Blind Spot - Katana Collins Page 0,10

to make the world a better place, I told myself. Almost every cop I’d dealt with had been wonderful. Except one. Even the thought of him sent an icy chill surging through my body. A shiver ran the length of my spine, one that no amount of layers could have helped. Reagan put a hand to my back, giving me a reassuring smile.

“We’re gonna need you to turn that down,” the first officer said over the music.

“What was that?” Tate shouted. “I–I couldn’t hear you over the music.”

My breath hitched. Oh God, what was he doing? This was his idea of funny?

And apparently, his friends thought it was. There were a few snickers around the room, and he shot them a grin from over his shoulder. The quick movement caused him to lose his balance and he swayed on his feet, using the wall to keep himself standing.

“Turn it off,” the second officer shouted.

“I still can’t hear you. Here, let me turn the music off.”

Harrison heaved an annoyed sigh, folding his arms as Tate clicked a button and the room fell silent.

One officer strolled through the kitchen, eyes narrowed, looking for signs of misconduct. He stopped a few feet shy of me. My breath stilled as his eyes wandered beyond me and into the room. “Got anyone underage in here?”

Tate gave a regretful frown and worried his bottom lip. “Just one. But he only had one sip and ended up passing out on the floor.”

“Is he okay?” The second officer, a younger man, not so plump around the middle, grabbed a walkie-talkie from his belt. “Randy, think we’ll need a bus?”

“We need to see the boy. Now. How old is he?”

Tate shrugged. “He’s twelve.”

“Twelve?” the officer gasped.

“I’m sure he’s fine. He usually sleeps all day anyway. Follow me.” Tate gestured, and the officers followed at his heels. He stopped as his toe tapped his dog. “Buddy, Buddy, you all right? Get up, boy. Show the good officers that you’re okay.” Buddy rolled off his back, hopping around the apartment.

Everyone at the party burst out in laughter—all except us. I leaned in to Harrison. “I told you we should have slipped out the back,” I whispered.

Harrison nodded, swallowing. “I’m thinking you were right.”

“Okay, funny guy. You’re coming with us.” I cringed as the older officer grabbed Tate by his elbow and gave him a quick pat down, inspecting for any weapons. “Let’s see if you’re still laughing after spending the night in the tank.”

Tate snorted. “Aw, come on. It was just a joke. You know…because it was my dog. Seriously, have you ever seen a dog play dead for that long? It’s a little impressive, right?”

“Jim, get the ID’s of the rest of these kids. Make sure they’re all legal.” He moved Tate into the elevator as the younger officer made his way through the crowd.

“I owe you a hundred bucks, golden boy,” Tate called as the elevator doors closed.

“Oh my God.” Despite the effort to keep my voice steady, it still shook. And I was certain Reagan and Harrison heard it, too. “Th–they’re arresting him?”

I looked up to Harrison just as the muscle in his jaw jumped. “Yeah. Because he’s a fucking drunk idiot.”

“Yeah, but I called the cops on him. I didn’t think they’d take him in.” I dropped my voice even lower. “Is he going to be okay?”

Reagan shifted a look from Harrison to me. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

The cop’s handheld ID scanner beeped from the other side of the room, and he moved on to the next partygoer. Reagan opened her purse, and Harrison pulled his wallet from a back pocket.

“Shit.” I exhaled, running my clammy palms over my empty pockets. “I left my purse down in the apartment.”

Harrison rubbed circles over my back. “It’ll be fine, trust me. I’ll call my dad—”

“No.”

Reagan swallowed beside me. “Come on, Shelby. I know you don’t like the guy, but don’t be unreasonable—”

“I said no. My ID is right downstairs. Surely, he’ll let me grab it—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Reagan said. “It depends how pissed off Tate made them.”

“At least if I text my dad, I can give him a head’s up if they decide to do something stupid like drag you in—”

“I said no, Harrison.” Cursing my shaky hands, I folded my arms, refusing to look at him.

Harrison sighed and rolled his eyes. “Stubborn like your mom.”

My blood went cold. “What did you just say to me?”

“I—” Harrison’s voice cracked, but I didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t talk about my