutes to settle down, I reach for Tommi’s hand, giving her comfort as I press her for more.