Page 23 of Exposé

Reagan stood beside my table with my espresso in hand.

"You're really engrossed in that."

My brows pulled together. "What do you mean?"

She laughed, setting it down beside my laptop. I rolled my shoulders, my back already stiff with the creeping ache. "I called your name. You didn't even look up when Alfred left."

"Alfred?"

"The man standing behind you when I was making your coffee…”Her head tilted to the side. “Are you okay?" She dragged a chair from the opposite side of the table and sat.

“Yeah, just distracted.” Exhaling, I sipped the caffeine and groaned. "Thanks. I needed this."

"I'm here to please. Now spill."

I glanced out of the windows through the painted advertisements and then back to Reagan. "It's a working story, but there isn't much to go on, and I'm starting to think there might not be much of a story here."

"Okay, that was about as vague as you could possibly be."

Chuckling, I picked up my drink and sipped again. "Habit. Sorry."

I leaned back into my chair and stared at the hundreds of results on the screen, none of which mentioned NeuraZene or an increase in drug busts.

Were others unaware or not interested?

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

I sighed. "Not unless you know about street drugs."

"Funny you should say that…"

Reagan rubbed the back of her neck and glanced outside before turning back to me. "I used to be in that crowd back in my high school years."

I raised a brow. "Aren't you like nineteen or twenty?"

She let out a sharp, high-pitched laugh. "Oh God, no." Pressing a hand to her chest, she rocked backward. "I'm twenty-six."

One year older than me?

"Oh, hell. I need some facial treatments."

I pressed my fingertips into the fine stress wrinkles that appeared on my forehead last year.

"You're gorgeous… What are you talking about?"

"Thank you."

A heavy silence fell over us.

"Um… so now back to your original question…" She swiped at a strand of hair on her forehead. "I might have a guy still in that scene. I could point you in his direction."

I sat up a little taller. "Really?"

She nodded and dug into her pocket, pulling out her phone. "Yeah…" Scrolling through, she leaned forward. "Have a pen?"

"Yeah, of course." I dug into my bag and grabbed the small notebook with a pen attached and handed it to her.

"I don't know if he'd be willing to talk to you. He was pretty paranoid and suspicious of everyone when I knew him, but it's worth a shot." Reagan scribbled on the paper and slid the booklet back as the front door opened. She stood. "I included his last known address. We used to go there to party all the time."

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