Page 32 of Open Season

“I don’t know, and you don’t either. That’s my point. When you go out like that, don’t let anyone bring you a drink except the waitress. Better yet, go to the bar and get your own. Don’t leave your drink on the table while you dance, or go to the bathroom, or for any reason. If you do, then don’t drink out of it again. Order a fresh one.”

“Wh-what would it taste like? If someone doctored my drink, I mean.”

“you couldn’t taste it, not mixed in a drink.”

“My goodness.” She putter hands in her lap, upset to think that one of those nice men she’d danced with the night before might have deliberately drugged her so they could take her some place and have sex with her while she was unconscious. “Then—how would I tell?”

“Generally, you can’t. By the time you start feeling the effects, you aren’t thinking straight. It’s better to always go to a club with a friend, so you can look out for each other. If one of you starts acting sleepy or dizzy, then the best thing to do is get to an emergency room. And for God’s sake, don’t let any of the men you’ve met drive you anywhere.”

Dismayed, Daisy tried to think of a friend who would go with her to nightclubs. None sprang to mind; not that she didn’t have friends, but they were all married with families, and going out to a nightclub without their husbands so she could meet men just wasn’t the type of thing any of them would do. Her mother and Aunt Jo were both single, but. . . no, that didn’t bear thinking about.

“There are several date-rape drugs,” he continued. “You’ve probably heard of Rohypnol, but the one that really has cops concerned is GHB.”

“What’s that?” She’d never heard of it.

He gave her a grim smile. “Floor stripper mixed with drain cleaner.”

“Oh, my God!” Aghast, she stared at him. “That would kill you!”

“In a large enough amount, yeah. And it doesn’t take all that much, sometimes, because you never know how hard it’s going to hit you.”

“But—wouldn’t it burn your throat when you swallowed it?”

He shook his head. “Nope. With an overdose, what happens is you go to sleep and just don’t wake up. If it’s mixed with alcohol, the effect is enhanced and even more unpredictable. If a guy slips you GHB, basically he doesn’t care if you die or not, so long as he can fu—ah, have sex with you while you’re still warm.”

Eyes wide, Daisy stared at the pretty countryside. To think things like that were going on in the world! He’d shone a far different light on the club scene, and she would never look at it the same way again. But if she didn’t get out and mix, how would she ever meet single men? She chewed her lower lip while she pondered the situation, but the bottom line was, going out dancing at the clubs was the most efficient way to accomplish her aim. She would just have to be extra careful, and follow all his instructions.

“I’ll be careful,” she said fervently. “Thank you for warning me.” It was very nice of him to go out of his way to warn her about the dangers she could face, nicer than she had expected of him. Maybe she’d been too harsh in her criticism, just because he was a bit brusque and too frank in his language.

He slowed down as they neared a church, then turned around in the parking lot and headed back toward Hillsboro. “When are you going out again?” he casually asked.

Gratitude only went so far. “Why?” she asked, her tone loaded with suspicion.

“So I can warn all the men to wear athletic cups, why else?” He sighed. “It was just a question, to make conversation.”

“Oh. Well, of course I wouldn’t go out on Sunday, or on a work night, so I suppose it’ll be next weekend. I need to work on my house, anyway, so I can get moved in.”

“You’re moving?”

“I’m renting a place on Lassiter Avenue.”

He slanted a quick look at her. “Lassiter? That isn’t a great neighborhood.”

“I know, but my choices were limited. And I’m going to get a dog.”

“Get a big one. A German shepherd would be good. They’re intelligent, loyal dogs, and would protect you from Godzilla himself.”

German shepherds were the ones used in the K-9 units, so she supposed that was how he was acquainted with them. The dogs must be reliable and trustworthy, or police departments wouldn’t use them.

She tried to form a picture of herself sitting in an easy chair reading while a big dog dozed at her feet, but the image just wouldn’t form. She was more of a small-dog type person; a terrier, maybe, would be better than a huge German shepherd. She’d read that small dogs were just as likely to frighten away a burglar because they barked at the slightest noise, and really all she wanted was an alarm system, not an all-out counteroffensive. Terriers were good at sounding the alarm. Or maybe she’d get one of those cute little Maltese, with a little bow tied in its topknot.

She mentally debated the merits of various small dogs on the drive home, and was surprised when he pulled to the curb in front of the house. She blinked for a moment at the minivan parked behind her car in the driveway, then recognized it.

“You have company,” Chief Russo observed.

“My sister Beth and her family,” Daisy said. They visited at least twice a month, usually on Sunday after church. She should have been expecting them, but it had totally slipped her mind.

As she reached for the door handle, Aunt Jo came out on the porch. “Y’all come on in,” she called. “You’re just in time for homemade ice cream.”

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