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“Probably,” I concede. “But that’s not for us to decide. We present—”
“The evidence,” she cuts in before I can finish. “We don’t present opinion. Yeah. I got it.”
“Good.”
When my phone trills, drawing my attention to my white coat hung by the door, I make my way closer and take out the device before the call ends.
Archer’s name flashes on the screen, so I cast a look to Aubree, who hurriedly gets back to work, then I slide my thumb to accept and bring the device to my ear. “Hi, Detective.”
“Hey.” His voice is like a hug. Caressing. Comforting. “You alone?”
“No.” So I take my coat down and shrug it on. Then I turn back to Aubree. “Pack her away for me? I’m going to my office to write this report.”
“Sure thing. I’ll be ten minutes behind you.”
Notice given, I swing the autopsy room door open and step into the foyer-like space outside, then I turn right and head toward my office.
Glass walls make up all four sides, so I get a panoramic view of the city. But that means my employees get a hell of a view of me, too.
Fortunately, they don’t hear me. So I step through the doorway and head to my desk. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” But I hear him sigh. I see, in my mind, how he scrubs his hand through his short brown hair. “Fletch is running down statements, and I’m looking for Victor.”
“Alone?” My brows pinch tight in frustration. “He’s sending you after the killer with no backup? What the hell, Archer?”
“Just to search for him,” he clarifies. “We don’tknowyet if he’s our perp. But I do know Fletch doesn’t wanna see my face, so we’re working apart… and, according to him, being more productive.”
“He’s pissing me off.”
I know I’m the bad guy in Charlie Fletcher’s eyes; I’m the one who started this mess. But there comes a point where my apologies run thin and instead, anger bubbles to the surface.
We all know Victor Georgiana is likely our killer. And yet, Fletch would risk Archer stumbling across the guy alone.
Weeks ago, before all this began, he would’ve never suggested such a thing. But now he’s mad, and in his rage, he gleefully sends my husband toward danger.
“He’s gonna have to make a choice soon, Archer: shit or get off the pot. Talk to the captain, or get the hell over this. Because while he has us floating in limbo, he puts youbothat risk. He’s working alone right now too, and that’s not safe for either of you.”
“Yeah, well…” His shirt rustles as he shrugs. “Try telling him that. Anyway, I figured I’d go out and get Mia’s gift this afternoon. Which bear do we get her?”
“Me and Aubree are going present shopping soon.” I sit at my desk and tap my computer mouse to power up the screen. “You’re running down an active case, but I’m just about done here. We know how she died, and we have a good idea who did it, so I’m gonna write my report in a sec, then it’s all yours. That clears off my desk and leaves the afternoon open. I’ll buy the bear.”
“Open,” he snorts. “It’s four o’clock, Mayet. You only have an hour before business hours are up.”
“So we’ll run. Do you need anything while I’m out doing all those girly things?”
I grab a pen and a Post-it note to scribble down my to-do list, and grin as Archer’s soft chuckle filters along the line.
“I’ve been meaning to swing by the bank,” he hedges. “Just a quick identification thing. If I send you the documents, can you hand them in?”
“Sure.” I add ‘bank’ to my list beside ‘bear’. “Just hand them in? That’s it?”
“That’s it. Should be quick, but if you don’t wanna do it, I’ll get there when I—”
“No, I got it,” I cut in. “Send me the stuff, and I’ll take care of it. Then I’m shopping for a Care Bear. Which color should we get?”
“All of them.” He scoffs in the back of his throat. “Get herallthe bears. We’ll buy her affection like every good aunt and uncle does when the kid’s dad is being a dick.”
His words are gruff. But his heart hurts. So very, very much.
