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“Sure.” She does exactly that and drops the device on the table butting against the window. But instead of coming to me, she moves back to my coat and takes out my banana.
My stomach revolts, my hunger rears its head and flashes snarling teeth, but Archer answers the phone and draws my attention back.
“Minka?”
“Hey. I’m sending someone your way.”
“If it’s someone who works for the Humane Society, I’m not giving Chloe up just because you’re insecure.”
“Shush. No.” My growling temper has me looking to Aubree as she peels my banana. “Ethan O’Dey. He works transport down here, and ran both your bodies yesterday, Kiera and then Kylie. He found a matchbook in the back of his van last night, pocketed it, wanted to present it to me, I guess. Wanted his praises.”
I swing on Aubree when she finishes peeling the banana. “That was my breakfast. What the hell are you doing?”
“Feeding the beast.” Rolling her eyes, she steps up on my right and offers it. “Bite.”
“Wh—”
“Bite!” She shoves it upward until my mouth automatically opens and I take a chunk off the top. “Now chew and stop acting like I killed your grandmother.”
“Minka?” Archer prompts.
“Yeah.” I speak around the banana. My word is clipped and my voice is smothered, but I manage. “He wanted to impress the new boss, I guess. But he screwed up. I took the matchbook, I’ve got it in Autopsy Room One now. Hands washed, gloves on. I’ll collect whatever I can and send it all down to the lab.”
I swallow the glob of chewed banana in my mouth and turn to Aubree. Not for more, but to speak. “No food in autopsy.”
“No food in Minka is worse.” She shoves the banana forward again. “Eat before you come to work, or I’ll have to force you to do it.”
“Atta girl, Aubs.” Archer’s voice is entirely too pleased as I take another bite. “Keep on her for breakfast and lunch. I’ll make sure she gets dinner each night.”
My eyes narrow at the phone.
Aubree giggles. “Sounds pretty serious, Detective.”
“I’m a serious kinda guy. When I know love, I know lo—”
“Can you just shut up?” Frustrated, I speak around mashed banana. But I lean closer to the matchbook and take Aubree’s offered swab.
She works competently, even while feeding me and talking shit with the cops.
“Taking samples now,” I reiterate, for Archer, and for the recording still going. “I’ll send them to the lab and see what we get. Though the matchbook appears to be pretty clean. I’ll attempt to pull fingerprints as well, but the surface is poriferous and unlikely to give us what we need.”
“It turns me on when you say big words, Doc.”
“Arch—”
“I see O’Dey now,” he counters with amusement playing in his tone. “I’ll see what we get from him.”
“Alright. I’ll send whatever we get when we get it, but don’t expect a lot. It’s just a matchbook. The bodies hold all the answers you’ll need.”
“Very zen-like of you, Doctor. I’ll check in later. And, Minka?”
I slide the very tip of a second swab along the side of the matchbook. “Mmm?”
“Keep eating. You get cranky when your blood sugar is low.”
“Mind your damn business.” Scowling, I swing my gaze to Aubree. “Hang up for me.”
Chuckling, she turns and kills the call, then she comes back to me and offers more banana.
