"You've got to be kidding me," Special Agent Parker sighed as he pulled the SUV up to the curb beside the exact abandoned warehouse Mrs. Lucas had told us about. I followed his irritated gaze to see the aforementioned adolescents leaning against the crumbling brick walls, passing a blunt between them right out in the open as if recreational drugs had been legalized and we'd all simply missed the memo.

I took my time in exiting the car while Special Agent Parker slammed his door and walked right up to the boy with the frosted tips and the black sweater covered in stretched out holes and plucked the cannabis right from his hands.

"Hey man! What the f-"

The teenager stopped abruptly when Special Agent Parker showed him his badge. He sighed and rolled his eyes, falling back against the brick behind him in defeat. The girl shook her head and crossed her arms but the other boy, spiky brown hair with a piercing over his left eye, started to run. He got two whole steps before I took a sidestep on the concrete and he barreled into me. He fell back but I caught him by the arm and dragged him back to the others.

"I'm not here for the weed," Special Agent Parker told them. "And I won't bust you for it either if you can answer a few questions for me."

"About what?" Frosted Tips snapped, taking on the disinterested tough guy affectation though, given his scrawny form, he was anything but.

"About Chelsea Lucas," Special Agent Parker answered and I noticed how the three of them glanced at one another.

"Did her psycho mom tell you to come after us?" Frosted Tips asked. Parker started to answer but I interrupted.

"Psycho," I repeated his interesting word choice. "What makes her psycho?"

"She came around here a few times," Frosted Tips divulged, still leaning back and bobbing his head like none of it mattered to him. He wasn't looking at us but was watching the street beyond as if it was far more interesting. "Ranting and raving like a lunatic. Saying we were all going to hell for corrupting her precious daughter or whatever. Dragged her out of here a few times."

"Chelsea didn't want to go?" Special Agent Parker asked.

"Of course not," he scoffed. "That bi-"

"Watch it."

"She's crazy, man," he corrected. "Chels said she locked her in the house a couple times to keep her from seeing us."

"Gee, I wonder why," Special Agent Parker mocked, holding up the blunt in explanation.

"Whatever man," he waved him off and turned away, effectively shutting us out.

"What about you two?" Special Agent Parker turned to the others. "Anything to add?"

"Chels got a tattoo," the girl told him. "About a week ago. The old lady freaked, came all the way out here without Chels just to yell at me for taking her to the tattoo parlor."

Special Agent Parker glanced at me once before asking, "What was the tattoo of?"

"Just a shamrock on her wrist. She was Irish, you know. Just some basic white girl sh- stuff."

"Who did the tattoo?"

"What?"

"You're sixteen, yeah? You've got to be eighteen to get a tattoo legally. So who around here is inking up minors?"

They all exchanged a glance again.

"Tell me," Parker began, firmly, clearly losing his patience. "And I won't run you all in for drug possession."

"The Ink King," the girl snapped with a roll of her eyes. "Further down Benning."

Parker nodded and began to jot down the information.

"Was there anyone else that you know of who Chelsea spent her time with?" I asked and watched as the three of them exchanged another glance. I wasn't surprised. Teenagers shared everything with their friends, convinced that other adolescents were the only ones who could understand them. There were things that these street urchins would know that Chelsea's mother would never even dream of. Getting them to tell us was the trick and a possible drug bust was a very good motivator.

"Answer the question," Special Agent Parker warned.

"Just her boyfriend," the girl divulged. Parker raised his brows at me.

"Who's her boyfriend?" I asked.

"Some guy named Cody Aaron. He went to UMD, a sophomore or something. She never shut up about him."

"Were they sexually active?" Special Agent Parker asked and the three teenagers looked appalled by the question, scrunching their noses and looking at the Special Agent like he had three heads. "Well, if she never shut up about him, you should know right."

"Yeah," the girl answered though she seemed very unhappy to do so. "They were together."

"Thanks," Special Agent Parker said, glancing over at me to ensure I was finished. He closed his notepad and nodded at the kids. "Stay safe, okay?"

They muttered a response loaded with a few choice curse words and we turned away, headed back for the car.

"Locking her in the house?" I queried. "That seems a very unhealthy way of coping with a child's rebellion if you ask me."

"I don't know. I might lock my own kid up if they were hanging around this crowd."

"Do you have kids?" I asked, stopping just beside the car and looking up at him in question.

"No," he answered, stopping too, "do you?"

I shook my head and then headed for the passenger side.

