Law & Ardor: Trigger Point
Copyright© 2025 by WittyUserName
Chapter 2
~Wednesday August 13, 2025~
“Sarah,” Steven’s tired voice grunted, interrupting my blissful sleep. “Sarah, your phone keeps buzzing.”
“They’ll call back if it’s important,” I replied, curling up against him as Steven’s arms and the soft bed held me in a warm embrace.
“That was the third call,” he replied, shifting slightly as the buzzing started again. “Fourth.”
“Wha...?” I mumbled groggily. My eyes flew open when I finally woke up enough from my paradise to remember the real world. “Shit!”
I leapt out of bed completely naked and started hunting around for my pants. “Shit, shit, shit!”
“Are you getting called in?” Steven asked, turning on the bedside lamp just in time to give him a great view of my naked ass while I was bent over and digging through my jeans. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I shook my head as I stood and answered the call, barely having time to notice it was just after midnight before placing the phone to my face. “McLorn.”
“Damn, finally,” Adam’s voice responded. “You must have really been out cold.”
“Sorry, I was tired,” I quickly replied, standing nude in Steven and Lexi’s bedroom. “What’s going on?”
“Sarah, you need to get dressed and come out,” my partner said seriously. “We’ve got another one.”
“Another one?” I whispered, my heart pounding. Another overdose? Another Taylor? “W-what happened? Where?”
“Same campus. Female. Looks like strangulation. Patrol already secured the scene,” Adam answered. “Body was found in the back stairwell at the Delta Sigma Chi frat house.”
“Okay,” I nodded, hunting around for my underwear. I wasn’t sure how my bra ended up draped over Steven’s computer monitor. “Okay.”
“I’m not far from your place,” Adam told me while I tried stepping into my panties with my bra around my wrist and one hand holding the phone. “I’ll swing by and pick you up.”
“No!” I exclaimed quickly as my underwear got caught on my big toe. “I mean, ah, don’t worry about it. I’ll meet you there.”
“It’s no trouble, I can be in front of your apartment in two minutes,” Adam said while I hopped up and down to try and get my panties on, my boobs bouncing as Steven watched with amusement.
“I’m, ah, I’m not at home. Don’t worry about it,” I replied, finally getting my legs through the holes without falling. “I’ll meet you there. Just text me the address of the frat house.”
“Sure, okay,” Adam’s voice sounded skeptical. “I’ll text you. See you in a few. Bye.”
“Bye,” I responded, ending the call and looking over at Steven who was still sitting in bed. “I, uh, I have to get going.”
“I got that much,” Steven replied as I tossed my phone on the bed so I could pull up my underwear. “Something happen?”
“Body at a frat house,” I explained while putting on my bra. “Definitely not an accidental OD.”
“Shit,” Steven whispered. “You okay?”
“I’m a big girl, Steven,” I reminded him. “I’ve seen a lot of horrible things. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m here if you need anything,” he stated sincerely. “All of us are.”
“Knowing that makes all the difference,” I smiled.
I quickly got dressed and Steven offered to walk me out. Hazel’s door was partially ajar and the pregnant teen was laying in bed watching television. She called out when she noticed us in the hallway, wondering why we were up after midnight. Steven explained and Hazel told me to be safe before I left with Steven. I pecked his lips in the foyer and rushed out to my car.
My thoughts were racing as I drove through the Ashwood streets, my hands gripping the steering wheel so hard my palms were sweating. Another death on campus, just three days after Taylor. Were they related? Maybe I was right and the same person killed them both. Or it was just a coincidence and Taylor was an overdose. Either way, young women were dying. It had to stop.
By the time I reached the frat house, officers were already swarming all over the area. Flashing blue and red lights bounced off the surrounding buildings and reflected off scared faces. Small clusters of students were kept back by yellow police tape and stern officers, phones and street lights illuminating them in the gloom. A few students had their phones out and were recording, others were crying, while most just looked lost and confused.
Officer Boyle lifted the tape, allowing me to duck beneath it and enter the crime scene. Renee was talking to a slim blonde of average height who looked to be about twenty. She was wearing blue jeans and a purple blouse. Tears were streaming down her face as Officer Callahan tried to calm her down. The girl was definitely drunk.
