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“Keep talking about Malones and drugs, Banks, and you and I will have beef.” He crosses the threshold, taking the keys from the door. But he holds it wide and allows us to enter. Rory, just a foot ahead of me, and Fletcher a foot to her right. “You’ve already made it clear you know my family’s history.” He slams a meaty hand to my chest, stopping me before I can pass. “Everyone here now knows about it.Includingour witness. But for as long as my chief and the mayor think I deserve my badge, I’m done letting you talk about it.”
“Our father’s shadows tend to follow us all the way to the grave, Malone.” I brush his hand away and trail Aurora into the cold house. I’ll be damned if I bring her to the safest place this city has to offer, only to discover Vallejo got here first. “Your shadow seems a little heavier than most. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Did anyone grab my things?” Rory walks the dark living room, which I guess was once a sitting room for powerful old men drinking whiskey and puffing on cigars. She wanders to the massive fireplace and runs the tip of her finger along the old brickwork before turning and facing us. She works hard to carry an air of anger. But just beneath the surface, I know she grieves. “I didn’t bring my bag or laptop from the hotel.”
“We’ll get your stuff brought across,” Fletcher answers easily. He strolls to the huge windows that cover almost all the front of the house. But he doesn’t yank the drapes open. He doesn’t dare disturb the stillness of the home that hasn’t been occupied in probably two decades. “We’ll also have food delivered so you can be comfortable.”
“There are nine bedrooms,” Archer rumbles. “Eight bathrooms. There’s a pool out back, but it won’t be warm. The kitchen has a hidden wine cellar beneath. You can access it through the walk-in pantry.”
“Do you expect me to drink away my worries while I’m here?” Rory drops her hand from the fireplace and leans heavily on her cane. “Alcohol will numb the ache?”
“The cellar acts as a panic room,” he counters dryly. “It’s hidden, so unless youknowit’s there, you won’t know it’s there. If the house is breached, you run to the cellar, lock yourself in, and wait the raid out.”
“So I need alcoholanda panic room?” She stresses, bringing a hand up and scrubbing it over her cheek. “Awesome.”
“There’s an old armory,” he brings his gaze to me. “I’m not sure what’s left, but it’s worth taking a look. There’s a shooting range too, but it’s not soundproofed, and to use it here would let the entire city know someone is in residence.”
“So don’t,” I conclude with a nod. “Alright.”
“Closets probably still have clothes in them, so hunt around and see if anything works for you.” Then he looks at Rory. “Much less likely you’ll find any women’s clothes. Except maybe a seedy box of panties or some shit.”
Her lips curl into a sneer. “Gross.”
“Don’t go looking. This was a home made for, and outfitted by, the mob. They’re much like the men hunting you down now. They aren’t typically friendly toward the women, so don’t expect anything in this house besides a bed that’ll make your life comfortable.”
“So I won’t find a hair dryer?” she smarts. “Or tampons.”
He smirks. It’s small and pained, but her attitude amuses him. “Unlikely. But we can get you that stuff if you need it. Fletch will bring you your laptop and bag within the hour, then you can just settle in and…”
“Wait?” she growls. “For months and months until you catch a killer whose namemaybe Gregory Vallejo, but also, may not be, since he’s dead?”
“You can study.” He rolls over her barb and focuses on the positives he can pluck out of nowhere. “You can attend virtually and keep up with your peers. We’ll get the internet fixed up so you can access all your class materials. You can video in, and we’ll have the mayor contact the school if they give you any grief.”
“I’m not a Copeland student until the new school year, Detective Malone. And the mayor ofthiscity has no pull over the schools on the East Coast.”
“He will,” Fletch inserts. “Mayor Lawrence is a powerful man, and Vallejo’s network stretches all the way to New York. Plucking him out like the weed he is, and tossing him into the incinerator will benefit both cities.”
“And my mom?” She lifts her chin and juts it forward. It’s pride. But I’ll be damned if it isn’t the cutest bullseye ever. “Will you provide a car and plain clothes police officers to take me to see her…daily?”
“Plain clothes?”
“I don’t want to scare her, and having a bunch of men following me around will make her ask questions.”
He chuckles lightly in the back of his throat. “Going to your mother isn’t an option, unfortunately.” He reaches up and slides a hand through his short hair. “It’s just not possible.”
“Make it possible!” she snaps, louder than I expected she would. “It might only have to be once. She’s already weak, Detective. It might only be a week. It won’t be much longer than that. But I can assure you,” she takes another step forward and threatens, “I will not desert her now. I refuse. So figure it out and make it possible.”
“You can videocall her.” He tries to smooth his words. To lace compassion into the things he says. “I know it’s not the same. I know this sucks. But what you’re asking just isn’t going to work. It’s too dangerous.”
“Make it work! I will not let my mother die, all alone in that fucking hospital room, thinking I’ve left her. She deserves better! And if I have to walk there my damn self, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
“Rory—”
“A hat and sunglasses never hurt anybody before, Detective.” She stalks forward, slowly on her bad legs, and comes to a stop in front of Archer. She’s smaller than him. Almost a foot shorter, so she’s forced to look up into his eyes. But she’s not afraid. “I’ll dress any way you want me to. I’ll wear a wig and massive sunglasses. I will walk without a stick,” she adds, lifting her cane to prove she can do without it. “I’ll wear scrubs and come in through the employee entrance if that’s what you want. We went out today, and everything was completely fine. Not one, single person tried to hurt me. So if you think it’s appropriate to go out and snitch on a bad guy, then you will approve of me going out to see a dying woman.”
She lowers her cane again and casts a glance to Fletch. Then to me. “Make it work. She hasnotalready hugged me for the last time.”
Leaning on her stick and circling the detective, she heads out of the room and toward whatever else this house is made up of. Her cane creaks with every movement, and her breath comes faster from exhaustion. But she disappears from our sights and sends a bolt of anxiety to the bottom of my stomach, growing and pulsing every second she’s gone.
