Angel Dust

A/N: Alright, so I kinda miscalculated. After this chapter, there will be at least six more chapters of Angel Dust, maybe seven. Things are ramping up to the big finish, but I don't want to rush anything. So as long as y'all are still interested, I'ma still jot it down and put it out there for ya. Keep the reviews comin' in - I love 'em. Enjoy!

"Courtney, where is your fiancee?" Alissa asked, rushing over to her daughter in the midst of hundreds of guests.

If she had her way, Courtney would be celebrating her engagement with her parents, her fiancee, and no one else. She didn't need another huge party to announce to the world that she was marrying. The first engagement party had been headache enough.

"I swear to God, David, if you fuck this night up," Courtney muttered under her breath as she rode the elevator from the ball room to the fourth floor of the suite she was sharing with Dave.

They had been in New York for all of three hours, prepping for their engagement party, and now with the guests beginning to arrive, her fiancee was nowhere to be found.

She could pretend she didn't know exactly where he was, but the truth was inevitable. As the elevator dinged, she just prayed he was still conscious. As she slid her key into the door, a sense of relief flooded her as she heard his rumbling laughter from inside the room.

"Dave," she started and then stopped as she surveyed the inhabitants of the room.

"Hey, Princess," Dave smiled widely, extending his arm for his soon-to-be wife to join him.

As Courtney walked toward him, she glowered at the men. Randy looked uncomfortable, sitting next to the window, his left ankle resting on his right knee. He was smiling on the outside, but his eyes said he would rather be anywhere else. And the man she only knew as Booker T was snorting a line from the mirror on the coffee table.

The man had been Dave's dealer for as long as she had known him. She had met with him in one too many dark alleys to trust him any further than she could throw him. There was a slight smile on her lips, though, when she walked closer and saw that his right eye was swollen. Dave had told her, during the car ride to the city, that Booker had tried to rip him off and that they had fought. Clearly, her husband had been the winner.

Lowering herself into his lap, Courtney wrapped her arms around Dave's neck and kissed his cheek. "The guests are beginning to arrive, Lover," she whispered in his ear.

He groaned and turned his face, kissing her deeply. Through his shirt, she could feel his heart pounding, and she knew it wasn't because he was holding her close. When he pulled back from the kiss, his eyes were heavily lidded and he was grinning like a fool.

"Dave, man," Booker grunted as he snorted and then sniffled. "When you gonna share that fine piece with a brother?" He looked Courtney over and winked at her.

Her body stiffened as Dave stood and wrapped his fingers around hers tightly. "Motherfucker, you even look at my wife again, and I'll swell your other eye up, too," he growled, leading Courtney from the room.

"I don't like that guy," she stated as they stepped into the hall.

Dave nodded and stepped into the elevator behind Courtney, pulling her against his chest as the doors closed. "I don't really like him, either, Princess," he admitted. "But he knows where to get the best shit. You can't just turn your back on that."

Courtney sighed and rested in her husband's embrace as the elevator decended.

She had known, even then, that they would not have a long life together. She only wished that she had known how soon it would all end.

But she wouldn't think of Dave. Not today. At least not with the quiet longing with which his memory had been creeping into her heart as of late. Today was about Randy. It was about a new beginning. It signified the start of a new life with a new man. One who was good for her family, good for her. It was about heading down the path toward her dreams, the ones she'd had when she was just a little girl.

Of course, she had to find him first.

Wandering through the halls of the illustrious Four Seasons hotel, Courtney bit her lip and tried to imagine where Randy could be. She had seen him talking with several people over the course of the night, but he had barely left her side. It only figured that the minute he left, her mother would want to take some big, happy family pictures.

She walked to the end of the hall and was about to start up toward their room when she heard hushed voices from a nearby ball room. Walking to the door, she peered through the crack, only to see Randy lower himself into a chair across from two other men. Two men she knew very well.

"What's goin' on, Kurt?" Randy's deep voice filled the air as Washington DC's lead homicide investigator, Kurt Angle, stuck his hands in the pockets of his dress pants and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I kinda need to get back to my wife," Randy added.

