Page 46 of Ghosted
Dean nods. “Probably. Why? Are you mad I didn’t recycle? I know I should have used one of the regular mugs, but I thought I might drink it on my way home, and?—”
“Dean,” I cut him off testily. I’m usually more patient, but right now I feel like I’m a second away from collapsing. “Listen, I’m not concerned about your recycling habits. Remember howI told you that you might have been drugged? We should test the coffee with these if there’s any left.” I snag the test strips again and shake one out.
“Can’t hurt.”
He watches as I retrieve the cup from the trash and pop the lid off. Luckily, it’s still about a quarter of the way full. I’m not even sure the test strips would work this far out from being dosed, but it’s worth a shot. I grimace at the film of congealed milk, tipping the cup to the side to reveal a less-gross layer of old coffee. Using the underside of my long nail, I scoop out a little and drip it on the strip. Within seconds, the panel for the date rape drug, GHB, changes colors.
“Oh shit,” we say together, watching as the strip further darkens.
“I’m the only one in the office who drinks those caramel Nespresso pods. Do you think the whole batch was dosed with it?” Dean asks. My stomach drops.
“Oh fuck,” I say, the whole head-spinning, exhaustion thing suddenly making sense. “Dean, you drugged me.”
“Huh?” And then it dawns on him. “Shit. The coffee!”
“The coffee,” I agree, sitting down hard on his couch. I blink rapidly, trying to merge the two concerned Deans I’m seeing back into one. “I think I’m gonna take a little nap,” I slur, lying back with a sigh. I close my eyes, drifting off quickly as the world goes dark.
TWENTY-SEVEN
“Rae, are you alright?”a masculine voice asks from the velvet black. The gentle rocking makes me think I must be on a boat. Like the time my family and I took a sightseeing ferry from Salem. My parents were always adamant about being tourists in our home state, so most of our family vacations were centered around Massachusetts-themed outings.
I can practically hear my dad saying, “The history in our state is more than enough to explore for a lifetime and not get bored,” while he animatedly points out all the landmarks from the boat. I sigh, grabbing Wren’s hand to pull her toward the front of the boat where we can reenactThe Titanic.Suddenly, the boat rocks harder, like way harder than a ferry in a Massachusetts harbor has any right to.
“Rae!” My eyes snap open and immediately squint to slits at the bright overhead lighting.
“Where am I?” I croak, my mouth and throat feeling like they’ve been stuffed with cotton balls.
“You’re at Crawford and Gaines,” the voice says again.
I work to open my eyes further, despite them being overly sensitive and dry. The face swimming before me looks like… “Dean?” I ask.
“It’s Jack,” he says, clearing his throat. He leans back, out of my space, but still hovers nearby.
I sit up at that, inhaling sharply. “Um. Hi,” I say around my dry throat. What the hell am I doing here?
“Water?” I croak.
“Of course, here,” Jack offers me a bottle of fancy water, and I chug almost half of it at once. “You okay?”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “I think so? I don’t know.”
“Did you mean to fall asleep here yesterday? You were really out. I was shaking you and calling your name for a while,” Jack says, surveying me in concern.
“Yesterday? What time is it?” I ask, feeling my stomach drop. I scrub my eyes with the heels of my hands, belatedly remembering the mascara that’s probably smudged beyond repair.
“It’s a little after six in the morning,” Jack says, sitting back on his haunches.
“What happened?” he asks, putting a friendly hand on my shoulder.
Then it hits me like bolts of lightning, zapping my brain with flashes of memory.
Dean.
His office.
Coffee.
My body starts to tremble, the panic hitting me like a truck. “I—I was drugged,” I say around my chattering teeth.
