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Luckily for us both, I took a picture of that, too.
“This feels like a massive clue.” He uses the end of his marker to point toward his drawing. “They weren’t afraid of having the body discovered. But they were careful to keep things methodical and cold. So why this chair? Why cushioned? Why fancy, when they could have used a milk crate or something? And why,” he brings his gaze across to me, “did they toss it with him at all, when they could have untied him and kept this particular clue out of our hands?”
I prop my fists on my hips and draw a deep breath. Letting it out again, I shrug. “Dunno. But this case will be easier to solve because of it. There can’t be many like it in rotation.”
MINKA
Ifinally sit back from my desk at six o’clock p.m. My shoulder throbbing, my stomach a little queasy, and my head just a little overfull of information; numbers, data, and theories, all competing with each other to become my primary focus.
John Doe’s missing fingerprints have been a thorn in my side since the moment we got him back to the George Stanley. They hint that our victim may not have been innocent. Normal, law-abiding citizens don’t have their prints removed and their bodies sliced to hell and back before being dumped in the river in broad daylight.
It’s too… crass. The whole thing.
“Chief Mayet?” Aubree stops in my doorway, one hand on the glass door while she leans on the wall… which is also made of glass.
I’m like a zoo exhibit, on display in my transparent box for all my staff to watch.
Landing the job as chief at a prestigious medical building at only twenty-eight years old was a dream come true for me. Finding out I’m on show for every minute I’m working,not so much.
“John Doe is in the fridge on the second floor,” she murmurs. “He’s logged in and secure, under my passcodes.”
“Good. Thanks.” I rock ever so gently in my chair and cradle my sore arm. It’s been a month already since my surgery, but the pain persists. “You can go home if you want. We’ve documented everything we can, and everything we couldn’t is with the lab. The rest of this is on the detectives to solve. We can’t do it for them.”
“I’ll leave if you leave,” she retorts. Pushing through my door and letting it swing shut behind her, she crosses my office to perch her butt on the edge of my desk. “I could do with a burger at Tim’s.” She breathes a whimsical sigh. “Some soda to get my blood sugar up. You know he’ll feed us well, and I know you need the sustenance before you fall down.”
“How much does he pay you?”
“Tim?”
“Archer.” Exhausted, I push up from my chair and grab my briefcase from the floor. I slip my phone into my pants pocket, then undo my sling… and earn a dangerous scowl from my colleague.
Unperturbed, I cross my office on somewhat shaky legs, and take my coat from the rack by the door. Carefully, though no matter how hard I try, the movement stings, I feed my bad arm through the sleeve of my coat to put the thing on properly.
To have it half-on, draped over my slung arm, sends me insane.
“What makes you think Arch pays me anything?” Pushing away from my desk, Aubree crosses the room with a huff and helps me with the other sleeve of my coat. “That’s an allegation you can’t prove.”
“Mmhm.” I gulp in fresh air, hoping it will combat the nausea rolling through my stomach. “He would take care of me twenty-four-seven if I didn’t insist on coming back to work. But I do, so hereyouare.” I look over my shoulder and meet her beautiful, blue-eyed stare. “His proxy, mothering me and making sure I eat at least two meals a day.”
“I take care of you because I love you.” She comes around to my front and fixes my lapels, since I can’t do it myself. Then heading back to my desk, she grabs my discarded sling and my briefcase, and brings both my way. Setting the second down, she works with the first to secure my arm.
She’s gentle. She has a doctor’s touch. But any movement, no matter how minute, stings like the pricks of a thousand hornets.
“I take care of you,” she repeats, releasing my arm and picking up my briefcase instead, “because if I don’t, and if Archer doesn’t, you’d probably just work yourself to death. We’d find you in here, perched in your chair the way John Doe was. But with flies in your mouth, and that sheen of death covering your eyes.”
“Charming.” I take my briefcase in my good hand and turn to my door, but Aubree’s fast enough that I don’t even have a chance to reach for it myself. “Do you often fantasize about me being dead, Doctor Emeri? Or is this new?”
“You think I’m joking.” She dashes to her desk, right on the other side of my office wall, and snatches up her phone and keys. Done with her day and ready to babysit me for as long as Archer is working, she starts back in my direction, only to spin and dart away again on an afterthought, to retrieve an empty coffee mug that belongs to Tim’s bar.
I know this because I’ve commandeered my fair share of them, too. Though, unlike Aubree, I’m not thoughtful enough to bring mine back.
“I worry about you, Chief.” She comes up on my right with her contraband mug and matches my pace toward the elevator. “We all do. We have to, since you seem to prefer neglect and starvation.”
“I never asked to be babied.”
I wait for her to hit the call button on the elevator, then I glance up at the numbers above the door and count along as they light up. Third floor. Fourth. Fifth. I mouth each word, and breathe a sigh of relief when it hits the ninth, and the doors slide open to reveal an empty interior.
Stepping in, I lean against the back wall and watch my friend select the lobby floor. “I want to hold a team meeting tomorrow to discuss the budget.” I peer to my left just in time to catch her typing notes into her phone. ‘Meeting’, ‘budget’, then ‘burritos for lunch. Good protein.’