I walked by several other individual students who were giving statements to officers. I noticed two students standing near each other; one a tall, broad-shouldered guy and the other an athletic blonde. They were wrapped in blankets, giving the impression they were barely dressed. I guessed they had been interrupted mid-hookup.
Campus security directed me behind the DSX frat house where I found forensic technicians searching the scene. The large fenced-in backyard had a shed and a large open area. Red plastic cups littered the ground and a woman’s bra was hanging off the one small tree.
A couple of trash barrels and a recycling bin were against the house, not far from a brick stairwell that led to the basement. Adam was waiting near the top of the stairs, his shoulders tight and jaw tighter. His eyes caught my clothes: same blouse, same slacks, and same business jacket as Tuesday. I saw something in his gaze, curiosity? Jealousy? Impossible. I knew he preferred passive women, ones who would follow his lead. That certainly was not me.
“You good?” Adam asked in a low voice.
“I’m fine,” I inclined my head. “What do we know?”
“Amanda Reese, twenty,” my partner replied, looking down at his notepad. “Junior. Communications Major. Member of the Delta Tau Chi sorority and lives at their sorority house. Students who are part of a fraternity or sorority can move in early, so she’s been on campus since last Monday.”
“Delta Tau Chi is the sister sorority to this frat, right?” I asked, crossing my arms. “And isn’t this the same frat house Lila Cox was at before returning to her dorm and finding Taylor?”
“Correct on both counts,” Adam confirmed with a nod.
“Who found the body?” I inquired.
Lifting his head, Adam gave me a flat look before answering. “Klarissa Aguila.”
Klarissa. The resident assistant Taylor known. The sorority girl who definitely knew something. Her name had come up again. Same RA, another girl dead, DSX frat tangentially tied to both. I didn’t think Klarissa was involved, but I did know that the two of us were going to have a long talk.
“Okay,” I pressed my lips together. “I’ll talk to her later.”
The cheap exterior lights flickered, casting long shadows over the brick steps as Adam and I headed over to the top of the stairs. Even before seeing the body, I felt a tightness in my chest, as if my body already knew what I was about to see. The body of another young woman, gone before even really getting to live.
Doctor Lillian Marchand was kneeling at the bottom of the stairs, her mostly-gray hair pulled back into a rough knot. She was wearing a mask and feet protection, her gloved hands moving with their usual slow and deliberate precision. I could tell she heard us even if she didn’t look up; Lillian heard everything.
Then I saw Amanda.
My breath caught sharply as my brain processed what I was seeing. Amanda was tiny; five feet tall, maybe slightly taller. Her blonde curls were matted against the brick and her limbs were bent at awkward angles. Green skirt, white top. One flip-flop was missing and there were scrapes on her bare legs. Her blue eyes were open and vacant, the whites dotted with petechiae. The angry red marks on her throat convinced me that Adam was correct about the cause of death. It was no accident. The poor girl had been murdered.
We reached the bottom step and looked down at the concrete landing. Lillian glanced up, her steady and clinical eyes visible above the mask. I could tell she knew that this case was going to hit me hard, just like Taylor’s had. Lillian’s eyes softened slightly as she and I communicated wordlessly for several seconds.
“Detectives,” Lillian eventually said, inclining her head.
“Doctor Marchand,” Adam replied professionally.
“What can you tell us?” I questioned.
Lillian pointed with two gloved fingers to the bruising on Amanda’s neck. “Bruises consistent with manual strangulation. Thumb and finger pressure pattern suggests a right-handed assailant. Petechiae in the eyes supports that.”
“She went down the stairs first?” Adam probed while I struggled to keep my expression neutral.
“Yes, definitely,” Lillian quickly answered. “Smeared abrasions on her shins, elbows, and the right side of her face are consistent with a rough tumble. Brick imprints along the upper back. However...” she pointed gently to the back of Amanda’s head. “No catastrophic head trauma. The fall alone would not have killed her.”
“Someone shoved her down the stairs, ran down, and choked her to death?” Adam summarized.
Whoever it was didn’t shove her and run; they took the time to finish it.
“Most likely,” Doctor Marchand nodded. “Manual strangulation is a lot more difficult in real life than it’s portrayed in movies and television, but Amanda’s a small girl and already hurt from the fall.”
“Any inconsistencies?” Adam wondered, looking for anything to give us a direction.
