Read J. Daniel Sawyer - Clarke Lantham 01 for Free Online Page B

care?”
    “Stephanie Jennings?”
    “Yeah, my fucking girlfriend.”
    “Oh, right.” I took another sip. “What about this weekend—no parties you expect Nya at?”
    “Nah. She goes where she wants, you know?”
    “You said she got nervous around new people.”
    “She’s got lots of friends. Might be out with Gravity somewhere. Sometimes they take off, you know? Go to Disneyland, go to Tahoe. Dude’s got a convertible. I gave you his card, right?”
    “Yeah, haven’t had a chance to call him yet.”
    “Sucks to be you.”
    “Yeah. Hey, look, I gotta know something. What’s Dora’s deal? Why is she so freaked?”
    “Hell if I know, man. Dora doesn’t wash her dirty laundry in public, you know?” He looked away, like he was hoping I wouldn’t press the point.
    “I got that impression. She’s got some, though, doesn’t she?”
    “Dude, I can’t go telling stories. My cli…fuck.”
    “Client, eh?”
    “Look, you can’t talk about your clients, right? Same with me. I got a business to run.”
    “Business good?”
    He smirked.
    “Tell you what, I got some connections. You could level up.”
    “Hmph. You said you were a cop.”
    “How do you think a cop gets a retirement account? Look,” I leaned forward, and while he was looking at my face I slipped the baggie under his jacket, “I need to know what Dora’s deal is. I can pay you for it.”
    “Ha. You? Right.”
    “I shit you not. Check under your jacket, but don’t lift it up.”
    He lifted up the corner of his jacket and peered under it, then slammed it down again. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” he hissed.
    “Your choice. You can walk out of here with it. That’s about two K street, maybe more if you don’t mind cutting it with some shake. Just tell me about Dora.”
    “Holy shit, man.”
    I nodded. “Holy shit.”
    He looked around to check to see nobody was watching, then said, “Okay. Look, she’s legal, okay. Got her scrip, no bullshit.”
    “What’s the scrip for?”
    “Anxiety.”
    “Ha! That figures. So what’s her deal?”
    “Well…” he grabbed a slice of my pizza and used the chewing to make sure his story lined up with itself, “She’s a shrink, so she can’t, you know, look at anyone without thinking there’s something wrong with them.”
    He took another bite, looking at the table, hoping I wouldn’t ask any more questions.
    “What kind of shrink?”
    He seemed to decide that it was safe to tell me. “Oh, you know. Just a shrink. She used to run this halfway house for molested kids. Now she thinks everyone she meets is a child molester.”
    Well, that explained the overprotection. “That it?”
    “Yeah…uh…yeah, that’s it.”
    “How long’s she been buying from you?”
    “I don’t know, a few years. Are we done yet, man?”
    “Eh, probably.” I grabbed the bottle and took another sip, and mumbled “Gonna hate to see her go down for the speed,” around the mouth.
    “What?” He stopped halfway through standing. He was…scared? No, not just. Worried. Like he cared about her.
    “She was wired last time I saw her…”
    “Don’t, man, she’s not hurting anybody.”
    “Professional ethics…”
    “Fuck that,” he squeaked, “She’s your client, man, you can’t…”
    “Why do you care? Is she buying the stuff from you?”
    “Hell no,” he shook his head—too much, “I don’t touch that stuff.”
    “So how long have you been fucking her?”
    Rawles went white—well, whiter than he already was, at any rate. His mouth stumbled around like a drunken Clydesdale for a full minute before he collapsed back down into his chair. “Dude, you can’t…”
    “She’s a therapist, right?” He didn’t respond. “Your therapist?”
    “Oh, fuck, dude, really…”
    I let him sweat for another minute, took a few more nibbles on my pizza. “Okay, look. You’ve been a help today, and I owe you. So take the shit and go home. I won’t tell anyone about Dora.”
    He deflated. Color