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“I got it.” With a softpsshtin the back of his throat, Fletcher brings his beer up and sips. “It was the fucking chief of cardio. Samuel Gale. That alibi he had, the surgery he was in around the time of Corrigan’s death, was the actual fucking transplant of the stolen heart. The recipient was a kid.”
“Related?” Archer asks. I look back just in time to catch his frown. “Gale was related to the kid?”
“No. But she was a repeat customer, long time lurker. I guess he was emotionally invested. And Corrigan, the vic, had had words with Gale just a couple of weeks ago. A fender bender, hurled insults, ayo mamajoke or two. Corrigan had a history with the hospital, and he’d pissed Gale off enough to make the impression stick. Blood type matched, and the dude was healthy. It’s a bit like that vigilante stuff, I guess.”
“Hm?” Behind me, Archer’s heart thuds just a little harder. “Vigilante?”
“Like, Gale wanted the kid to live, which means Corrigan had to die. He chose, and then he killed. It’s not exactly the same,” he muses. Distracted, he brings his drink up for another sip. “Corrigan was just a douchebag, right? Could’ve been a little nicer, but he definitely didn’t deserve to die.”
“How’s the heart now?” In my mind, a thousand thoughts ping through in the space of a single second. “Is the kid doing okay?”
He grins when Mia pushes Aubree’s hair up to create spikes. “Yeah, she’s doing just fine. She’s not in trouble. I’m looking into the family to make sure they didn’taskGale to do this. Ya know, send him a little cash and ask him to kill a guy for a heart.”
“Did they?”
“Nah. I don’t think the family had anything to do with this.”
He glances across to the TV again, but when I look, it’s Laramie Fentone who stands on the steps of midtown police precinct with a smug expression playing over his face.
The subtitles declare Fentone has been released from questioning. Not enough evidence. Can’t convict. His friend, the alibi, is missing, but Fentone has an alibi for that, too.
Blah blah blah.
“I believe them when they say they got a call letting them know a heart had become available.” Fletch talks. Talks. Talks. But my mind is elsewhere. “The kid’s healing. And since it’s a heart and not a car, I don’t think anyone is gonna repossess the organ. It’s just the way it is. She keeps it and lives, Gale goes to prison, Corrigan goes to the pearly gates. Case closed.”
“Mm.” My eyes stray back to the television. The smug smile. The face of victory, because he outsmarted the cops once more. “I mean…” I scramble for focus. For clarity. And I know, behind me, Archer is intensely attuned to everything I’m thinking. “I’m glad she’s doing well. This would be a thousand times worse if the organ failed and Corrigan had died for nothing.”
When Detective Franklin’s face pops up on the news, his eyes tired, and his cheeks ruddy from too little sleep, I intentionally turn away and bring myself back to Fletch. Faking a smile, I try to come back to the here. The now. “I’m glad she’s doing better.”
“Is that yours?” Fletch nods toward the television, though I don’t glance back to confirm. “Fentone. That’s the guy you had me run.”
“Just a case I was working with the midtown cops.” I shrug and look to Mia. To the half-empty glass of soda. “Can I have some of that?”
“Yes!” She thrusts the drink toward me and risks spilling all over my jeans. “We can share, Miss Minka. I sometimes share wif Penny, too.”
“Oh, you do?” Amused, I bring the straw up. I know dimples dig deep into my cheeks, replacing the ire I feel for Fentone. “She shares drinks with Miss Penny, Fletch. That’s so cute.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, Mayet.” Like a dog with a bone, he nods over my shoulder. “Not an ideal outcome?”
I shrug, though in my stomach, I feel anything but nonchalant. “It happens sometimes. If he’s innocent, he’s innocent. It’s not like there’s anything I can do about it, so I choose not to focus on it.” I bring my drink up again. “Where’s Miss Penny?”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Obsessed, I swear. Mia, tell Minka to shut her piehole—oh, and then you can tell her our exciting news.”
“Exciting news?” I look to the little girl and bounce my brows. “Is Miss Penny officially moving in forever?”
“No!” Mia rolls in Aubree’s lap and almost topples, if not for Aubree’s hands. “Miss Penny doesn’t live wif us! She just sleeps over sometimes.”
“Well, of course.” I purse my lips and peek back to Fletch. “That’s how it always begins.”
“Mommy’s coming home!” Mia blurts out so loud, I wrench my neck when I swing back her way. “She’s been on vacation to see the doctors,” she explains. “It’s been sooooo long. But she’s coming home soon!”
“Oh.” My eyes shoot to a stunned Aubree, then back to Fletch. “Cool. Mommy’s coming home?”
“In a couple of weeks,” he mumbles. “We were thinking of putting on a little welcome home thing for her. Ya know, to celebrate her coming back to normal life.”
“I mean, sure.” My voice comes out on a cynical squeak.The woman has been away at rehab for months, and before that, she severely neglected her daughter. But sure, let’s have a party and fold her back into society with a toast of bubbly and lots of noise.“I’ll, uh… I’ll RSVP just as soon as you send out the invites.”
“Miss Sera!” Mia jumps from one topic to another.Miss Aubree, Miss Minka, Miss Penny. Mommy. Miss Sera. “Hi, Fifi! I’m Mia. Do you remember me? My name is Mia!”
