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Even if Chloe didn’t exist, even if Archer Malone wasn’t an insufferable man-whore, we’dstillhave no future together. My choices have been made. My priorities have been set.
And what I choose to do with my life contradicts what he does with his.
It is what it is. Now I must live with those consequences.
Sitting at my desk, I cross my legs and rest my elbows on the expensive mahogany my predecessor felt inclined to drop half the office’s budget on. “What can we help you with, Detectives? Ask your questions so we can all get out of here.”
“Homicide?” Archer doesn’t stop moving until his thighs touch the other side of my desk. “Confirmed?”
I sit back to create a little more space between us. “Strongly suspected. Toxicology should be back in a few hours. I’ll know then for sure and provide my written report.”
“Spiked drink?” he asks next. “Strongly suspected?”
I link my fingers together and rest my hands in my lap. “Yes. That’s what I’m leaning toward.”
“Any preliminary guesses as to what she ingested that caused her to bleed out the eyes and mouth?”
“Internally, too.” I sit taller and tap my computer mouse. Staring at the screen, instead of the addictive detective just two feet away, I wait for my ancient computer to catch up, then I open the reports Aubree already typed, organized, and filed. “Whatever she ingested, it made her bleed internally.”
And that similarity, the way her blood refused to clot, reminds me of my own morbidity.
“Whatever she took, it destroyed the very foundations of her blood until it could not coagulate. She bled out, she shut down, and in her panic, she vomited as she fell.”
Finally, I meet his eyes that are more of a moss green today. Moss for grief. Malachite for sex. “I suggest you keep those details from her loved ones. They’re unnecessarily cruel and serve no purpose to anyone but the investigative team.”
“So youdon’twant me to tell her man she bled out?” Archer growls. “Don’t tell him her organs sprung a leak and she bled to death? Does it hurt, Minka?” He drops his hands to my desk and leans closer. “Is it painful?”
Licking my parched lips, I meet his stare with my own. Then I nod. A single, quick dip of my head. “Yes. Very much. She would have welcomed death at the end. She would have begged for it.”
Enraged, he shoves away from my desk and crosses my office, and now that he isn’t crowding my space, I get a look around the room. Aubree is sitting on the edge of the couch that’s pushed against the wall. Her head is down, her eyes unbearably sad. Fletcher sits on the arm just two feet away, his face in his hands.
Meanwhile, I callously discuss the way their friend died.
They’re devastated, and I’m not gentle.
I’m an ass.
“I’ll take lead when her partner comes in.” Resting my elbows on my desk, I exhale a soft sigh. “If you haven’t made contact yet, I can do that too. If you’d rather do it, but you still need help, I’m available.”
“I made contact.” Archer crosses to the far wall and turns back to face me. “I already did it. I told him to call your office after nine to arrange a time to see her.”
“Figured nine would give you enough time to do what you gotta do,” Fletch murmurs. “Blame it on standard business hours.”
“It was a good move,” I acknowledge. “We’re done with her for now. She’s sewn up and covered, so he can call anytime and see her.”
“If you’re done,” Archer starts, “you can tell me—”
“Nothing,” I cut him off. “I can tell you nothing until pathology comes back.”
“You’rea pathologist.” He crosses back to me. “Right? You can do that stuff?”
“Yes. I can do that stuff.”
“So why didn’t you?” he barks out. “Why did you send her away?”
“Because we have different divisions in my team for different tasks. I could mop the floors and clean the toilets, too. But I don’t, because that job is done by someone else while I use my time and resources more effectively.”
“So you brush her off as someone else’s problem?”