"We should head to the tattoo parlor," he said, jumping in front to open my door once again. "See if the girls talked about anything interesting when they thought no one was listening."

I nodded and climbed in the SUV. The tattoo parlor wasn't far. Close enough for a couple of at risk teens to walk from their favorite hangout spot. The Ink King sign looked dingy in the daytime, the neon lights off so that the words looked as if they were formed out of old, cloudy glass tubes. The windows were covered in blinds and blackout shades to maintain an atmosphere of debauchery inside. It wasn't the cleanest establishment I'd ever been to and for a moment I thought it might be possible to contract hepatitis just from looking at this place.

But Special Agent Parker led me inside and flashed his badge at the girl behind the counter with a septum piercing and full tattoo sleeves when she asked how she could help us.

"Point us to the King," Special Agent Parker requested and she nodded with a frown before heading off behind a curtain to retrieve her boss.

I wandered over to the wall of designs, showcasing the artistic tattoos this parlor specialized in. There was everything from a simple infinity symbol to an elaborate drawing of a skull with horns and a flaming tongue with a serpent twisted around it. I cocked my head to the side in examination and heard footsteps approaching behind me.

"Interested in the art?" Special Agent Parker asked in an amused tone. "Want to get some ink while we're here? I'm sure the King would be happy to oblige."

I turned and smiled at him.

"Agent Parker," I replied. "Are you making a joke?"

"Special Agent Parker," he corrected automatically. "And hey, if you're considering a tattoo, we're in the right place. Might get the King to talk more if he's got you in the chair."

"I'm not considering a tattoo," I told him with a roll of my eyes as I leaned down to examine a drawing of an angel. "I already have one."

I didn't miss the shock on his face in my peripheral vision despite my interest in the tattoos.

"You," he repeated, stunned, "have a tattoo?"

I turned to him and nodded easily.

"Yes," I answered. "Do you have any?"

"I- well-

"How can I help the FBI?" someone asked then and we turned to see the King himself emerging from the back room. He was a giant of a man, at least six and a half feet. Bald on the top of his head but with a long, scraggly beard that fell to his chest. He was wearing a sleeveless tee shirt, bulging biceps on display as he crossed his arms.

"Are you the King?" Special Agent Parker asked.

"Ivor Osmond," he nodded with the introduction. "And you are?"

"Special Agent Jake Parker. This is my partner, Dr. Madeline McKinnon. We have a few questions to ask you about a minor that you gave a tattoo to a couple of days ago."

Ivor glanced over at his assistant whose lips parted slightly in surprise before looking back to us.

"You gonna arrest me?" he asked.

"Not if you help us out," Special Agent Parker rebutted. "That girl was found dead this morning. We're looking to put together a timeline of what happened before she wound up that way. So we need you to tell us about the day she came here."

The King frowned and then turned back to take a seat on a nearby stool. We waited for him to respond. Finally, he did.

"Chelsea, right? Chelsea something," he said. We nodded so he continued. "Yeah she came in here a few days ago like you said. She was with another girl, a teenager, both of them chattering on constantly. I could hardly focus on my work. Luckily, she only asked for a cheap little shamrock."

"What did they talk about?" Special Agent Parker asked.

"Typical teenage nonsense," the King answered with a shrug. "Some boy she was seeing. Said he was in college. The other girl made some lewd remarks about one of his friends and they got to giggling. I didn't catch a name."

"That's alright. Did they mention anything else?"

"The mother. Chelsea's. The typical lament that she can't ever do what she wants. She's saying this, mind you, while she's sitting in my chair getting a tattoo. Didn't seem like the mother was all that present to me. That's pretty much all they talked about. They asked Emily if she'd buy them beer and when she told them to get out, they paid cash and left."

"Thank you," Special Agent Parker nodded and glanced my way. As I had nothing to add, he said our goodbyes. "I won't bust you for the underage tats now but if I hear about any more sixteen year olds getting ink from you-"

"Yeah," the King interrupted. "Got it."

Special Agent Parker nodded and we turned to leave the tattoo parlor. We were back on the street with the door shut behind us when he spoke.

"I do have a tattoo, you know," he told me.

"I figured," I said with a smile. His brows creased in confusion and he opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of his phone ringing from his pocket.

"Parker," he answered, putting the phone on speaker automatically this time.

"It's me," the familiar voice of Dr. Portia Warner replied. "We've got a cause of death but it's... strange. I think you should come to the lab."