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“So she killed him,” Fletch grumbles. “The only way she could be free was if he was dead.”
“It wasn’t even about her freedom in the end,” Minka explains. “She was arrested immediately. Tossed behind bars with no bail, no parole, and no chance of early release. Because you don’t kill a cop and expect to be treated well by law enforcement, right?”
I bring a hand up and drag it through my hair. “So she ensured her children’s freedom. Her life was over. Her chances of escaping her husband were as promising as her chances of escaping prison.”
“So she chose,” Fletch concludes. “Her life wasn’t gonna end well, no matter how it went.”
“No,” Minka agrees. “And her life was in danger since we know a man obsessed enough to piss in a bottle and sleep in his car just so he could watch her was likely to escalate eventually.”
“So she removed him from the equation instead, knowing that whatever happened to her, the kids would be free.” I drop my hand and chew over my thoughts. “Okay. So that’s her story. Battered woman, snapped and slaughtered her husband. But William wasn’t a cop, Minka. Some of the rest fits, but Adrianna never left him, he wasn’t stalking her, and he wasn’t LEO.”
“No.” She firms her lips for a long beat. “But her professor was a former LEO, wasn’t he?”
My eyes shoot wide. “You think Jones is connected?”
“Maybe they were having an affair,” Fletch ponders. “Or maybe he just considered himself her protector. She’s younger than he is, which creates that power dynamic he gets off on. He’s the teacher, she’s the student. He already considers himself pretty fuckin important. Add in an abused woman with little girls?—”
“And we have a storm brewing that could lead to killing a man,” I conclude. “Maybe. We don’t have his alibi for the night of the murder yet. He was in class till eight. But that still gives him an hour to get over to the Alves’ home. Plenty of time for a motivated man.”
“How’d he get in without a key?” Minka questions. “There were no signs of forced entry.”
I cough out a strangled laugh and shake my head when her eyes come across to meet mine. “How did I get into your apartment without a key?”
“You picked the locks.” She swallows, her throat bobbing with the movement. “Easily.”
“He was an LEO and OCS. There’s no way he doesn’t know how to pick a lock.”
“That’s practically their job in the squad,” Fletch agrees. “They need to get close to certain law-breaking citizens. Opening a door and sliding into a building they weren’t specifically invited inside is basically Mob-Classes-101.”
“Shit. Okay.” I yank out the chair at the end of the table and sit so I can think. So I can play it out in my mind. “So we’re theorizing Jones has a hard-on for Adrianna. She’s the damsel, and he’s the self-important jerkwad who likes to be a hero. She’s pretty. She’s young. And he could sweep her off her feet and be her Superman.”
“He’s no one’s Superman if he’s in prison,” Minka argues. “It was a messy crime, and his DNA is bound to pop at the scene before long. Especially considering William’s defensive wounds. Says he woke up and fought back. For a moment, at least.”
“Why would he place the knife in the sink?” I wonder. “Dude might be an idiot, but he’s educated enough to know leaving it there isn’t all that smart.”
“And,” Minka adds, “if he considers himself in love with Adrianna… perhaps even obsessed, why frame her for the murder? He can’t be with her if she’s in prison.”
“Maybe this is where it all falls apart,” I exhale. “Could be he’s got a crush on Adrianna Alves. But she’s married, so he’s keeping his hands to himself. He’s got no kids, though he’s past forty. Makes you wonder if he’s just not that into them. And Adrianna has them. So that’s why he’s not making a move. It’s a fantasy romance,” I continue. “It’s not real. It has no basis in fact. He just thinks she’s pretty, and he knows she needs help. That makes him feel important. But she’s walking around with a black eye.”
“That’s gonna piss him off,” Fletch adds. “She’s his damsel, but he’s not protecting her. It would grate on his sense of grandeur to see she’s been marked.”
“Then she doesn’t turn up to class, and he snaps.” I know we’re reaching. I know we have absolutely no proof. But hell, it feels right. For now, it feels like we’re getting closer. “She’s absent from class. Maybe he was really looking forward to continuing his lecture on Brenda Magellan. It’s a relevant case study. And now Adrianna isn’t in class. He wanders to her home after everyone is asleep. Lets himself in. Maybe he finds William on the recliner, passed out in his own piss, a belly full of alcohol, and knuckles scabbed from beating on the wife.”
“He picks up the knife,” Fletch continues, “and he goes to town on the dude. Hell, maybe Adrianna saw him and is choosing silence. He became her hero by turning up. He’s her Superman when he takes the choice out of her hands and kills the only guy hurting her and her kids. No way she’s gonna snitch.”
“That still makes her an accessory to the crime,” Minka inserts. “Maybe she really did sleep through it all. Not necessarily probable. But certainly possible.”
“Or maybe we’re making all this shit up and tossing it at Jones because my family has beef with him.” I look up at the ceiling and groan. “How do I know where cop work ends and bad blood starts?”
Another knock at the door has Fletch stepping away and opening it to reveal a uniform on the other side.
“Detectives Malone and Fletcher…” Clay’s cheeks warm when he spots Minka sitting back at ease. “Um… Chief Mayet. Ms. Darling is in Interview Room Three.”
“Thanks, Clay.” Dismissing him, Fletch inches the door closed, silent until the lock snicks, then he glances around and stops on me. “Bad blood or cop work? I dunno, man. But I guess we’ll see. Let’s go.”
“I’d like to join you both.” Minka shoves up from her seat, slamming her thighs against the edge of the table with how quickly she moves. But she pins me with a look before I can dart away and leave her behind. “Detective Malone. As Chief M.E., it is not against regulations to invite me in.”
“You use your title for evil.” I meander closer, digging my hands into my pockets or risk reaching out and touching her inside the precinct. “You’re not here as an M.E. and we both know it.”