“She fought hard,” Lillian stated plainly as she lifted Amanda’s right hand. “Defensive wounds, a couple of broken nails. Blood and skin under the nails; she got a piece of her killer. I’ll collect scrapings for testing.”
“Time of death?” I inquired as Adam shifted beside me. My eyes were on Amanda’s torn clothes as I continued. “Signs of sexual assault?”
“Based on body temp and lividity, around 11:00PM,” Lillian responded. “I found evidence suggesting recent sexual activity, but it could have been from an earlier consensual encounter. I’ll know more after the autopsy.”
“Thank you,” I whispered as Adam stepped off the bottom step and onto the concrete, his eyes surveying the scene.
Lillian continued, her voice softening. “I’ll transport her shortly. This is definitely a homicide, so we won’t be waiting on the parents to start the autopsy. I’ll do it later this morning and have some preliminary results for you this afternoon. We’ll run toxicology as usual, but I’m only detecting typical party alcohol consumption right now. No signs of heavy drug use at first glance.”
“Rush whatever you can, please,” I urged.
“You’ll get everything I can give you,” Doctor Marchand promised, her eyes flicking over to Amanda’s small, still form. “Sarah, find the piece of shit that did this, okay?”
My throat tightened. “Yeah. Yeah, we’ll find them.”
“Of course we will,” Adam agreed, stepping over to the side of Amanda’s body.
I glanced over at my partner gratefully. A frown crossed my face as I noticed his foot move. “What’s that?”
“What?” Adam looked at me in confusion.
“By your foot, look,” I said, pointing.
“Hm,” he frowned, squatting. “Plastic baggie, white powder.”
My eyes widened. “Like what we found on Taylor’s bedside table?”
“Possibly,” Adam muttered, not sounding convinced.
“Well, the lab will be able to determine if it’s the same batch,” Lillian spoke up. “Might have been Amanda’s, might have been her attacker’s.”
“We’ll get answers,” I vowed, meaning it with every fiber of my being.
Adam and I helped forensics gather evidence, hoping for anything that might help. In addition to the heroin baggie, we found Amanda’s purse while techs swabbed the scene for prints. There were no surveillance cameras on the premises, with the closest ones to the frat house only getting a view of the front walkway. Likely useless.
When I looked through Amanda’s purse, I quickly realized that Amanda’s phone was not on scene. The attacker must have taken it, meaning Amanda knew her killer. Whoever it was knew there was something incriminating on Amanda’s phone. We would find out what.
An emergency ping of Amanda’s phone revealed that it wasn’t on and the last cell tower it communicated with was the closest one to the frat house. Based on the timing of the last contact, the phone went dead around the time of Amanda’s death. Her killer likely turned it off or destroyed it. We started a search and made a note to have public works check the storm drains in the morning.
With Amanda’s identity easily confirmed, an officer started the process of getting her next of kin notified. Amanda was from Temecula, so her parents weren’t that far. Temecula police would be heading out to the house shortly, beginning the nightmare for those poor people. It was after 1:00AM, but we never put off something so serious until morning.
My partner and I split up to speak with a few of the students in the area. I wanted to understand how a murder happened at a crowded fraternity party without anyone noticing. It was a warm Southern California evening, so there was no reason that everyone would just stay in the frat house.
The answer ended up being pretty straightforward. Most of the people who partying outside stuck to the sides of the house, or the front where they could cheer for new arrivals. People sometimes did go out back to hook up or smoke pot, but the backyard was pretty empty until much later. It was possible Amanda and her attacker were alone, and when the killer fled, anyone else who made their way outside would have no reason to go down those stairs. Which brought up the question of what Klarissa was up to when she found Amanda.
Many of the guests and house residents knew the victim, who was apparently a regular attendee. Amanda Reese, or Mandy as her friends called her, was an outgoing girl with an infectious personality. She was always laughing, always ready to party, and regularly posting content to social media.
Brad Vargas, a football player and fraternity brother, gave me my first bit of information on Mandy’s movements. He was very emotional when I sat down on the sidewalk with him to talk, acknowledging he was friends with Mandy. They were both outgoing and regularly hooked up at parties. Brad confirmed that he went into a bedroom with Mandy earlier in the evening and the two had sex.
