Renea Mayhew sat next to Peter with Greg seated across the table. They were having dinner at Peter’s favorite local Thai restaurant. On the way there, Greg expressed his resistance to Thai food more than once. Based on the way he was now devouring his pad thai - Peter’s suggestion - the big man appeared to be happily surprised. He’d ordered it with extra meat. Of course he did. When he tried to order the dish with 5 star spicy level, the restaurant’s highest option, Peter had to step in. Greg resisted, but eventually caved and ordered a 4 star.
He was sweating profusely. A bead of sweat dripped from his forehead and into his food unnoticed. Renea schooled the judgemental disgust that rose naturally to her face into a more neutral expression.
“What if we were to just give Bobby a few names and he could verify yes or no?” Peter asked hopefully.
“You know Bobby isn’t going to break HIPPA laws, Peter,” she said, dabbing delicately at the corner of her mouth with the white cloth napkin.
“Sarah texted me a list of people she was sure were there that night. It would be more efficient if we could cross reference. That’s all. I’ll call all of them, but I don’t know how effective that’s going to be. When I call, they’ll… what? Just open up about the time they got date raped and woke up in an alley missing a bunch of blood? Would you, if someone you don’t even know just randomly called you?”
“No,” Renea agreed. She swirled her glass of water, the ice tinkling against the cub with a pleasant sound. “Maybe ask the club owner, Sarah, was it? Ask Sarah to call them first. If she lets them know that you’ll be calling and why…”
“More willing to talk if they know we’re trying to catch the dirtbag that did that to them,” Greg interrupted Renea, pointing his finger at her enthusiastically. “Good thinking.”
Renea knew the gesture was likely intended to give her the credit for the idea, but Renea did not like it when people pointed at her. She liked it even less when someone interrupted her. And even less than that, when someone interrupted her to mansplain a basic concept she was currently explaining when said interruption took place. She made eyes at Peter. His eyes met hers and he smiled happily with a noodle hanging out of the corner of his mouth, clearly having missed the look she was giving him. He slurped in the noodle and Renea rolled her eyes.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
“That’s a great idea. I’ll text her,” Peter said. He pulled out his phone and started tapping away at it.
“You know,” Renea said, tapping thoughtfully at her chin. “It might be better if the people you interview were not the ones that were drugged on previous occasions. Just other people that were at the club that night.”
Peter looked up from his phone curiously. “What makes you say that?”
“That’s the whole thing about rohypnol, isn’t it? It shuts down the part of your brain responsible for creating new memories. Odds are, the ones who were drugged won’t remember anything at all. It also stands to reason that Alyson was the only one drugged on that night in particular, if indeed she was,” Renea speculated. “Drugging more than a single person may not be difficult, but getting out of the club with more than one semi-conscious person without causing suspicion is a totally different matter.”
“This is one of the strangest contracts I’ve ever been a part of,” Greg grunted. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and then sipped at his empty cup of water before looking longingly over at Peter’s. The four star dish, it seemed, was plenty spicy enough for the mighty Greg Van Helsing. “Investigating, to me, usually entails more violence.”
“If you’ve got a solution,” Peter said, gesturing to Greg with a fork full of noodles, “let’s hear it, violence or no violence. Finding Alyson is what matters.”
The waitress arrived, filling Greg’s cup before setting a full pitcher of ice water on the table. A smart move after coming by twice already to fill his glass. Greg drank greedily as Peter thanked the waitress. He downed the whole glass before filling it from the pitcher.
“I usually have more to go on,” Greg said sourly. “If it was anyone but Roma that asked, I wouldn’t have taken the contract. Not with the limited information available. My contracts usually start with ‘quell’ or ‘kill’ or ‘execute’. Rarely ‘rescue’. I’ve got little experience with this kind of thing. Think I’ll defer to you two on this one. Though, if I had to guess, that girl’s already dead.”
Renea was surprised to hear that. She hadn’t known Greg long but, in the time that she had, she had yet to witness a moment in which Greg Van Helsing was not the resident expert on any given subject. She found herself agreeing with his assessment that it was likely too late to save this Alyson girl, but didn’t voice her agreement.
“Even if she is, we have to find out who killed her and stop them. Right?” Peter asked, almost pleading. It was clear to Renea that the injustice of the situation was driving him on just as much as the possibility of saving the girl.
“Oh we’re definitely going to kill them,” Greg said.
That bit, Renea was not surprised to hear from Greg. With some effort, she did not roll her eyes. Instead, she excused herself to use the ladies room.