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“No,” he admits without hesitation. “Because no matter my ex-wife’s crimes, my daughter is still half of her. I could never hurt my baby like that.”
“Exactly.” She brings her gaze to Archer, directly over my shoulder. “I disliked that man very much, and I considered him a threat during the entirety of my marriage. But I love my sonmorethan I hate his father. I hope you figure out who hurt him, Detectives. My son deserves to know. He deserves closure, and to not be the next seventeen-year-old McArthur swept up in tragedy and left with a hefty trust fund.”
“We’ll be in touch.” Fletch offers his arm to the woman, and waits for her to loop hers through.
She’s only a decade older than us, and hardly frail. But this is an emotional day, so her hands shake, and her knees, there’s no doubt in my mind, knock together on every step she takes.
He leads her to the elevator and waits with her for the door to open. Then, helping her in, he hands her a card and says, “Don’t leave the city, Mrs. McArthur. We’ll need to speak with you again soon.”
When the doors close and the elevator has taken the grieving widow away, he turns on his heels and whistles. “Shiiiiit. It wasn’t her.”
“That’s what I said,” I roll my eyes. “But now you know where the other identities got their cash. He’s got several million in the bank, but he’s not gonna spend it. So he has four mortgages instead. Four families. Three sets of kids—which means more heirs to his stupid kingdom. He wanted kids as Aaron Davies, too, and tried for them.”
“He was obsessed,” Aubree breathes. “Having one marriage and one son, wasn’t enough for him. He liked himself so much, he went ahead and created three other identities, and had more kids. It’s sick.”
“Maybe,” Archer rumbles, “but he’s still our victim, and we still don’t know who tortured and murdered him.” He takes my arm, scooping it up the way Fletch did for Roberta, and holds my weight as the effects of a long day wear me down.
“As an investigation goes on and more details come to light,” he muses, “we can sometimes get bogged down in the shiny new stuff. But it’s important we come back to the basics. And our basics all lead to a man tortured for information.”
“So we find out what he knew,” Fletch inserts, “and we’ll find out who popped him. We have a new name to add to our pile, so I’m gonna run some reports and see if we can find any crossover. The city’s big, but it’s not infinite. His four identities were, allegedly, born in the same hospital, albeit years apart. All four attended the same high school. Two of the four attended MIT. He has three sets of kids, and some of those ages cross-over, too.” He glances to Aubree. “How many schools are there in Copeland?”
“Couple dozen?” she guesses. “I don’t even know. I only attended one.”
“Same. But maybe our vic kept his lives separate, his secret under wraps, by sending the kids to opposite sides of the city. Or,” he counters quickly. “Maybe his entitlement meant he figured it didn’t matter. They’ll go where he says and do what he says because he’s the boss.”
“There are still a lot of ways this could go. But I’m going home for now,” Archer murmurs. “And taking Minka with me. We’re going to enjoy a couple of hours off and make a meal, but you know how to contact me if you find anything.”
“I got you.” Fletch lifts his chin in my direction next, and winks for me. “Sweet dreams, Delicious. Keep healing.”
I choke out a soft laugh and lean into Archer’s side. “Thanks. Maybe you should take a break, too. Go see your baby and baby momma.”
He grunts. “I miss Moo, but I’d rather learn more about our vic’s torture than endure my own from Jada.”
“How are things with you two?” I ask. Archer tightens his hold on me, urging me away, but I don’t miss the shadows that fall across Fletcher’s eyes. “No one updates me on the Jada situation anymore.”
“Because you’re supposed to be resting,” he grins, but it seems forced.
“Come on.” Archer tugs me, ever so gently, and starts toward the elevator. “We’ll grab your briefcase, then we’re going home and chilling the fuck out.”
When the elevator opens, without our interference, and Fifi steps out—only to stop again when everyone stares—Fletch swallows so his throat bobs, and nerves flash across his features.
“Things are still messy,” he mumbles as we step into the elevator. “But we’re doing our best. And that’s gotta be enough for now.”
“Let’s go, Chief.” Archer wraps his arm across my back and hooks his hand on my hip to hold my weight, then pressing the button for the ninth floor, he lifts his chin in farewell for his partner and the two women we leave behind.
“It’s possible she’s using again,” he murmurs as the doors shut and leave us all alone in the elevator, lovingly dubbed theNeutral Cube of Truth-Telling and Fantasy-Livingby our quirky Aubree. And because we’re alone, he turns and places his free hand beneath my chin. “She’s going missing for days at a time,” he sighs. “Coming home glassy-eyed and wrecked. When she’s with them, she’s asleep most of the time, and when she’s awake, she treats everyone like shit. She abuses Ms. Penny for raising her daughter, and blames Fletch for the world sucking.”
I swallow the ache in my throat. “And how does she treat Mia?”
“Cruelly, but not on purpose. She’s trying to turn her into… her. Perfect, petite, living on celery and fresh air, and hating herself enough to eventually turn to substance abuse.”
“Shit,” I groan. “That poor little girl. Her mother is a mess.”
“Mmhm.”
Archer takes a step away, releasing my chin just a single beat before the elevator doors open on the ninth floor and reveal Doctors Raquel and Kirk on the other side.
They watch us, mild curiosity in Kirk’s gaze, and salacious tenacity in Raquel’s. But Archer’s quick on his feet and leads me out.
