School of Fish (Fish Out of Water #6) - Amy Lane Page 0,76

voice trembled. “He wasn’t a bad guy, you know? A little dumb and, God, insensitive as hell, but he was learning. Most of the time he was always smiling, always glad to see his team. We weren’t tight, like me and Ty, but we were friends. Tage too. It just seemed so unreal! That two people I knew would… would be dead, or have done something that awful.” Nate clenched his jaw and shook his head. “But Ziggy? Ziggy I could believe.”

“Trust your instincts, kid. They’re right on. And be careful around him. Don’t let him know you know he’s a bad guy.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Have you even seen me, mister? I can’t hide shit with this baby face!”

And go self-awareness! “Well, do your best. Ziggy’s pretty hot right now. Odds are good he’s not going to be lingering around the high school set. Keep an eye out. And tell me more about this party.”

“So Ty and I were back by the bathroom, getting ready to flush those creepy pink pills, and there’s a knock at the door. Ziggy opens it and invites the two officers in.”

Jackson frowned. “Did they identify themselves when they knocked? Say they were Sac PD or anything like that?”

“No, sir,” Nate told him, looking puzzled. “But as soon as they stepped in, they told everybody to freeze.”

“So of course everybody started streaming out the back door.”

“Well, they would have, but the cops had their guns out already.”

“Wait what?” Jackson blinked. “No. No no no no. You don’t take your piece out if nobody’s resisted. You don’t take it out if it’s a bunch of kids standing around a keg!”

“I know!” Nate said. “I almost wet my fucking pants. Anyway, Ty and I, we’re good kids, right? So we just stand there like morons with our hands up, thinking if we do what we’re supposed to, they go away. But they didn’t. They walked straight to Ty and searched his pockets, and they found the little packet with three pills and arrested him and walked out.”

The packet with three pink butterfly pills was starting to stick in Jackson’s craw. “What happened to the party after he left?” Jackson said curiously.

“Well, for starters, everybody said it was bullshit,” Nate said. He paused. “And then No Neck looked at Ziggy and….” He swallowed. “He had this hurt look on his face. He said, ‘But Ty’s my friend.’”

“What did Ziggy say?” Jackson asked, stirred with reluctant sympathy for the departed No Neck.

“He said, ‘Yes, but not your family. You need to remember who your family is.’”

Jackson closed his eyes, hating where this was probably leading. “Did No Neck say anything afterward?”

“I cornered him in the kitchen,” Nate said. “I was pissed. Told him I’d go to the cops myself. He said not to, said he’d do it.” Nate’s shoulders slumped. “And the next night, he was dead.”

Jackson took in a sharp breath. “Okay. Okay, then. So you know Ziggy’s dangerous, and there are a few things I need to find out. You got my card, kid?”

Nate nodded to where it sat as he finished wrapping the two sandwiches.

“After I pay for those, I’m going to watch you put that into your phone. Then I’m going to walk to the school where some guy named Baldwin is going to be lying to my buddy about why he let this Ziggy asshole around high school students.”

“Baldwin?” Nate said, wiping down his work space before taking off his gloves. “You mean Coach Schroeder?” One full lip curled up in disgust. “Coach asshole?”

“Asshole? Why?”

Nate moved behind the register and threw his gloves away underneath the counter. “That’ll be $15.98. But since you’re helping Ty out, I can throw in some chips and two sodas for free.”

Jackson grinned at him. “I’m down for that,” he said. “Can I grab them on the way out?”

“Sure.”

Jackson paid him and then threw a fiver in the tip cup, because the kid had been competent as hell. “So, why’s the assistant coach an asshole?”

“Well, for one thing, he’s not really a teacher. Coach Foster and Assistant Coach Herredia both get stipends for doing football, but they also teach in the school. Schroeder got the job part-time as… I don’t know. Some sort of glorified water boy. But he’s not a teacher, and he’s always trying to ‘get in with the kids.’ It’s creepy. He’s been working with the varsity kids for the last two years but usually only the bench. I guess Foster and Herredia thought he