I didn’t think Brad was the killer, but I had to follow procedure. Brad willingly handed over his phone and agreed to be taken in for a medical examination and a cheek swab. If his DNA was inside Mandy, but didn’t match the skin fragments on her defensive wounds we’d be able to rule him out. They would photograph his hands as well, since Mandy was manually strangled.
After Brad left in a squad car, I spoke with a few other party guests to try and determine the movements of both Amanda and Brad. Mike Crawford, another frat brother and football player, was a close friend of Brad’s and directed me to a few people who confirmed they all cheered as Mandy and Brad ran up the stairs for some alone time. Both had been seen separately after their tryst; smiling, drinking, partying, not arguing. I was fairly certain Brad wasn’t the killer. Were we looking for a jealous ex, perhaps? A rejected hookup? Someone else entirely? Was there a connection to Taylor?
Making assumptions was something I knew not to do, something Ken always advised against. My mentor always told me my theory of the crime should be the one that required the fewest number of assumptions. The simplest theory was the one closest to the truth. That was more likely the truth than some wild theory my brain would cook up.
There was no proof Taylor’s death was anything but an accident, but I couldn’t let it go. My mind was going, despite my better judgment. I was convinced there was foul play. Two isolated murders so close together? Unlikely. Was there a connection? Did the same person kill Taylor and Amanda?
If Taylor was murdered, the crime was prepared and executed intelligently. The security camera blackout, carefully knocking her out without leaving a mark, staging the scene to look like an accidental overdose. We had also confirmed that the final set of prints in Taylor’s dorm room belonged to her roommate, Lila. If someone killed Taylor, they managed to get in and out without anyone noticing and without leaving any evidence.
Amanda was the exact opposite. Shoving someone down the stairs wasn’t planned, it was reactive. The strangulation required rage and a loss of control, the defensive wounds left evidence. If it was the same killer, the baggie likely fell out of his pocket during the struggle. Stealing Mandy’s phone was likely a panicked cleanup.
Or maybe I was completely wrong; Taylor was an overdose and Mandy was killed by some jealous frat guy.
Scanning the area, I almost missed her; Klarissa Aguila. She was standing by a nearby van, arms folded and face pinched as if she were struggling to hold back tears. Klarissa was a resident assistant at Oakwood Commons dormitory, in addition to being a sister in the Delta Tau Chi sorority. Her baby sister was the victim of assault by a member of The Crocs, and I didn’t think Klarissa was involved. However, I was sure she was holding something back.
“Hi, Klarissa,” I said softly as I approached her. She lifted her head slowly, her eyes red.
“Detective McLorn,” Klarissa mumbled, her eyes dampening.
“I know this is hard,” I began slowly, “but I need to ask you a few questions.”
Klarissa nodded, hugging herself. “Sure.”
“You found Amanda?” I asked lightly.
“Yeah,” Klarissa nodded. “I was helping Noelle look for her.”
“Who’s Noelle?” I inquired.
“Noelle Carter,” Klarissa answered. “She’s a year younger than Mandy. Also a communications major. Noelle isn’t as confident, so Mandy really became her big sister. They even look a lot alike.”
“Did Noelle say why she was looking for Mandy?” I lightly probed.
“Not really,” Klarissa shook her head. “Noelle just said she hadn’t seen Mandy for a while and asked me to help. She looked upset, so I didn’t pry.”
“Is Noelle still here?” I glanced around.
“She’s over there,” Klarissa pointed to the other side of the lawn.
A young blonde woman was standing on the grass talking to campus security. Blonde and slim, similar to Mandy. Noelle was definitely much taller. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a tight v-neck top. It was interesting that tiny, little Mandy was the more confident one.
“Okay, thank you,” I nodded before switching topics. “Do you know Brad Vargas?”
“Football player, frat guy,” Klarissa responded. “He’s friends with everyone. Nice guy, but too much of a player for me. I don’t, I mean, ah, we’ve never been intimate. Party guy, but he’d never hurt anyone.”
“Do you know anyone who might have had a problem with Amanda?” I inquired. “Anyone who might have been jealous? Maybe an ex-boyfriend?”
“Not that I can think of,” Klarissa told me, sniffling as her emotions began to overwhelm her. “Mandy wasn’t like that.”
“Alright,” I lowered my voice. “Klarissa, I’d like you to come in for a formal interview later today.”
“W-why?” Klarissa asked, eyes wide. “I don’t know who did this to Mandy.”
