Danny wandered through the halls, his eyes flicking between the room numbers and the schedule on his phone. He'd been at this for what felt like ages, poking his head into different classrooms, only to find them either empty or full of unfamiliar faces.
"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, his frustration mounting. "Where is this sodding room?"
Just as he was about to give up and ask for directions, he spotted it. Room 221B. His first lecture of the day. Danny heaved a sigh of relief, shouldering his backpack and making a beeline for the door.
But just as he reached for the handle, a familiar figure rounded the corner. Danny blinked, taking a moment to place the face without the pulsing lights and pounding music of the club.
It was Taji, the bartender from last night. But she looked different in the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway. Her green curls pulled back, revealing the intricate tattoos that snaked up her neck and down her arms. She wore baggy combat pants and a loose shirt that fell almost to her knees, a stark contrast to the tight tank top she'd had on behind the bar.
Taji spotted him, a grin spreading across her face. "Hey, kid," she called, raising a hand in greeting.
Danny smiled back, taking a few steps towards her. "Taji, right? Didn't expect to see you here. You a student to?"
Taji shrugged, hiking her backpack higher on her shoulder. "Nah, not me. Just here to see my sister. She's got a class in this building."
As if on cue, another girl appeared behind Taji. Danny felt his breath catch in his throat. If Taji was attractive in a tough, edgy sort of way, this girl was downright stunning.
She had the same olive skin and dark eyes as Taji, but that's where the similarities ended. Her hair was a cascade of golden curls, pulled back in a high ponytail that bounced as she walked. She wore a tank top that hugged her curves and a mini skirt that showed off miles of toned leg.
"Hi," Danny managed, his voice coming out a bit strangled.
Taji pulled the girl into a hug, then turned to Danny with a smile. "Danny, this is my sister, Lexi. Lex, this is Danny. Met him at the club last night."
Lexi offered her hand, her smile warm and inviting. "Nice to meet you, Danny."
Danny shook her hand, hoping she couldn't feel the way his palm had gone suddenly sweaty. "You too. Guess we're in the same class, huh?"
Lexi's smile widened. "Guess so. It's nice to see a familiar face. Well, sort of familiar, anyway."
Taji rummaged in her bag, pulling out a small parcel. She handed it to Lexi, leaning in to whisper something in her ear. Lexi nodded, slipping the package into her own bag.
Danny watched the exchange, curiosity prickling at the back of his neck. But he pushed it aside. It wasn't any of his business.
Taji turned to him, holding out a colorful flyer. "Here. This is the bar I work at, just off campus. You should come by sometime, when you're not busy with..." She waved a hand at the classroom door. "All this."
Danny took the flyer, glancing down at the stylized logo and address. "Yeah, maybe I will. Thanks."
Taji grinned, giving Lexi a final hug before turning to go. "Catch you later, kids. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
With a wink and a wave, she was gone, disappearing back around the corner.
Danny and Lexi stood there for a moment, an awkward silence settling between them. Without Taji as a buffer, Danny suddenly felt tongue-tied, unsure of what to say.
They both reached for the door handle at the same time, their hands bumping. They laughed, the tension breaking.
"After you," Danny said, holding the door open.
Lexi ducked her head, a pretty blush coloring her cheeks. "Thanks."
As she brushed past him into the classroom, Danny couldn't help but notice the subtle floral scent of her perfume. It made him think of springtime, of new beginnings.
He followed her in, his heart beating just a little bit faster. Maybe, just maybe, this class wouldn't be so bad after all.
_____
Detective Inspector Victoria Sinclair sat in her office, the bustle of the police station muffled by the closed door. She spun idly in her chair, her attention focused on the device in her hands. It was a phone, sleek and modern, but frustratingly silent.
She turned it over, her keen eyes searching for any detail she might have overlooked. A scratch, a scuff, anything that might give her a clue. But the phone remained stubbornly mute, its secrets locked away behind a password screen.
With a groan of frustration, Sinclair jabbed at the power button one last time. Nothing. She tossed the phone onto her desk, watching it skitter across the surface.
The phone had come in last night, brought in by an officer who'd had a run-in with a kid from Manchester Student University. MSU. The name kept cropping up in her investigations, tantalizing threads that never quite led anywhere.
Sinclair stood, pacing the small confines of her office. The kid had been a runner, according to the report. He'd risked his neck to protect whatever was in that bag he was carrying. Even took a bullet for it. That kind of crazy, you didn't see every day.
A sharp knock at the door broke her reverie. "Come in," she called, turning to face the entrance.
The door swung open, revealing a grinning face framed by close-cropped brown hair. Sergeant Jack Townsend, her right-hand man and occasional pain in the arse.
"Got something for you, boss," he said, striding in and tossing a file onto her desk. "Details on our mystery kid from last night."
Sinclair raised an eyebrow, flipping open the file. "He's MSU, then?"
Jack nodded, dropping into the chair opposite her desk. "Spot on. Couldn't get a proper photo, but I had the lads down in Imaging work up a sketch based on the officer's description."
He leaned over, flipping to the back of the file. A hand-drawn face stared up at Sinclair, all sharp angles and wary eyes. Young, but with a hardness to his features that spoke of a life lived on the edges.
"Right," Sinclair said, studying the sketch. "So we need to match this face to a student. If we can find him, maybe we can finally get a look at what's really going on at that bloody university."
Jack drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair, his expression turning serious. "You know what's at stake here, Vic. If we don't make progress on this case by the end of the month..."
"I know," Sinclair snapped, cutting him off. "You don't need to remind me."
Jack held up his hands in surrender. "Easy, boss. Just making sure we're on the same page, yeah? I know how much this means to you."
Sinclair rubbed a hand over her face, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at her bones. This case, this endless chase... it was wearing her down. But she couldn't stop. Not now, not when she was so close.
Jack stood, straightening his jacket. "One more thing. I got in touch with that contact of yours. The one you think can help."
Sinclair's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "And? What did he say?"
A slow smile spread across Jack's face. "He's coming in. Said he's doing it for you."
Sinclair felt a flutter of something in her chest. Hope, maybe. Or something else, something she didn't want to examine too closely.
"Cheers, Jack," she said, her voice softer than usual. "I owe you one."
Jack waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, you don't owe me nothing. Just doing my job." He paused at the door, his hand on the knob. "You know, for someone with such a way with men, you can be right oblivious sometimes."
With that parting shot, he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.
Sinclair stared at the closed door for a long moment, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. Then, with a shake of her head, she turned back to the phone on her desk.
"Right then," she murmured, picking it up once more. "Let's see what secrets you're hiding, shall we?"
The game, as they said, was on.
***