“Well, as you can see, I am not dead,” my husband says with a smile. “I don’t know what she thinks she saw, but it wasn’t me.”
The officer gives a small laugh. “Obviously we’re happy to hear that. Do you have any idea why someone would think a homicide had taken place?”
“I had an accident at work.” Luca motions to his leg. “It was a few days before I could get around. The person I’m guessing called you is used to seeing me every day. She likes to keep tabs on what’s going on in the neighborhood. I’m guessing she noticed I haven’t been around and got worried.”
“Were you seen at a hospital for this injury?” Dowd asks.
“My wife is a doctor,” Luca says smoothly. “She was able to patch me up without a giant ER bill to show for it.”
An eternal beat of silence passes between the men before they both laugh, their postures visibly relaxing. So does mine once Stone finally takes his hand off his gun.
“Now, that would be nice,” Dowd says, closing his notebook. “Dislocated my shoulder playing baseball and it cost me a small fortune.” He tucks the notebook into his shirt pocket. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Martín, Dr. Martín. It’s our job to ensure that you’re safe, so we have to follow up on calls like this.”
“Of course, officers,” Luca says. “Thank you for checking.”
“Sorry about the intrusion,” Stone says with a small wave. “We’ll check out the area at the end of the street and let you know if we find anything. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
27LUCA
There’s a noticeable shift between us after the cops leave, an unspoken agreement that we’re together in this. I’m still reeling from the protectiveness that blazed inside me as Honey and I rushed home on my injured leg, the relief I felt when I saw that Emery was okay, the way my pulse thumped heavily in my chest at the sight of her. It’s us against the world.
While Emery brushes her teeth, I let Honey out for her last potty of the day and wait while she decides which toy to take to bed.
Understandably, it’s a tough decision. Annie brought her with a laundry basket full of supplies, Em has ordered a few things online, and between the chew toys, the multiple dog beds, and the plethora of treats now lined up in the “Honey cupboard” we cleared out for her, it’s possible there’s more of her stuff in this house than my own.
I hear the bathroom faucet turn off followed by a muttered “fucking Betty” carrying down the hall.
I laugh dryly, dropping Honey’s leash in a basket near the front door. Walking back, I lean against the bathroom doorway. “Are you sure it wouldn’t help her paranoia if I went over and talked to her myself?”
“I don’t even know anymore,” Em says, spitting and then rinsing the sink. “But I still worry that if she mentions something and you don’t know what she means, she’ll be back on high alert. She thinks everything is nefarious, and in this case… it sort of was.” She turns to face me, frowning. “I don’t get why she called tonight. What happened?”
“Maybe she called earlier, and they only got around to following up.”
Her frown deepens. “Maybe.”
“And is it so bad if she knows I’ve lost my memory?”
Emery puts her toothbrush in the porcelain cup on the counter and flips off the light. Her arm catches on my waist as she passes, her fingers instinctively hooking in the belt loops of my pants to tug me after her. I don’t need any convincing and obediently follow her down the hall.
Oblivious to what she’s done, Emery sits on the couch, pulling me down next to her.
“Normally, no.” She sighs. “But she’s already suspicious and thinks that she saw me kill you, remember?” Pushing onto her knees, she crawls over me and pretends to stab me, dramatically mimicking the music fromPsycho.
Falling back, I can’t help but cough out a horrified laugh. “This definitely doesn’t look suspicious,” I say, my hands coming to rest firmly on her hips. Our laughter tapers off, and we’re both suddenly very aware of our position.
Emery’s eyes fall to my mouth, and I wonder what she’s thinking. My wife has the benefit of remembering what it feels like when we undress each other, when we’re naked together, when I’m inside her, and I’m so overcome with a wave of envy it makes the room spin.
“What can I say? I’m a killer,” she says, before climbing off me and back to her seat. “Anyway, couple that with the fact that if Betty thinks something is off about you, she will dig to the bottom of this like an obsessed private eye,andthe fact that the BioNEX team knows that the dogs put in the BioVIVE had some memory loss,andthe fact that if anyone ever got wind of your amnesia, they could dig hard enough to find out we were in the lab that night… we can’t risk anyone knowinganything.”
“I thought you said you got rid of the footage or whatever?”
“I did. But according to Robert Pattinson there’s a backup log that lasts for thirty days.”
I blink, sure I’ve heard her wrong. “I’m sorry, did you say Robert Pattinson?”
“He’s a robot,” she explains, then adds, “named after an actor.” Waving this off, she continues, “Whatever. It means that the data is gone from the main system, but if someone knew what days to pull footage from to look deeper, they would find everything.”
“Right,” I say, and I know what we’re discussing is important—an understatement, really—but it’s hard to focus when she’s this close to me. I can imagine another world where I would have kept her on my lap and fucked her right here on the couch.