“I believe you,” I assured her. “I’m just worried about all of you. This is the second death in a few days. I think you might know something that could help put a stop to this. You don’t want anyone else to get hurt, right?”
“I want them to be safe,” Klarissa whispered, more to herself than to me. “I want them all to be safe.”
“Then help me,” I urged. “Tell me everything you remember, no matter how small.”
She looked up at me as tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes. Her face tightened into a look of determination as she nodded.
“Come by the station around 1:00PM,” I requested. “We’ll talk somewhere private.”
“I’ll be there,” Klarissa promised.
From a distance, Noelle Carter seemed composed as she quietly spoke with campus security. As I approached, I noticed just how tightly she had her arms wrapped around herself, despite the warm weather. Up close, Noelle looked even worse: eyes red, pale skin, a faint tremor in her left hand, and she looked to be sweating.
Withdrawal? Stress? Fear? All of the above? I noted the observation.
“Miss Carter?” I asked gently. “I’m Detective McLorn. Do you mind if we chat for a minute?”
Noelle blinked rapidly, as if just bringing me into focus was a huge effort. “S-sorry. I mean, um, yeah. Yeah, okay.”
Campus security stepped back, giving us some privacy as he left to speak with other students.
“I know it’s been a tough night for you,” I began gently. “Klarissa told me you were looking for Amanda?”
“M-Mandy, she, she wasn’t answering,” Noelle swallowed hard. “S-she always texts back. Always.”
“Could she have left her phone somewhere?” I suggested.
“No!” Noelle shook her head frantically. “She had it with her. She was always helping me, always there for me, she’s...”
“Okay, try and take a deep breath,” I advised, watching her lower lip quiver as she started sobbing. “Is it okay if I call you Noelle?” she nodded in response. “Do you want me to get you something to drink?”
“Y-yes, please,” Noelle squeaked.
I called out to a nearby officer, asking him to bring a bottle of water. Noelle downed over half of it, gulping it as if she hadn’t realized just how dehydrated she was until she started drinking. “You and Mandy were close? I heard you both stayed at the sorority house.”
“Yes,” Noelle nodded. “She was my best friend. I stayed in a regular dorm last year and I was so excited to be in the sorority house with her this year.”
“Did you two come to the party together?” I questioned.
“No, we met here,” Noelle answered. “I got to the party late and talked to her a-after she, um, she hooked up with Brad. We got separated later, but s-she knew I was having a t-tough time so she stayed in touch.”
“Was Mandy acting like she was happy with Brad?” I spoke softly and slowly, trying not to overwhelm the poor girl.
“S-she said it was fun,” a small smile crossed Noelle’s face. “We had some girl talk about, you know, the details.”
“Did Mandy say anything that made you worried? Anything at all?” I asked seriously. “Anyone she was having trouble with or scared of?”
“I...” Noelle looked down at the water bottle, her knuckles white. “S-she was just being Mandy. She always watched out for me.”
I didn’t speak, knowing she’d fill the silence.
“I didn’t think she was hurt,” Noelle blinked rapidly as tears ran down her cheeks. “She never disappears. She texted me a few times.”
“Could I see them?” I asked softly, noticing the tremors running through her light frame. “It’s okay if you need a minute.”
Reaching into her back pocket, Noelle pulled her phone out of her jeans. I pretended not to notice her trembling hands as she unlocked her phone and opened the thread before handing it to me. The texts weren’t too surprising: Mandy checking on Noelle, encouraging her, telling her to go outside and breathe. I noticed a few older texts were Mandy telling Noelle to talk to her parents, to ask for help. The latest texts were quite concerning.
Mandy: You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.
Mandy: There’s help available. We’ll get through this.
Mandy: Noelle? Where are you?
Mandy: I’m going to take care of this. Now.
“Noelle,” I kept my voice level, “what was Mandy going to take care of?”
Noelle shut down fast, gripping her left wrist tightly. “I don’t know.”
A lie. The kind given by someone who was truly terrified.
“You’re not in trouble,” I reminded her. “I’m just trying to understand what happened.”
“I-I know,” Noelle mumbled, sniffling slightly. “I just, I can’t ... I, I...”
“Okay, I hear you,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I’d like copies of these messages. They help establish Mandy’s last movements and mindset. This could be very important.”
