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“Hold it steady. Don’t jerk it around.” I grit my teeth and fake a smile when he drags his eyes up. Because his quivering hand means the needle moves in my vein, and hell, that stings like a bitch. But I don’t tell him that. “Tape it down,” I coach. “Then begin the infusion.”
“For fuck’s sake.” He tears a length of tape from the roll and places it on my arm, then he unclips the tourniquet until the stretchy fabric droops. Finally, he picks up the syringe and slowly begins pushing Factor into my veins. “I didn’t like that.”
“I don’t much like it either.” But it’s done now, and I’m ready for sleep anyway. “I was inserting my own needles when I was a small child.” Leaning forward, I take my plate and bring it back to settle on my lap. Because if I don’t eat now, I’ll wake up starving in the early hours of tomorrow. “Talk to me about Adrianna Alves.”
Archer sighs. But he’s practiced at the infusion portion of my medical needs now, and slides the liquid into my veins with precision, making the process painless. “I don’t know that I think she did it. She says she didn’t.”
I pick up my half-burger and take another bite. “Doesn’t every suspect say the same thing?”
He scoffs, watching his work and shaking his head gently side-to-side. “You want me to believe her, but when I say I do, you question it?”
“Just providing an objective wall to bounce things off. You think she’s telling the truth?”
“I don’t see how it’s possible.” His eyes are all for my arm. For the point where steel pierces my skin and his hand controls how quickly, how painfully, medication enters my body. “Forensics are running it down. But shit, babe, whoever got him made a damn mess. And the only footprints leaving the scene belong to her.”
“Have you checked the sinks, shower, and bathtub to see where she, hypothetically, washed off?”
“Hypothetically?”
“Well… William’s blood would have soaked your killer. Adrianna had his blood on her, sure, but not ‘she’s the killer’ enough blood. Which means she would have had to clean up somewhere. Her clothes would have been tossed.”
“CSIs swept every water source in and around the home. The bathroom, laundry, and outside were clear. But the kitchen sink lit up like Christmas. Additionally, uniforms are canvassing every trash can, skip, and dump point for a ten-block radius surrounding their home. Hopefully, we find the killer’s clothes.”
Exhaustion drags me closer. Sleepiness, making it difficult for me to continue eating. Though I do. It makes it difficult for me to focus. Though I definitely try. “And the murder weapon?”
“Was in the sink. Washed with soap and water. But we both know that’s not enough to remove blood from a crime scene.”
Considering, I take a sluggish bite of my burger and concentrate on chewing. “So they tried to clean the kitchen knife, but did a piss-poor job of it. Implies they’re not all that experienced.”
“Which lends more weight to the wife did it camp. How’d you know it was a kitchen knife?”
“‘Cos that’s my job. Mine and Aubree’s guess, based on the sizes of each wound, is that your killer used a standard, eight-inch, hammered finish, titanium-steel knife. The blade was smooth: no teeth. I saw a block in the kitchen today, Detective. It had one knife missing.”
“Mmm…” He hums in the back of his throat, relieving me of the half-eaten burger I no longer want, and placing it on the plate. He continues to slide the last of my Factor in my veins, but he’s practiced at this now, smooth, as he does the second, one-handed, and sets my plate on the coffee table with the other. “Messy job, and a weapon of convenience. Says it was the wife.”
“Women typically use poison.” My eyes drift close. But I don’t have a headache, and that’s a pleasant development, considering I’ve suffered one after almost every single infusion prior to meeting this man. “This particular vic had a deadly allergy she could have easily capitalized on. The brute strength used to stab William twenty-nine times says, ‘angry male energy’ to me.”
Archer chuckles, the soft sound like a breeze in my ear. “I’m gonna put you to bed, okay? Hang on a sec while I unstrap you.”
He peels the tape from my arm, the tug of my skin just stinging enough to register in my mind. Then he pulls the needle from my vein. But I’m practiced enough to lock my hiss of pain down and say nothing to the man still working on his medical confidence.
“Have you eaten enough, Minnnnka?”
“Yeah.” I attempt to force my eyes open. To watch him take care of me. But I’m sleepy, and my Factor always makes it a million times worse. “You should eat, too.”
“I will in a sec.”
Darkness takes over my vision. But I’m safe. I’m cared for. Hell, I’m cherished by a man who loves me more than he loves himself. So I simply allow myself to float. Because tomorrow, I’ll wake re-energized and ready to solve a murder.
“Ready for bed, Minka Mayet? Or you wanna fuck first?”
I choke out a drowsy, silly laugh I’m aware makes me look dumb. But when Archer scoops me up from the couch and straightens his back, I rest my cheek on his chest and listen to his heart. “I’ll lay there. You do the work.”
“Tempting.” He carries me through our living room and into a darkened hall. The world swims around me. The sun, still high outside. But I’m done with today.
I’m done with this month.
Tomorrow, I wake up to July first.
