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“Okay.” He swallows, his oversized Adam’s apple bobbing visibly in his throat. “So I’ll keep things silent.”
“You do that.” Shoving away from the desk and heading toward the elevators, Fletch slaps the call button and marches us in until we’re four sentries, ready for war. “She’sprobablynot armed. And I’m not sure she’s the violent type. Even her kills were non-violent. Poison was from afar. She didn’t touch any of her victims. Didn’t physically interact with any of them.”
“You expect this chick to just walk into your arms calmly?” Felix wonders. “Seriously? She dropped sixty-something people this week, dude. Not even I’ve gone that hard.”
“Shush.” I set my hands on my hips and wish, for just a moment in time, that he wouldn’t always speak the shit that slides through his mind. “You and Tim need to stay back. Fletch and I will take care of this.”
“Let’s go.” The doors slide open and reveal two cops on the other side. Two men with dark skin and navy uniforms, Kevlar vests, and guns strapped close. “Officers. I’m Detective Charlie Fletcher.” He nods my way. “Detective Archer Malone. We appreciate your help with this case today. We don’t hold jurisdiction, so the collar is yours. Is the sub still in her office?”
“Yes, Detective.” The guy on the left takes out a notebook smaller than the size of his palm and flips it open to reveal a page of illegible scribbles. “She arrived at approximately nine this morning and has yet to leave. She’s hosted guests for meetings and continues to conduct business as usual. Currently, she has clients in her office. No one in the hotel can confirm who she’s meeting with. Nothing is showing up on anyone’s calendar.”
“So her guests dropped by,” Fletch rumbles, nodding in thought. “Okay. Give us a lay of the land. How many are in there with her? Who are they? Are they able-bodied?”
“Oh, yes.” The cop on the right smirks, his perfect Colgate smile a stark contrast to his dark skin. “All able-bodied, Detective. We ran through the security center before coming up here. Those guests are very,” he lifts his hand and confuses his nationality when he makes a traditionally Italian gesture foryummy. Like he speaks of pizza. “Very, very beautiful.”
“Okay…” I rock back on my heels. “How many guests?”
“Four,” the first guy says. “They arrived together. One of them has popped on the security feed from earlier this week, the other three have not.”
“She popped?” I narrow my eyes, only to look straight past the uniforms when a woman’s cry reverberates from the end of the hall. An anguished sob that says shit has already escalated. “Who is she? Did she sign in last time she was here?”
“Yes, Detective.” The first guy looks down at his notebook again. “A doctor.”
“No.” The second cop taps his colleague’s shoulder. “Not a doctor. The uh…” His brows pinch tight together. “The coroner.”
“That’s a doctor!” the first one bites out. But already, my stomach drops. My heart thunders, and at a heavy thud coming from Veronica’s office, my entire fucking soul shrivels.
“The coroner?”
“Four women?” Felix snarls, “And one is a coroner?”
I dart away from the elevator and bolt along the hall. My footsteps are a noisy, booming approach that has the occupants of Veronica’s office silencing. I reach for the gun I’m not carrying. For the weapon, I so often lead with into a dangerous room. But like magic, Felix slaps a piece into my empty palm and slams his back to the wall. His green stare burns into my eyes. His ferocious nod of acknowledgment.
Then I lift my boot and stomp down over the door handle until the wood splinters and the knob pings away from the frame. “Veronica Cain!” I charge into the room. “You’re under arrest for the murder of?—”
I stop on a skid, Felix, Tim, and Fletch all crashing into my back so I skip forward another step. But then I spy the woman standing by the window, her eyes glassy and filled with tears. Her hand bleeding, and a crystal vase smashed on the floor.
Minka stands with her. Holding a rag to the woman’s hand. While Aubree, Fifi, and Christabelle merely lounge on bouncy balls at the edge of the desk. They’re at ease. Completely fucking relaxed with a mass murderer.
“Archer!” Minka shouts, so my heart restarts with a kick and my eyes swing back her way. “You’re working on our honeymoon!?”
“You’re…” I look at Christabelle. Unharmed. Aubree. Same. Fifi studies her nails and glances across at us like we’re the intruders. Finally, I bring my focus back to my wife. “What the fuck?”
“Veronica Cain would like to confess to her crimes,” Aubree explains gently. Her words are soft. Her movements, slow as she bounces off her ball and turns to face us. “She’s already told us what happened. Though we assume you’ll have to conduct your interviews formally.”
“S-she wants to confess?” My mind spins. Spins. Spins so fucking out of control, I’m not sure I’ll ever straighten it out again. “Shewants…”
“To confess,” Fifi nods. “Yes. That’s what she said.”
“Why are you even here?” I boom. Fuck calm and fuck gentle confessions. I shoot a glare at my wife, who so fucking carelessly dresses a killer’s cut hand. “Mayet! You’re supposed to be on your honeymoon!”
“Pot.” She rolls her eyes. “Kettle. You’ve given me a hard time this whole week, yet, you’ve been running a case with Fletch all along?”
“You’re supposed to be getting your hair done! We’re getting married in two hours.”
“Andyou’resupposed to be trying on a suit.” She looks back at Veronica and grins. “He’s not as scary as he’d have you believe. And he’s a big, fat liar because he said he wasn’t working this week.”
“Mayet! Step away from her!”