I handed Noelle her phone back and watched her take screenshots. She then sent them to the email I provided. I also gave Noelle a copy of my card and told her she could text me any time she needed anything. She just nodded sadly before finishing the water. I had no doubt she was going through withdrawal, and I suspected Mandy had spoken to Noelle’s dealer.
“Noelle,” I said quietly, “do you feel unsafe?”
Unable to look me in the eye, Noelle’s gaze darted around as she held her phone tightly, her hand shaking. “I ... no.”
Noelle wasn’t ready to talk about it. She didn’t feel comfortable surrounded by uniforms and strangers and flashing lights. She was terrified. I needed information, but I knew pressing her for more would be a mistake. Noelle was overwhelmed and in shock. She was going through withdrawal and possibly afraid of retaliation. Pushing her would cause her to shut down and give me nothing but more panic. It wasn’t the time.
“I can tell you’re scared and overwhelmed,” I said, recognizing her emotions without accusing her of anything. “You’re not alone. We’re here to help keep everyone safe.”
“T-thank you,” Noelle said quietly.
“You don’t have to talk right now,” I told her in my softest, most relaxing voice. “I do need to talk to you. Privately. Tomorrow.”
“I have to come in?” she whispered.
“I think that would be a good idea,” I said, looking at her with sympathy. “I want to hear everything you remember about tonight. Maybe I can help you with whatever you’re going through, okay?”
“T-tomorrow?” Noelle mumbled softly.
“I know you need to get some rest, so how does Thursday morning sound?” I offered, reluctant to wait so long, but I could tell she was in no state to give us anything usable. “I’ll have an officer take you safely to the sorority house today. I can have someone pick you up Thursday morning. How does 10:00AM sound?”
“O-okay,” Noelle let out a breath, looking at me like she was trying to keep me in focus. “Is ... is Mandy ... is she really...?”
“I’m so sorry,” I replied sincerely. “We’re going to find the person who did this.”
Noelle’s face twisted in pain, in guilt, and her breath hitched as she shook from withdrawal. “I should’ve stayed with her. I shouldn’t have-”
“Hey,” I interrupted softly. “The only person responsible is the one who hurt Mandy. Nothing about this is your fault.”
“I just, I’m...” she stammered, unable to gather her thoughts.
“I want you to be safe,” I told her plainly. “An officer will take you home and I’ll send you some resources. There’s help available. Take the day, sleep if you can, and we’ll pick you up Thursday morning. We’ll talk more then.”
“Okay,” Noelle nodded. “I’ll come.”
I got Noelle into a squad car and had Renee take her home. By that point, officers had finished taking preliminary statements from partygoers, they also verified identification and contact information for follow-ups. Police and campus security were starting the process of dispersing the crowd and making sure everyone got where they needed to be.
Forensics was finishing up their initial sweep, having carefully processed the scene. Photographs were taken, evidence was bagged, measurements were logged, and techs had lifted as many prints as they could. There was more work to be done in the morning, but we were finishing up a little after 2:00AM.
“Find out anything?” Adam asked as we stood by my car.
“Klarissa showed up again, but I don’t think she’s involved,” I replied. “She knows something about Taylor, so I’m meeting with her later today.”
“Still think Taylor wasn’t an accident?” my partner looked at me incredulously.
“I don’t know, but I do know Klarissa knows something,” I stated plainly. “Anyway, I talked to Noelle Carter as well. Klarissa and Noelle were both looking for Amanda.”
“Did Noelle know anything?” Adam inquired.
“I definitely think Noelle is scared of someone,” I stated. “And she’s on something; an opioid party pill by the look of her withdrawals. Oxy, maybe. She was too distraught to give us anything so I had Renee take her home. She wasn’t just strung out, Noelle is genuinely terrified. We’ll talk to her Thursday.”
“Sounds like your evening was more productive than mine,” Adam grunted. “A few people confirmed our victim had some alone time with the football player, Brad Vargas. Both seemed fine after their hook-up.”
“I got that, too,” I nodded in agreement. “Brad seemed really broken up about it. He’s getting looked at now. I don’t think he’s our guy.”
“Well, don’t expect much evidence from the room Brad and Amanda used,” Adam snorted. “Did you notice the half-naked couple out front?”
“Let me guess; you were able to figure out they hit the same room our victim got lucky in?” I folded my arms and rolled my eyes.