Page 72 of The Royal in Room 3

“Soren, another server will replace you for a bit,” Phoenix said. “Would you come with us, please?”

“Phoenix—” Aaron protested.

“No, I’m not going to let you do this in the open when we have no idea what happened.”

His tone brooked no argument, so when he turned on his heels, expecting me to follow him, I did. We took the elevator in silence down to the locker room, where I always took my break so I could use my phone. Phoenix signaled one of the bouncers to keep the area clear.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

Phoenix opened his mouth to speak, but Aaron touched his arm.

“You’ve interfered enough, Phoenix. This is a police investigation, and you need to let us do our job.”

“I’m confused,” I said, wringing my hands. “What does a police investigation have to do with me?”

“Soren, this is Officer Cook,” Aaron said, gesturing at the other cop who still hadn’t spoken. “He’s with the narcotics division. We received a tip that an employee at the club was distributing drugs. Can you show us your locker, please?”

“My locker? Why?”

“Just open the locker,” Cook said. “If you cooperate with us, I’m sure we can have this whole thing sorted out and you can get back to your night.”

“You don’t have to open that locker, Soren,” Phoenix said quickly. “Not until they produce a warrant.”

“It’s okay,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t have anything to hide.

I took out my key and opened the door.

“Can you take the contents out please and place them on that table?”

“Okay.”

I took out everything I’d placed inside, as well as a folded sweater I kept there for colder nights, the remains of the snack Jude had packed for me, and the small toiletry pouch I carried back and forth. One by one, I set everything on the table while they all watched.

There was nothing unusual to explain why two police officers had interrupted my shift and brought me downstairs as if I had done something wrong.

“That’s everything,” I said.

Officer Cook stepped closer. “Move the sweater.”

I frowned. “I already took it out.”

“Pick it up.”

His stern tone made my stomach tighten. I reached for the sweater and lifted it from the table. A small plastic bag slipped from between the folds and landed beside my phone.

For several seconds, no one spoke. The bag was no larger than my palm, sealed along the top and filled with a fine white powder.

I stared at it. “That’s not mine.”

Officer Cook pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket. “That’s what they all say.”

“I don’t understand.” I looked from one man to the next. “That wasn’t in my locker earlier. I didn’t put it there.”

Officer Cook picked up the bag and examined it. “You just removed it from your belongings. We all saw.”

“It fell out of my sweater, but I didn’t put it there.”

Aaron finally looked at me. The disappointment in his expression frightened me more than anything Officer Cook had said.