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“I don’t—” Minka takes a step back, but I inch into her space and pull Adrianna’s eyes back to me. “Children’s services have been working with your mom for the last few days, helping them acclimate to this sudden change of Mom and Dad both being away. It’s likely they’ve been told nothing of substance. Just that Grandma is here to stay with them for now, and they’ll get answers about Mom and Dad when the time is right.”
“The department will send a qualified children’s psychologist home with you today, since you’ll need help to explain their father’s death,” Fletch inserts. “There’s no easy way to deal with all of this, Mrs. Alves. But they need to know Daddy isn’t coming home.”
“And where is home?” Panicked, she looks around again. “Where have they been staying? They can’t have been at the house, right?”
“Right,” Fletch acknowledges. “Not at the house. In fact, you still can’t go back there. Not for a while, anyway.”
“It’s still a crime scene,” I explain, “and it’s still a mess. We expect that to be the case for a little while yet. A couple of weeks, at least. But the department has liaised with Children’s Affairs since this all began, and they had Community Housing put your daughters and mom up. It’s a house,” I clarify gently. “No hotels. No halfway houses. No random housemates walking through and making your daughters feel unsafe.”
“You can stay there until this is all tied up,” Fletch finishes. “Until we wrap up our case and take down the tape, you have free use of the community house. That’s where they’ve been. Safe,” he adds. “With your mom.”
Adrianna’s hands shake as she absorbs each word we speak. Her lips quiver. Her eyes water.
Her entire body trembles. But she swallows, her throat bobbing with the movement, and nods. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Alright.” Fletch reaches across and gently pats her shoulder—part comfort, part guidance. “Let’s get you out of here so you can go home to your girls. When we have more questions, we’ll come to you. But until then,” he leads her toward a heavy steel door. Freedom lies on the other side. “You don’t have to worry about us.”
“Come on.” I turn to Minka and steer her another way. “We’ll meet Fletch in the garage and head over to Jones’ place.”
“What’s your gut say about this case?”
“My gut?” I glance down for a beat, but I bring my focus up again and nod when a uniform opens a door and allows us to pass through. “Huh?”
“William Alves. What do you think the answer is here?”
“I don’t even fucking know anymore.” I dig my hands into my pockets instead of reaching out to touch the one woman on this planet who has ever brought me comfort, and trudging along a cold, gray hallway, I lead her away from the rooms every single one of my nightmares includes.
When I dream of Minka—not the good kind of dream—it looks just like this.
Me. Her. This hallway. But we’re walking the other way, and my vigilante is being sent somewhere I can no longer touch her.
“Archer?”
“I don’t know.” Dragging my bottom lip between my teeth, I draw in a deep breath and fill my lungs, then I exhale again and push my nightmares aside. “I usually get a pretty good idea on a case. Intuition, or just plain luck.” I shrug. “Maybe I don’t have the proof yet, but my stomach generally points me in the right direction. But this time…” I dip my chin again when a different uniform waits at the end of the hall and opens the door for us. “I dunno. I called Adrianna as my killer the second I stepped onto that crime scene, and yet…”
Minka hums in the back of her throat. Considering. Contemplative, as we cross the threshold and come to a new hall. Less gray, at least. “And yet…” she prompts.
“Could be Jones. Definitely wasn’t Anderson. Though I’d bet a hundred dollars he has big plans to become someone important in the criminal justice world. Prosecutor, or something.”
“Maybe we should introduce him to the mayor.” Mischievously, she glances up with a small smile and allows me to lead her to the escalators that cut through the precinct. “Former District Attorney Smarty Pants.”
“You don’t get to mock someone else’s intelligence, Chief.” I step onto the steel escalator and turn to lean against the side as we descend. “You’re the youngest Chief Medical Examiner this city has ever known.”
“Sure,” she drawls. “Pretty sure I got the job under nefarious motivations by the former chief. My appointment wasn’t on merit, Detective. But rather, my age and the naïvety Doctor Chant thought I would bring to the position.”
“Yeah? Well, the joke’s on her because you got her figured out from day one. And eventually, when the time is right,” I step off the escalator at the next floor and lock down every muscle I possess, so I don’t reach out and help my wife not stumble. “When the right case lands on our desks, we’ll put her away for being a fucking crook. We both know she was on the take.”
“Chant was absolutely on the take.” She folds her arms and circles around so we can get on the escalator again and head down another floor. “So, Jones?”
“Former Organized Crime cocksucker. He’s about ten years older than me, but he was never good enough at his job to cause damage. He wanted undercover, but Felix had him figured out within seconds.”
“Wait…” Minka’s eyes swing up to mine. “As in, Jones went undercover in your family? He posed as a soldier or something?”
“He tried,” I smile. “He failed.”
“And he lived?” she whispers. “Just like that?”
“Yeah.” I reach out with fast hands and help her off the escalator when we reach the bottom. “When you live the life of a Malone, you learn pretty fast how to spot the fakes. Felix had Jones’ number within minutes. But he’s like a kid with a magnifying glass, burning ants on the sidewalk.” Grinning, I lead her into the parking garage and enjoy the fact we’re essentially the only people in here.