The obvious tension in the air told Courtney that this was a private meeting and that she should go back to the party. It was probably just something having to do with one of Randy's upcoming segments. But no matter how much she told herself to relax, her body just wouldn't leave.

"You remember a man by the name of Booker T?" Kurt asked Randy, sitting in another chair beside the young man he had come to know so well.

Randy's dark head nodded. "He was Dave's dealer. I met with him a few times. To pick up shit for Dave." When Kurt and his partner, a younger cop named Charlie Haas, nodded, Randy straightened in his chair. "What's goin' on, Kurt?"

Even though his tone was suspicious, Courtney didn't allow herself to worry. Maybe Kurt had a tip for Randy. Maybe it was nothing. She moved to the other side of the doorway, trying to catch a glimpse of Randy's face. But his back was turned to the door and all she could see was his muscular shoulders, and an occasional ear when he turned his head.

"The feds picked Booker up on some pretty serious racketeering charges last week, Randy. He's been dealin' to some pretty big players for a long time," Kurt explained. "Now that his back's against the wall, and he's facin' 25 to life, he's singin' like a canary."

"And?" Randy's tone was still confused. "Look, man, if there's a story in this somewhere, I'm grateful for the tip, but this is my engagement party. I mean, I'd be happy to sit down with you for dinner sometime this week, maybe talk about the particulars? But for now," he started to stand.

But Kurt crossed his arms, his blue eyes deep with concern. "He's naming you."

Randy laughed. "Me? What the fuck for?"

Courtney leaned against the wall, the confusion in her face mirroring the sound of Randy's voice. What the hell was going on? Dave's dealer was naming names? Randy's name? For what? What could squeaky-clean Choir Boy possibly have done that would warrant a visit from DC's finest?

"You ever heard of Fentanyl, Randy?" Charlie asked, reading something out of his notebook.

"Of course," Randy answered, pacing slightly, one hand on his hip while the other stroked his chin. "I did an expose on it back in the day," he recalled. "One of my first stories."

Charlie looked up, his face echoing none of the same concern Kurt's did. Obviously, the younger of the two detectives was not giving him the benefit of the doubt. "Then you know how extremely deadly it can be? 80,000 times more potent than morphine? Similar effects to heroine?" Randy nodded. "And do you also know that lacing it with cocaine can be deadly?"

Courtney's brow furrowed. What the fuck was going on?

Randy leaned against the chair, his back still to the door. His shoulders were tense, and she could only imagine the icy look he was shooting at the young detective. "Why don't you get to the fucking point, Haas," he stated coolly.

Sensing a potentially explosive situation, Kurt stood and put a hand out to Charlie, signalling that he would handle it. "Randy, Booker is claiming that he sold you three potent doses of Fentanyl the night before Dave died."

If she had wanted to run away, Courtney knew she couldn't. Her stomach was lurching, and if she moved, she would surely vomit all off the floor. Surely they weren't implying what she thought they were.

"Why exactly are you here, Kurt? Honestly?" Randy asked incredulously, laughing slightly. "Dude, I'm sorry," he shook his head when Charlie put his hands on his hips. "But come on. What you're suggesting? That's pretty fuckin' lame," he said, his head tilted slightly in amusement.

"The other leads he's given us have been pretty accurate, Randy," Kurt stated, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Well this one's not," Randy insisted. "Dave wasn't just my boss, he was my best friend. There is absolutely no reason I would want him dead. So until you have something a little more concrete than the accusations of a burnt out coke dealer? I'll thank you gentlemen to see yourselves out of my party."

When he turned to leave the room, Courtney willed herself to hide in the next conference room. What they had just accused Randy of was the unthinkable. It was impossible. Randy had said it himself. There was absolutely no reason he would want Dave dead. He stood to gain nothing from killing Dave. It was ludicrous.

Smoothing her hair around her shoulders, Courtney shook her head and took a deep breath. This was no time to freak out. Obviously there had been a misunderstanding. She had a party to attend, a wedding to plan, and a campaign to launch. She simply didn't have time for a scandal.