“Uh-huh.”
“He goes to Oakmont?”
“Yeah. This’ll be his last year.”
“I went there,” Schultz says, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The movement flexes his pecs under the tight white T. He didn’t wear his uniform to come see me. Maybe he’s trying to put me at ease. It’s not gonna work, and neither is his small talk.
“Yeah, me too,” I say.
“What year did you graduate?”
“2013.”
“Ah. I was ‘08. We just missed each other.”
“Guess so.”
My dad pokes his head out of the garage. “Need any help?” he says.
“No!” I say, quickly. “I’ve got it covered.”
“Alright. Call me if you need anything.” My dad gives a friendly nod to Schultz, not knowing that this dude is here to royally fuck with his kids’ lives. Schultz gives him a little salute in return.
I wait for my dad to leave, then I turn my unfriendly attention back onto Schultz.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” I say.
“Sure,” Schultz says, smiling easily. “Let’s do that. You were in possession of 114 tablets of MDMA.”
Fuck.
“I’ve logged the traffic stop and the acquisition, but the Chicago PD has some flexibility in making arrests.”
“What does that mean?”
He fixes me with those bright blue eyes, smiling pleasantly.
“Well, think of your drug charge as a debt. You owe the State of Illinois four years. But you’re not going to do anybody any good sitting in prison. In fact, you’ll cost the taxpayers a lot of money. So it benefits the good people of this state if you work off your debt another way.”
I don’t like the way he’s standing so close, looking down at me.
“How am I supposed to do that?” I say.
“Well . . . have you ever heard of a CI?”
Yeah. Like I said, I watched a lot of Law and Order growing up. I know about Confidential Informants.
“You want me to rat,” I say flatly.
“I prefer to call it ‘assisting the police in apprehending dangerous criminals.’ ”
Dangerous criminals who will slit my throat if they know I’m talking to the police.
“You ever heard the phrase ‘Snitches Get Stitches?’ ” I ask him.
He cocks his head to the side, looking me up and down though he can’t see shit through my coveralls.
“You ever heard the phrase ‘Don’t Drop the Soap?’ ” he says, his voice low and mocking. “I don’t think you’d like federal prison, Camille. The women there are just as brutal as the men. Worse, sometimes. They love when a pretty young girl gets thrown inside. It’s like chum in the water. They don’t even want to take turns.”